(In our effort to be the best of what we can be, we reinvent ourselves and discover so many places we’ve never been to before.)
Just like a bird leaving its nest
as the winds begin to blow
I’m now about to take a big leap
to some place I’ve never known
Even if at times I’m reluctant to change
my friend has told me
how wonderful it is
that I have reinvented myself
I’ve always been a quiet girl
not willing to be heard
always accepting, never questioning
what it is that’s happening to me
But now I find myself
pouring my heart and soul
to someone willing to listen to me
asking questions never before answered
Trying things I’ve never imagined doing before
Writing classes I’ve taken as a challenge
Dancing before an audience
I no longer find embarrassing
Moving to a life where I can just be me
Flying high, I’m no longer afraid
I just close my eyes to wherever it takes me
I’m now about ready to go
where the wind blows
Monday, October 30, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
VIP: Very Important People
(As we continue with our search for a higher purpose, we stumble on a cause close to our hearts bringing us immense joy as we share and learn from one another.)
I received today my invitation to the fourth anniversary celebration of Hands On Manila, to be highlighted again this year by the Volunteer in Person (VIP) event. My mind focused on the letters VIP, an acronym most commonly associated with Very Important People. There are VIPs in any community, town, city or organization -- the policy makers, decision-makers, big time people! But who among us are the real VIPs in this volunteer undertaking?
I had my first volunteer experience with Hands On Manila in December, 2003. Together with other volunteers, we hosted the Breakfast for Streetchildren on Roxas Boulevard. It was scheduled for nine AM. For someone used to sleeping in on a weekend it took a little bit of a sacrifice to give up a few more hours of sleep. The all too familiar sound of my high school’s morning bell buzzed in my ear and I dragged myself and my daughter from underneath our cottony soft comforters. In a few more minutes, we were off in the cool comfort of our van.
We arrived at Jollibee and listened to our orientation as we waited for the children to arrive. Having done some charity work with rehabilitated street children before, I thought I was prepared for the experience. I was sickened by their sight! Barefooted and begging to be scrubbed, they walked sleepy-eyed into the breakfast room. Their stench filled every nook and cranny. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, I told myself, trying to apply my pilates instructor’s breathing technique, at the same time trying not to catch the smell of the children surrounding me.
I learned that some of them had not slept, selling sampaguita all night. I felt guilty not willingly giving up a few hours of sleep that morning. We mingled with them, and played games. We marveled at how they treasured their prizes, guarding them hawk-eyed, ready to pounce on anyone who might try to grab it from them. Breakfast was served, and I watched as one of them ate just half of his food. Wasn’t he hungry? I wondered. My heart bled as one of the facilitators told me he was taking the other half home to his family. I tried not to think how much food was wasted in my home.
Towards the end of the breakfast, I brought in the goody bags we had prepared. "Ate, may tsinelas ba sa loob, Ate?" one child asked. It started to drizzle outside. I was only too glad to include a pair of slippers and a raincoat in their bags. As we climbed back into our van, we realized how truly lucky we are to have all the comforts of life.
Kaya mo iyan
I have been teaching arts and crafts to street children at the Kaisahang Buhay Foundation (KBF) Center since January 2004. I started out with a group of volunteers but most of the time now, I am alone. Perhaps I have been remiss in reminding the other volunteers. Or perhaps they have become busy too. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give it up, but then who else will teach them?
"Gud apternun, Ate Minnie!" they greet me as I enter the room. It’s a different experience altogether as I stand in front of 25 to 30 children, all of five or six-years old. I’m transported back in time. I see myself in my kindergarten class trying to listen to what my teacher is saying, with eyes wide trying to watch every movement of her hand. I’m the teacher now, and I remind myself each time to make myself understood by the very young children.
I don’t remember each of their names, but I remember their faces. The wide-eyed girl who taps me on the arm asking if I brought coloring sheets for them. The boy whose eyelashes curl up almost touching his eyelids when he looks up to ask me if he’s doing his work right. The dark, chubby boy who, holding up his green caterpillar chain, excitedly shouts "Tapos na ako, Ate Minnie!" Even the girl who smiles pleasingly to herself, revealing black rotten teeth. And the boy who whines, "Hindi ko kaya, Ate!" to which I reply, "Kaya mo iyan!"
