Of Absences and the Difference between Easter in Spain and in the Philippines

For the record, I would like to say that it makes me sad that I do not have the discipline to update my blog regularly. It is not because I do not have anything to write about, on the contrary, since my last entry, and even previous to that, I have experienced a lot of things here, worthy of a post (to which includes: participating in an Asean festival during the annual Muscat Cultural Festival; watching a Japanese traditional drummers at the newly built Royal Opera House here in Muscat, and maiming my neighbor’s car). Thinking about all of them truly excited me again, as I hope it did your curiosity, so I promise to do my best to tell you about it soon.

For now let me write about my latest travel exploit to the home of Don Quixote of Cervantes – Spain! Because of the long Easter holiday, JG and I have been planning a short get-away to escape lying around in the house for five days as well as the beginning of the sweltering heat here in our little part of the Middle East. We initially planned on going to Amsterdam in the Netherlands, to see the Van Gogh museum, but due to the difficulties of finding lodging we could afford, we set our sights next to Katmandu in Nepal to see their old temples, but alas we also could not find accommodations that fit our bill. So as a last minute spur of the moment decision, JG calls in the middle of the afternoon to ask me about Spain. And at that point I was ready to go anywhere.

I have never really thought much about Spain, which is funny considering I come from a country colonized by the Spaniards for 300 years. But truth be told, if colonial influence is to be considered, I am privy to the American culture. Except for my Spanish name and a few Spanish words we still use in the Philippines, I did not get much from Espanya, not even their religion.

Nevertheless, I thought it interesting to see. Two days before, I realized that the point of our trip was to escape Easter holiday nothingness, only to visit one of the most Catholic countries there is. For the non-Filipino readers, you see in the Philippines, during the “holy week” as we call it, starting Maundy Thursday to Black Saturday, most shops and businesses are closed, and majority of Filipinos are “supposedly” spending the time to refrain from our worldly habits and reflect on the death of Jesus Christ on the cross. In the Philippines, to further explain, there is a belief, that at the strike of 3 “o” clock in the afternoon on Good Friday, Jesus Christ dies, which means an opportunity for evil forces to be able to their bid since Jesus is, to put it mildly, in dispose. As a child I was warned not to play during those times every year, told that my angels will not have their powers to protect me from harm. To which I, although was not raised in a Catholic environment, believed faithfully, especially after a very painful biking incident one time when I was six refusing then to heed my relative’s cautions. As Christmas is celebrated with a festive mood and of joyful celebration, Easter has always been for me a week feeling of gloom as if mourning someone dear who painfully dies every year.

That is until I got older… Once you are old enough, especially nowadays back home, the holy week is one of the many holidays in a year when adults find the time to get away. Most families would take road trips and visit churches (bisita [visit] Iglesia as we call it), some whose beliefs runs deeper than going to church having yourself nailed to the cross is also a famous event in some parts of the Philippines.

Some Filipinos take the Easter Penitensya really seriously. Photo from The Daily Inquirer http://www.thedailyinquirer.net/good-friday-filipinos-nailed-to-the-cross-in-san-fernando/0411903

But most people (especially the yuppies) would retreat to the beaches or take trips elsewhere, where the shops are open, and quite honestly churches and praying would be the last thing on your mind.

So now you might probably better understand my concern of going to Spain during Easter, I had thought that being the county where the Philippines’ inherited its Catholic beliefs, visiting Spain would be visiting a place in deep reflection and/or penitence.

Boy was I wrong, it seems to my surprise that the idea of Easter there is not the same as I have been brought up to back home. There are yes, the usual parades of Saints, the reenactment of the Passion of the Christ, and special festivals, but none of the feeling of gloom, or at least the guilt that you are enjoying a nice piece of steak and wine, when you ought to be fasting, and thinking about repenting from your sins. I did not dare ask the locals, but a fellow Filipino we met explained that there, it is always work, work, work; and apparently even faith is not an excuse not to.

It also seems that I am the only one who thinks this way judging from the massive number of people there. Even though there was a bit of rain and the spring weather still brings a bitter cold breeze especially at night, hordes of people, both locals and tourists roam its streets down to the center Sol, fill its restaurants surrounding Plaza de Mayor, with dinner starting as late as 10:30, and 24-hour Chocolate and Churos nooks to cap the night, or should I say the wee hours of the morning next day.

The busiest street in Spain, towards the Center of Madrid in Sol.

But it wasn’t so bad at all! I got to see two original Van Gogh’s and a lot of Goya and Picasso. The Paella was of course Superb. Also got a chance to visit tombs where Spanish blue bloods are laid to rest. It was really nice to see a country which has a very rich history and love for art of all sorts. I tell you more about it on part two… for now I leave you with this picture of oldest restaurant in the world.

The window display of Sobrino de Botin, established in 1725, showing off its Guinness World Record recognition as the oldest restaurant in the world. We did not eat there, by the way, but apparently upstairs is where Hemingway finished The Sun Also Rises.

In case you’re wondering…

… where I have been these past few months, I have simply been spending time here in Manila. The past five months have really been an emotional rollercoaster for me, and at the risk of being over-dramatic there is really no better way of explaining it other than the fact that I got really depressed.

So I guess I do not need to tell you what happened to Libya, and if you have been following my blog, I think my last update was around April when I retold the story of how we got out. But leaving wasn’t as easy for me, because I had to leave behind the most important thing, or person rather which was JG. He had to stay behind because his work demanded it of him, and I was ordered to leave for my safety. Actually I vehemently wanted to stay, damn the bombs and the violence, I would really rather face all that than having to go through the last five months of worrying for his safety and well-being. I even opted on staying in Djerba where I could be as close as possible to him. I stayed there for almost 40 days, hoping for the best, of either things quiet down that I could come back to JG, or if it didn’t he’d come home with me. But he was ordered to stay. And stay he did.

