Of cats and boats

Can you spot my American grandcat from the Filipino one?

The boat we took to cross the first island.

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The other boat we took to cross to Iloilo.

Land tripping

Friday morning I woke up feeling adventurous, and by that I mean, I felt that I could tackle my anxiety. So Jordan and I got on a taxi and headed for the bus terminal at 6 a.m. to cross to another island called Negros Occidental, from there we would cross again to Ilo-ilo.

At the bus terminal we decided to take the minivan, they call it V-hire --meaning a passenger van. There were 17 of us packed like sardines, I could hardly wiggle my legs. The fare was 100 pesos each, (2 USD) compared to the bus which costs about half. The advantage of taking this minivan is that it gets to your destination at least 40 minutes faster than the big buses. Duration of the trip: 1.45 hours.

In spite of my mounting anxiety, I kept pushing myself because I wanted to conquer my anxiety attacks (and not the other way around) plus, Jordan was so excited to do this trip, because this boy hasn't been on a boat or a trip this long. The last boat ride deposited us on the dock in Ilo-ilo at 4pm., so it was practically an all day travel.

To those of you planning a land trip to Ilo-ilo from Cebu, here's the route:
1. Bus or minivan to Toledo City pier terminal --costs P100 -duration of travel 1.45 hours
2. From there you take the boat and cross to San Carlos city in Negros Occidental --costs P170 per person. duration of travel: 1.45 hours
3. There's a RO/RO ship that you can take if you have a vehicle with you... Ro/Ro means roll on/roll off. The first trip leaves at 7:30 in the morning and I think 3 more after that. The fare for the vehicle is quiet costly, around P1200 including the terminal fee.
4. From the San Carlos pier, take a tricycle to the bus terminal and get on a Ceres bus to take you to Bacolod. Make sure you take the bus that goes via the Don Salvador mountain, it's a 2.5 hour ride. If you take the Escalanted route it would be at least 4 hours. The Don Salvador mountain vista is breathtaking, but the winding road up and down the mountains where the tires of the bus are practically on the edge of the cliff was all I could take. Cost: p135.00 per person
5. From the bus terminal take a tricycle or taxi to the boat terminal. There's a boat that leaves every hour to cross to Ilo-ilo. I had a promo fare of p225.00 per person if you buy a roundtrip ticket, otherwise it costs p370.00 one way. Duration of travel: 1 hour on a fast craft

I talk about the breathtaking view of Don Salvador, but I have no pictures of it because I was barely alive trying to manage my anxiety and the fear of the deep plunge---this is why on the way back to Cebu I took the bus with wings. The plane went up and down just like that...in 40 minutes flat I was back in the island of Cebu. By the way, Jordan didn't have any ID with him so he was not allowed to fly, so I put him on the overnite boat, a 12 hour ride and costs p650 at the boat terminal or p700 through a travel agent.

On being an entrepreneur

I woke up this morning and found this entrepreneur---peddling various foods. And as you can see, he is really peddling--using a bicycle and a side car which he will use later to transport people. The pot contains chicken boiled with cabbage which costs 25 pesos (5o cents in usd) for 1 piece of chicken.

Cebu eating

I have been enjoying the cool weather here in Cebu that I haven't used my airconditioner since I arrived here. The downside is that the sun hasn't been out from behind the dark clouds. I went to lunch with some friends yesterday and my friend Tom keeps calling my attention to this door mat at the entrance door.

When I am here in Cebu, I normally don't seek out restaurants that serve American foods but after a month, I start to miss the good cuts of meat, as in steaks. And Tom being American who lives here now, is always on the lookout for restaurants serving authentic American foods. This restaurant we ate at yesterday is located right in front of Banilad Elementary school, it's called The Ranch. They serve good steak and pretty much "everything there is good" according to Tom. The owner who is also the cook came from California who opened this restaurant 7 months ago, and has a good following already. So next time you're in the island, check out this place.

