Back to Basics.

Last Friday, I found myself inside the Quiapo Church, Home of the Black Nazarene. We almost didn't find our way - thanks to the almost twenty five years' absence from the Philippines.

The roads leading to Quiapo didn't change much: it's the way the traffic flow was re-routed that caused the confusion.

The sudden urge to pray before the Nazarene was precipitated by the previous week's Jan.9 Grand procession, the Feast of the Black Nazarene. After all, I grew up worshipping at the Quiapo Church every Friday afternoon, courtesy of my Aunt, who thought that bringing along a six year old tot in her "lakad paluhod" would cure him of his asthma and attitude.

There was absolutely no parking spot that Friday at Quiapo. So, we parked right in front of Plaza Miranda, leaving Plary to mind the car. We braved the sea of people listening to the mass from outside the church, and were able to get at the tail end of the aisle.

It was almost the end of the Mass. We were just in time for the blessing of statues and icons, missals and other religious objects.

On the way out, a layman was blessing the crowd with holy water and we caught lots of it unintentionally, as the others busily jostled for the perfect position. It was a blessing, I guess, a sign that good things are to come.

Afterwards, we walked behind the Church with the intention of finding Wa Nam, my favorite childhood Chinese panciteria. But the huge crowd and throng of merchandisers dampened our hungry spirit. Instead, we canvassed for the Image of the Black Nazarene, and haggled with the vendors, until we found one with the "soulful" face that appealed to us. It cost 600 pesos.

When we got to our parking spot, the car was nowhere to be found. We saw cops manning the traffic and thought rightly that Plary had been shooed away. We walked towards Quinta Market and found the car parked outside a pay parking lot.

We ended up having lunch at Tropical Hut, past the Santa Mesa Church, in a small shopping arcade. I immediately ordered the Classic Burger, a favorite of mine way back in the late '70s. But it was a total dissappointment.

Not only did it take at least fifteen minutes for the burger to arrive, but the tomatoes and cucumber looked soggy
and the lettuce, like the car, was nowhere to be found. I brought it to the counter and asked the clerk what happened to the lettuce. "Oh, here it is," I said, after digging underneath the sandwich.

About two minutes into my sandwich, a clerk brought me a small plate of fresh lettuce.

Pining for cold.

RIGHT - Last March in Toronto.

We planned to go to Baguio this Friday, and I started to look at various accommodation using Google. There were some good prospects. I meant to take along Plary to be my co-driver/aide in case of any vehicular mishap (flat tire, etc). A niece wanted to tag along, even the help.

The sudden urge to go to Baguio was precipitated by news that weather up there has hovered between 9 - 12 these last few days. Aah, spring/winter weather. I love that!

But yesterday, my co-navigator suddenly had a change of heart. "It's too damned cold, my legs might freeze." Plan cancelled.

Then I thought, Tagaytay.

But yesterday while watching television in the living room, I felt cool air blowing into my face. I live behind a creek, trees in the village abound, and the house's screened doors allow breeze into the house, especially in the helper's quarter which is located at the rear. In the backyard, you could even sleep in a hammock (which had been taken down) in the middle of the afternoon during summer and wind will caress your face and limbs.

The Philippines is having a nice January weather. Back in Canada and the U.S., relatives and friends are experiencing a bad winter. My sister called and said they drove to Irvine, California from Seattle, Washington for the Holidays and encountered areas which had been snowed. My other sister in Ohio has been so used to snow that she rarely complains anymore. I could almost feel the frosted mornings of Toronto.

I wish this cool Manila weather will persist longer...into March and beyond. I dread Philippine summer.

It used to be that I took weather for granted. I grew up thinking flood was an annual event. I loved bathing in the rain in the rainy months, playing in the grass during summer vacations, and wearing corduroy jackets on Misa de Gallo nights, and freezing inside the car in the early morning drive to our hometown in Nueva Ecija.

Only when I started to live in the U.S. that weather became a bid deal. "What's the weather like outside," people in the elevator would quiz each other. "Are you warm enough," my sister would repeatedly ask her kids who were about to go to school. " Bundle up folks," the newscaster would holler in the early morning show.

The good thing about this little cold spell is we are saving huge on air condition bills.

Twenty Eleven.

LEFT - Replica of Rizal's House in Binan, Laguna.

We celebrated New Year at the Fontana Resorts at Clark in Pampanga. The whole Clan was there except for bro who did send in two of his sons. It was a hectic yet relaxing way to greet the New Year of the Rabbit.

However, my Year Twenty Eleven started with losses. But I'm glad it was losses at the Casino. This means that I should stay away as far as possible from gambling venues. I'm not a gambler, so this is no big deal.

But then gain has started to come in. A buyer is interested in the property I'm selling.

Unlike other people, I don't set any goals or resolutions at the start of a New Year; I've always been a procrastinator.

Like last January, I promised to take up dancing lessons here in Manila, and to take up swimming as a form of exercise. But no, I didn't follow through. Now, it's January once again.

Good thing, I'm ready with my Total Gym at home and we promise to take early morning brisk walk after the 6 am mass.

Waking up at 5 am everyday and having hot pan de sal with my coffee, and then having a "real" breakfast at eight consisting of rice, egg, and meat (tapa or longganisa) or fish (danggit, daing na bangus or tinapa) have completely ruined my "Canadian" diet of oatmeal and toast/peanut butter sandwich for breakfast.

At Clark, we made a side trip to the Nayong Pilipino. It was unlike the old Nayong Pilipino at the Philippine Village. This one at Clark has only selected scenes from the North (Mountain

Province) and Cavite (the historic Aguinaldo house where Independence was declared on June 12), Laguna (house of Jose Rizal) and Bulacan (Barasoain Church), and a lone Maranao Muslim house, to represent Muslim South. There was a pathetic representation of a Volcano which was unrecognizable since there was no tag or post naming it.

I remember the Nayong Pilipino of Imelda Marcos circa 1975. It looked brand new, and was clean, and the scenarios were almost a complete representation of the Philippine archipelago.

ABOVE, a replica of an Ifugao hut/dwelling which features the detachable stairs, to discourage thieves. Shown are sculptures of Ifugao.

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.