Patchwork of Joy

05/13/2011 Byaheng Uwian Fiesta sa Syudad, Pasko, Bagong Taon, Semana Santa... Yan ang mga araw na nasa bus ako. Punuan ang mga ordinaryong bus, ang pinakamurang paraan para makauwi. Mainit, maalinsangan, at madumi. Mabaho ang mga banyo. Kung medyo malinis man, singko ang bayad sa bawat gamit. Kung minsan, mausok din sa loob ng bus. At sa unang sindi ng mamang may hawak na sigarilyo alam ko na ang amoy. Kung sadyang makawiwindang na ang amoy, pinagagalitan ko ang mamang naninigarilyo. Kung sadyang matanda at tatay na ay nagpaparinig na lamang ako at minsan naiisip ko na mag-isa pala ako at hindi safe ang maging reklamadora. Eto na yata ang magiging buhay ko sa mga susunod na Araw na may okasyon. At eto yata ang buhay ng mga Bikolanong katulad ko na nakipagsapalaran dito sa malayong syudad ng Maynila. Sa bawat sakay ko, may nakikila akong Bikolano. Ironical ding isiping masayang may makausap na Bikolano dito sa Kamaynilaan gayong kung nasa sa sarili syudad a...

First I want to say I am worried of climate change. Although the cataclysm on earth is yet to come not in the century that I am living, I feel concerned much this way. If this is Roman empire time, I might have been dead since the life expectancy is 22 and I am over that. My life is longer and might still be longer, I have choices. I have the power to travel if I will persevere. I want to see the world better by seeing it with my own eyes. I want to see the churches of Florence, I want to exactly see with my eyes how Iceland and the people looks like and why they are one of the richest country in the world. I want to see the wall that divides north and south of Korea. I want to see the trans-siberian railway in order to travel from Japan to Russia. I want to see the circle houses of the Zulu world of Africa. I want to see them more than the pictures the internet is showing me. I dream enriching my purchasing power on traveling but I am yet to surpass again a wall--finding and retu...

I used to remember a long, tiring walk to get to Daraga Church. I was then around 8 or 9 years old. On the peak day of the town fiesta, my parents would set-up a mini-store outside the church. Together with my brothers and sisters, I would gladly help my mother operate the small temp store. We’d usually sell junk food, candies, cigarettes, and refreshments. We would get a lot of queues on our special mix palamig , so an extra hand was appreciated by the family. My father and brothers would carry heavy cases of soft drinks which reminds me that taking those flights of stairs was a small feat.  Those years my father was still working for the church so he usually got approval to sell outside the church. My father worked for the church for many years. He was an all-around carpenter. My father is after all good at a lot of things– plumbing, wiring, and other labor work. On special occasions, the staff at the church would give leftover food to my father. Our empty Christmas table would ...

How old was I that day I was super duper excited to watch the Ibalong Festival street presentation? I can't recall anymore. It was time immemorial. I watch it almost every year since I was young like how Christmas comes every year. When did the street parade started in my city? I have no idea, too. What I know is that it was celebrated on October but moved earlier to August. It was high school when I wished that I was also part of the school presentation. But I was no dancer to be accepted. It's also impossible to be part of it since I don't try school auditions.  I remember the great preparations, and efforts everyone in our school shares as the presentation day comes. Even I also unexpectedly assisted our dancers in their preparations. I remember most performers used to present with local and native materials during their presentations. It was colorful, and fun and their is entertaining music. Maybe, it was like any other festivals too. But it was ...

One fine Sunday afternoon sometime in 2008, I was then a college student, we held a church community gathering in a chapel in my university. Connected to the chapel was the student building that has a comfort room. While taking the stairs, I saw a big bulletin posted with the poem “Desiderata”. The poet was written as anonymous. The poem was not unfamiliar to me as I once read it when I was in high school. It was also posted on our school press room bulletin board. I was more intrigued when I saw it there. I read it aloud without hurry like during high school. It has then stuck into my heart. Whenever I feel sad, I would remember and repeat reading this poem. It’s a feel-good poem for me. A day in MOA Seaside (Desiderata  is Latin word which means ' things that are yearned for ') Desiderata,   Max Ehrmann   Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all perso...

We own the Island!!! Huh? Just kidding, we don't really own this island. =) I just feel like shouting that I own the island to hear my echoing voice, this isn't even in an island. This is a beach, estimated 45 minutes away from the busy streets of Legazpi. No one is around the beach area yet the day was really beautiful. The sea water is so clear. Before I was born, this is where my parents used to live.  It's always fun to rediscover your own place.

Hindi ko alam kung gaano kahusay na magpuputo si Ina. Sa lasa ko, ang kanyang lutong mga kakanin, na bihira kong tikman, ay wala namang katangi-tanging sarap. Ngunit maaaring dahil ako'y sawa na. Nawawalan ng lasa ang pinakamasarap mang pagkain kapag araw-araw ay nakahain iyon sa iyo."   ~Ang Gilingang Bato, Edgardo M. Reyes ( I don't know how great is my mother at making  puto . In my taste, the  kakanin  she cooked, which I often eat, has nothing particularly appetizing at all. Maybe, I have gotten used to its taste. After all, even the most delicious food, if served daily, can lose its wonder.) My 2 cents: It's been a long time ago since I read a Filipino classic story. While I boringly watched TV, then sitting near our bookshelves, I picked and browsed a Filipino high school book, then randomly I flipped on the short story "Ang Gilingang Bato". I wondered if I had read this story before. I usually read all stories in that book, randomly at le...