The Aftermath of "Dalaw."

It's my first Holiday Season in the Philippines not as a balikbayan on vacation, but as a regular Pinoy citizen. Although dubbed as "still an outsider" by those close to me, I've tried my damn best to fit in after being away for twenty five years.

What's to fit in again?  

My "testy" co-navigator fumes every time I curse in the privacy of the car when "kuligligs, motorbikes, buses and jeepneys cut in front of me.  But a curse like "hangal?"  In the so so months I've been in Manila, I could count in my one hand the number of times I honked my horns; these are the very irritating moments when a bus suddenly swerved into my lane, when a motorcycle squeezed into my right as I was turning, once when a Fortuner just whizzed in front of me as I was entering the gate of the subdivision. Three times.

"That's how drivers drive in Manila, you've got to fit in if you want to live longer" my co-navigator would always lecture me.

Yesterday, we watched Kris Aquino's "Dalaw."  Unlike the more proper moviegoers in Trinoma, Megamall's crowd was a little rowdy. Perhaps because the movie house's policy was "open." Meaning, anybody can walk in in the middle of the show. 

It was the climax of the movie - Kris Aquino's character was about to be killed and subsumed by the ghost who was haunting her family.  People including the porter with her pesky flashlight kept on coming.  At my back, there was this guy who kept murmuring to his wife, and wife murmuring back. " Oh, Rosario is such a calm movie, and this one is...," said the burly husband. " I think it's the ghost of .........," replied the wife co-analyst.

I said, "hush." My seat/mate said to me "enough, don't create a fight."

The husband murmured loudly again. The wife answered back.  I kept quiet. The seat/mate got fidgety. New people were rushing up the steps. The porter had her flashlight to my face. Others, as they were coming down the stairs kept mumbling, "dalaw."

When the word "The End" finally rolled down the screen, I stood up, faced the burly man and uttered some words (not invectives) but just the fact that he was a jerk.

The mate got mad at me, rushed down the steps and kept on muttering, "You are in the Philippines now, you have to adjust and fit in. These guys are killers."

I was just asserting my right as a ticket-paying patron, for God's sake.  I was there to watch and not to listen to this couple's analysis of the movie. In hindsight, I should have just called in security.  But it was supposed to be the climax of the movie.

If  this occurred in Canada, people would have been more considerate of other patrons. But yes, there are also jerks in Toronto who whisper....er talk inside the theatre.  But in hushing them, one doesn't feel guilty or threatened. It's just done matter of fact. "Hey, no offense to you, but you're an asshole."  Something like that.

So I was hugely surprised that the mate turned her ire towards me and not towards the "bastos" inside the movie house.

Lesson learned:  Avoid MMFF in the first few days; better watch when the crowd has thinned.

Oy, Feliz Navidad!

Here's wishing you a Blessed Christmas!

May the Christmas Star light your life anew.

Off Cam.

LEFT, Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka, on their wedding day. Bernardo was the "Scarborough serial rapist."

After two days of seeing the faces of the freed men behind the Vizconde massacre, and that of the victim's father/husband, Laura Vizconde on television, I could not help but recall a similarly brutal and sensational murder/rape which took place in Canada, also in 1991. The Paul Bernardo case.

Paul Bernardo was a young, matinee-handsome type, recently married accountant when arrested by the OPP (Ontario Police) as a suspect in the grisly rape/murder of two teens, Leslie Mahaffy, 14 and Kristine French, 15 which took place on June 15, 1991 and April 16, 1992, respectively.

Later on, it was established that he was responsible for many other rapes which were committed in the Scarborough area in Metro Toronto. Paul Bernardo's new and equally young bride, Karla Homolka became the state's star witness against her husband and spent ten years in prison for being an accessory to the crimes. Others said she should have been tried and sentenced as an equal partner in at least four of the assaults and murders, one including her own sister.

When Karla Homolka was eventually released from prison, she decided to live in Quebec and not to return to her native province of Ontario. But the media continually tracked her whereabouts, so in the long run, she could not hold on to any permanent job.

She eventually married and kept on moving from place to place to avoid media detection. Inside prison, she studied, and at one time, it was revealed that she continued to fancy men with "distorted sexual" appetites like her killer husband Bernardo.