Up until the last day, when I was boarding my plane home, the feeling of resentment for the career my husband chose, and the irritation of how this could be happening to us planted its seed in me that I really did not want to do anything that had to do with any of it- which is basically why I stopped blogging.

I spent the first few weeks hiding away in my room watching Korean and Japanese dramas, and spending money on phone cards for long distance calls. The really worst part was a few months ago when the rebels were finally able to penetrate into Tripoli and JG was stuck inside the house for four days unable to get out because it was really unsafe to do so. He did not have internet connection, and getting through by phone got really difficult to do.

The really worst thing about all that was being in a position where you can do nothing but wait and hope that nothing bad was going to happen, the feeling of being so powerless to change anything because you got caught in a situation that you did not ask to be but was so much bigger than you are.

But as cheesy as it sounds, events like that really happen to teach you something, you just have to be able to recognize it. What I did learn most of all is that really, sometimes you just got to let go. That as disabling as it feels, there are some things you just have to wait out and hope for.

Eventually I did get out of the room and thought about what I could do while I waited, of course the worry and the longing was constantly there, but I thought that this probably is a good opportunity to do things I have always wanted to do – also mostly to distract me.

For one thing I did get the chance to spend time with my family, and some good friends I haven’t seen since I left. Such moments reminded me of the person I was before I got married, and how great having company you really enjoy feels like.

I also rediscovered Manila, two years ago I really could not wait to get out of here. To get away from the congestion, the dirt, the chaos, and most importantly the Filipino trademark of everyone being in your business.  But while I waited, I made several trips to Quiapo and walked around by myself eating the most unsanitarily(sic) prepared street food and buying everything from fake lamps to “cheap” DVD’s. What I realized was how much I missed being in a place where you understand people, being able to make a turn and not be afraid of getting lost, comfortably being able to act w/o worrying of offending somebody because you did something wrong. For some weird reason my walks made me understand what JG was always calling the method to the madness that is Manila. As for Pinoy nosiness, one time I unconsciously found myself stopping to watch a very public marital squabble, reminding me that the very thing that I hate is within me after all as well.

I also took the time to learn some new things, first academically enrolling for a master’s degree. On a more social and (perhaps) practical level, I also bought my first car (well technically its JG’s money, but hey conjugal property right?) and learned how to drive. I did this out of frustration of not being able to get anywhere in Libya due to our lack of skills in maneuvering a vehicle, and promised myself to be prepared next time we get posted, especially if it’s a place where public transportation is a bit difficult to get used to. On a more personal note, I also took found a new joy in swimming. It was probably the one thing that kept me sane throughout all this. I don’t know why, but for some weird reason I found a moment of peace when I’d go to the nearby public pool and swam laps. I guess the workout was a way for me to vent out my sadness, which is great because in the past whenever I’d get mad, or sad, or tensed, or whatever I’d just cry, but now I found that swimming calms me. It is also kind of nice to think that maybe I was a mermaid in my past life (humor me on this one okay?). I got burn marks all over, and I realize that it’s not easy to require a pool very time I need to vent out, but finding out what it does for me really is a great discovery for me.

If you are curious, I guess I do not need to tell you how Libya is now. But like all bad phases we got through okay, well almost. Tomorrow I am flying to Oman where JG was cross posted to a few days ago, I finally get to see him after five agonizing months. So it’s a brand new adventure for JG and I, and if God willing I get there safely, hopefully this is the start of more posts to come.

 

The Compromise That Begot Vigan

I cannot reiterate enough how mildly irritating JG kept scheduling our vacation in the Philippines with more vacations. Aside from our three major trips, and tours on the weekends, he also tried sneaking in more side trips in between the said plans. It caused some major fights mind you, ones that we had to do during trips because it seemed we did not have enough time to fight at home with our busy schedule. I was fighting for some time with my family, while he was fighting for time lost doing nothing in Libya.

One of the trips he decided to sneak in our already busy schedule was to Hong Kong, to which I vehemently said no. In that month, we were already scheduled to ride a plane six times, excluding the ones we had to take to and from Libya; and I was pretty sure that much cabin pressure would cause someone some sort of damage in the eardrums – thus the adamant decline to another one of his out of the country side trip. But JG, being the smart aleck that he is, turned what was usually my tactic on me, he said to compromise. A day trip, something not of the country, no flying involved, and that he would let me go straight to my Mom’s house the second we return to Manila. And so Vigan was planned.

I wasn’t really happy with the terms, but I was already too tired to argue with JG. Besides, he promised he would get us the best kind of bus (the ones with spacious seats that reclines to almost bed-like status), and assured me that we would be back the next day.

So along with his mom, we take the latest bus that leaves for Vigan. The bus was okay, but for some strange reason I always find myself seated where the air-conditioning is in pointed and in always in full blast. It was like Berlin all over again.

A bit frozen, we arrive, at around 5 am the next day ahead of the sunrise, and began walking around as soon as it did. For those of you who don’t know Vigan is in the northern part of the Philippines in Ilocos Sur. The city is famous for maintaining the old Spanish themed architecture of the area, which has been dubbed as a Unesco Heritage Site.

Along the cobbled street of Crisologo

So you can’t just go crazy and build a Japanese inspired Zen home, or a modern cubist building made of glass in Vigan, you have to make sure that it is uniformed to the traditional Old Hispanic feel, to continue with the theme that makes the place special. This is why even 21^st century franchises have to abide by the rules.

