I got this on the mail from Godvine

Photo by me:)

What Do Angels Look Like?

God puts special people in our lives all the time. We just must open our eyes and look around. What do they look like?

Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.

Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up the world, when you smile.

Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things.

Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you.

Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe.

Like the stranger who just happened to come along, when you had lost your way.

Like the friend who touched your heart, when you didn't think you had one.

Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types.

Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles, some without.

They come disguised as friends, enemies teachers, students, lovers and fools.

They don't take life too seriously, they travel light.

They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return.

They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but when you choose to see, they are everywhere you look.

So, open you eyes and count all your Angels -- for you are truly blessed!

Flower Child

When the street children first started selling flowers, I paid high prices for them – P10 to P20 -- partly, because the flowers reminded me of my grandmother, who always bought sampaguita leis for the statue of Jesus in our home; and partly because children with flowers are endearing.

I had forgotten that at this part of town, the beggars have pre-selected haunts. They show up early in the morning, in the same way that other people wake up and go to the office. Their haunts are their “office,” and they know the people who go to the area regularly – to eat at this restaurant or that, to shop at the supermarket or dry markets for bargain items, who hang out in the afternoon with laptops at certain coffee shops, etc. These flower children and the adult members of the coterie know the regulars and the cars that they drive. They know who gives generously, and who does not.

So before I knew it, children would spot me and show up with flowers, knowing I was an easy target. I decided finally to just give to one girl who I thought was quite nice, and to no other child.

Then a boy came up to me with a new innovation. He offered me the flowers, and demanded P20. Oftentimes I try to talk to the children, because I know that street children are brave and they live in a harsh world.

Some friends of mine did a TV WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) documentary on street children. What struck me was one child, 12 years old, who said she doesn’t touch people because she knows they don’t like it. But children are made to be embraced.

So as this young boy followed me to my car, I pretended to bargain with him, just to keep a conversation going. How about P10, P15, P18? He stuck to the price he wanted, P20.

As we reached my car, I showed him my flowers on my rearview mirror. I said, “See? My flowers are dead and I need new ones. P18.” Then I saw something surprising. His eyes turned to slits, he showed anger and insisted on P20.

I recognized that glimmer of anger as a knowledge of the streets that children should not have to have. I then told him, “Okay, but first I have to take your picture.” He panicked and wailed, “No!”

This reassured me. I felt maybe he was street smart about child molesters and really, he didn’t know me. Why, come to think of it, would anyone hold a conversation with a street child?

I was glad that he would not sell his soul to sell me his flowers at that price. I pulled out my camera. “It’s okay. I can take your picture right here.” So, here he is.

I wonder sometimes who these children are, what adults they are with and where they live. I once bought a child siopao instead of purchasing his flowers. The next night, when I again said I would buy him siopao, he insisted he just wanted me to buy his flowers.

Quite a surprise, since siopao costs twice as much.

Apo Reef: Jewel of Mindoro, Philippines

If you love diving or snorkeling, Apo Reef in Mindoro and Pandan Islands is for you. They say it’s the best place to go underwater in Asia, and is the second largest in the world. There are up to 500 different types of corals, tunicates, nudibranches, sponges and slugs on the reef. Plus, another 500 kinds of fish including manta, sharks, stingrays, barracuda, green and hawksbill turtles, schools of fish like jacks, tuna, butterfly fish, batfish, surgeonfish, damselfish, snappers, fusiliers and trevallies.

Wall diving is cool, you needn’t go too deep. The walls are steep and you will have 30 different dive sites to choose among. And then there’s the reef plateau. Trips can be arranged from Pandan Island Resort, Club Paradise, or Dugong Dive Center and Club among others. It’s a three hour ride so load up on the sun block.

The Apo Reef Marine Park also has a lot of birds and the lands are rich in vegetables. Here’s a link for more information:  

http://ilovemindoro.blogspot.com/2011/05/dive-find-jewels-of-deep-in-mindoro.html

Birds

 

“She likes anything on two or four feet that moves,” my mom used to tell people about me when I was a kid. I wondered why she found that so spectacular and why she would repeat it over and over again to others.  Now I know, long after mom has gone, that it was her way of letting me know that she sees me.

