I thought I’m going to title this entry Panagbenga 2008, but as it turned out, it will no longer be appropriate. Sadly, I was not able to witness this year’s float parade as in previous years. The work and the weather got in the way. Why am I working in Baguio, the first time I returned to my favorite place after five years, you asked? In the first place, the trip is official so it was not really fair for me to expect having a blast.
But for me to say that I had an awful time missing the festivities, is an utter lie. Because I had the best time, the first after a long time.
First, getting there. Being pulled by police escort is the fastest way to get there by land. In trying to ward off nausea and fear of heights, I plugged on my mp3s. Nothing beats Sheryl Crow’s ‘Everyday is a Winding Road’ speeding through the zig zags of Naguillian Road.
In that time of the year, traffic is the worst in Baguio City. It’s a long weekend ahead and everybody wants to spend it wisely. The celebrated Panagbenga, only six hours away from Manila, is a way to do it for many. With an estimated 200,000 visitors coming to see the flower festival, closed roads and detours could really get into you.
But the snail-paced traffic won’t ruin it, I guarantee, especially for daydreamers like me. As the familiar scent of pine trees filled my nostrils, I was reminded of the days I spent in the city as a kid with my family and as a student in UP Baguio. My last visit was five years ago, also during the Panagbenga.
After a filling dinner at Dencio’s in Camp John Hay, we found ourselves seated at the Manor Hotel. I don’t know if they put a secret ingredient there, but my Arctic vodka tasted better. It could be the company, or the splendor of the hotel or the melody of the quartet, but it was a perfect way to end an exhausting day.
A lot have changed since my last visit. The landscape now includes SM. I am pretty sure all the major cities in the country have SMs in it. An itinerary in Baguio includes a stroll in that shopping mall. And the rationale escapes me, even as I find myself doing the same thing. Maybe I was hoping to find the body cream that made the highlanders’ pinkish complexion in Watsons. Or a unique jacket in Guess like the one I saw in a student. Later I learned that great finds, such as the student’s jacket, are in the Wag-Wagan (or ukay-ukay for you).
The street dancing that Saturday morning coincided with the press conference we had there. The only picture I managed to take of the many and various performances was from the window of Rosebowl restaurant. That is also where I got to see my cousins again, with my nieces, all grown-up, in tow.
Later the afternoon, we went to Cafe by the Ruins. Good thing the usual urge to gulp down gallons of coffee did not persist because with the heavy traffic, diuretics coupled with the cold weather could really cause inconveniences. I don’t know if that thought or my Starbucks bias clouded my judgment but I did not find anything special with their best seller Ruins Coffee and a piece of glazed cinnamon bread. But the place sure is nice. Given the chance, I will try more of their coffee.
At night, we went to Forest House, a stone’s throw away from the more popular and younger gimmick place, Nevada Square. There was a quartet singing wedding reception songs. We tolerated that till 12 midnight and then we jumped to 18 BC. There, we sang and danced to music of my generation (‘pang-adik,’ my lady boss calls it). At 3 am, we headed back to Chirol Inn at Guisad Road.
The day of the float parade, it was raining and it was really cold. By the time we got to Session Road, all the floats have passed. The parade was quick and it left no trace for us to see. After a cup of coffee at Narda’s, we headed to La Trinidad where I found the biggest and cheapest broccoli.
I have the best time that weekend in Baguio. It gave me a needed respite and prepared me for what promises to be another hard working week.
I turned 30 today. I am now officially middle-aged. Can’t help but assess myself– what have I achieved so far? Am I a better person? Am I happier? Ano nga ba ang pinagkatandaan ko?
Eversince I started earning my own money, I stopped making a big deal out of my own birthday. But this year warrants a celebration, this year being the hardest so far.
In both my personal and professional life, I faced the toughest hurdles in 2007. I could only look back with pride, having emerged a winner after it all.
I feel stronger now coming from a painful separation. The reality is that being alone is not really scary and that if it calls for space, it has to be given the chance to work its charm.
I was reoriented on the value of family when my mother got seriously ill. It taught me to exert more effort to spend more time with them and be vocal how much you appreciate them.
I’m more driven now career-wise after opportunities start popping this year. I now have a career path, which by the way, has taken its toll on my three-year-old and the overdue plan for a second child. I made more friends than enemies. I thought I’ve gotten over a bad habit only to find myself falling again.