No one is exempted from the Spanish Era theme of Vigan.

A particular street that truly shows what Vigan is all about is Crisologo Street, which really takes the theme at heart so much so that modern vehicles are not allowed to pass, instead only the Filipino version of Horse carriages known in our language as Kalessa (I think that’s Spanish as well, but not sure).

In line with the old feel of Vigan, the province is also popular for its antique shops, woodworks, and very Filipino merchandise such as woven table runners and hand crafted accessories.

Their famous antique feel and woodworks.

We also visited the ancestral home of my home town’s Representative in Congress the Crisologo family. I gotta say that it was a good thing I went to that house because I never really liked my district’s statesman. It’s nothing personal I just did not really see any good that he has done in the neighborhood I grew up in, in fact the most that he did for me was during my great grandma’s wake, when we rented tables, chairs and tents where his name were plastered all over them – for that alone, I have him to thank. Anyway so we went to his ancestral house where there is a museum dedicated to his father who was a beloved leader of the town and was tragically assassinated in the 70′s. On the side of one of the wall are the pictures and diplomas of my Congressman’s brothers, sisters, cousins all are well established highly educated individuals. Which I have to say says a lot about a person at least, so that’s one good stop during that trip.

Inside the ancestral home of the Crisologo's.

We also wanted to visit the Syquia Mansion, the home of our former President Elpidio Quirino but it was either closed, or we were too stupid to find the entrance, or if we did we were probably even stupider to not knock or push the doors open.

Lucky for us a special festival was currently celebrated, and we chanced upon a special market where

The special exhibit/market brought to us by the Kanawidan Ylocos Festival

business folks from all over the province came to exhibit and sell their prided products, specialties only found in Vigan.

Aside from the antiques there were also their famous Vigan Longganisa, a plump sausage, famous for its unique garlicky taste, served mostly during breakfast with eggs and friend rice (I personally am not a fan of it but JG ate it every day for almost a week). I also scored some special table napkins and ethnic Ifugao inspired clothes for those special parties where National costumes are required. (I promised the lady who sold them to me that I will blog about their store, unfortunately I misplaced the paper where she wrote the name of their establishment. So if you are reading this Ate, sorry talaga, if I find that paper I promise to update this blog, promise talaga.)

 

If you come back and reread this post you will be directed to the store that sells these great traditional costumes and wears.

My favorite part of the trip was stopping by what was once the house of Padre Jose Burgos, one of the three famous martyr priests who were garroted after being accused of going against the then Spanish regime, which inspired a young man who then influenced his smart little brother who would then become our country’s National Hero.

Padre Jose Burgos Of the famous GomBurZa martyr priests of Bagumbayan.

The old old house is now of course a museum that also houses artifacts from the natives that live in the country. Such artifacts for example ranging from materials that they used in hunting and farming to the very coffins that they are laid in at the end of their life.

The coffin and actual bones of a native from long ago.

One picture that really got my attention was of a girl, which our guide says is the picture of what single young women looked back then. Adorned with only accessories on her head, her neck, and her arms, she is shirtless, her young breasts dark and bronzed exposed. But she doesn’t care; her face is gentle but shows a bit of arrogance. She lived in a different time and a very different culture from mine, and I wondered what her name would have been, or whether or not she did get married. If she had been shown a photo of me would she have found me odd? Or would she wonder what my name is as well?

The haunting picture of an indigenous woman of years ago.

On the second floor is where you can get a glimpse of what Padre Burgos was like, and how his family lived. For one thing he was really into religious stuff, proven by his collection of saints and more pictures of religious icons .

But the most interesting for me was one of the ten original published Noli Me Tangeres sitting there.

An original manuscript of one the rare Noli Me Tangere of Dr. Jose Rizal

The guide was a nice young Tourism student, who was happy to show some of the old relics in the house, like what they used as a pot holder, and the veranda where they would usually hold parties. But I have to say that I wished that he added a bit more story to his tour instead of just pointing and naming. So I told him, that I would come back, and when I do he make sure that he has interesting Padre Burgos anecdotes ready for me. Nevertheless it was really cool (for lack of a better term) to visit such a place with such treasures in it.  I find it sad that most Filipinos would rather go to theme parks and spend money to watch Pokwang dress funny and sing, instead of visiting such places as Vigan.

Coming there I kind of wished that I was an Anthropologist or something, someone who better understands and appreciates the way life was lived in the past. I get a kick out of stuff like that actually, imagining how people went through their day to day so much different from how life is now. The thing that I like most thinking about when in historical places is that people then probably valued a lot of the everyday things we take for granted today like well-drawn drinking water, gathering around the family patriarch for a story, or a love letter from a suitor or a secret love. Although there are a lot of things I probably wouldn’t be able to live without today (for instance access to the internet or a bottle of coke) it would probably be nice I thought to have a time machine and be able to live during those times and experience it, even for just a while.  Places like Vigan is as close as you have to a time machine nowadays, so visiting is definitely a must.

A picture of the bell tower of the Vigan Cathedral.

I wish I can tell you that the end of our trip was perfectly capped; we realize that it was only pass lunch time and we’ve already seen enough, we did not expect to be done that early. JG suggested going further to Baguio so as not to waste the day, another one of his sneaky ploys, which I quickly objected to, stating firmly that going there wasn’t part of the deal. He almost had his way once more, when we learned that the next deluxe bus wasn’t to leave in another 10 hours and we were probably better off going to Baguio where buses leave almost every hour. Thankfully we chanced upon one that, although wasn’t the deluxe kind, was leaving that very second for Manila. I did had to sit cramped in a bus for 10 hours, and arrived at my Mom’s house hungry and nursing a headache; but I did get my half of the compromise. Or that’s what I tell myself at least… I enjoyed my Vigan trip anyway, so I guess it was a good deal still.