I finally had to spend the money and bought a dining table because I got tired of eating and doing my chopping on the side of my computer desk. Really, this is not a dining table for midgets, it just looks like it.

In Perspective

What should you do when you're still awake at 3 a.m. and you're reflectively praying about the state of the world and the condition of mankind, then you stop praying because you want to dwell on the condition of your waist? The muffin top and your bat wing arms and not to mention the bonus of random hair. Or should I say hairs? This picture I took earlier when I went to the mall and found this kids chilling with their equally hungry dog should put things in perspective. I guess I have to pray again, harder. Or go to sleep.

Forget protocol

While waiting for a mass wedding ceremony in Sogod, Cebu, two couples kill time by feeding their baby (right) and nibbling each other. (Sunstar.Cebu -Photo by Alex Badayos)

I was not going to open my blog until Saturday as I am just dragging this week but I just had to share this with ya'll. I love simple, carefree people.

Forget protocol.

Bubba's happy and so is Inday.

Crisis in Cebu

Yesterday, on the Drudge Report, in red and on top of the page it says : 100,000 may have died in Myanmar (Burma) cyclone.
While a Cebu paper carried the headline : A TEAM from the National Bureau of Investigation (NBI) Computer Crimes Division will be in Cebu today in a mission to identify who uploaded on Youtube.com. the video depicting the removal of a body spray canister from a patient’s rectum.
Notice the difference of the two headlines on what matters to some people?
I've heard of kids swallowing all kinds of stuff. But an adult with a canister up his rectum? Why? and who stuck it up there?
A month or so ago, this same paper reported about this Jan-jan, the guy from Cebu whose boyfriend (yes, boyfriend) stuck a perfume canister up his anus. When I read it, I didn't think it was funny. Constipation is not funny. At least, I don't think it is. So can you imagine a canister stuck up there? I don't care how small.
So Jan-jan went to the city hospital to have it removed. And it was removed. Not just removed but "happily removed." The medical team who did the procedure were clapping and laughing.
And what's a happy gathering without someone capturing the moment. The moment was frozen in time and was even uploaded on YouTube. (YouTube always gets you in trouble, like getting everyone addicted to Arnel Pineda). So the legal saga began when Jan-jan found out that his arse was up on Youtube. He sued the hospital for 6million Pesos! Also, there were talks of possible revocation of the teams licenses - for jeering. No, jeering is ok, just so you don't do it on Youtube.
I went to this hospital four years ago with my Australian friend because she runs a charitable foundation that helps this hospital. While there, I saw 2 cats lethargically walking and casually licking on dead bodies in one room then leisurely walk over to another room to visit the maternity patients. A 3rd cat too tired to walk but with moon eyes, was coiled and relaxing on the lower level of the medicine cart while a nurse in crisply ironed white uniform smilingly pushed it around. She must be a fresh graduate. I asked my friend, "Is this ok with the doctors here?" She looked at me funny. "With the few and overworked doctors we have, do you think 3 malnourished cats would bother them?"
As I was reading Jan-jan's story, I thought, maybe one of these "few" doctors did the procedure. But the newspaper said that there were as many as 14 medical personnel in the OR. Did these corrupt government officials hire more doctors since I was last there? I doubt it.
Because I only read bits and pieces of the whole story, I don't really know the whole truth. But here's my perspective on this news bit. Here in America, we have stores everywhere selling sex toys. I even passed by one the other day. The building looked like a church were it not for the sign that says it was not. So we can assume that there are people who "really" use these toys, or that nice building wouldn't be standing there. Anyone who has kids or has been around kids knows that anything could happen to any toy. It could malfunction or you could have a malfunctioning playmate. Imagine US taxpayer's ire and horror if Dallas Morning News carried the headline that the FBI are on the hunt for the techie who uploaded the video of some malfunctioning sex toy.