It’s quite a challenge to choose projects that are not too difficult for them to do, leaving them frustrated instead. But it’s very fulfilling to see the smiles on their faces after they've done something they thought they couldn’t do in the first place. Aside from developing their motor skills, we teach them to follow instructions while at the same time challenging their creativity. Some work faster than others, and a few are quite exceptional. But with a little bit of encouragement, we show them that, with discipline and perseverance, they can come up with artwork far beyond their imagination. Hopefully this will manifest in their later years when they dream and work to be whatever they want to be.
More importantly, they teach us to be more patient.
Sign your name
Although I’m a regular volunteer for KBF, I brought along my daughter and her group of friends one Sunday morning to Talking Hands as part of their school’s community service requirement. I can’t say which is more challenging.
Here we taught arts and crafts to hearing impaired people. We introduced ourselves with the little sign language our team leader taught us, and finger spelling that the girls were all too familiar with, and were each given our very own sign names. The girls thought this was so cool, and we communicated further through writing as we were paired off with them. We learned the hand gestures of some commonly used phrases, and later said our goodbyes using sign language.
This was quite an experience. This time we learned to not look at handicapped people as any different from ourselves. Whatever we can do, they can do, too, and God grants them strength to somehow make up for what they lack.
In each and every volunteer project I have joined, I have given up a little bit of my time to teach and share a part of my privileged existence. And in return, the experiences made me realize how much we can also learn from those less privileged. So, at this year’s event, as we Volunteer in Person, let us remember that the Very Important People here, our beneficiaries, are the very same people who keep us grounded and make us thankful for what we have.
I received today my invitation to the fourth anniversary celebration of Hands On Manila, to be highlighted again this year by the Volunteer in Person (VIP) event. My mind focused on the letters VIP, an acronym most commonly associated with Very Important People. There are VIPs in any community, town, city or organization -- the policy makers, decision-makers, big time people! But who among us are the real VIPs in this volunteer undertaking?
I had my first volunteer experience with Hands On Manila in December, 2003. Together with other volunteers, we hosted the Breakfast for Streetchildren on Roxas Boulevard. It was scheduled for nine AM. For someone used to sleeping in on a weekend it took a little bit of a sacrifice to give up a few more hours of sleep. The all too familiar sound of my high school’s morning bell buzzed in my ear and I dragged myself and my daughter from underneath our cottony soft comforters. In a few more minutes, we were off in the cool comfort of our van.
We arrived at Jollibee and listened to our orientation as we waited for the children to arrive. Having done some charity work with rehabilitated street children before, I thought I was prepared for the experience. I was sickened by their sight! Barefooted and begging to be scrubbed, they walked sleepy-eyed into the breakfast room. Their stench filled every nook and cranny. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, I told myself, trying to apply my pilates instructor’s breathing technique, at the same time trying not to catch the smell of the children surrounding me.
I learned that some of them had not slept, selling sampaguita all night. I felt guilty not willingly giving up a few hours of sleep that morning. We mingled with them, and played games. We marveled at how they treasured their prizes, guarding them hawk-eyed, ready to pounce on anyone who might try to grab it from them. Breakfast was served, and I watched as one of them ate just half of his food. Wasn’t he hungry? I wondered. My heart bled as one of the facilitators told me he was taking the other half home to his family. I tried not to think how much food was wasted in my home.
Towards the end of the breakfast, I brought in the goody bags we had prepared. "Ate, may tsinelas ba sa loob, Ate?" one child asked. It started to drizzle outside. I was only too glad to include a pair of slippers and a raincoat in their bags. As we climbed back into our van, we realized how truly lucky we are to have all the comforts of life.
Kaya mo iyan
I have been teaching arts and crafts to street children at the Kaisahang Buhay Foundation (KBF) Center since January 2004. I started out with a group of volunteers but most of the time now, I am alone. Perhaps I have been remiss in reminding the other volunteers. Or perhaps they have become busy too. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give it up, but then who else will teach them?
"Gud apternun, Ate Minnie!" they greet me as I enter the room. It’s a different experience altogether as I stand in front of 25 to 30 children, all of five or six-years old. I’m transported back in time. I see myself in my kindergarten class trying to listen to what my teacher is saying, with eyes wide trying to watch every movement of her hand. I’m the teacher now, and I remind myself each time to make myself understood by the very young children.