The final straw that led to the downfall and establishment of Bernardo's guilt was a video recording of the last two murders. Bernardo recorded the brutal sexual assaults that he and his wife made on Mahaffy and French. The presence and whereabouts of this tape was revealed by Homolka to the authorities, and finally pinned down Paul Bernardo.

Now that the DOJ (Department of Justice) plans to reopen the Vizconde murder/rape case) it would need fresh evidence to proceed and lay charges. Seeking new witnesses would be near to impossible.

If CTV cameras were as standard before (1991) as now (2010), the probability of digging new clues to this case would be easier. If there had been a camera at the entrance of the housing village which could have captured Hubert Webb's group entry, or a another CTV near the premises of the Vizconde house, then it could be a different story.

If some Vizconde neighbours were listening intently to happenings and noises outside their houses, if body exhumation and gathering of DNA on the corpses were possible, if a cohesive investigative team could be put in place - then there could be new windows of opportunities for a new trial.

New technology allows ordinary mortals to crime-proof their places of abode, or help identify perpetrators in case they gain entry afterall.

Small cameras are reasonably priced now which can be hidden and capture entry points. Similary, cameras can be placed inside the house,inside or near bedrooms, safes, and anywhere where there are valuables and residents.

Motion detection lights can be installed; alarms, too.

In place of guns, knives and baseball bats can be placed near beds, in case there's a forced entry. Dogs are a must.
Self-defense can be learned easily from experts. Prescence of mind must be practised and implemented at all times, inside the house, and outside. Assertiveness must be made a part of one's personality.

If Hubert Webb and his group were the real culprits in the Vizconde murders (the SC ruling does not mean they're not guilty, it just says the court is not convinced 100% that they're guilty), maybe the reason they were allowed by the young Carmela inside the house could have been the group's clout - they were kids from rich, influential families, and the murdered girl may not have had the courage not to let them in- even if it was already late at night.

We pray that real justice will come Vizconde family's way..soon.

Try it by Jury!

I've lived long enough in North America to have observed the brutal differences between its justice system and that of the Philippines. I've also lived in a household headed by a lawyer and I've had some exposure in a top law school, and in the U.S, had worked in a top New York law firm for five years.

North America (Canada and the U.S.) employs the jury system. The Philippines has a sole judge who decides on a case.

In the Philippines, I've known first hand how documents can be easily altered and how certain judges can be made to rule in favour of defense no matter how guilty the party is, all for the RIGHT AMOUNT OF MONEY. Hey, every Pinoy knows about this!

So, now that the Philippine Supreme Court had reversed the ruling of the Trial Court and the Appelate Court, and granted freedom and a verdict of innocence to Hubert Webb, et al in the case of the Vizconde murders, I say the Philippines should adopt the trial by jury system.

In a trial by jury, there would be several individuals to hear, try and rule on a case. In that scenario, it would be more difficult to influence a whole group of individuals with varying degrees and levels of education, moral values and convictions, even if a defendant/s were awash with cash.

True, bribing can be easily done because we're talking of ordinary mortals but I further say that if jury system is to be opted into the judicial system, a system of checks should be in place. Such as an independent body which will do random review of closed cases, a jury pool to be scrutinized by NGOs, civic groups and journalists, and a a system where a well known civic or church leader is always made a part of any jury.

Let's start believing in the capacity of the ordinary Pinoy to mete out justice; we've seen so many cases of injustice already. Enough is enough.

Bigwig.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on,
our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more.

Through the years
We all will be together,
If the Fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.
And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.

- By the Carpenters

I was teasing two of my sisters last night that we're still looking for a place to go to on Christmas day. Sabi nga, nagpapaimbita sa pamilya.

I would love to travel to Singapore for Christmas. A relative is inviting us to visit them. But then, I'd already looked at air fares and it looks like it's better to go there after the Holiday rush.

New Year's day is the day when our big family celebrates as a group. And this early, preparations are in place to celebrate it differently this year - instead of converging in a house, we've opted to go to Fontana in Clark - to the outdoors and the waters.

Organizing a group of 40 plus has fallen into the hands of a younger sis and me, while a nephew's in charge of reservation. Sis wants to buy a "lechon" but we convinced her not to because it seems all the oldies are on maintenance drug for hypertension.

Buying gifts for 40 plus is also a daunting task. Whenever the list has ended, a new name seems to crop up.