More lessons learned and unlearned. But at least there’s still time for badminton and more reasons to keep on writing.
Tough year indeed. It makes everything else easier.
Now back to my party ;p
Coming from a 122-hour hospital watch, one can understand how exhausted I was. It wasn’t the lack of sleep or nourishment that got the better of me. I think it was the thinking, lots of it, within the eery silent, cold, disinfectant-smelling hospital ward, that drained the life out of me.
We rushed my mother to the hospital at three in the morning. Nanay had lots of complaints– coughing, panting, arthritis, stomachache, fatigue, loss of appetite– but we never imagined that what really ails was her heart.
Her voice was hoarse, almost sounded like somebody else’s, when she said she can’t breathe. When the ambulance got there, her extremities were turning violet and she no longer responded to my call.
“May asthma ba siya? Sakit sa puso?” the resident doctor asked us as he wheeled Nanay inside the emergency room. We shook our heads. What we knew is that she has high blood pressure. Other than that, we don’t know that she have something serious.
The cardiologist said Nanay had unstable angina. Subsequent web surfing on the subject made me understand her condition more. Unstable angina occurs when there was increased blockage in a coronary artery, restricting the flow of blood and oxygen to the heart. It occurs even at rest. To treat it, the doctor recommended that she undergoes angiography.
Nanay is 54. To everybody’s opinion, she is too young to have something this serious. To the ones who saw how she ran her little sari-sari store, she is too active to suffer a heart problem. But the tests– ECG, 2D Echo, blood chemistry, etc.– say otherwise.
What happened to Nanay made me appreciate what I am and what I can still do. Whenever I made it to the top of the staircase leading to the MRT and after finishing three badminton sets, I thank God that my heart is doing well. At meal time, I thank God that I can still eat and fill my heart’s content.
Nanay is now at home, at bed rest. She is taking eight different kinds of medicines and is on a strict low-fat, low-salt, low-sugar diet. It is expected that she loses weight due to these restrictions. This calls for a lifestyle change not only for Nanay but for all of us as well.
A friend came home from Europe last month and became the excuse for late night outs, getting drunk and being foolish. It’s been a long time since I get together with my best friends, (the ones I have since kindergarten) and I realized just how changed we all are now.
Woodie and his wife Joanne have found a better life in Greece. They came home for their son’s 7th birthday. Juvy and Bimbo now have two kids. Me-an has a nine-month-old baby girl. She is now studying to be a nurse. Jheng is three months pregnant. Larry and I are married and my job has now become the center of my life.
The funny thing is, however different we are now today compared to how we are in the past, we still like each other. When things get really bad, they are the first ones to be there, children in tow.
I wonder how many people have friends like that: the kind of friends who have seen your very worst but have stuck with you the longest.
I woke up to a sad news today. An officemate died early this morning. Peter, 31, died of cardiac arrest in his sleep. Peter had hyperthyroidism, which was detected months ago. Seeing him gaining weight and bouncing around the office like his old self, leaves no indication that he is leaving anytime soon. He was just telling me that he will join us in our badminton games. We have just agreed on a meeting, to be set on a less-stressful day, to talk about his plan to run as councilor of
Manila next election.
On the way to work, I received texts and calls mostly from the press, asking confirmation about Peter’s death. They were all as shocked as I am. Pete and his twin Paul, were a popular figure in the Senate. Except for the ones who have been with them the longest, people have a hard time telling them apart. I remember a reporter asking me, “Hindi ba naka-blue na polo si Paul? Bakit naka-pink na ngayon?”
It was just starting to sink in as I was writing this blog. I share Pete’s liking for heartbreakingly sad songs like James Blunt’s. His demise will leave me with less people to share mp3s with. And of course, his pieces of advice…Too bad he didn’t live that long to see whether it saved me or not. From this day on, I will be going to the office with another officemate gone forever. Peter now joins Deanna and Manang Vicky in heaven.
I spent the long weekend with the Desperate Housewives TV series marathon. And I can understand why it had become such a popular show. It is every housewife’s struggle, triumph and story. Watching episode after episode of the show, in the darkness and quietness of my living room after everyone else has gone to bed, is like watching my own story unfolding right before my very eyes.
