The Days of Wine and Roses.

Frank Sinatra of the olden days and of recent years, Michael Buble. Both are balladeers who dish out the romantic tunes and catch everyone's eyes with the un-loosened tie and impeccable shirt and suit.

Jazz is their genre. Jazz is the sophisticated music. Where the clubs are dimly lit, and the sax player goes onstage or below, and everyone tap their wine glass or hum the tune as the artist plays.

I miss jazz; I miss the  memories around jazz.

The days of wine and roses.

Happy and Thankful

The streets all over the U.S.A could either be quiet or so busy, at this, their Thanksgiving Day.

Many years ago, I used to celebrate American Thanksgiving with my two sisters and their families in Ohio. It was always a  wonderful day.

Thanksgiving in the U.S.A is a not a religious holiday; it is a day to commemorate the first Thanksgiving when a meal was shared between the whites and the native Americans, which is a symbol of acceptance, love and unity.

Today, Thanksgiving is a time to thank the Creator and all the people for having done magnificent things and deeds to us.

So, Thanksgiving, aside from being non-denominational, should also be celebrated globally. In Canada, our Thanksgiving Day is celebrated on the second Monday in October.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING DAY TO ALL.

Foreign Beat.

Two Englishmen got into a scuffle with local security at a private residential-shopping complex, because they were skateboarding in a busy area that was off limits to skateboarders.

Bingo. The Englishmen suffered concussions; the management apologized for the local security's mishandling of the matter.

Prior to the fracas, the foreigners said they were first accosted by the local police and told not to skateboard on the busy street and to skateboard at a nearby park, which they promptly did. This is where the private security guards caught them and were told otherwise.

I lived most of my life in the Philippines, although I lived for twenty plus years in the U.S and Canada, and I witnessed how the locals react and treat foreign people. The locals give preference and nicer service and more respect to the foreigners than to the locals - their compatriots.

The locals do this all the time, because they want the visitors to feel special.

I've resented this outlook and action so many times. I'd been a victim of and a voice against this preferential treatment. I just want the same kind of treatment, service, and courtesy.

One time at the International Airport where I drove my sister and my bro-in-law for their trip back to the United States, the private security guards shooed us away as they did the other locals for staying more than the required short minutes at the drop-off area. The manner it was done was embarrassing - like it was a military drill where they held hands as a human chain and swept towards the people so we could immediately leave. Even my prim and proper medical doctor-sister was insulted by the whole scenario, as I blurted out " ano ito Martial Law?" (what is this, martial law?).

Another time, I was driven to the airport for my trip to Canada and the security people rudely asked my wife and daughter not to linger outside the departure area but I saw how the same security tolerated a foreigner and his local girlfriend who were saying the longest, romantic goodbyes right outside the cordoned-off area.

These are examples of the reverse-treatment given to foreigners and to locals, and a lot of times, they backfire, like the recent incident at the Bonifacio Global. Of course, there is the cultural thing, too.

The locals are submissive to foreigners, (years of subjugation by the foreign powers and lack of savvy dealing and talking with the foreigners) and arrogant towards the locals, whom they can bully, because like them, the locals would easily submit.

The locals get offended if a local asserts his/her rights and s/he is called "mayabang."  But when a foreigner demands what s/he is entitled to, the locals give in.

I think what happened at the BGC is this: The local police explained to the British what the skate boarding policy was and they followed it, because they transferred to the park. Then the private security questioned them (again), politely,  I assume, because of the locals' inherent politeness with foreigners. The Brits then assertively told the security guys, back off, police said we can skateboard here. Local security felt "insulted" at the affront way the Brits answered them, reacted and boom, all hell broke loose.

Lesson learned:  Management people: Teach assertiveness to your people. People: Learn assertiveness not aggressiveness.

And apply it to both locals and foreigners, and in whatever situation you are in. In offices, dealing with peers or superiors, in social or church groups, even in families.

Assertiveness is not rudeness. Aggressiveness is.

Passionately Silent.

War rages on in Iraq and Jordan, in Ukraine, in the Gaza Strip. There's also turbulence in many city streets, slums, and ghettos globally.

Another form of turmoil is taking place in Scotland as the Scots will vote in a referendum on whether to break away from UK. In Spain, Catalonia is thinking of leaving the nation.

Why these perpetual chaos and discontent?

Many years ago in India, a man named Mahatma Gandhi waged a war of silence. He used peace to get peace. He employed non-violent civil disobedience to protest against British rule and taxes. 