If Mother were alive today, she'd be extra busy preparing for the trip. But we kids had been trained for long to be on the road during the Holidays. We grew up traveling on Christmas eve to make it on Christmas day to our hometown in Nueva Ecija.

The other day while cleaning up the house, we found an old VHS tape of past Holiday celebrations. I had to hook up the old VCR player to watch it. Old scenes played out. Mom during the 2001 New Year's day party at home, scenes from my March 2001 birthday party, Mica's high school graduation at Don Bosco where Winnie Monsod was the guest speaker, and another New Year's day event - 2002 where the last scene was when everybody sang Jo Mari Chan's "Christmas in our Hearts."

This holiday season, we'll be missing once more the Bigwig of the family - our dearest Nanay.

Makulig!

You've most likely heard and read about the protest staged by the so-called "kuliglig" drivers and operators. 

"The three-wheeled kuliglig engines, usually small-capacity 5-cc engines, are made in China. A complete assembled kuliglig unit costs around P40,000, whereas a typical tricycle built for passenger transport costs around P100,000. Because a kuliglig would not pass the Land Transportation Office (LTO) standards for a legitimate vehicle, kuliglig operators so far have not been required to secure registration and pay a licensing fee. Kuliglig operators think that kuligligs could replace pedicabs and tricycles in the future. But it appears the Manila government thinks the three are just different varieties of the same pest." From GMA News.

Yes, I think kuligligs, pedicabs and tricycles are all pests. They crawl, they are dirty, they emit poison, and are dangerous to other vehicles and to their passengers.

Driving up North lately has become a hypertensive activity.  Once you get off NLEX and into the narrow highways of Bulacan all the way to Cabanatuan, you'd encounter these pests in the highways.  Years ago, tricycles were limited to back roads, villages, and side streets. Today, they traverse highways, major thoroughfares, inner streets, back lanes, and anywhere they can fit. 

The usual two and half hour drive to Cabanatuan becomes three or even four hours today, because of the tricycles and other pests that compete with public buses, cargo trucks, and private vehicles. 

It's dangerous and nerve wracking when you're going the legal speed (90 km/h) or faster and then suddenly confronted by a slow moving "kuliglig" or tricycle ahead of you. You either step on your brakes abruptly, which is super dangerous and bad for the engine, or pass the tricycle (great if there's no vehicle coming towards you, which is rare).

My bro-in-law told me one time that Cabanatuan is known as the trycicle capital of the Philippines, and I believed him. These contraptions literally fill every nook and cranny in that city.  But lately, Bulacan seems to be competing for the same title.

Here in Cainta and Pasig, the same scenario has been unfolding for a great number of years. Like in many cities, the kuligligs and the like, had been allowed only inside villages and in the back roads, but now operate recklessly all over the places. 

And what riles me most is that these drivers, like most Manila drivers, are offensive drivers, and unmindful of road courtesy and regulations.

How  many times have you heard of "kuliglig"-other -pest-type accident? A plenty. My brother and lately, my nephew figured in one.  My nephew's car got hit by a tricycle in Quezon City, and the driver looked so hapless that my nephew didn't charge him any damages.  Eons ago, my ex who was riding a trycicle from the "palengke" to her village house, got contusions when a car hit the tricycle she was on. A sister got into a similar accident.

Ban these pests from the major roads, I say.  Limit them inside villages, and back roads. I'm sure the riding public would welcome the change, because a lot of times, it's their life that's being put in jeopardy.

Flea Market.

BELOW RIGHT, Dapitan Arcade in Dapita Manila at Kanlaon. 

When I was still living in New Jersey, there was a huge Flea Market which visiting relatives and friends insisted on going to.   That was my

first encounter with Flea Markets.

Back here in Manila, I've discovered quite a few Flea Markets. I've tagged along to the Dapitan Arcade, located at the corner of Kanlaon in Quezon City.  Then, there's the Tiendesitas in Pasig, the huge Flea Market at the PICC, the one at St. Francis Square in Mandaluyong, and while driving home, I found a flea market located around the Mandaluyong City Hall in Boni Avenue.

I'm not quite sure if the term "flea market," applies to these bargain bazaars and expos, but judging from the way "flea market" has evolved through the years, from selling purely used and antique, and now including brand new bargain-priced  stuff, I'd safely say the places mentioned above resemble a flea market.