"Compromise is when everybody in unhappy" - from the book Ilustrado

A Little Post of Commendation

I must apologize but I will have to postpone my posts on my Berlin trip because I really wanted to blog about some admirable people.  I just thought they may be worthy of some notice even a short one in this little blog of mine.

Last night JG and I attended a small commencement exercise to celebrate the graduation of some 40 Filipinos who attended training programs organized by the POLO-OWWA office here in Tripoli. The programs are free certificate courses on Computer, Culinary, and Dressmaking. This is something I encourage Filipinos who are working here should do, because it is a very smart step on anyone’s part to improve and/or get as much skills as they can. Not just in computer (despite its demand these days) but in many other skills as well. And the fact that it’s free makes a world of difference.

I have wanted to sign up to one of these classes particularly the Dressmaking class, but my schedule (or lack of it) has kept me from doing so.  I so envied one of the graduates who came wearing a suit she has made for herself. I hope to one day attend such events with something I have proudly made with my own hands.

Back home opportunities like these are rare and hard to come by, you could probably find some if you know where to look, and I guess that there would be a long tedious application process and waiting list that could take an entire season. And most importantly, there are very few who would lend their hard earned, tirelessly honed skills, not to mention their valuable time to teach others for nothing but a certificate and a handshake of thanks. People can give money, food, clothing or anything they can to others, but I am firm believer in the saying that knowledge is the best charity; and those who extend such treasures should definitely be commented.

Such are the admirable people I said I wanted to write about who are the teachers who took up the job of sharing their talents and expert skills to their Kababayans here in Libya. I did not tell them I was going to write about them, and have not really spoken to them so I do not know if it’s okay for me to mention their names, nevertheless, I’m sure if you attended last night’s event you know who I am talking about.

The said teachers include, of course one IT expert who has headed a numerous batches of basic computer classes, and last night’s graduates were already batch number nine of the advance level. I asked JG if he gets paid for what he does, and he said to his knowledge no, which really is what makes them admirable because, he has of course his main job, and hey he could choose to sit comfortably in his house and relax, instead spends his free time teaching others.  This is also the case for the lady who teaches the dressmaking class, and the couple who taught Filipinos young and old to whip up a great meal.

I wish I had some useful and in demand skill that I can teach others, more importantly I wish I had the heart of a volunteer like those four people have. It must be a great feeling to know that you have helped equipped someone with something as valuable as a skill he or she can use in the future.  They might not be financially compensated, but as the Ambassador mentioned in his speech, the age old biblical verse, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” And a lifetime is how long last night’s graduates will thank their teachers for.

Pa Liga Filipina

Sorry about being absentb for a while. After Rome, I needed some time to get back into the a normal phase. Anyway, not much highlight to miss anyway, except for some events JG and I attended. One including, last last weekend where we were invited to attend a special sports festival organized by Filipinos here.

It’s always nice to attend such events, because we Filipinos are big on basketball. Yes, we are part of the minority of countries who did not catch the Football fever, instead we have basketball. Every street corner back home has a basketball court, mostly improvised ones made by local boys. And unlike the Americans, back home kids play wearing nothing but flip flops, everything else is all heart.

Something like this can be found almost anywhere back home

We play for a plastic of ice-water, of if there is money to spare a big bottle of soda. We have our own professional league that has been part of our country’s sporting history for over 75 years I think, and a lot of us take college basketball season really really seriously.

The Alaska Team, JG and mine's favorite professional team back home. As you can see, they're a champion team.

JG is more likely to appreciate this because like most boys back home he is a big fan of it, and since he’s a huge geek, he takes it a notch higher by his extensive knowledge of Philippine Basketball history, and believes in his heart that he has the skills of a point guard. As a loving wife, supporting his “beliefs” is really important.

I on the other hand, mostly found myself being pushed into it my whole life. Not as an athlete mind you, I am more realistic than JG when it comes to that, but in every other form possible. I grew up surrounded by Uncles and older male cousins who can easily force their way in handling the remote, so every game night I am forced to watch my kind of shows only during time outs when there is a commercial break. Thus began my education in basketball. Naturally you begin to like a particular team,  I am an Alaska fan, so is JG (I don’t expect my non-Filipino readers to understand, but they are one of the best teams back home). My cousins and uncles also play in inter-barangay (town) leagues so cheering for them is also a must, and our house is directly in front of a basketball court, so basketball literally is an everyday thing to me. In college, I did a little sports writing for the school paper, thus having have to cover games on a weekly basis.

So anyway, it is only natural that the Filipino Community come together and organizes a small basketball league. But it’s not just bringing your own stuff, let’s enjoy ourselves, type of tourney.  As we treat our local basketball league and college ball, teams are organized complete with coaches, managers, and custom made uniforms (in that case, via the company that they work for here). One team was ever awarded best in uniform, coming in complete with sponsored shoes, bags, and sweats.

This team won best in Uniform, because hey, they were uniform shoes, bags, and all.

The great part for me about all this is, that you’d think that only the men, or guys like JG would appreciate such events. Like how it is back home, mothers, sisters, kids, and cousins, who like me come to support the team they most likely have a connection to. Which turns it into a family thing, and since more than one family is involved, it naturally becomes a community thing.

A Philippine Basketball League Opening Ceremony is not complete w/o a best team muse contest.

