Another Special Day

Birthdays are always special. Unless maybe if you were born during the prehistoric time where the only activity in life was to hunt food for survival, no calendars whatsoever. And besides who would care for dates when in the turn of events you become the prey to bigger predators.

In the recent times with all the facilities to keep and remember dates, birthdays are celebrated to thank the year that has passed.

Yesterday, I turned 53 and celebrated it again in Africa for the 16th time. Well its my choice, I just couldn't complain. But the absence of loved ones has made me become so used of treating it like any ordinary day of the year. I had to dress for work in the morning because it was Saturday and when the evening came there  goes the drinking and merriment, so casual like any fare on Saturday nights in Loulo.

But this year's birthday anniversary of mine was special and different from the past. I became older and wiser. While chatting with a friend in Skype I wanted to borrow a line from the famous poem of Max Erhmann's Desiderata that's in the tip of my tongue. Without wasting time I searched it in the net and ended up reading the poem word for word. Relishing every meaning it brought to me. I wondered in awe on how it was simply said, yet it epitomized the desirable way to live life. It's so true that I said to myself, "what a wonderful gift is this, to be able to read the Desiderata again on my special day. This made my day."

Then I felt  a sudden pang of remorse for my undesirable actions that violated the poem's lessons. It's not necessary anymore to mention which one is it but I  learned my lesson well. I was so inspired that I promised to myself  that from then on the poem will be my life. Even thought of memorizing it, sharing it, keeping a copy of it to remind me always to be good.

Okay Lito, let's see next year if you have become a better person.

Miles Away

It's Sunday today. Woke up late and lazed in bed for a while before getting up. The unwashed and dusty draperies concealed the morning light from shining in. I was enjoying the night-like darkness in rest, and in the comfort of my thick blanket.

I prepared a light breakfast of toast and oatmeal and ate it while I busied myself reading emails. An old-time friend replied in affirmation of the mission I requested her. She also told me that she had read my blog about the strike in Loulo. I then revisited the blog and the fire to write again ignited.

My original plan for today was to wash the dishes that piled up in the sink. This mission can wait. I still have time to do this when I'm done with my blog. I'm going to write about this friend of mine who just sent me a reply.

I've known this friend during the heydays of the steel company in my hometown. We worked there in the blue jacket category. She became a very good friend and I think she was to everyone. She has the charisma to draw friendship easily. When our department was dissolved we have to go in different ways to find our niche and luck somewhere. I haven't heard of her in ages. She was out of touch and has her reasons, owing no explanation to the world.

Just recently she popped in the net from out of the blue. I was surprised, and at the same time glad to hear from her again. She's now working in the land of milk and honey, in a city that never sleeps, and where theater, art gallery and museums abound like mushrooms. She gets to enjoy these with all her passion and delight.

Apart from being amiable and easy to get along with she was an all knowing-person too. She has always something to say to any topic of discussion. Very intelligent. Maybe in her past life she was Plato or Shakespeare or Jose Rizal. She loves arts and herself is an artist in her own right. I would remember during the height of the cross-stitching craze she was one of the enthusiasts to come up with a master piece. Later, she engaged in arts and crafts business before she embarked on a journey where one has to brave the test of distance and time.

She's eloquent, a hobbyist, collector of any sort of things and has a strong sense of fashion. I recalled one day she came to work very chic in a tan mini ensemble. There was no other way for her to pass without us noticing her because their office was in our office. She wore this small woven bag on her belt to accessorize the whole outfit. Then I commented if what she got there on her belt was an Easycall beeper. That time when cell phones were yet unheard of, Easycalls were the coolest means of telecommunication. She laughed to her amusement and said that it was just a belt pocket. I don't know if she wore that again.

Time will come when her stint abroad will come to an end. It's a point of no return. She will return back to her country of origin and stay for good. Live in her new and cozy abode with her loved ones. Cook pasta, drink wine and live life to the full.

And I'm going to visit her.

Diverse Passions

As an individual being, bound with abstract elements that define human character to its uniqueness, I for one have two passions that are quite peculiar in nature and diverse in comparison. It’s like Matt and Jeff of the 60’s comic strip, or the hot and cold shower valves, or the biblical characters David and Goliath. To begin with the first one, it is my penchant for anything small. Be it a living thing, an inanimate object or an abstract being.