Flea market comes from the French "marché aux puces," a name originally given to a market in Paris. The fleas were thought to be in the goods, because they were of the kind to attract vermin. The earliest English use found dates from 1922. 

In the U.S. and Canada, people have no qualm shopping at flea markets, bargain basements, and second hand stores. The Filipinos have adopted this habit when the "ukay ukay" stores quickly sprouted throughout the islands.

I don't mind driving and browsing at flea markets because I find items here which are very useful and sometimes not found in regular stores.  I'm talking about tools and stuff I can use for do-it-yourself projects.  When I was asked to go to the "Noel" sale at the PICC, I found this small vase-like container full of very small screw drivers for 150 pesos.

RIGHT, St. Lawrence in Toronto has a flea market on Sundays.

Back in Toronto during the height of the "Blue Sunday," law when shops, groceries and department stores were closed on Sundays, flea markets used to make a killing. We used to drive as far as Pickering to the east and Mississauga to the west just to shop at flea markets, the only places in addition to drug stores, that were allowed to open on Sundays. We've also made regular trips to the St. Jacob's fresh and flea market in the German-town of Waterloo in Ontario, and of course, to St. Lawrence Market in downtown TO which has a flea market on Sundays, and where my good friend Olga sets up shop.

Yesterday at the "Market Market," I browsed through sections of wood furniture and paintings, and ended up at the Japan store where I purchased cleaning products which I don't find at the regular supermarkets. 

These are the things I miss.  Good cleaning products, good-quality duct tapes, good, affordable cables and splitters, sturdy bathroom accessories, hanging hooks which don't fall easily, paint brush and odorless paint, dust pan that is levelled to the floor, and a skilled electrician, and car mechanic.

I miss my CAA and Triple A services so much. Last November at the NLEX going to Nueva Ecija, just past the first Petron station and after a hearty brunch at Pan Cake, one of my tires blew out. We drove to the service road, and attempted to change the tire.  My brother in law who was in the country for a medical mission crawled under the car in order to secure the jack .  Minutes later, an NLEX patrol stopped by and asked if we wanted auto service.  I said yes.

The service arrived when we were already tightening the bolts on the spare tire. I asked the two guys how much they'd charge. 800 plus pesos for towing.  They do not change tires. I declined, so they called their HQ and said the call was cancelled.  So, I asked them to help tighten the bolts.  One of the guys obliged and I gave him a tip.

With my CAA, anytime I have a problem - flat tire, keys left inside the car, battery needs charging, etc, I dial and a service truck would arrive, whether you're at home or in the middle of the road, anytime.  You just have to have an annual membership, for a measly $70 Canadian yearly.  With this membership, you don't have to worry while in Canada and even while travelling across U.S.A.

RIGHT, A great selection of hats at the St. Lawrence Market, for those who fancy hats.

Deprived.

I've enjoyed reading a certain blog for over a year now, but gradually steering away from it. I no longer enjoy reading the posts by the author.

Since the advent of the Internet, and then blogging, people have been offered a gazillion choices of free reading materials. Before Internet, people relied on radio, television and newspapers for news. Now, mainstream newspapers, radio and TV networks have on line versions, and blogs of countless origins offer first hand views of breaking news and insignificant happenings throughout the globe.

Blogging has become business for many. It's used to promote products and services. But to a great majority, blogging has still remained an outlet for writing daily occurrences in life - much like a diary.

I find it appalling that many so called good writers , some even award-winning writers waste their talent blogging about tasteless, mundane subjects. One blog has even become a mirror of the author's sexual deprivation.
What a waste!

Deja vu.

RIGHT, A typical Manila street donned in a fiesta mood.

I've never attended town fiestas since I left Manila twenty five years ago until yesterday. Well, in Toronto, my cousin who grew up in Pasig organized a club of Pasiguenans and they celebrate the Pista ng Pasig every year, and I get invited to it. But it's not like a fiesta celebration done in the Philippines.

Yesterday, having been asked to do an offering at a mass celebrated by a Bishop, I had to wear my Sunday Best. It's a habit from childhood.