I don’t remember each of their names, but I remember their faces. The wide-eyed girl who taps me on the arm asking if I brought coloring sheets for them. The boy whose eyelashes curl up almost touching his eyelids when he looks up to ask me if he’s doing his work right. The dark, chubby boy who, holding up his green caterpillar chain, excitedly shouts "Tapos na ako, Ate Minnie!" Even the girl who smiles pleasingly to herself, revealing black rotten teeth. And the boy who whines, "Hindi ko kaya, Ate!" to which I reply, "Kaya mo iyan!"
It’s quite a challenge to choose projects that are not too difficult for them to do, leaving them frustrated instead. But it’s very fulfilling to see the smiles on their faces after they've done something they thought they couldn’t do in the first place. Aside from developing their motor skills, we teach them to follow instructions while at the same time challenging their creativity. Some work faster than others, and a few are quite exceptional. But with a little bit of encouragement, we show them that, with discipline and perseverance, they can come up with artwork far beyond their imagination. Hopefully this will manifest in their later years when they dream and work to be whatever they want to be.
More importantly, they teach us to be more patient.
Sign your name
Although I’m a regular volunteer for KBF, I brought along my daughter and her group of friends one Sunday morning to Talking Hands as part of their school’s community service requirement. I can’t say which is more challenging.
Here we taught arts and crafts to hearing impaired people. We introduced ourselves with the little sign language our team leader taught us, and finger spelling that the girls were all too familiar with, and were each given our very own sign names. The girls thought this was so cool, and we communicated further through writing as we were paired off with them. We learned the hand gestures of some commonly used phrases, and later said our goodbyes using sign language.
This was quite an experience. This time we learned to not look at handicapped people as any different from ourselves. Whatever we can do, they can do, too, and God grants them strength to somehow make up for what they lack.
In each and every volunteer project I have joined, I have given up a little bit of my time to teach and share a part of my privileged existence. And in return, the experiences made me realize how much we can also learn from those less privileged. So, at this year’s event, as we Volunteer in Person, let us remember that the Very Important People here, our beneficiaries, are the very same people who keep us grounded and make us thankful for what we have.
Monday, October 16, 2006
A Tribute to My Mother
(Our parents have a great influence in our lives... we have Daddy’s girl and Mama’s boy. I am who I am because of my mother.)
I never once imagined or thought of my life without you. Now, you’re not well and I find myself reminiscing. I will always remember you in the lessons I learned from you.
You taught me to always look my best. I remember wearing pretty dresses with petticoats and ribbons especially made by Mary Esteban even just for Sunday mass. Party dresses were made even more special. Even as I grew older, you made me wear the finest dresses by Lorenzo. I will never forget that New Year’s Eve when I cried as you wouldn’t let me go out unless I wore the long dress you ordered for me. I guess you just wanted me to look the best I could ever be. You made me feel special as you excitedly helped me pick out my wedding dress, a simply elegant white gown designed by Malu Veloso with beads and sequins scattered on my long veil, softly glowing as I walked down the aisle illuminated by candle lights. I looked beautiful on my wedding day only because you chose the best artist for my hair and makeup. Most importantly, you taught me never to neglect myself even as I was already a wife and mother.
You taught me the joy of cooking. I remember helping you prepare our annual Christmas dinner since I was a child. I would mash sausages for your galantina until they were very fine, dice potatoes and cut chicken inch by inch, chop onions until tears fell from my eyes and mix these with other ingredients until my arms ached, careful not to mash them for that perfect chicken salad. I patiently drained each can of fruit cocktail and watched you prepare your own natilla, mix them together and crown your salad with swirls of cream, peaches and bright red cherries. I remember going with you to market during one New Year we spent in Baguio. I helped you prepare our meals, some of them very rich that Reggie couldn’t get out of bed one morning from all the food he ate. Of course, who can forget your special lengua, tender to the bite, melting in your mouth as it mixed with the flavors of white wine, mushrooms and capers. But I also marveled at how you could turn a simple soup into something very delicious.
I eventually took it up on my own, attending cooking lessons, the first one given by Tita Leni as her wedding present to me. I experimented with dishes, mixing instant tortellini with my own sauce until you passed on to me your pasta maker. I now truly enjoy cooking new dishes as I prepare our annual New Year dinner. You make me feel proud as you tell everyone each time that I’ve turned out to be a better cook.