I say that last phrase with the film, Joy Luck Club, in mind. There is this scene when a daughter confronts her mother for something the mother had said earlier in the presence of company. The mom told her, (and I paraphrase), “I see you. You have the best quality heart. I see you.”

My mom always saw me, but I didn’t always know that she did. One way of conveying it was by her understanding of just how important animals were to me.

As a child, I wanted a dog badly, but Dad didn’t allow pets in the house. When we moved to an apartment in Spain, whereas Dad was assigned in Nigeria, mom bought me two parakeets.

Her voice, so musical when she simply talked, and her smile that seemed to open up the skies and make the clouds loom prettily, white and fluffy, danced as she told me, “The birds can go on your finger. You can take them out of the cage.”

The birds were named “Guapo” and “Guapita” and after that, I could never see birds in quite the same way again. Mama liked to do things with quality. Dad liked to do things large (which is a different type of quality). Mama knew that I was tactile. I often played with Guapo and Guapita.

The cage rested on top of a cabinet within view of the dining room table, and I always kept watch over them. Every day after school I would veer straight to the cage to bring my parakeets out. I told friends at school that I had trained birds. When friends visited, (whether mine or my siblings), I showed them the birds, which were to me the most precious things in the house.

Mama used to tell me of a friend who had similar birds, and every morning she said the bird would knock on the door and come in and jump on the woman’s bed and say, “good morning little love bird.” Her voice would lilt and she repeated the story to me many times, and it always ended with her beautiful laugh.

Now, of course, I realize that mama was just being funny, since parakeets are also called love birds.

I don’t want to remember how the birds flew over rainbow bridge. I do recall that one bird died first, and mom told me the other bird just keeled over one night. She looked serious and her voice was kind.

She saw me.

Music box

I wish I at least took a photo of the second hand music box I didn’t buy. (It's similar to, but not exactly like the one in the photo above).

It was in a Japan Surplus store (a fancy schmancy name for ‘second hand’), near my home, that regularly changes stock. Though I rarely buy, I like to browse and enjoy other people’s memories.

The other day there was this lovely carved music box, the closest thing to what I had been looking for, for years. It was similar to my first music box when I was a child. Mom bought three of them, one for me, one for Terrie and the largest one for Alice (the oldest of the three of us). It was lacquered and smelled fresh and when you opened it, the spare, tinkling song came out, lively in its spartan quality.

Of course, there was the sparkle in mom’s eyes and her smile and her dancing voice that could make anything more beautiful and remarkable than it already is. So I often opened my music box, and it gave me a feeling that is rare and treasured.

Eventually the music box broke and was forgotten. Years later, Dad brought home a musical bottle with a dancing ballerina in the center, exactly like the one in the photo above. You could wind it up and the doll did fouette turns. I played it so often that eventually the doll danced more and more slowly, until one leg fell off.

So when I saw that carved, second hand music box my heart jumped. It was so much like the very first one I had. Could I paint and lacquer it, perhaps like this music box above? Things are always better when you upcycle. But my heart danced so much that it hurt, and I put the box back on the shelf. Its memories were its own, a carcass of mine.

Visiting Cory's Grave

Kat thought it was strange to visit a grave.  First, because as Christians (not Catholics) we don't make much ado over graves, as we believe the deceased is in heaven.  Second, because the EDSA Revolution happened before she was even born--before Ed and I were even married, in fact.  We were just starting to date at that time.  This is why Kat doesn't have the same sense of the historicity that goes behind the passing away of President Cory Aquino.

She also thought it was strange to pose for photos in front of a grave.  However she tried to look respectfully solemn.  That is the diplomat in her.  Though we don't view death with the same solemnity as Catholics do, she is respectful of the differences in people's sentiments.

I however really wanted to see the grave of the former president, because when she died I had deliberately avoided watching all the coverage on TV, reading newspapers about her wake and funeral, viewing any live stream, and listening to the coverage on the radio.  It was pretty emotional for me, and I simply needed space.

Ed had the greater sense of historicity.  When Cory died he went to the streets to watch her coffin pass by, braved the heavy traffic, the heat, and the huge crowd.  At the end of the day he would tell me about what happened, what he had seen and who he talked to. Everything always feels and sounds safer with Ed.