It brought back memories of childhood, like how my Aunt and my Mother used to dress us up in our best clothes and shoes for the Sunday mass. If it was the town fiesta or during special occasions like Christmas and New Year, we always had new clothes and pair of shoes to wear. Back in our hometown in Nueva Ecija, we snotty kids from Manila never failed to draw looks from the townsfolk for our "new, expensive-looking attire." Or it could be that our family was always late and had to do a "grand entrance."

Like a true blue blooded man of the twenties, my father always wore a 'fedora," and freshly-ironed shirt and de hilo pants. He favored pastel shirts, and didn't shy away from pinks nor maroons. He had a gold key chain hanging by his belt hook and hidden into his pocket, and for several years always carried a gun, and at one point, a riding crop with a concealed blade. My mother owned an "aparador-full" of dresses. During town fiestas or even if just invited to one, she'd always have a new dress to wear. At my graduation from elementary, she wore a pink mini-skirt and a jacket.

The parochial church, San Andres de Apostol, celebrated its first year of being a "parish." It is under the San Lorenzo Ruiz mother parish, and under the Antipolo archdiocese.

At eight in the morning, a marching band was making the rounds of the village, but unlike marching bands of yesteryear, this one was quite subdued. There were no kids nor dogs tailing the band, although there were still majorettes in mini,mini skirts.

I'm not used to this "offering stuff."

In Canada, my parish would ask for food donations during Thanksgiving and food drives, and for slightly-used clothes to be given to poor families and the homeless, but the parishioners would put them in front of the altar before the mass or bring them to a truck parked outside the church.

Yesterday, there was "palaro,' and a procession as part of the over-all fiesta celebration. In our youth, we watched all the events and were forced to join the "prusisyon."

Black Friday.

RIGHT - Shadee has fully recovered and grown, and is a menace to garden plants.

Once again, Americans are lining up early for their Black Friday Sale, the biggest sale of the year which occurs after the American Thanksgiving. By the way, Happy Thanksgiving to all my American relatives and friends.

In Manila, Christmas sales have been going on since the first days of October. The countdown to Christmas can be heard over radio and TV shows, and in commercials.

I've Christmas-shopped already while I was in the U.S. and Canada last October. I bought mostly clothes, since toys were difficult to pack or carry. My Ohio-based sister had tons of gifts for family back in P.I. and asked me to bring them home. Instead, I had them shipped through the "Balikbayan" door-to-door service. While at it, I also shipped my Total Gym machine.

I bought my Total Gym about eight or ten years ago. Chuck Norris' infomercials made me do it. Lately, the beauteous ex-wife of Billy Joel, Christine Brinkley, had joined Chuck in promoting the exercise machine.

Total Gym is a multi-exercise, lightweight, easy to use machine. It easily folds and slides under the bed, or can stand against a wall when not in use.

I'd used my Total Gym regularly, and in addition to my treadmill and rower, had provided me with complete gym experience in Toronto. Not to mention my thrice-weekly dance-exercise routines and daily walks with the dog, Shadow.

Being in Manila is a different thing. Here, I subsist on sugar and fat-loaded dinners and snacks taken throughout the day. There's rarely exercise time, and dancing becomes boring. And the dogs run around on their own. I attribute my lack of interest in exercise to the very hot, humid weather.

Back at the Health, Beauty and Spa Salon which I regularly go to, someone suggested enrolling at its Fitness Club. I figured instead of putting monthly money into it, I'd rather build my own "mini gym" at home. To start with I already have a professional punching bag hanging at the backyard.

Last October in Toronto, I lost about ten pounds in three weeks. Thanks to mostly vegetarian diet and no snacks.

When my Total Gym arrives in Manila, I hope to regain my exercise spirit. Also last Sunday, I found a manual treadmill for about 9,000 pesos, which I plan to purchase after Christmas when prices are expected to fall further.

Being firm and fit are great.

Spotted.

Over at my mother's first death anniversary party, certain guests clamored to have "sing along" segment, so as host, I quickly set up the Magic Sing. Years ago when Magic Sing was non existent, I had the regular karaoke machine and lots of VCD karaokes by various artists.

But it came to pass that these machines were over ran by the microphone-karaoke, called WOW at its introduction. I bought the first generation Magic Sing at Virra Mall for 26,000 pesos. Now, you can purchase a small karaoke with two regular microphones and a free wireless for 9 plus K, with about 3,000 songs.