I kind of appreciate that because you’d think that when you leave home, especially for the OFW’s here, you also leave experiencing the inter-barangays, or the college leagues where you root for your team.  But because of such events, not only are the alpha males given the opportunity the chance to flex their muscles, you get a feel of that sense of belongingness you get in the basketball events we leave back home.

Let the games begin...

The only sad part about this for me is that I really do not know that many people here, which make it hard for me support one team in particular.  Nevertheless, it’s nice to know things like this are organized.

My Problem with Pempengco

I feel as though I should be writing more about Tripoli and life in Libya, and I promise to do so in the next posts; for now just bear with me a little.

Now in case you are reading my blog and know nothing about the Philippines or do not care to know, I give you permission to move along.  Also if you are a fan of Charice Pempengco for whatever reason, I also urge you to stop reading, as I forewarn you that you are not going to like what you will see should you choose to read on. If you do like her and promise to be a little open-minded about other’s opinion and not curse me to oblivion, okay, read on.

For some strange reason, my very logical and supposedly serious, no non-sense husband often updates me on the latest Chikas, or gossip from showbiz back home. Today he tells me that internationally acclaimed singer, Charice Pempenco, had botox treatment.  Somehow I know that he knows I don’t like her, and only told me this to spite me, but in the interest of being nice, I could only say, “Huh? She did what?”

But that news was beside the point, my problem with her is that I don’t get her, and do not see what everybody else sees. Okay, yes, she does sing well, but so does Kyla and my cousin’s girlfriend who sings, in my opinion, like an angel. I always say that in every Filipino clan there is one member that can sing, and in Philippine showbiznez everybody has an album or two, and all of them are platinum record holders, e.g. Sam Milby, Judy Ann Santos, and Nancy Castillione.

So that leaves the fact that she is extra special because she was discovered by International Moguls like Oprah and Ellen. For now forget the fact that she can sing, but only as good as every other talented singer. Now correct my history if I’m wrong, I believe Ms, Degeneres came across a YouTube video of Charice when she sang in a Korean show. I saw that video and the way I saw it the Koreans were so impressed with her because they thought she was an eight year-old who sang like Whitney Houston. I say this because she came wearing an outfit only a fourth grader would. And she was what then, 14?

And here’s the funny part, I also saw her in the infamous Oprah episode where she first got a standing ovation. The theme of that was episode was whiz kids,“World’s Smartest Kids” (operative word is KIDS)  which included two seven year olds who danced ballroom like pros, a six year old pianist, a twelve year old Chinese-American girl (who a couple of years earlier did not speak English) and eventually became a best-selling author, and my favorite the almost two year old girl who can pin-point any country asked of her on the world map (she was so adorable, whenever the audience applauded at every correct country, she too clapped and laughed very much aware of how amazing she is). And then there was Charice who was by then I think 15 years old (emphasis on the TEEN).  If this were a contest, you would think she’d be disqualified for being over-aged right? (Oprah then did a follow-up on her “challenging” life in the Philippines, banking on the appeal to sympathy strategy.)

What I’m trying to say is that I think we have been miss guided with Charice’s packaging, which is “little-girl with great voice”, but in reality she isn’t that young, or at least not anymore. And once again she isn’t that good a singer anyway. Okay, you say that is a matter of opinion, pero aminin nyo (but admit it), you only thought she is good because Oprah and Ellen said so di’ba? I mean who would want to contest International show hosts? True to form, Boy and Kris were not to be left behind and were over the moon at how she can belt a tune even while sitting down. “Grabe boy, she’s nakaupo pa nyan a.” “OO, nga Krissy, amazing, ahihihi”.  So she can sing while on a chair? If she sang while running on a treadmill at 10mph, I would probably be a bit impressed, but while sitting down? Yes, yes, for a singer that’s difficult, but many has done that before. I go back, that because she came highly recommended we no longer bother to really listen, considering in a country full of singers we should be experts by now. Like in the story of the Emperor and his new cloak, no one dares say that he is naked, afraid of being looked upon differently.

So now we go to the true test, a singer’s song.  That one song that was his or hers that makes us immediately think of that one singer when we hear the tune. The song that becomes a lover’s theme song; that go to song when we’re down, heartbroken, or even drunk; the song that immortalizes a singer. In Charice’s case because of all the hype around her, I was hoping for something great, hey she has access to Hollywood’s best producers and song writers, and with her so-called talent, we are bound to hear a legend in the making.  And after the long wait, she comes up with, tantarantan….. “Pyramid” .

“Pyramid, we built this on a solid rock
It feels just like it’s heaven’s touch
Together at the top, like a pyramid
And even when the wind is blowing
We’ll never fall just keep on going
Forever we will stay, like a pyramid”

What does that mean? If I were living in Egypt or is an archeologist I would’ve related to this song, but “feels like its heaven’s touch, together at the top, like a pyramid?” Again, what the….? Before you react, yes, this type of song isn’t probably in my age bracket and all, I’m just saying. All that hype? David Foster and friends a phone call away and this is what you come up with?

Once again, afraid of being left behind by the masses, and probably only because we heard that it’s on ITunes most downloaded songs, we gobble it up, without bothering to listen intently. Aegis’ songs aren’t my kind of genre either but they have songs that made better sense than this. “Ang halik mo, namimiss ko…”

Still I gave her one more chance. We Filipinos, we not only look at a celebrity’s talent; we also look at character; if whether or not they made sense when spoken to, or if they are at least a person of some substance. Like what we when we are asked if some is pretty, we say to compensate, “Mabait sya.” (She is kind) I watched Ms. Pempengco as a guest in Karen Davila’s show, it was a short interview, so every answered mattered. Unfortunately she neither had Christian Bautista’s modest charms, nor Sarah Geronimo’s down to earth nature; both good singers, both can sing while sitting down.