Assuming leadership of the Indian National Congress in 1921, Gandhi led nationwide campaigns for easing poverty, expanding women's rights, building religious and ethnic amity, ending untouchability but above all for achieving Swaraj or self-rule.

Gandhi emerged victorious, because in 1947, England gave India independence.

No lives were lost in this peaceful revolt, except for Gandhi's when an assassin put three bullets into his chest at close range.

 

Purposely Joyful.

When I was five, I always saw myself seated in a plane...as a pilot. Then I grew up.

In high school, I was convinced by a resource speaker that I wanted to study in a University located in big forest town, to take up Agriculture.

But Daddy prevailed, so I took a Science course; after a semester, I shifted to the study of politics, and entered the College of Law at Diliman.

Are you like me and perhaps, thousands of others, who cannot make up their minds when in comes to our life long careers?

Back to my story, I ended up taking a master's degree in business administration, and later on, helped people find training and employment in their profession and trade in the new country in which they chose to live in - Canada.

As kids, most of us dream of becoming big name stars - in business, science, arts and sports.

We see ourselves like our parents, perhaps, or as our idols in the big screen. We often pattern our behaviour and action after our favorite toys and their TV or film personas. Today, tots hold Mega trons, or Ironman, Spiderman, and other comic hero-toys in their hands as if these were real-people playmates and friends.

We also see ourselves as our role models, our teacher, doctor, priest, pastor, fireman, policeman, politician.

But when it comes to really deciding what role to play in our real, mature life, a lot of us become clueless, or just go with what our parents tell us to do, or be guided by the market's employment demand.

The juice or the real dream fades quickly.

To discover your real purpose and real joy in life and BEGIN TO MELD THEM TOGETHER are what will make you really happy in life.

Successful personas followed their hearts and their dreams ultimately, even if at first, some had been derailed.

Bill Gates, although rich to start with, dropped out of college, and built his own company, following what his heart dictated to him.

Babe Ruth, called the "Bambino,"  was sent to a reformatory school at age 7, and rose to become a legend in baseball.

Mother Teresa left her biological family at age 18 and became a nun of St. Loreto, and left this mission and in 7 October 1950 started the diocesan congregation that would become the Missionaries of Charity.

Pope St. John Paul II was an actor, then followed his heart and became a priest, became a Pope and a Saint.

Jesus Christ was a carpenter by trade, but dropped his tools, and followed His heart and His Father, and became Our Saviour.

To become glad and joyful, we all must be honest with ourselves first. We cannot lie to ourselves and expect us to be happy. Think of the job that makes you happy and feel fulfilled at doing, prepare or train for it, and do it.

Of course, criminal activities or illegal jobs are a BIG NO.

If you are happy doing what you are doing, you'd be good at doing it and you'd spread that joy to every person you come in contact with. You infect the world you move in, in your own little way, and maybe later, in a really big way. 

DUI.

I used to have about 7  to  11 bottles of a local beer and still drove home some of my friends to the innards of the City, and arrived home safely. Thank God.

That was when I was younger, and before I realized that drinking and driving don't go together.

Living in Canada and the U.S.A changed my whole perspective in driving.

The first thing I learned seriously was to stop at all STOP signs, whether it's a red light, the octagon stop sign at intersections, even at odd times of the day.

Next was following strictly all speed signs, in the highways and school zones, everywhere.

I took everything that was contained in the booklet of traffic rules and regulations, including reporting minor accidents, to heart.

Last Sunday we hosted a family party, and the guys were drinking alcohol, and like in other instances, I asked whether the ones at the wheel were okay to drive, and then I served coffee.

The drunk driving law (R.A. 10586) in the Philippines had been enforced recently, with cops expected to do random alcohol-level testing. This is a welcome development in a metropolis where the night life (with alcohol served) is vibrant, where the populace is increasing and thus the need for more vehicles, where traffic laws and regulations had not been effectively observed, and where vehicular accidents register among the highest in South East Asia.

Violators face penalties ranging from three months to 20 years in prison and fines of P20,000 to P500,000. Violators also face a 12-month suspension of non-professional driver’s license for the first offense and perpetual revocation for the second offense. For professional drivers, a first offense would result in perpetual revocation of license.