You taught me to be independent. I remember you sending Vikki and I off on our first trip to the United States just before college. Although you made sure we had a place to stay, we were still left to plan our day, asking our aunts to help us book our tours, take us to the bus station and pick us up when we returned. I will always remember roaming around Disneyland by ourselves, at times separating from each other when we had our petty fights. We kept clicking away with our cameras only to discover upon our return that most of our pictures resembled post cards, with neither of us in them.
You taught me the value of education. I remember going to the University of the Philippines against my wishes even if I wasn’t accepted in my program of choice and was sent to the campus in Manila. I knew you only wanted the best for me. I stayed on but decided to pursue my other passions after I graduated. You became proud of me as I followed your footsteps and topped my airline training course. You became proud of me as I joined a group art exhibit with a few of my paintings, one of which prominently displayed and illuminated by the entrance, after having attended summer workshops, one of them with Tita Carol under the late Ibarra de la Rosa. You became proud of me when I finished my Interior Design classes with flying colors and applied what I learned in decorating your home, building my own beach house, designing Twinkie’s condominium and starting Booboop off on her renovation, choosing colors to match each one’s personality. You became proud of me as I now share my talent, teaching arts and crafts to underprivileged children. You became proud of me when I let you read my vignettes, each one written straight from the heart after attending a very enjoyable creative writing workshop. In everything I pursued, you made me proud of my small accomplishments.
It’s funny how you even approved of our boyfriends not by their looks but by their intelligence. And this is why you highly respect Reggie and have a special bond with him as he can outsmart you with his charm and intelligence.
You taught me hard work and perseverance. I remember burning the midnight oil as I studied for exams in college and finished my plates for my interior design classes even as I was too tired. I drank black coffee, cup after cup, savoring its heavy aroma as my eyelids became heavier partially covering my eyes like window shades. I demonstrated the same zest as I worked in a mortgage banking firm in the United States and at the New Zealand Embassy on my return, giving me confidence as I got promoted on both occasions. I continued to give my best as I became actively involved as a Parent Coordinator for Rianna’s batch in school and organized two major events, her Junior Prom and Graduation Dinner which she truly enjoyed. What better assurance can I get than when she approached me before she left the dinner and said “Thanks, Mom! That was so cool!” In all these, I realized that hard work pays off.
You taught me unconditional love. Even as words were not exchanged, you let me feel your love every time I read each card you gave me on every occasion. I want you to know how much I love you too. I can vividly see you standing at the bookstore, reading countless cards until you picked the right one with the words you wanted to say. I am angry at myself for not remembering where I placed them or did I even keep them? I just hope they will resurface one day among my piles of paper. I remember how you made me feel special as you personally baked my wedding cake, an old-fashioned fruit cake richly aged with brandy. I remember how you traveled to the United States to be by my side as I delivered Rianna and patiently played with Gino even as he jumped on your back and pulled the rollers off your hair. You even gifted me with strands of pearls twisted and clasped together with multi-colored stones set in gold. I felt so proud wearing it as I returned to work after my maternity leave. I have passed on this love to all my children, loving each of them dearly regardless of their achievements. I nurture and guide them, teaching them to follow their heart and be the best of what they want to be. And even as my marriage failed, my counselor reminded Reggie that he loved me because I let him be just himself.
You taught me to have great determination. I saw this in you as you recovered from your stroke. You refused to believe your doctor when he told you it will take some time before you could walk again. Even as you crawled on your knees and pulled yourself up against the wall each time you stumbled, you never lost hope. You proved your doctor wrong! And even as you are now on maintenance medication and at times you do not feel well, it’s amazing how you still manage to keep yourself fairly strong by engaging in what seems to be your form of exercise - cleaning your own house.
You taught me to be strong in times of trouble and to fight and stand for my rights. You worry that I might suffer the same fate as yours. Life is all about choices. I choose to be strong as I go through my marital breakup, seeking counseling for my own healing, accepting each other’s mistakes and moving on to become a better person. “Remember you gave me a book entitled ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective People’?” You may not know it but that book made me even stronger as it taught me how to keep myself deeply anchored on my values. You continue to make me see what is right and wrong and to rightfully hold on to my dignity.