And so the singing started. But despite the large selection of songs contained in the mike-karaoke, it became apparent later that I needed more song-chips to satisfy a more varied guest list, including the young people and even myself.

So I went to Odyssey to buy chips. Sooner than I stood by the demo karaoke, the sales clerk started to push the store's latest karaoke machine - the 9,999 peso-contraption. He said "it has the equivalent of 7 song chips." I figured if I buy one chip, I would be paying 3,200 pesos and for 6 or 7, another 20,000 peso outlay. So this small karaoke comes out a lot cheaper!

I was ready to buy it. Then I started to look for my "favorite song," in the song list. I flipped the book, from cover to cover, but my song was not there. Finally, I queried the boy clerk. "Does this karaoke carry all the songs from the 7 chips?" "Yes, sir."

I moved to ACE, then to SM, and finally a female singing- clerk told me, " Sir, your song is not in any of the song chips." I protested, "but my sister's got it." She said, " it's built into one of the newer Magic Sing."

I hung my shoulder after that. So, I cannot sing one of my favorite songs in the comfort of my house. Either, I go to my sister's house or to any of the rental karaoke clubs, like Red Box or Music Match.

Segue to some days ago. We took our Ohio-born, San Jose-based nephew to Music Match at Morato for some shouting match. The place is new, and for 3,500 pesos, you get to choose from 3 set menu selection, including drinks, and three hours of singing. The song selection was huge and the three young people in our group plus the oldies had a good time.

It was in the middle of this good time that I heard my bro-in-law say, "please key in I'll Be Seeing You." He beat me. He sang my song.

Mask.

I have not managed time effectively since I got home to Philippine shores. Family affairs and events took precedence.

Some relatives were visiting from the U.S. and one night, Halloween, we went out, first to Eastwood, then to the Fort. Most in our group were young once and three were mostly young, so choosing the club to while away the night became problematic.

Actually, the clubs were mostly for the young.

At TOYZ, we got a table and soon observed the teens and early twenties occupying the small dance floor and dancing to music which was just okay to our ears. My two sis, then Toys and Cris, Toots and Cesar bravely stood side by side with the three youth and danced, err, swayed. I never lifted my body out of the chair.

My sis told the others that we oldies had an excuse if quizzed by kibitzers - we had our Halloween old-face masks on. But what if it was time to remove the masks? We had a good laugh with this one.

I wrote about this because I came across a news item regarding a Chinese who boarded a flight to Vancouver from Hongkong as a 55-year old Caucasian, and leaving the plane as twenty-something Asian man. Whew! How did that happen?

Apparently, the Chinese youth wore a silicone mask of an old man, and after some hours into the flight went into the washroom, removed his mask, and emerged a young man.

Back from the Football Country.

My first time to take Korean Airlines back to Manila. Not bad at all. Except the leg room was tighter and of course, they didn't serve enough food, but wine was served freely.

I am used to flying NWA (Delta), Cathay and Air Canada where food, although still plane food, is served throughout one's flight. Delta and Air Canada stuff you with sandwich, etc. during those hours when you're supposed to be snoring or catching up on your movies. Air Canada even provides hot Ramen-style noodles when you need it most (pitch black hours).

This morning I had a change of plane in Seoul at 4:08 in the morning and I was starved and the restaurants and coffee bars were closed. I went to the departure gate first and took a nap, and around 5:30 am, I dragged my carry on several gates back and found a coffee shop.

'Am back from the football country. When I left, the Ohio's Cleveland Browns lost to Pitts' Steelers and my sis' household was in pain. Then, Brett Favre's wife was interviewed by Oprah for her new faith-filled book and she did fine despite the sex scandal facing her husband, the Minnesota Viking's QB, whose team lost to the Green Bay Packers last Sunday, Oct. 24th.

I'm in mourning, too, not because the Browns lost nor because of the tight mayoralty race in Toronto, but because my red and white wines won't be tasted anymore. Doc's order.

BACKYARD TOURIST.

Putik.

We drove to Nueva Ecija yesterday, a rainy, soaking-wet day, to visit our Aunt and Uncle. Then we proceeded to our farm. 

The approach to our property had been rendered impassable by rain water which turned the soil into mud. So, we drove around to my Uncle's farm from whence we walked through soft soil into our place. We had to criss- cross several times, from soil to grass, to avoid getting stuck into the earth.