The professional housewife
Lynette gave up her promising career to stay home and care for her four children. Whenever I come home, with barely the strength to brush my teeth, I watched my kid as he sleeps. And I wonder how his day had been. Did he learn something new today? What did he eat? Did he miss me? And I thought, if I quit my job and stay at home, I won’t miss anything. But then, it would occur to me that I wouldn’t last long that way. With bills up to our asses, my husband’s earning alone wouldn’t do. Not only would it hurt us financially, I know I’ll miss my job, quicker than I say housewife.
Besides, I’ve come to realize that I was not made to be a housewife. I’m too lazy to do the dishes (I’m allergic to detergent). Too sluggish to clean the house (I function best amid creative clutter). Too proud to look after a husband who comes home reeking alcohol.
The overwhelmed housewife
Susan was divorced and living with her teenage daughter. We share the same reasons why she had only one child. Having a child is too overwhelming for me. I can’t imagine how I made it through, or making it through, for that matter. Just thinking about the hassles that come with pregnancy, and the sacrifices I have to give to raise a child, and the money that has to be shelled out, I simply cannot have more.
Lance at two, can be a handful. One minute he is the adoring little boy that I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the other minute, he could test my patience. He could make me shout as much as he could make me hug him. I agree with what they say, “You can’t imagine children until you have them. After having children, you cannot imagine life without them.”
The unfaithful housewife
Gabrielle is the cheating wife. He married his husband because she thought he could give him everything she wants. But with his husband always away, she realized she wanted the wrong things. That is why she remained unhappy. And just so she won’t wake up one morning with an urge to blow her brains out, she jumped into an illicit affair with a younger man.
There were times when I felt I’m losing it. My job, my friends and a new- found hobby–badminton, have kept me afloat. I learned there is no point being the hero, to try to juggle and do everything. To remain that one person who takes care of everything. To look gathered in the outside while you feel broken inside can very well rob you off your sanity.
I have to admit that I am only human and that I have limitations and weaknesses too. And I have to let others know that too. I have to have time for myself—to get drunk, to make a fool of myself, to blog, to play badminton, to enjoy my coffee, to have uninterrupted bath time, to read, to have all the chocolates that I want, etc.
The perfect housewife
Bree is the ‘perfect’ wife. She believes she did her best for the family. That is why it shocked her when after 18 years of marriage, his husband wants to divorce her and her son despises her.
That has always been my fear; doing everything right within my power doesn’t guarantee that things will turn out the way I want them to be. How can I guarantee that my husband will stay in love with me until we are both wrinkled and gray? How can I make sure that I am raising my kids well? How can I prepare myself for the inevitable?
The thing is, I cannot. For the time being, I’m entrusting my uncertainties to an all-knowing God. I just pray that whatever He throws my way, I’ll come through strong and mighty.
I recently learned to play badminton. And I can’t stop myself from playing since. Three months ago, I enrolled in UP’s community sports program, quite reluctantly though, because it entailed waking up early on a Saturday. But my good friends Noemi and Madel prodded me to join. And so I did. After all, I needed the exercise and shedding off a few pounds is not bad, too.
I never knew I’ll like it this much to the point that I think I’m addicted to it. I toured nearby courts from work– Toss and Play, Feathers and String, and The Zone– Tuesday nights with friends from the media and senators’ staff. No matter how tiring the day had been, I have energy on reserve just for game sets.
Thinking of it now, I realize that badminton has assumed a bigger role in my life. It’s not only the chance to sweat it out and to make new friends, it’s the time away from everything that I am most grateful for while playing this sport. It’s a break from the demands of my work, a time off from the repetitive role as wife and mom, and a needed respite from the daily habit of entertaining what ifs in my life.
Badminton is my natural upper. An endorphin-inducing activity that changed almost every aspect of my life: schedule (“Di ako pwede ng Tuesday and Saturday,”); budget (“Sa bonus, bibili ako ng gym shoes,”); alcohol intake (“I can’t have hang-over, have an early game tomorrow,”); motherhood (“Mommy, aalis ka na naman?”); sleep (Natutulog ka pa ba?); food intake (“Sayang ipinawis ko kung ikakain ko lang ng kanin,”); shopping (“Saglit lang ako sa Toby’s ha,”); and relationship (“Tigilan mo na ‘yan,”).
*Baddict: a fusion of the words badminton and addict
Coming from an afternoon nap, I found my cell phone blinking red and swelling with pending messages. I was asleep for two hours (which is a joy I hold dearly when not working) and was dead to the goings on in the real world. I have 13 messages received. I was quick to think it probably came from a former boss, who has dedicated his years of retirement forwarding his political observations.