Please don't get me wrong. I understand that doctors should be held to the highest degree of accountability and that patients are due the utmost respect regardless of their ability to pay or lack thereof. Jan-jan should not be put through the public humiliation (he was already humiliated in private... and in private parts). But to go to an extreme measure of bringing in the NBI to Cebu? With the current rice crisis? Who pays for their food, hotel and transportation not to mention the bar tabs? I could just hear their drunken conversation discussing the days progress: "So, you got any leads as to who uploaded the video on YouTube?" "Naah, but I got the canister. I think I will post it on eBay."
You understand my frustration here? Mark Twain is right : If you don't read the newspaper, you are uninformed. If you read the newspaper you are misinformed.

Tragic Comedy

When I tell people I don't watch tv because I don't have one, they don't know how or what to take me for. My reasoning is this, " What do I do with all that information?"
I scour the web for news that interests me, and most of the time I find that there's really nothing that I need to know. But even though 95 percent of the news I read on the paper about Cebu irks me, to say the least, I still try to scan the headlines at least once a week. Just so I know if a typhoon came and flushed my apartment to the river. Today, the above picture and caption below made me chuckle.
"Firefighters, assisted by 10 residents, had to push one of Oslob’s firetrucks to the scene of the fire, 50 meters away, so that it could pump water to put out the blaze."

Oslob is a town south of where my apartment in Cebu is. An old church built in the late 1800 was gutted by a fire that could have been prevented if they had a fire truck. And why don't they have a working fire truck? The mayor said the clutch was needing repair. I could not get mad anymore, and I could not afford a laugh, I can only chuckle. Corruption happens in all levels of life whether it is in Cebu, Sudan or America so I should not waste my breath lambasting the corrupt politicians in the Philippines anymore. Remember, I am tired of politicians.

But Filipinos are different. We are the only culture that takes a lot and forgets too soon. Spanish colonization? That's ok, at least we inherited the "mestizo" look. Japanese bayonet? Ooh, but at least we got Toyota surpluses.

Corrupt politicos? Shhh...they gave us a can of sardines in exchange for our votes-- remember?

In search of Home

From my journal of 2006 - when I was in Cebu

After a long and agonizing flight from Dallas, I landed at Hongkong airport with a renewed energy. I say agonizing because when I left Dallas I was sad leaving behind friends, a boyfriend and my 30-year old daughter who was bawling after she dropped me off at the airport. On my lay over in San Francisco waiting for my flight to Hongkong, I contemplated on canceling the Asia leg of my flight and just turn around and go back home. But where is home? All my earthly possessions were in storage and some are on the belly of the Boeing 747. The sadness I felt was paralyzing but there is no looking back, I have let go of my apartment in Dallas to travel around Southeast Asia and try living as a female nomad then eventually settle down in my country of birth; the Philippines.
We landed ahead of schedule in Hongkong so I had more time to roam around but the only place that was open was Starbucks. I was glad to see it but after considering a cup of regular coffee which costs as much as feeding a family of 15 in Cebu, I decided to exercise my legs instead. I then took pictures of the planes against the backdrop of early morning sunlight beaming the cap of the mountains. A Filipino man approached me and offered to take the camera from me and took my picture with the planes and the mountains behind me. I asked where he came from. He would not tell me; all he would say is that he is a nomad. I did not like him already because of his evasive answer. A Filipino vagabond? I don’t know of a Filipino vagabond except the ones’ roaming around the streets in Cebu in tattered clothes and sleeps on the sidewalk. Proudly, I told him I live in the US even without him asking me.