You taught me forgiveness. Even if it took some time for you and Papa to become friends again, I see that love you once had for him when we’re all together each Saturday night. You continue to care for him, making sure you prepare a special dish for him and serve him at dinner. You have learned to accept his daughter, sending her gifts personally hand picked by you and inviting her to join us on special occasions. I have chosen to forgive Reggie and myself for all our faults but there is still that longing for complete healing which only God can give.
You taught me to enjoy life’s little pleasures even as we continue to age. I am so happy that we now manage to spend short vacations together. Baguio will always be your favorite place but you completely surprised me when you decided to join us in Boracay. I will always appreciate the fact that even if you never really enjoyed the beach, you agreed to come to be with us. Shopping for trinkets was your favorite pastime and you even made me feel like a special child once again when you gifted me with the very pretty sarong pants. Again, you made me look my best! I hope one day you can come with me when I visit Rianna in Cornell so we can bond again and share everything that’s special to us.
It’s funny how people say I’ve turned out to be the most like you. I just wish others would accept us for what we are and not what they want us to be. If people were to ask me what I want to change in me if I were to be reincarnated, I would say “Nothing!” Everything I learned, I learned from you. I am who I am because of you.
I never once imagined or thought of my life without you. Now, you’re not well and I find myself reminiscing. I will always remember you in the lessons I learned from you.
You taught me to always look my best. I remember wearing pretty dresses with petticoats and ribbons especially made by Mary Esteban even just for Sunday mass. Party dresses were made even more special. Even as I grew older, you made me wear the finest dresses by Lorenzo. I will never forget that New Year’s Eve when I cried as you wouldn’t let me go out unless I wore the long dress you ordered for me. I guess you just wanted me to look the best I could ever be. You made me feel special as you excitedly helped me pick out my wedding dress, a simply elegant white gown designed by Malu Veloso with beads and sequins scattered on my long veil, softly glowing as I walked down the aisle illuminated by candle lights. I looked beautiful on my wedding day only because you chose the best artist for my hair and makeup. Most importantly, you taught me never to neglect myself even as I was already a wife and mother.
You taught me the joy of cooking. I remember helping you prepare our annual Christmas dinner since I was a child. I would mash sausages for your galantina until they were very fine, dice potatoes and cut chicken inch by inch, chop onions until tears fell from my eyes and mix these with other ingredients until my arms ached, careful not to mash them for that perfect chicken salad. I patiently drained each can of fruit cocktail and watched you prepare your own natilla, mix them together and crown your salad with swirls of cream, peaches and bright red cherries. I remember going with you to market during one New Year we spent in Baguio. I helped you prepare our meals, some of them very rich that Reggie couldn’t get out of bed one morning from all the food he ate. Of course, who can forget your special lengua, tender to the bite, melting in your mouth as it mixed with the flavors of white wine, mushrooms and capers. But I also marveled at how you could turn a simple soup into something very delicious.
I eventually took it up on my own, attending cooking lessons, the first one given by Tita Leni as her wedding present to me. I experimented with dishes, mixing instant tortellini with my own sauce until you passed on to me your pasta maker. I now truly enjoy cooking new dishes as I prepare our annual New Year dinner. You make me feel proud as you tell everyone each time that I’ve turned out to be a better cook.
You taught me to be independent. I remember you sending Vikki and I off on our first trip to the United States just before college. Although you made sure we had a place to stay, we were still left to plan our day, asking our aunts to help us book our tours, take us to the bus station and pick us up when we returned. I will always remember roaming around Disneyland by ourselves, at times separating from each other when we had our petty fights. We kept clicking away with our cameras only to discover upon our return that most of our pictures resembled post cards, with neither of us in them.
You taught me the value of education. I remember going to the University of the Philippines against my wishes even if I wasn’t accepted in my program of choice and was sent to the campus in Manila. I knew you only wanted the best for me. I stayed on but decided to pursue my other passions after I graduated. You became proud of me as I followed your footsteps and topped my airline training course. You became proud of me as I joined a group art exhibit with a few of my paintings, one of which prominently displayed and illuminated by the entrance, after having attended summer workshops, one of them with Tita Carol under the late Ibarra de la Rosa. You became proud of me when I finished my Interior Design classes with flying colors and applied what I learned in decorating your home, building my own beach house, designing Twinkie’s condominium and starting Booboop off on her renovation, choosing colors to match each one’s personality. You became proud of me as I now share my talent, teaching arts and crafts to underprivileged children. You became proud of me when I let you read my vignettes, each one written straight from the heart after attending a very enjoyable creative writing workshop. In everything I pursued, you made me proud of my small accomplishments.