Just recently, a relative of a brother in law, a young man in his twenties, was drunk driving  in a new SUV given to him by his parents. He got into an accident. The person at the front passenger seat died on the spot. The young boy sustained fourth degree burns to one third of his body. Luckily, the back seat passengers had only minor injuries. 

Eat, Pray, Love, Too.

I am watching the Julia Robert movie, Eat, Pray, Love, and she is in Italy and the Italians told her to do nothing and just enjoy the moment.  And then, she's off to India where she attends Yoga classes and gets the message that God dwells inside each person.

Julia's character, Liz, then travelled to Bali where she found another shot at love. 

If Liz included Philippines in her itinerary, she'd start her day at a Charismatic Prayer and Healing to find her peace and joy. The Elder in the community gives her a word of spiritual advice: Accept the Holy Spirit and let It be her guide in life.

Then she'd be whisked off to a street food mall or carinderia to have a taste of authentic Philippine food.

Typical Carinderia or mobile food stall in Manila

There, she'd eat rice and kare kare or binagoongan, perhaps with her bare hands, and also tries to swallow the undeveloped chick in the balut, and succeeds and enjoys the new experience and taste.

Liz' trip was to find joy again in her life, after a happy-gone-sad relationship with an aspiring and un-inspiring New York actor, David.

In Manila, Liz would discover the street beggars and the Navotas harbor where she'd marvel at the tons of fresh fish, and maybe, buy some.  Then, she'd realize how lucky she is being from a First World country, and having great work as a writer.

Balut or duck egg, a Philippine delicacy

She'd be invited to a Church wedding where bride and groom dance to lively rural music while relatives pin money to the wedding gowns and shirt. Liz' Filipino friend tells her that it symbolizes a  wish for a prosperous married union replete with children.

Liz goes to a  barrio fiesta, takes a weekend and enjoy the Boracay sun and sand. She mingles at the wet market, tasting yellow mangoes, duhat or black berries, and rambutan.

Her Philippine trip ends with a walk down the Quiapo church aisle, where she looks adoringly at the Senor Padre Nazareno, and feels an answer to her quest.

The Black Nazarene of the Quiapo Church,  during a January 9 procession

She goes out of the Church and takes a jeepney ride back to her Manila Hotel suite, getting off at the Luneta Park, hopping in and sliding at the skater's rink, and being helped to her feet by a muscled skating instructor. He smiles, she smiles back.

Always, our Pinoy message to ourselves and to others,  is hope.

Scammer's skim.

Scammers don't skim the loot; they scoop it. Everything of it. 

The recent news about Janet Napoles confessing to the Justice Secretary De Lima the involvement of three top Senators in the pork barrel scam  finally revealed what the Filipinos already knew for months.

That the  scammers scooped millions and millions of taxpayers' money into their own pockets.

But  scammers move in almost all tiers of government agencies and even, in quasi-public and some private corporations.

The other day while driving along the new C6, I got surprised by the huge holes along the stretch of the highway. They were not just holes; they were almost like sink holes.

Other holes were big dents while others were almost sunken, and others yet, were holes as big as the full lane in the two-lane highway.  Add to these hazards the slow moving tricycles and cargo bikes,  and bingo, motorists could not go beyond 50 km/hr or about 20 m/hr.

What C6 intended to do in cutting travel time was totally negated by the sub-par construction that went into building C6. Money must have flowed into government scammers.

But hey, even personnel of private firms engage in scamming. Just go deal with utilities men - cable technicians, water meter installers, even bill- delivery men. They would offer extra services and ask customers to pay but sorry, they could not issue an official receipt.  Private bill deliverers routinely ask for Christmas tips and other holiday tokens.

I always give tips to those service guys who don't ask for one, but give good service. Like gasoline boys who clean windshield, put water in the radiator and pump air into my tires.

Or the server who constantly fill my water glass and my cup with unlimited hot tea at Chinese and Japanese restaurants.

At Ikea's, I give boys who help load heavy purchases into my trunk generous tips.  And even those street kids or adults who'd bring my grocery cart back into the cart island; they'd get the dollar or quarter out of the cart I used.

Once, we had a house help who'd never get back her two-peso coin change from vendors.  She was also generous in her tithing to the local Church we attended.

But another house help scammed us with two electric fans and a portable radio while another one ran away with household items and even, tons of my top-of-the-line audio cable.

Construction crew has been known to cart away paint, cement, steel bars, pipes, nails and screws without knowledge of their contractors.

Heat and Meat.