Christian and Sarah

The interview was so shallow, all I can remember was that she drinks this medicine for her voice, and that she kept plugging shows she’ll be doing abroad that are either not yet booked or is a private/by invitation only show that none of us can watch, even if we tried. And if her all time favorite song, can sum up who is she, of all the songs she can pick (judging from the greats she has worked with) she says Beyonce’s “Halo”.

And yes, she did bring attention to our country and opened the doors of the world to Filipino singers, I give her that okay. But wait, didn’t Lea Salonga and Regine Velasquez do that already?

Lea was 17 when she played Kim in Miss Saigon

All I’m saying Oprah or not, whatever her age is, what’s the fuss about? Is she really all that?

112th Philippine Independence Day Celebration

Last June 12 is the 112th Celebration of the Philippines Independence from over three hundred years under the Spain. Our national day, it is of course a red letter day back home, sort of like the U.S.’s 4th of July, a day to renew our love of the country. Back home parades, special reruns of films on our national heroes, and politicians bringing flowers to heroes’ monuments are the most we do; but the regular Filipinos mostly use the day to relax and spend time with the family. Not that we disregard the relevance the day, but we just don’t go all out on June 12 the way we do during barangay fiestas when we give homage to our local patron saints.

However, one thing I learned now that I am abroad is that June 12 is a big deal to Filipinos who are away. I am not the most patriotic Filipina, but  I now have first hand experience what it’s like living far away amidst a culture very different from what you grew up in. As a foreigner here in Libya I am expected to respect their culture and way of life, but it is nice to have a day to celebrate your nationality even though we are away. One of JG’s friend put it quite perfectly when she said that this is the day when we Pinoys can really express being Filipinos.

June 7 is also Migrant Workers Day, so the Labor Attache of the Embassy decided to celebrate it June 11 as precedent to the June 12 activities, and a day for Pinoys here in Libya to get together.  And in true Filipino spirit a singing and beauty contest was produced.

I would first like to add that as proof of how much the Filipino community wanted to celebrate and get together people still came out even though it was one of the hottest day I have ever experienced. Summer has come here in Tripoli, and the day before some say that the heat spiked to 52 degrees! Yes, it was that hot. The venue was held in a huge tent in the city, often rented for events such as these, apparently it was air conditioned, but even that did not diminish the heat. We fanned and hydrated our way through the program.

Anyway, we Filipinos love to sing, I don’t think there isn’t a family back home that has at least one member that can really belt a tune. Singing contest’s are a big thing there, from the amateur contests in the smallest barangays or city, to the televised kind where one can win as much as a million pesos and a sure ticket to stardom. So why not see what the Libya chapter can do? And sure enough the talents came.

Some came in traditional Filipiniana:

Some came in all out fashion:

This guy won, with his ala Josh Groban rendition:

As for the beauty contest, yours truly was invited to judge. I was excited but has a bit of apprehension since I don’t think I am qualified to judge being that I only started wearing make-up two years ago, and often whose fashion sense is a mix between a 12-year-old and a grandma. I can only gawk at the contestants with their grace in carrying themselves, not to mention their figures. They were all great, from their traditional wear,

to showcasing their talents,

evening wear,

but the winner clinched it with her answer, in the final round.

I hoped everyone had a good time, if it wasn’t for the heat, I think it was a great day.  My only regret was that I wasn’t able to sample the Filipino treats in the food stalls stationed outside.

The next day was a simpler, more serene program, on the actual Independence Day. Like I said, the embassy opted to keep it simple with a short program, flag raising, and messages from the leaders of the country back home.

It was nice to see everyone in their traditional clothing, the men in their Barong Tagalogs , an embroidered formal wear, first worn during the spaniards time where they say that Filipinos were made to wear to distinguish them from the ruling class and so that they can see through whether or not the men were carrying weapons. Today, it is commonly worn during formal occasions such as weddings and events.

On a more personal note, the day a bit of a first for me to wear a traditional Filipiniana. For my non-Filipino readers, the Filipiniana is one of the traditional national clothing for Filipinas like me.  I’m not kidding you, this is the first time I really wore one, as far as I can remember. I was nervous about it because the Filipiniana is inspired by the timid/modest/graceful/decorous characteristics of a true Filipina, I was nervous because I was afraid I might desecrate what the dress stands for, with my boyish attitude, and how the dress does not go with my slouching-with-semi-stomping signature of a walk. It was a good thing it was early in the morning, so itching wasn’t of a bother, and I avoided walking as much as I can as my heels were killing me. I got through okay, and pictures brought in good reviews from back home (if they only knew what I was going through behind the smile).

Sorry, I am too shy to show off my pictures on the blog,instead, I  will post a picture of the food. A perfect Filipino breakfast, ToSiLog and TapSiLog, short for Tocino (sweet pork [or in Libyan standards Sweet Chicken] also Tapa, which is beef) Sinangag (fried rice) and Itlog (friend eggs);

Champorado or chocolate porridge was also served:

And that pretty much sums up my first Independence Day as Diplowife. Here’s to next year. Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!

On the Recent Automated Election

A few weeks ago, the Philippines held its first fully automated national elections. A big feat for a country like ours, and I must say I was one of the many Filipinos who were nervous about how things were going to work out, particularly as to how my Kababayans were going to react to the new process.  Despite my apprehensions, I was optimistic, because the automation is for me a good step forward for my country. And we could use something that produces fast result especially for something as crucial as choosing our next president.