It’s funny how you even approved of our boyfriends not by their looks but by their intelligence. And this is why you highly respect Reggie and have a special bond with him as he can outsmart you with his charm and intelligence.
You taught me hard work and perseverance. I remember burning the midnight oil as I studied for exams in college and finished my plates for my interior design classes even as I was too tired. I drank black coffee, cup after cup, savoring its heavy aroma as my eyelids became heavier partially covering my eyes like window shades. I demonstrated the same zest as I worked in a mortgage banking firm in the United States and at the New Zealand Embassy on my return, giving me confidence as I got promoted on both occasions. I continued to give my best as I became actively involved as a Parent Coordinator for Rianna’s batch in school and organized two major events, her Junior Prom and Graduation Dinner which she truly enjoyed. What better assurance can I get than when she approached me before she left the dinner and said “Thanks, Mom! That was so cool!” In all these, I realized that hard work pays off.
You taught me unconditional love. Even as words were not exchanged, you let me feel your love every time I read each card you gave me on every occasion. I want you to know how much I love you too. I can vividly see you standing at the bookstore, reading countless cards until you picked the right one with the words you wanted to say. I am angry at myself for not remembering where I placed them or did I even keep them? I just hope they will resurface one day among my piles of paper. I remember how you made me feel special as you personally baked my wedding cake, an old-fashioned fruit cake richly aged with brandy. I remember how you traveled to the United States to be by my side as I delivered Rianna and patiently played with Gino even as he jumped on your back and pulled the rollers off your hair. You even gifted me with strands of pearls twisted and clasped together with multi-colored stones set in gold. I felt so proud wearing it as I returned to work after my maternity leave. I have passed on this love to all my children, loving each of them dearly regardless of their achievements. I nurture and guide them, teaching them to follow their heart and be the best of what they want to be. And even as my marriage failed, my counselor reminded Reggie that he loved me because I let him be just himself.
You taught me to have great determination. I saw this in you as you recovered from your stroke. You refused to believe your doctor when he told you it will take some time before you could walk again. Even as you crawled on your knees and pulled yourself up against the wall each time you stumbled, you never lost hope. You proved your doctor wrong! And even as you are now on maintenance medication and at times you do not feel well, it’s amazing how you still manage to keep yourself fairly strong by engaging in what seems to be your form of exercise - cleaning your own house.
You taught me to be strong in times of trouble and to fight and stand for my rights. You worry that I might suffer the same fate as yours. Life is all about choices. I choose to be strong as I go through my marital breakup, seeking counseling for my own healing, accepting each other’s mistakes and moving on to become a better person. “Remember you gave me a book entitled ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective People’?” You may not know it but that book made me even stronger as it taught me how to keep myself deeply anchored on my values. You continue to make me see what is right and wrong and to rightfully hold on to my dignity.
You taught me forgiveness. Even if it took some time for you and Papa to become friends again, I see that love you once had for him when we’re all together each Saturday night. You continue to care for him, making sure you prepare a special dish for him and serve him at dinner. You have learned to accept his daughter, sending her gifts personally hand picked by you and inviting her to join us on special occasions. I have chosen to forgive Reggie and myself for all our faults but there is still that longing for complete healing which only God can give.
You taught me to enjoy life’s little pleasures even as we continue to age. I am so happy that we now manage to spend short vacations together. Baguio will always be your favorite place but you completely surprised me when you decided to join us in Boracay. I will always appreciate the fact that even if you never really enjoyed the beach, you agreed to come to be with us. Shopping for trinkets was your favorite pastime and you even made me feel like a special child once again when you gifted me with the very pretty sarong pants. Again, you made me look my best! I hope one day you can come with me when I visit Rianna in Cornell so we can bond again and share everything that’s special to us.