But it was futile.  My sneakers plowed in a ton of mud. 

The area, alleluia, will get its irrigation.  The local government is building an irrigation system.  

It was exhilarating to see green and vast open space all around.  It was harvest time.

The Other King.

It's a small world.

ABOVE, It's a Small World attraction at Disneyland, California, taken with a Canon A580.

I kiss, you kiss
But the spell is not broken,
It's in me
The poison stays potent
in the stomach, in the heart
In the brain it creates a seizure.

I laugh, you laugh
But the dryness in the mouth
signals unfulfilled drink of lust
Be it in a jug, a keg, a barrel
I see the shadow
Not in the mirror but in your eyes.

Wish me a star, a moon
A shooting gallery of endless creatures of universe
My princess of day and night,
In you I dwell
as you should too
For others lie and bequeath promises of gold
That turn into leaping pests of the earth.

It ain't beer.

I bought bamboos in Bulacan so I could finish my project in the bathroom. But before I could do that, I had to redo two old furniture, a divan and a mobile bar.

Loading the furniture into a pick up truck my cousin lent us was a big problem. The mobile bar is huge so is the divan. On top of that, we were warned that security might stop us at the NLEX. So, we unscrewed the top part of the mobile bar, and covered the furniture with "trapal."

There was no major hassle on the way home, except for the two times we stopped to secure the cover.

Next day, we cleaned, sanded and applied new varnish on the furniture. Voila, they looked new old. On Saturday, we hosted dinner for some friends and they actually liked the "new old" bar.

It ain't butter.

People suffering from high cholesterol knows that butter is a no no. So, they use margarine, oleo, and other substitutes.

But it ain't butter!

I use butter on my toast. I also put grape jelly on my peanut butter sandwich, although the Doc told me to say no to these stuff. I also drink coffee (another No from Doc), and occasionally sip wine or a cocktail.

It's good family physicians don't go into more private parts of lives, like personal. If they do, my internist would admonish me not to write any short stories, scripts, etc. because they could be hazardous to other lives.

"It's pure shit," others say.

The Second Coming.

It's two days before the first anniversary of Typhoon Ondoy, which struck suddenly last year, and devastated a big part of the country.

Personally, it brought both tragedy and bliss into my life. Today, it looks like a repeat of Ondoy. Dark clouds, no moon.

And the story ends in the garbage, or burned in the urn.

Ancient Memories. Still funny.

Because I'm flying back to Toronto soon, and after I heard that the E.D. of the place I used to work at was leaving, I thought of posting this old picture taken in one of those office events.

It's in the public gallery, anyways, so it's very public.

Memories of working 9 to 5 are so ancient to me. But waking up early and working/writing are so fresh that I look forward enthusiastically to each new day.

I read a funny story in one of the popular blogs this afternoon. It is so eerily familiar that I thought I was reading my story. It's one of those moments when you think everything is about you, and you hear yourself say, not everything is about you.

Imagination brings happy feeling.

Derby.

What's the prize? Everything nowadays command a pot. Money.

Beauty contests, quiz shows, talent shows, game shows, even pre-paid cell phones' got promo for loading. . And even bloggers offer prizes for contests they put on-line. Most of all, love.

Loving someone, or in an earlier stage, wooing someone requires spending money and time. Lots of them, if the object of your affection is what's called "high maintenance."

I remember joining a contest at an early age. This was for a product promo asking people to give names to two cartoon characters. I don't recall what the prize was but I didn't win.

That episode shows how effective promos could be, if even primary schoolers could be enticed to join.

One time Oprah Winfrey raffled cars for her audience; then Ellen De Generes regulary gives out appliances on her Holiday shows/episodes. These are talk shows not game shows but then the producers know the value of gifts and prizes on their ratings.

For suitors showering gifts on loved ones, the priciest prize is receiving back affection. Even the contrived lines uttered by Rogelio de la Rosa on Mameng or of Luis Gonzales on Gloria would count as gifts, " ibibigay ko sa iyo ang bituin at buwan."

"The unreachable star," is how Don Quixote, Man of La Mancha described his dream.

My name is..

English as a second language (ESL) is a popular course in Toronto, Canada. That's because Canada welcomes about 260,000 immigrants a year.