The flight from Hongkong to Cebu takes less than three hours and after flying for 13 hours from the United States; this feels like a skip and a jump. An American friend of mine who now lives in Malaysia told me once that he feels like kissing the ground every time he lands in Asia from a trip abroad. This is how I feel everytime I land in Cebu. But this time I had mixed emotions; I was not happy nor was I sad. The ambivalence bothered me. I hold an American passport but I don’t feel American when I am in America, yet as soon as I land in Cebu, I could not wait to hand my passport to the immigration officer so he would see that I am an American. And that I am proud to be an American. This makes me realize that I don’t know who I am anymore. In Texas where I have lived the last 20 years, I always say, “ I want to go home” every time I think of going back to Cebu for a visit. But once in Cebu, I don’t feel I am home. When I see the word “Balikbayan –1 year” (returning Filipino permitted to stay 1 year) stamped on my passport I don’t know what to think. Should I be glad that I am permitted to stay that long? Or should I be mad that I am now told how long I can stay in my native country?

My friend Julie married an Australian and lives in Australia; she comes back to the Philippines every year. Her husband retired from Qantas Airlines and has travel privileges with the airline, he complains that Julie does not want to travel to other places but comes back to Cebu every year then complains about everything when she is in Cebu. I asked her where she considers home. She shrugged her shoulders, “I wish I know.” We talked about the pollution and population explosion in the island. The island is dirty, the politicians corrupt and the vehicular congestion topped off by the Filipinos affinity to diesel-powered vehicles. So why come back? The answer reminds me of what this actress said when asked where she likes best, Dallas or New York. (She was from Dallas and now lives in New York) “ Dallas is like, you have to go there because your mother lives there,” she says.
Connie married an American and has lived in so many countries because her husband worked for an oil company that makes him travel all over the world. She now lives in Malaysia for the last 15 years where I visited her recently. She owns a beautiful and spacious home there, one of the very few homes I would like to have. She makes this home for her husband Ron; she gets involved in every community affairs and knows almost everyone in the island. Her sister and son lives with them and yet, she is building another home in her hometown in the Philippines, with the intent of “one day going home.” Ron wants to be buried in the Philippines because he said that he wants to be where Connie will be; he is certain that is where Connie will live once he dies.

Don is buried in Cebu with the thought that Cebu will be most likely the place where I would ultimately park my old bones and I want him close by me. But Chat is in the US, and I don't feel I should be anywhere but near her. Choices.....it depresses me.

So where is home? Jesus said He is preparing a place for those who trusts Him and that one day He will come back to welcome us to Himself. There's the answer-thank God.

JORDAN

This morning, I woke up needing a lift in my spirit. So I called my little friend Jordan in Cebu. I miss him and I also miss the noise (I can't believe I miss the noise ) that I have gotten accustomed to upon waking up in my apartment in Cebu. There's the neighbors' rooster and its' incessant crowing, then there's the other neighbor who seem to get it's cue from the rooster then starts the radio with its' eardrum blasting cacophony.

But most of all, I miss Jordans little feet dragging his rubber slippers while pacing back and forth in front of my door at 530 a.m. It's my cue to open the door because if I don't, he not only drags his slippers louder he also makes a loud coughing noise. Jordan and his siblings with their jobless father lives close by me. The siblings collectively struggle to make money by whatever means possible and still barely eats 3 times a day . Jordan puts in his share of income from an occasional sweeping and wiping clean the bench seats of passenger jeepneys. His mother died when he was 6 years old and has since then basically raised himself. I knew his mother but I really did not know this child but he attached himself to me even though I only saw him occasionally when I came to visit from the US.

This time when I came to live in my apartment in Cebu he lost interest in everything else; his little income and his little friends. He would stand in my front door literally for hours waiting for me to use him for errands in return for some food. I told him he can leave, that I will just call for him when I needed him. But he prefers to hang around me because he likes to observe what I do. You see, he thinks I am rich because I come from America. He is intrigued by the things I have that they don't have in their house. He is awed that I have food anytime I want to eat; all I have to do is open the refrigerator. I feel compassion and affinity for Jordan because I see myself in him. Growing up poor, I also once longed to be like the rich. I slowly introduced him to the better side of life ; I replaced his mismatched, oversized hand- me- down rubber slippers, bought him a couple of shirts and pants and provided soap and water in exchange for him to bathe everyday and stay clean around me.