It’s funny how people say I’ve turned out to be the most like you. I just wish others would accept us for what we are and not what they want us to be. If people were to ask me what I want to change in me if I were to be reincarnated, I would say “Nothing!” Everything I learned, I learned from you. I am who I am because of you.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Good Luck, Rianna
(When we finally accept the realization that we have to let go of our children, we can only pray that God will be on their side.)
I count the days ‘til you are gone
hoping that it will never come
I gave you wings and taught you how to fly
it’s time for me now to let you soar high
I wish it could be only just a while
until I see again your sweet smile
I’ll miss your warm body
beside me each night
your face against your blanket
as I kiss you goodnight
I lay myself now to sleep
holding back tears from my eyes
I can only pray to God
every day that you are gone
for the Lord to always be by your side
and to protect you from harm
to free you from loneliness
to guide you in your new journey
I shall now trust the Lord
in letting you pursue your dreams
in making you use your spiritual gifts
in the area of your heart’s desire
I shall now rest in peace
knowing this is God’s plan for you
I’ll count the days ‘til you return
when we can be together again
as we joyfully celebrate the holidays
and share your wonderful experience
Until I see you again
Good luck, my dearest Rianna
I count the days ‘til you are gone
hoping that it will never come
I gave you wings and taught you how to fly
it’s time for me now to let you soar high
I wish it could be only just a while
until I see again your sweet smile
I’ll miss your warm body
beside me each night
your face against your blanket
as I kiss you goodnight
I lay myself now to sleep
holding back tears from my eyes
I can only pray to God
every day that you are gone
for the Lord to always be by your side
and to protect you from harm
to free you from loneliness
to guide you in your new journey
I shall now trust the Lord
in letting you pursue your dreams
in making you use your spiritual gifts
in the area of your heart’s desire
I shall now rest in peace
knowing this is God’s plan for you
I’ll count the days ‘til you return
when we can be together again
as we joyfully celebrate the holidays
and share your wonderful experience
Until I see you again
Good luck, my dearest Rianna
Monday, October 09, 2006
So Long
(As we take on the role of doting mother, we wish that our children could forever be with us until we realize it’s time to let them go.)
This is a poem to my daughter, Rianna
whose confidence, independence and brilliance
never ceases to amaze me
Two fingers in her mouth and
blanket tucked inside her hand
quietly waiting for sleep to come
Excitedly waving goodbye
as she joined other “bunnies”
for the first time
Glancing at the audience
while delivering her yearend speech
She continues to show these in her later years
packing her bags
as she goes off with her peers
Bringing back memories
from summer camp to soccer camp
It’s now a few weeks before graduation
a few months before college in a foreign land
I now realize that for all that she has shown
we all know that it’s hard to let a child go
So I say this to you before you go
I can only pray that you will be fine
Until next time
you will always be on my mind
My dear daughter, Rianna
This is a poem to my daughter, Rianna
whose confidence, independence and brilliance
never ceases to amaze me
Two fingers in her mouth and
blanket tucked inside her hand
quietly waiting for sleep to come
Excitedly waving goodbye
as she joined other “bunnies”
for the first time
Glancing at the audience
while delivering her yearend speech
She continues to show these in her later years
packing her bags
as she goes off with her peers
Bringing back memories
from summer camp to soccer camp
It’s now a few weeks before graduation
a few months before college in a foreign land
I now realize that for all that she has shown
we all know that it’s hard to let a child go
So I say this to you before you go
I can only pray that you will be fine
Until next time
you will always be on my mind
My dear daughter, Rianna
Friday, October 06, 2006
The Sentimental Tourist
(Even as we try to forget our past, we sometimes hold on to fond memories long before they are gone.)
“Do you still remember our old house, Gino?” I asked my son, then eleven years old. We drove down the street and toward the end of the road he pointed to it beaming from ear to ear as if having just won a guessing game and with his still boyish voice excitedly shouted, “That’s our house!” There it was, 2139 Toronto Street, a charming little house we rented from Dr. and Mrs. E.E. Saulmon, looking exactly as it did when we left it five years ago. Of course none of it looked familiar to my five year old daughter, Rianna who was only a year old when we returned home. But to us it unleashed an avalanche of wonderful memories.
The big tree on the left side of the driveway reminds me of bags and bags of leaves raked during autumn. I see myself again disappearing through the familiar latticed porch leading us to the front door as we went home each day. I see the bedroom window from where I peeked out each morning to check if the school bus had arrived.