The thing is, our elevator adventure made it to the front page of the Philippine Star. And a lot of my friends had read it. Some expressed concern, wondering if I’m claustrophobic. Some laughed openly (Haha 
), and some asked for confirmation (Ikaw ba ito?). Whoa! I’ve never had so much attention since I started appearing on TV (as a backgrounder of my boss) and almost made me feel like a celebrity.
So I bought myself a copy. And lo and behold, there it was, our “little” elevator incident in the front page of one of the biggest newspapers in the country.
Last Thursday (September 21), Senator Drilon and five members of his staff, took the elevator going to the fifth floor office. It was between the second and third floors when the lift got stuck and no amount of frantic button pressing could force it to open. So the guys in there took over, showed what their muscles are made of and pried the door open. They were able to ask help from a passing soul in the hallway.
From the thin opening, I could see that a crowd is quickly forming outside and heard remarks like, “nakakahinga ba kayo diyan?” My boss was quiet. He was probably upset that he is running late for a meeting on the national budget. Soon, the maintenance people came and unscrewed the door and helped us out immediately. And I swear that scene almost looked like a scene in the movie “Daylight,” (yes, the crowd cheered.) All in all, that experience lasted less than ten minutes. And it wasn’t scary at all. The first chance we got to talk about it, we were laughing.
“It’s finally happening!” I cannot contain the excitement as I boarded the plane that will take me to Germany. I didn’t mind if it was an hour late, all I can think about was how close I was to setting foot in Europe.
I specifically asked for a non-wing window seat to enjoy the view. As I settled in my seat, I silently prayed for a pleasant seatmate who knows how to speak English just so I won’t spend the entire time peering through the window. Until that hour, I’m still wasn’t sure how I’m going to get through the 15-hour haul of a trip.
While the plane cruised at 35,000 meters above sea level thoughts from home entertained me; of how happy my family was for me, of shopping for warm clothes, of delegating my responsibilities while I’m away. Then everything started to sink in as we go farther and farther away from home. It seemed only yesterday when I received an invitation from the Friedrich Naumann Foundation for a free seminar in
Germany. Then I tried my luck and applied. Everything else followed.
Every month, the German foundation based in Makati sends partners to Germany to attend workshops that cover topics such as liberalism, globalization, terrorism, conflict management, among others. It’s an all-expense paid trip, including a comfortable accommodation at the Theodore
Heuss Academy in Gummersbach. The seminars last for a week or two, usually attended by 24 individuals from different parts of the world. My seminar was about press freedom. It’s a topic relevant to my profession, being in media relations ever since I left UP and conferred a degree in journalism.
After a glimpse of some snow-capped mountains, cloud formations, two movies, three meal servings, simple conversations with my pleasant seatmate from Portugal and numerous attempts to catch some sleep, we landed at the Frankfurt International. Inside the spacious and modern airport, I wondered again why I didn’t take German lessons instead of Spanish. It could really come in handy now that the signs are all in German. I can’t also help but hold it in comparison with NAIA and wondered if NAIA 3 would be in a better posture. I asked for instructions and walked to the direction of the long distance train station. At the last minute, I took the train to Cologne because I lost my connecting flight, having arrived later than scheduled.
At the train, I sat with a lady from Cologne who is coming home after studying in Dallas for two months. She teaches computer science at the University of Cologne. As we advanced, it felt like having a guided tour of the city with Merijam pointing at landmarks from time to time, telling me their names in German and also in English. I also learned that we were in the same train that travels across
Europe. During the ride, I marveled how green the surroundings were, with trees dotting each side of the railway. There were no skyscrapers, only old buildings and few remnants of the war.
The Cologne train station is situated in front of the famous Cathedral. And this is where I got my first impression of Germany—in the face of the colossal cathedral that now appears black as an indication of time. The 18th century cathedral is an impressive display of Neo-Gothic architecture. The newness of it was a reminder that I’m setting foot on a foreign land for the first time and what I’ve been missing all this time. I resolved then to enter the church to sample the efficacy of a Filipino belief of asking for three wishes in a new church.
I found new companies on the way to Gummersbach—Martin, the driver from the Academy; Rosendo, from Honduras; and Lih Yi, from Malaysia. I got to practice my Spanish during the 35-minute drive from Cologne to Gummersbach, translating Rosendo’s words for Lih Yi and the driver. Martin commented that we came on the first warm day. I didn’t know yet what is warm by 13 degrees, as I hug my coat tighter. When I studied in Baguio City, I can’t remember the temperature dipping that low. But I later learned what he meant after experiencing the typical German weather of 4 degrees.