When I was a kid I like to scan the books for pictures and illustrations. I’m not ashamed to admit that in my learning stage I was slow in reading comprehension. My key to understanding the story was the series of illustrations. We had a complete volume of The Children’s Hour books. And pages containing elves, dwarfs, fairies of the winged genus and little people were what I loved most to see. My favorites include Gulliver’s travels, Thumb Tom, Thumbelina and the likes. I would review it over and over again whenever the routine of playing bored me or simply, when the feel set in.

Although I also liked adventure stories, the Greek and Roman epics and superheroes, the fascinating world of diminutives was just simply insuperable.

In shows and fairs, my passion for small things manifests through my strong desire to see displays of dioramas and scaled models of existing structures. Even in souvenir shops I tend to be magnetized by the small items like figurines and statuettes. The more intricate and real-like it is, the more I get interested. Sometimes it ends with purchase if my pocket allows.

The rabid of my passion did not fail to encroach in my hobbies that are collecting stamps and miniaturized trees more known as bonsai. I tried to analyze what’s in the stamp that titillates my interest. I found out that it resembled a picture frame replicated into small frames. And that is amazing --to be able to collect replicas of arts from masters and all sorts of information from all over the world in thumb-size frames that's the stamps. If stamps are printed in billboard-size then my interest will disappear right away like a bubble; not to mention the trouble of keeping such a humongous piece.

As for the bonsai, it’s pretty obvious that it’s small and it’s my passion. Age, time and effort in training it are factors too that makes it a collectible item.

Now, here comes the twist of the story. My other passion is quite the opposite from the first one. It’s why I say humans are unique being because there’s no pattern to follow to be able to predict his or her passion and desires. My penchant for small things is matched with obsession to tall and slender women.

I don’t know why I like tall women. I just find them sexy and beautiful. Being tall is not yet the ultimate "it", she has to be slim to a proportionate degree. Long limbs and cute face on lithe torso is my epitome of a perfect she.

I discovered this kind of obsession in my early 20’s when I started to follow Brooke Shields in pin-up magazines and posters after I saw her movie the Blue Lagoon. Her youthfulness, comely face, thin body and towering height captured the world's attention . It was a paradigm shift for me in the context of beauty of a woman.

However, physical attraction is not everything to me. It’s just the initial reaction when we see a person because sight is the only sense that works in distance. The visual attraction is only wanton desire and not permanent. Real beauty is what comes out from the inside. To have both, inner and outer beauties is a bonus.

On Coming of Age

A few days ago, a family member died in her sleep. My aunt, the wife of my mother's elder brother. She was 85. I was saddened by the news and couldn't believe in the beginning. She was still fine when I left last June. She was a frequent visitor of my mother. She usually comes in the morning. They would talk about anything, from memories of their childhood to current events. They would sing old songs, laugh and even cry when they remember about sad experiences. Now that she was plucked to join her Maker, my mother lost a morning guest and a contemporary.

Her demise made me think of my own vulnerability--a thought that never crossed my mind in my younger years. But now, if time and destiny wills that I live the age as my aunt's and considering that I have survived for half a century then it's not far to happen. Aspirations, undone missions in my life deliberately dissuade me to think of the inevitable. Yet, I'm aware of it's coming.

Nature has a way of dealing this. Our views of life and disposition attunes with our age. My mother who is 80 now speaks of her own end with confidence and unperturbed like it's going to happen any time soon. For us, it's consternation that we don't like to hear. For her, it's coming of age in nature's way and of course, God's grace and will.

My Old Lady Turned 80

Last November 7, 2009 my mother, Salvacion, more known as Salving celebrated her 80th birthday. An event that had been most awaited with excitement by us.

The long respite from blogging took toll on the precious memoir of this celebration. The idea of writing this in my blog lingered in my thoughts for so long until I got this chance. I wouldn't let this pass lest something happens to me and this memoir is left undocumented. My blog is my diary, albeit notable events shouldn't be missed.

Her big day started with a holy mass in the morning, officiated by Fr. Fruto and joined by family members, friends and relatives and of course, by other church-goers. I wasn't there. The reason was simple, I was working -- in Africa and the date didn't fall on my leave. But I was in full support for the success of this momentous event. After the mass they had breakfast at home in quite a special way -- more food than usual and held outdoor, in our terrace. Lunch was a family affair.