In fact, it's only now that I am posting these photos though we took them on Jan. 1.  I think her death was emotional for me because I was afraid that in her dying we would lose something very special--a time when we as Filipinos cared more for our country and for each other than for ourselves and our personal lives and safety.

Kat kept telling me not to clown around.  I tried.

And tried.

Anyway, I was lucky to have interviewed Cory twice.  The first time I did was when I was still young and sexy.  She was quite an inspiration at the time.  It was in the midst of the EDSA Revolution, and shortly after her husband was killed.

The second time I interviewed her was after her presidency.  I was then doing research for a book about one of her lawyers.  That interview did not go quite as well.  She was a bit impatient and things fell below my expectations--but the experience was not boring, and I treasure it.

First, because I can say I stood beside history and spoke to this amazing woman one on one.  It was just for an hour however, because she had to go to mass. And although things fell below par I have learned as a writer that people are people, and a public image is very different from a private life.

Second, I treasure the experience because it is a privilege to be able to see the normal side of people who make our history.  I am grateful for what she did for our country.

It is not a privilege to see how fat I am and how stupid my outfit is. But as Christina Aguilera said, "I am beautiful no matter what they say.  Words won't bring me down."  hahahahhahha.

Been there, done that.  That's how I feel about having had the chance to meet and interview a lot of famous and remarkable people, gone to a lot of press events, et al.  Maybe that's why I'm so comfortable with a quiet and laid back life now.

I have friends who are much more successful than I am, extraordinarily talented, still in the thick of things, genuinely sincere, married, still in love, and have raised amazing children who are achievers.  Okay, I am thinking of one couple I know who is REALLY all that.

I'm happy and proud of all my friends--those who stayed in the industry, and those who found their mojo elsewhere.  We share the earth, and I would like to think everyone is where he or she is meant to be.  Thankfully, God is democratic, and then some.:).

What struck me (and Kat) when we visited Cory's grave were the number of other people who came.  It was not a big crowd, but there was a steady flow of couples who came and went.  When we arrived a couple had just been leaving.  While we were there another couple came, prayed for awhile, then looked around and left quietly and respectfully.

They were followed by another, and then another.  Even when we left we saw another car that had just parked, and another couple that was coming up the walkway.  I guess they came in pairs because it was a holiday (Jan. 1) and there was no work.

Here's another couple that came to pay their respects.  They took some photos, too.

When you get to the cemetery look for the Plaza of Dignity.  Being me, I can't remember the name of the cemetery, but I would know how to get there.  But still being me, I wouldn't be sure about being able to find the Plaza of Dignity once I'm there.  Life follows.

Tagaytay's Econo Inn

We don’t live lush, we just live to have fun.  So when the fam went to Tagaytay, we found a very nice hotel that rang true to its name, the Econo Inn.  

We had really been feeling stressed and overworked at the time, even Kat who is always academically active in one thing or another, and we really needed a break.  I urged Ed to be spontaneous, something he and I rarely are.  So we went to Tagaytay and booked a room.

Kat immediately cocooned herself, as you can see.

One thing Ed and I love is that we can work anywhere in the world as long as there is wifi, and even though we were both beat, we still brought our laptops with us.  Even if we're not working, we love surfing the net just for fun.

So Ed parked himself on the lanai for awhile, and later on I joined him.

The Econo Inn has a nice Japanese garden as you can see.  So it was very peaceful for us.  All buildings and homes in Tagaytay have to build downwards so that you don't block the view of Taal Volcano, the smallest volcano in the world.

I regret not taking photos of the cabanas which were windy and extraordinarily cold at night.  By day it is quite restful to watch the volcano and the lake from the cabana.

This is the garden.  Later in the evening we saw children playing here, and it was quite nice.  There was also a special child who seemed delighted to be in the garden.  Children at play can be very soothing.

The whole place was quite restful.  Economical but not cheap:)

This is the lobby.  At night we saw families, foreigners, people young and old come and go.  If there are people who want to enjoy Tagaytay but don't want to spend an arm and a leg on it, I would certainly recommend the Econo Inn.