I want to come clean. I mentioned before that I didn’t vote. Truth is I have passed up several elections since I became eligible. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, I do. When I turned 18, I went to register as a new voter, but wasn’t allowed to because I came a few minutes before five and the person in charge decided to close early. Years and elections later, I eventually lost interest; I figured that as long as I worked hard, follow the law, and pay my taxes, I was being enough of a good citizen already. Besides, the same sorts of people run and win every time; celebrities, traditional politicians, or their relatives. My Congressman for example has been my representative since I was in grade school, my neighborhood changed, but changed for the worst. The people who used to live around me were either replaced or became drug addicts, and most of the good ones probably went abroad. I never remembered a candidate that excited me too much, who inspired me to go back and register. I always had people telling me I was wasting my vote, JG says that there is a special place in hell for people like me who do not practice their civic duty, the most important one he says. That got to me a little since I am pretty concerned about going to heaven come my time, and it would really suck to go to hell just because I didn’t vote when I was living.

When JG went into the Foreign Service and marriage came into the equation, I figured I should have a hand at the type of leader my husband was going to represent, so I went to register. Plus the voter’s ID could come in handy. Also the automation got me excited, like most Filipinos were, like I said, I suppose it was time for me to take part in my country’s step towards advancement. Furthermore, there was one particular candidate that finally showed what I think a true leader ought to be, smart and capable, has a good enough track record, and doesn’t appeal to voter’s sympathy, someone I can be proud of and confident to run my country. He didn’t win though, but like he said, he left an idea, and gave me hope; if not now then maybe next time.

I was excited to vote for the first time, I felt a little bad when we had to leave when JG got posted, which meant I wasn’t going to experience the automation. But it was okay since it’ll still be a unique experience to vote as an absentee voter. But as luck would have it, the same guy who threatened me with the damnation became the same person to cause me my salvation. He didn’t tell me he was going to transfer his registration and didn’t bother to ask if I wanted to as well, I guess since he got used to my apathetic attitude towards politics, so he didn’t think I would mind – thus my not voting.

Although there were some set back on long lines and disenfranchisement (to which I think isn’t just the organizers fault). My mom said that it was so crowded because, like everything else in the Philippines, voting became a family affair, like taking a love one to the airport, most voters came with the rest of their families, including their children, their aunts who came with their children, and everybody else in the family who had no business there but was curious to see. But despite all these within 12 hours we had a good idea who was going to win . We only used to envy the Americans for their elections fast result, but not anymore. That got people excited, and happy, breathing a sigh of relief. It got better when other candidates began conceding, another thing we were not used to seeing. By the end of the day, they were saying it was a generally peaceful election.

But it was all so good to be true. These days a special forum was organized to hear out questions and complaints of (sorry to say) the sore losers. It’s just so frustrating that was seems a historical successful step is again marred by these problems. Their concerns range from digital signatures to time and date registrations in election returns. If you ask me, why did they have to wait days after the election to raise these questions regarding how the counting machines work? Why didn’t they bother when the PCOS machines were chosen for the election? Why? Because they lost, now they’re concerned about what a digital signature is because things didn’t go their way. Now they are asking to go back to manual counting, just to see if votes were accurately counted. It’s like one step forward and three steps back, just because some people couldn’t accept defeat.

As for the Koalo Boy, I don’t think he is worth the attention. I agree, if he’s really telling the truth he should prove it without his stupid mask, and show more than a simple flow chart.

It’s just so disappointing especially for someone like me who has finally felt a bit of excitement after being jaded for so long. I ask myself, maybe it would’ve better if I didn’t cared at all. And another thing, the same old politicians and action stars were elected anyway (My Congressman is still my congressman). The leading presidential candidate is not my choice, but if he’s the one chosen then the best we can do is pray that he does live up to his word, that they all owe up to their promises. I’m not going to hold my breath, but let’s see what they can do.

Meanwhile, there are still some things to be happy about. I still say that even if it wasn’t perfectly done, it is now or never that we push through with the automation. We can learn from our mistakes, and there is always room for improvement. I can only hope that we get through the controversies and concentrate on supporting the ones proclaimed.

I commend my fellow overseas Kababayans who went out of their way to vote. Here in Tripoli, some came all the way from the desert just to cast their leader of choice. I am a little ashamed whenever I see them coming to the embassy to vote, as suppose to me (I find solace in telling myself that it’s JG’s fault). It is a really big deal for a lot of us that are far away to be able to do what we can to have that sense that we are still part of our country.

So let us pray that the new leaders of the Philippines really do what they can to help their constituents. And one of the reasons why I did not bother to vote all those years is because I also believe that it isn’t just up to our government to make our country work, no matter whose leading it is also up to its citizen as well.

Its obvious who the Filipinos in Libya have chosen

Missing the Commute

I miss commuting. There I said it, I do. Before we left Manila, I was so thankful that I was finally getting away from all the heavy traffic and congestion that the everyday-commute brings. I hated lining up to get inside a jeepney, I hated being cramped inside the train, I hated sitting beside people who sit sideways (thus occupying tow seats instead of one) while they loudly chew a swad of bubblegum.

But living here in Libya has made me realize that I took for granted the great thing of being familiar of the place. One of the things that JG hates about me is that I always sleep when we’re commuting, something I miss being able to do as well. At home, even if I sleep inside a jeepney or a bus, I know I wouldn’t miss my stop. And even if I did, I know what I would do and where I’d go. But here I can’t just go where I want to; I am thankful don’t get me wrong, nevertheless being at the mercy of others people’s driving skills and schedule is not the same.