I got to meet all the participants during the welcome dinner and made mental note of the Asians in the group. My facility for the Spanish language, however basic, came in very useful in starting conversations with the Latin American participants. I gathered also that I was the run-away winner when speaking of the longest time spent on travel. That explains why I got the worst case of jet lag, struggling with the longest time difference of six hours.
On the first day of the seminar, I found myself with a cold. Of all days to be sick, I had to be sick that day when I was in Germany. I don’t normally take medication whenever I got a cold but I found my new friends’ offer for medication hard to resist. Soon I’m taking medication from different parts of the world and already lost track which one made me well.
The workshop opened with an assessment of the real situation of media in regional settings. This part of the seminar was an eye-opener of the prevailing reality that problems besetting Filipino media practitioners are also experienced by those abroad: In Russia and Brazil, reporters were also threatened; in Cambodia, they were also receiving low pay; in every part of the world, they are clamoring for better condition for the press.
At this point, I raised the issue from home about the killing of journalists. A recognized democracy, the Philippines has been condemned for failure to address this problem and the failure to bring perpetrators to justice.
I considered it a setback to be under medication. During the first few days it prevented me from consuming alcohol and from staying up too late at the bar. The nightly sessions spent at the bar were hard to miss for they are as important as the sessions conducted during the day. Drinks can be bought using the plastic chips that came with the seminar kit. And there were no barriers to the livelier exchanges that took place between participants. This is where we bonded and formed friendships we swore before glasses of beer to keep.
In this time of the year, the sun sets at about 10:30 pm in Gummersbach. That gave us plenty of time to explore the town center on foot or do some recreation sports like table tennis, billiards, foot ball or do the laundry while having a sauna bath. One evening we raided the nearby supermarket but couldn’t buy anything cheap. All priced in euros, we were shocked to find everything three times more expensive in other currencies.
Each night before retiring, I reminded myself that back home, the sun was just about to rise. While I prepare to give my weary soul a rest, my loved ones have just woken up to a new day, revived and revitalized. I felt blessed once again to live that moment in the other side of the world. I had so many expectations coming there and I came home exceeding that and having more. My luggage was fuller with gifts from my new friends. With the different kinds of currencies given to me as tokens of acquaintance, I will be able to start a small collection. But most important of all are the lessons I learned through sharing on the issue of press freedom and the right to information. In this league, I felt proud for our country having media organizations that vigilantly watch over our democratic institutions. And I’m prouder of our people who insist on their right to know and their perseverance to contribute to efforts of building the nation. Because until this modern day, there are people who are kept in the dark and places where free press doesn’t exist.
After falling back to routine a month after Gummersbach, I’m still wearing the famous GT (German Time). I still can’t find the heart to set my watch back to Manila time. It’s comforting to have something to remind me of Gummersbach, the people I met there and the things we learned about each other, with me all the time. Everyday the emails are pouring from miles away. They are like a dosage of food supplement that I take daily for better nourishment.
I take the MRT going to work. This morning at the Cubao station, I witnessed how a young girl, about four years old, was nearly dragged by the train.
I was just coming off the escalator when the train gave its warning beep before the doors swished shut. On other days, I would have gone through the ‘barely an opening’ and forced myself in. But not today. Today I woke up early and in no hurry. I just stood back, maintaining a good step away from the yellow platform, enjoying the blaring music from my XDA.
Then my eyes widened as three feet away from me, a young girl’s hand got stuck on the train’s door. His father was pulling her hand to no avail. “Naku,” I said. “Aandar na ang tren. Makakaladkad kayo.” The guard was whistling loudly, everybody else was frantically waving at the train, willing it to stop. But the train kept on going, towing two people in tears.
Too horrified to watch, I looked the other way. A dreadful picture is already forming in my head. My knees are buckling. I felt sick…Then the train stopped. I whirled around and saw the man hugging her child, constantly blowing at her injured hand. The father knew a broken hand is better than anything so he pulled with all his might. What a relief. Thank you Lord, for saving that child.
All the way to the Taft station I was pondering on this incident. Whose fault was it? How could it be prevented? What if that was my child? I’m not taking Lance to MRT. Not until MRT’s security features are fail-safe.
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