Temperature rose to 32 degrees Celsius yesterday in Manila. The low was 26 degrees. It was a blazing summer day, and we had to be out for a medical stress test, and some important errands.

It was a National Holiday, too, so the Mall housing the medical clinic was teeming with shoppers and those seeking free cooling system.

Breakfast started with two pieces of local roll called pan de sal with cheese, and coffee, lunch was Cuban rice with carne with Spanish coleslaw and banana fritter, and dessert of low sugar yogurt topped with Macadamia and peaches, and dinner was a huge croissant with ham and bacon.

It was a meat day yesterday amidst the summer heat.

And then we found this mega sale of branded sports wear and sneakers at the Mall. Because we needed a pair of sneakers as the stress test required comfortable shoes and we left home with a pair of leather shoes on, we innocently walked in to browse and buy.

Just to get into the aisle of your shoe size required falling in line. The line was horrendously long.

We decided to leave but presto, there appeared infront of us several aisles where shoe sizes were mixed. Lots of boxes were also lying on the floor, perhaps abandoned by frustrated shoppers who didn't want to go thru the long queue into the cashiers.

Voila! We found a simple, black and white comfortable walking shoe, and also bought a black with multi-color stripes for the faithful navigator.

The queue to the cashiers was even longer, and took more than an hour. One guy four heads in front of me was in a sorry state when his purchase was found to be much more expensive than the price tag stuck underneath the shoe. He didn't buy the pair. I guess some loser exchanged the tags, and the poor guy didn't know about it.

We came in time for our stress test wearing our new sneakers.

Good 'ol Peanut Butter.

My all time favorite sandwich is peanut butter sandwich. Not hamburger nor ham nor chicken.

I have childhood memories of buying peanut butter in the neighbourhood convenience store early  mornings, with my older sister in tow. She'd purchase coco-jam, and I'd be with my peanut butter.

But at home, my Aunt or Mother always prepared heavy breakfast of rice with fried fish or left over meat dish, with egg omelets, bread and coffee. So my peanut butter sandwich was only a pre-breakfast treat.

Fast forward into adulthood and my love for peanut butter has not waned a bit. I make it as breakfast, snack or even regular meal when I first found out I was high on blood sugar. Of course I choose a brand with low sugar and low sodium contents.

Do other people have romance with peanut butter. Yes, think of the late Rock N' Roll King, 
Elvis Presley. He loved peanut butter sandwich, and he'd put slices of banana on top of the spread. 

Waking up at odd hours in the evening, I'd snack on peanut butter.

Peanut butter is also an ingredient in most Thai food which I love; the local delicacy, kare-kare, a mixture of ox tail, beef, and vegetables is also rich in peanut butter.

Haunted and Enchanted.

Who could forget the fictional high school dance wherein Marty McFly dated and parked in the car with her own mother, in the movie Back to the Future?

It was the Enchantment Under the Sea,  a high school dance that was held at Hill Valley High School  on Saturday night, November 12, 1955 in which Marty McFly's parents, George McFly and Lorraine Baines fell in love after their first kiss.

High school dance or prom is always enchanting, no matter how it's themed and called.  It's usually the party where a guy gets to wear his first formal coat and tie, and for the girl, her first formal long gown.

It's also the event where guys and gals first learn slow dancing.

No matter what time zone and what year it happens, high school dance and prom always remain an affair to remember.

But high school prom is not just the stuff teens remember all summer long and all their lives.

There's the "haunted part" of adolescence. That period in one's life in which watching horror movies on vacation nights adds gory and glory to growing up.

That's why Hollywood never ceases to come up with horror films: the Halloween, Friday the 13th,  the Scream series, the Saw, The Haunting, The Blair Witch Project, Nightmare on Elm Street, Poltergeist, The Ring, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Shining, The Exorcist, and the old Dracula movies are just some of those memorable and haunting horror classics. 

Of course, telling scary stories make camping and sleep overs more fun, too, even for adults.

Wackiness 101.

I have no idea how "wacky" posing for group photos started. I think this latter days' "wackiness" is an "only in the Philippines," phenomenon. I maybe wrong.

My conjecture is it probably started in Ireland where the Halloween tradition started, and persisted until the Irish settled in the U.S.A.  When the camera was invented, people took pictures of their Halloween costumes and antics. 

In 2009 when my mother passed away and we were holed up in the funeral home, we were doing "wacky" poses in the privacy of the family room. It was an antidote to our sorrow.