For a lot of immigrants, an ESL class is the stepping stone to a successful assimilation into Canadian economy and society.

Immigrants needing ESL go through a language assessment where their proficiency/knowledge of English is tested; then they are assigned a level. Next, they are referred to a school, a not-for-profit or an organization where they would attend an ESL class. Some individuals attend private ESL schools, (e.g Hansa), more specifically foreign students from all over the globe.

The lowest level of ESL is 1(basic), the highest or advanced level is 10.

Learning how to read, write and speak English is a big hurdle, more so is the learning of correct pronunciation and of the Canadian accent.

I have a Russian friend who would get irritated every time her Canadian boyfriend corrected her pronunciation of English words; they broke up later.

This friend is already a financial officer yet she still has difficulty writing in English, and her accent still shows a lot of Russian. So, she hasn't stopped and still takes courses to improve her English.

I've observed through the years of living abroad that Pinoys who didn't speak any English to start with are the ones who learned the language and the accent much quicker. How could this be?

Let me clarify that. These types of Pinoys usually live with people who speak English as a first language, and they live with them 7/24 hours. So, they hear English being spoken even in their dreams, perhaps.

I can recall several acquaintances, some married to Americans and Canadians, who speak beautiful English now as opposed to when they were in the Philippines, where they tell me they spoke little or no English at all.

Once, when I still lived in Ohio, we had Filipino friends visiting from Australia. The kids' parents were Ilocanos and they called their daughter, Vanessa.

It was a revelation to hear the parents pronounced their daughter's name, and a friend calling her, (this friend spoke no English and only learned it in the U.S.), because my friend's "Vanessa," sounded better and softer, as in "V-en-ess-ae," as contrasted with the parents' "Ban-essaaa."

"My name is," is the first phrase any ESL student would learn.

It's in my head.

Years ago while still working in a research group, a colleague sort of felt cheated that her suitor was listening to Carpenter songs. To her it was "bakya."

Later on, while living in the U.S., I found out that some people considered Barry Manilow's songs quite pedestrian, or also " bakya," despite his record breaking album sales.

I write about this because my Magic Sing (karaoke) chip has songs by both Carpenters and Manilow, and last Friday while driving to Bulacan, we listened to a CD of Carpenter songs as sung by Siti, and discussed about how some young people of today (nephews and nieces) discover old songs and love them, through the Magic Sing.

Sometimes, a Carpenter song would just play in my head, without me calling for it. Or I would automatically pick a Manilow out of hundreds of song selection. My favorite among 'em is "Even Now and Ready to Take a Chance Again, " the theme song in the movie, "Foul Play."

While Manilow's songs seem simple, they're difficult to sing. Carpenter's songs do not require a good voice, they're so "sing-aeble," like the songs of the Cascades.

Bunkers.

I was doing the crosswords yesterday and there was a question, "Mom of Gloria Bunker." Answer: Edith.

I love "All in the Family," a popular sitcom of the 70's, starring the characters of Archie Bunker, Edith, daughter Gloria and son-in-law, Michael. I've enjoyed watching this show on reruns.

Archie Bunker, the commy-hating, bigoted, Republican-inclined blue collar guy is the highly opinionated head of the Bunker family, who abuses everyone in sight. From his wife, to son-in-law, and neighbour George Jefferson, who became the star of another 70's sitcom, the spin-off (The Jeffersons).

Archie hated the liberal views of wife and husband team of Gloria and Michael. He hated Edith's shrilly singing and her low-key opinions, which are opposite to his. He hated the government.

The title of the show should have been "Bonkers."

In most people's lives, there are episodes of getting bonkers. "This is crazy, I'm getting mad, You belong in the sanitarium, etc," are normal conversations in households and among couples.

And then there's the insanity-driving local news coverage of shrieking, gasping field reporters and anchormen who tend to use a "similar" voice tone and level that a listener would think he's listening to just one person.

And then there are neighbours who only talk to you to show off new purchases, or to inquire where your next vacation will be.

Next are the pretenders which include the so-called "plastics," who deliberately or unconsciously lead and mislead lovers, people. Pensive, expensive, expansive. What characters!

And there are also those who get insanely in love, believing only in themselves and getting delusional in the process. Unilateral?

There, I sound like Archie. Where's Edith?