It took weeks before he got all the hardened grimes out of his body. From years of not bathing more than twice a month, the grimes did not disappear instantly but came off layer by layer. The family has to choose the best use for the money; between bathing(buy soap and water) and eating, the choice is not difficult.

Jordan is 12 but he is mentally deficient because of malnutrition. But he is considerate, he is kind and has the childlike innocence that you don't find in 12 year- olds nowadays. Whenever l take him to do grocery shopping, he would always insist that I don't carry or lift anything. He likes to go with me because we always get something to eat, sit around and people watch. And even though he can't carry on a conversation, I still enjoyed his presence because I am rewarded by the sparks in his eyes everytime I tell him he can order whatever he wants to eat.

But one day, I told him I can't take him with me, because I don't have extra money to eat. He still begged me to let him tag along anyway. I knew then that I would never feel alone in Cebu.

He could not carry on a full sentence to make sense,and only knows to write the alphabet of his name, but knowing that his heart is sincere, I try to be patient with him. He wants so bad to help his family financially that whenever I gave him money, he runs to his father and give it all away. I struggled to find the right words to explain to him that his gesture is good, but that I want my money to buy food for him, not cigarettes for his father.

When I talked to Jordan today, he was busy preparing for the "exchange gift" that the neighborhood kids were planning to have. I made sure he had money to participate but he did not sound happy, I asked him why, he said he wished I was there. Jordan understands what it means to be in a crowd and still feel alone. Me too, wished not to be alone this Christmas. I controlled the tears and promised to see him soon. I taught him how to read and follow the calendar, so he asked me what "date" is soon. I struggled for the answer and he asked another question, " Your voice is broken, are you sick? Is it Christmas in America now?" Jordan may not be smart or able to read and though his voice was filled with childish curiousity, I felt the echo of care and concern.

No, Jordan, Christmas is tomorrow, but yes, my heart is broken. Again.

Adidas

Filipinos have the knack for words. They can coin words and make it into something humorous or even funny. And Filipinos eat anything too..well, almost anything. I did my part when I was growing up as my mom would never throw away anything; when we complained she would always invoke "going hungry during world war 2." But as I got older and my personal finances improved, I tried to act like I came out of her womb already civilized. Note that I said 'tried.'
My older brother and the rest of the population likes to eat chicken feet. And so do I. To mask the criminality of the word, Filipinos calls them 'Adidas'. Barbecued, stewed or in soups, chicken feet is pretty tasty, I have to admit. But sans the nails. I love the stewed kind and always order them at dimsum. I was in Kuala Lumpur and a friend asked if I would eat chicken feet for breakfast. He said it comes with Chinese mushroom. Feet and fungus on the same line with breakfast? Well, do as the Romans do.
There's something appealing about something small, something thin, but the adidas on my plate were very fat I was not sure if they were really chicken feet. This one was not chopped into little pieces. From the knee all the way down, 2 feet arranged ominously in my plate. I gulped them down anyway.
Three days later I was back home in Cebu, I went out for lunch and guess what I was craving for, again...adidas.
I went to Dimsum and ordered a plate. Then I started to examine the soft as silk adidas on my plate. Unlike what I had in KL, these are chopped into small bite size pieces. I pondered, since I really love this 'delicacy' I should try making them at home in order to save money. So the next day, I went to the nearby grocery store. There was a big pile of them in behind the glass counter. I looked around to make sure none of my friends saw me with the tong diligently checking each feet. Civilized people should not admit to eating adidas. I started to feel grossed out as I was doing this because -should I call them toes? they were like baby fingers with baby nails. I asked the attendant if she could get one of the boys at the back to cut the nails out and she gave me that look like, "who do you think you are?" Ok, I got the point, so when I got home I started washing them and pulling those "yellow" scales that were still stuck in some of them. As I was doing this, I was really beginning to feel sick in my stomach. My minds eye was trying to describe them; cats claws? baby fingers? oh dear, it's chicken feet, one you love to eat, my mind seems to remind me. I did not think I wanted to go through with it, but instead I got my kitchen shears and cut the nails out ..one by one. By this time, I already knew I won't eat it. I can't eat it. Them nails did me in. I put them in the crockpot, seasoned them with star anise, peppercorns, garlic, soy sauce and I went to bed and tried to put them out of my mind.
The next morning, I was anxious to see how it turned out. It smelled good and almost look like the one I order at Dimsum. Jordan, this poor malnourished 11 year old boy who I inherited from the neighborhood kids, looked at them and told me he is not hungry. " You're always hungry, why are you not hungry this morning, are you sick?" "No, those make me sick" he pointed to my pot. I was mad and wanted to say something like --you are poor and malnourished, you can't be picky. How dare you not eat them, I even eat them. Until now.
I really can't blame Jordan, because as I was looking at my pot full of adidas, I don't think I will ever eat them again. Nails or without nails.