Then I discovered that in all group photo sessions, serious would be followed by wackiness.

I don't have any standard wacky pose. In fact when someone shouts "wacky," I can only manage a "slit my throat" pose or fingers curled like a black bear ready to pounce on a prey.

When I review "wacky" pictures, I oftentimes see people just raising both their hands as if scaring someone off their newly cooked dish or freshly baked croissant.

Some would show their tongues out, others would put the "devil's" horn on top of their heads or on someone else's head, and lots would act as if they're being killed or choked.

Look at "facebook photos" your friends had posted and you'd see wackiness all around.

Even during religious retreats, people ask their priest or pastor to be wacky for a split second during photo ops.

Kids always love being wacky, and nowadays, they're like professionals when it comes to photo shoots, almost always posing with thumb and pointer fingers under their chins, the so-called "I'm cute" pose.

"Wacky" also shows people jumping up or pretending to jump.

Just cook it!

I love salad: veggie salad (greens),  potato salad, fruit salad, macaroni salad, coleslaw, seafood salad

and whatever I can put salad dressing on or simply vinaigrette or balsamic on.

I used to make a plate of crab meat loaded with cucumber and some Ranch dressing, and inhaled it in an instant.

When my doctor declared I was diabetic, I subsisted on greens, wheat bread and peanut butter, oatmeal, tuna and sardines with tomatoes and onions for lunch, and grilled and steamed fish with lots of ginger and of course, on fruits, and immediately brought down my blood sugar level to 5+.

I learned to make smoothie as well.

I always craved for the brown rice with red beans of the Jamaicans, and their chicken, too,  and the rice con pollo of the South Americans, and the panini and roasted pepper and mushrooms and eggplant parmigiana of the Italians, and filled my palate but always, in moderation.

My mix and match drinks always pleased me, and red wine was and is, my favourite.

Three years into sabbatical from cooking and I am beginning to miss my own kind of cooking. And the other things I did, like dancing and long walks in the park with the dog.






Long pauses, alas, can be tiring. 

A Long Pause.

I haven't posted since last year; the last entry was posted in the mid-days of December 2013.
It was a very long pause, indeed.

Pause is a temporary activity. Rest can be arbitrary, either awhile or permanent.

When we talk about rest, many things come to mind. Rest and recreation for one.

If you scan your facebook account, you'd notice friends and friends of friends posting photos from their vacations or long rest or for those in the IPO (call centers), their trip-incentives or group events are taken as respite from their monotonous work load.

Planning for a much needed rest sometimes leads to stress. Whether it's a local tour or overseas, scheduling for flight, accommodation and itinerary can be nerve-wracking and strenuous.

When I was regularly flying from Canada to P.I., I used to rotate booking my flights from several travel agencies. And lately, with just one agency, which was a stone's throw away from where I used to live.

On a long drive to the Big Apple from Canada, at the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan

Taking long drives within the East and West Coasts in the U.S., and in Canada was my preferred way of taking vacation. That way, I controlled my own pace and saw and appreciated places which were hidden in tour packages.

But of course, I also joined some group tours, especially out of U.S. and Canada.

Travelling locally and in East Asia, I find it better to book my own trip/s.  With the help of Internet resources, it's now a breeze to select cheap flights and accommodation, even "banca" trips in remote islands.

On a past trip to Singapore without help from travel agent

In the early eighties, I went on a trip to Mountain Province in the famous Rice Terraces and made a side trip to Sagada. Back then, the road leading to Bontoc and Sagada were so much treacherous than today, and the jeepney our group hired on a whim going to Sagada, thank God, proved sturdy enough for the gravel-paved mountain trek.

On a trip to Caramoan last Summer, I personally booked the beach front accommodation on the island, and relied on "customer reviews" and travel blogs for the intricacies of the vacation. And on a trip to Boracay, I did away with an expensive package which a sister took for her group, and instead, booked my own flight and hotel.

A Boracay trip arranged thru Internet

In my extended family, I have always been asked to take charge of arranging "get aways" for the whole clan. I don't complain.

So, if you're planning for a summer get away locally, consult the numerous travel blogs and book via the various booking engines.

For international vacations, I might just do what I am training myself to do: be my own travel agent.
For instance, a neighbour said it's cheaper to fly to Australia via Singapore.

Becoming one's travel agent maybe too much work, but if one can save hundreds of pesos or dollars, it would be worth the try.