Then dinner came. Since she was expecting a large number of guests it was held in Chua's place, right across the street in front of our house. The venue was decorated under the management of an event coordinator and the food was catered by Cafe Hermoso and supplemented by from Lai-lai's and home-prepared dishes. The ever-present pork lechon, roast beef and Chevon (Goat's meat) delicacies were never a miss.

The night was fun-filled. Attended by convivial friends and relatives. Her son in-law, Manoling serenaded her with a sentimental song and and so did Loraine, her feisty granddaughter sung a beautiful rendition. The children "apos" rendered a dance number. My birthday message for her which I sent through email was read by my sister Rosemarie.

My letter:

My ever dearest Mommy Salving,

Though I'm thousands of miles away I never miss to think of you especially this very day of yours, your 80th natal day. My message for you is short and sweet. I love you for being my mother. I'm sorry for my mistakes, I know I hurt your feelings sometimes. Thank-you for all the times you have been with us and for the sad and happy moments that we shared. And let us thank God for the 80 years of celebrating life. I wish you Happy Birthday dear mother and more years to come.

Your loving son,

Lito

Everyone had their fill of the preparation and even brought their loved ones left at home with "bring-house" treat. Then followed the dancing and drink, drink and drink until the wee hours.

The Flight That Was

I don't know how it had happened, for the first time in 12 years of traveling I missed to look the right date of my flight. I was supposed to leave a day earlier than I thought. This so freaking strange to have happened thinking I was even the one who chose the dates of my flights for booking and this was my third travel of the same route and time slot.

It was my fault. I was too confident that everything was fine and didn't bother to check my ticket days before the flight. My nonchalance has taken its toll on my holiday budget. I had to buy new tickets for both local and international flights. What a mess, it cost me a fortune.

On the eve of my assumed departure I was still busy packing the last few things that I had to bring to Africa. I got tired of the boring routine so I thought of taking a short break by checking-in online. I couldn't believe what I discovered. I was supposed to leave for Manila in the morning of that very day to catch the flight for Dubai later in the afternoon. WHY? It was a shock of my life. I felt like the sky was going to fall on me. I closed my eyes and tried to regain my composure and sanity that's left in me.

I had to think of a plan. I should be able to leave on the following day. I must or I would be charged for AWOL.

I called the office of Emirates airline in Dubai for a possibility of ticket re-booking as Manila office was already closed. I waited for 10 minutes before that cacophonous answering machine diverted me to a desk clerk who spoke English with an Arabic accent. He also told me to wait and it was like forever. He came back after an agonizing 15 min. and said that he had already booked me for the next day's flight and I must go to an Emirates counter in Manila to pay the 100 Euros no-show fee. That was fine with me as long as I can leave.

Next, I called Airfrance in Paris for the re-booking of my connecting flight to Bamako. There was no problem. My flight was re-scheduled without penalty. It was 12 midnight and I was not yet done with packing. I had to get some sleep, so I did. This is one thing I like myself I can sleep over worries and problems.

I woke up full of hope. We left for Cagayan de Oro City early in the morning to give us enough time to settle my flight for Manila. On the way I called the Emirates office in Manila to confirm re-booking that was done in Dubai. I thought the ordeal was almost over but it was not. I was told by the clerk that my ticket has restrictions: it can't be re-booked and it's non-refundable. All I could do was to sigh. I have to take the consequences of my own folly. It can't be undone anymore.

To add insult to injury, my PAL ticket for Manila was also forfeited. It too has restrictions. Damn, this promo tickets. It's cheap but you must be very careful not to violate any of its restrictions, not one or you'll end up buying another ticket.

We went to find a booking agency to resolve this ticket story. I paid about a Thousand Dollars for all. It was a mixed feeling of relief and dismay that I felt like jumping off the bridge and just perish...ha, ha. What a costly lesson in life.

I reached in Dubai airport with the happenings of the day still milling in my thoughts. I look around the shops while waiting for my flight to Paris. I saw a laptop of a good brand. Damn, I remembered again the money wasted for nothing. It was worth to buy the good brand. The one I'm using now is just of a so-so brand because I was saving. Saving for what, for the rainy days? No, it’s for days when my memory will fail me.

In May I will be going home again taking the same itinerary. Never will I forget again because the first thing I will do upon my arrival is buy a white board slate and hang it on the wall of our kitchen. I will write in bold capital letters the date of my departure.

Alas, sometimes shit happens in life.