To Spit or not to Spit

Finally, I got myself out of my comfortable routine after waking up in the morning; make coffee, loiter around my apartment and check emails then read my bible and pray. I know, the last part should the first thing I should do.
So today, I went for a walk. Here in Cebu, there's this complex built by the Ayalas' called the IT Park. A friend of mine brought this to my attention one time, she said "have you noticed that when the Ayalas build something they always waste some important land that instead of putting another building they use it for landscaping and walking trails?" She continued, "the Chinese would maximize the use of the land with a standing structural building without any provisions for landscaping, and they are mostly dirty, but not the Ayalas'." I really agree. As I was walking I noticed the buildings in this complex are clean and the surrounding areas are strewn with nice tropical plants and trees. The coffee shops which cater to most of these IT workers has a very nice ambience too.
I really felt good stretching my legs and flailing my arms..why didn't I do this before? Two pregnant women with their spouses were walking along with them, some were jogging some were running, others just sat in the curb resting. A man standing idly was holding a leash without a dog, then I saw an iguana slowly craning its' greenish head out of the grass on the other end of the leash. I was curious, so I asked questions. The iguana is 1 year old and the owner does not feed it meat but only vegetables. He said that if he feeds it meat, it gets mean and bites when it does not get meat anymore. Honestly, I don't see anything endearing about an iguana that I should feed it anything. I had too much so not fond memories of lizards all over our house when I was growing up, that anything resembling of them and bigger than them, feeding it would be the last thing my sane mind would want to do.
As the early morning sun was slowly getting over the buildings and began to touch my skin in an uncomfortable way, I started to walk in briskly so I can get done and go home. Some familiar obnoxious smell molested my nose, I wondered ..."here? who could be frying dried fish in these office buildings?" But I realized it was coming from the little neighborhood store from accross the street. Don't get me wrong, I love dried fish; grilled or fried. I just don't like the smell while it is being cooked. And to top that harrassment, a man walking towards me cleared his throat and spit right almost close to my feet. I don't know what's with these people, why they don't know or even have the common decency to figure out that a spit, phlegm or no phlegm is DIRTY, AND UNSANITARY when done outside the confines of your own bathroom.
I noticed that this is very common here in the Philippines, people burping out loud, smoking right in front of your face and spitting like it is mandatory for your health. Another thing I find idiotic; people would pick their teeth after eating, one hand holding the toothpick, the other covering the act...great, but then burp out loud? Gracias, for good groceries but excuse me for bad manners? And by the way, I am filipino. Even before I lived in the US, I find this burping thing, a heinous act.
The morning walk did me good, in the taxi heading home I thought to myself " I should consistently do this." I felt so good I even told the driver to keep the 2.50 peso change. He smiled, said "Salamat ma'm" then he opened his side of the door, spit out and speeded off. Oh well.