I would like to learn to commuting here in Tripoli, but I can only imagine how hard it would be for me since I don’t speak Arabic. Besides, it might just be me, but I always chance upon passing IVECO’s who either have wobbly hind wheels or having machine problems. Maybe one day, when I have at least a bit of grasp of some Arabic words and see less of the broken down IVECOs, I can learn to avail of Libya’s public transportation services. As of now, I am not ready yet.

One might ask, why doesn’t a diplomat’s wife buy her own car? In the future we do plan to, but that still leaves some doubts. I suppose it is common knowledge that one must be an experienced driver when getting behind a wheel here in Libya. And that is someone I am not. As mentioned earlier, I have been a commuter my entire life; and also mentioned earlier, just like a little baby, I often find myself dozing off when in a running vehicle (especially in the morning). On my home, I often think whether I can drive the highways of Tripoli. Yes, yes, I can always learn. In fact, I was becoming confident of that notion and was thinking about getting some lessons; until one day, when I saw a small Suzuki suddenly swerve from left to right, fly off the road to the sidewalk, somersault in the air, and crash top first. I gasped in shock, and I really thought the driver was done for, but I was even more shocked when he got out of the car. The teenage boy who was driving, seemed dazed, but was very much alive.

The unfamiliar streets of Tripoli

The only time I was able to see something like that is when I go see an action flick. Of  course it can happen anywhere, to anyone, but I’m not going to lie, I have noticed that a lot of drivers here seem to not like following proper traffic safety rules. Then again, who am I to say what the proper way to drive is? But even my Libyan friend who drives for me sometimes, always says that in Libya, you have to have ten eyes when driving. He often points out other drivers who turns first before signaling, or the ones that speeds down the highway like a maniac on the lose, and special mention to the accidents we pass by almost everyday.

These, I know are but ramblings of a new girl, in a new place. I apologize in advance if my observations seem rash, or if it seems that I am comparing my home to Libya who obviously have a different way of life.  But I do miss commuting; I miss being able to read a book, or look back at a street in which someone I know lives, or be able to decide to walk on a whim stopping by a favorite store. Perhaps this is homesickness, perhaps this is impatience over being able to be familiar of a place. Maybe I’ll get over it, and one day I’ll get to know Tripoli too – I don’t know. Right now I can’t help it, I just do miss it.

In Manila, it's like this everyday - Oh how I miss it.

Pinoy Named CNN Hero of the Year

I was thinking about writing something about how tired I am of hearing news about Manny Pacquiao and everything (or everyone) he is getting himself into. But I thought that I would be contradicting myself by saying that he is getting over-rated and over-exposed; when writing about him, negative as it may be, would still be additional attention for him from me.

It’s a great thing Efren Penaflorida won the prestigious CNN Hero of the Year Award yesterday, because I found something better to put my attention on. I am impressed with Manny Pacquiao and his achievements, thankful as one of the Filipinos he always dedicates his fight to, but I personally has never been that moved by him. Same goes with the many other Pinoys who have currently made a name for themselves in the international spotlight; like Charice Pempengco, Arnel Pineda, etc. Their popularity has indeed shed some positive attention to our country; but unlike Penaflorida, they didn’t do it through means of selfless service and noble goals.

Pempengco, Pineda, Pacquiao to me have nothing on Penaflorida (funny how their last names all start with a letter P, isn’t it?). They are all skilled and talented in their own rights, but they all bank on fame and fortune as means to inspire others.

Hearing about Penaflorida’s nomination in CNN Heroes, was around the same time everybody was clamoring about Pacquiao’s latest bout. As my fellow Filipinos ate up Manny’s self-proclaimed humility, bad singing, and his mother’s colorful way of aging gracefully; I decided to take part in something a bit more meaningful in my opinion. I made sure that I allotted at least five to ten minutes a day in the internet voting for Efren as many times as I can. I never expected him to win though; I kept watch at the competition who all seemed worthy of the title. I just wanted to seriously take part in supporting a Filipino I can truly and irrevocably be proud of.

I had heard about Penaflorida and his portable class before and thought great of it. I have always been a fan of the making a small difference principle, and had I been a bit younger and braver; I would’ve probably joined his organization. Less than a decade ago, I did some community work myself, as a story-teller to impoverished kids with my aunt. With cardboard drawings by my brother, stories of David and Goliath and Sleeping Beauty made those kids gawk at me, attentively, some with their mouths open. I was surprised at how hungry to learn those kids were, that I felt so appeased of being able to share a bit of  that to them. But even with the sense of fulfillment it brought, it is something I cannot do on a regular basis. I had my own selfish goals to attend to; friends to see, hobbies to work on, and dreams to fulfill. And that is another thing admirable about what Penaflorida and company is doing. It seems like something everybody can do, but when you seriously think it over, it isn’t as easy as it seems. There is nothing easy about giving up what you can have for yourself, doing something for others with nothing but a smile of thanks in return.

Efren Penaflorida and his Kariton Class; lower image, Penaflorida accepting his award

When I read that he had won Hero of the Year, I couldn’t help but smile. The last time I felt that proud to be a Filipino was when they ousted Joseph Estrada, and that was what, eight years ago? It also felt good to know that the world, especially Filipinos, still recognized selfless acts and ideals. For a while there, I thought my future children will have nothing but singers and boxers to study about in school.

I salute Efren Penaflorida more than the others because he showed the world that recognition can also be found not just in talent and strength but by benevolence as well. I salute him because what he chose to offer isn’t entertainment or greatness, he offered something you can use even though you have the singing prowess of a walrus or can’t (or won’t) throw a punch if your life depended on it – he on the other hand offered knowledge.