My husband and I left for the United States in 1985 with our two and a half year old son and settled in Falls Church, Virginia. It was a close fifteen to twenty minute drive to Washington D.C. where he was to take his Masters in Law at the Georgetown University. My daughter was subsequently born there in 1987 and so it was home to us for over three years.
We are on our first visit since we came home and we are tourists now. George Washington Parkway, the scenic route, was our preferred route then into Washington D.C. during weekends as it would take us straight into the city. It was a sight to behold in autumn’s splendor as the trees burst into vibrant hues of red, orange and gold transforming the landscape into a vast mural. However, when we landed jobs all in the Georgetown area we crossed Rosslyn Bridge straight onto the heart of Georgetown, M Street. It is a weekday now but hey, we’re not on our way to work anymore.
We joined hundreds of other people in our hunt for that ever elusive parking spot. We finally found one pretty much in the center of “The Mall”, where all the monuments stand. With cameras slung around our necks, we walked miles from one monument to another, taking snapshots never before taken. The Tulip Library made up for the relatively seeming drabness of the trees along George Washington Parkway as the flowers were at the crest of their loveliness during springtime. My children were lost in a sea of brilliant colored pretty, pretty flowers as I captured what was my favorite city during this season. We managed to catch a few of the remaining cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin as they clung to their branches for the last few remaining days.
We stopped in silence for a few minutes at the Vietnam War Memorial and continued on with our trek until we were tired and weary. We didn’t realize there was so much more to see so we got our schedule organized for the remaining days. One day was reserved for visits to the Air and Space Museum, the Museum of Natural History and the Holocaust Museum, our choices from the many museums to choose from. We also scheduled a visit back to a more familiar site, Hains Pointe, to once again view “The Awakening”, a colossal sculpture of a man seeming to rise from the dead, his face, an arm, a hand, a foot and a knee jutting out from the ground. We were disappointed though to learn that the White House tour had already been discontinued.
Another day was yet reserved for a trip down memory lane where we showed our daughter places close to our hearts… the Arlington Hospital where she was born; St. James Catholic School were our son studied; St. James Church where we observed Sunday mass; Great Falls Park where we celebrated our children’s birthdays under one hot summer sun melting the cake and bursting balloons; the Bernard P. McDonough Hall at the Georgetown Law Center where my husband spent hours pursuing his Masters degree; the Georgetown University campus where my husband’s graduation ceremonies took place; the DRG Financial Corporation office building on 21st Street where I once worked which was now the Embassy of Venezuela; and the Washington Harbour where we spent some cool spring days. The children had once again a glimpse of their lives five years past in a foreign country, which were to me the best years of my life.
We were to return again in another five years to celebrate my parents-in-law’s golden wedding anniversary as one of my husband’s brothers had settled in Virginia. We no longer were the once eager tourists we were before but we found ourselves going back to 2139 Toronto Street. Sadly, it was no longer there. A new development had risen in the area with more upscale homes dotting the neighborhood. I wondered what happened to our neighbor Mrs. Brown, a very pleasant old lady who welcomed us into the neighborhood with a bottle of champagne and gave my daughter her very first teddy bear when she was born, brown with a red ribbon tied around its neck… the very same teddy bear she hugged and kept her secure all throughout her first long flight home.
2139 Toronto may no longer be there but Falls Church, Virginia and Washington D.C. will forever be in our minds. It’s not about monuments and museums visited by millions of tourists each year. For me it’s all about memories of barbecues spent with friends at the park and our backyard; of sandwiches shared with my husband over lunch at the Washington Harbour on a cool spring day as our offices were just two blocks apart; of apple picking trips to Culpeper where thousands of red apples shone from trees, transforming orchards into a virtual Christmas; of outdoor concerts at Reston Park, one of them by George Benson; of Washington’s Redskins football team Superbowl victory parties on M Street; of a sea of dried leaves waiting to be raked during autumn; of braving the cold winter standing in line one night outside Blues Alley, a bar in Georgetown, to watch Noel Pointer perform; of braving a snowstorm that descended upon us all too suddenly and caught the four of us sharing what was inside my son’s lunchbox, a peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips, throughout the eight hour ordeal; of snowmen and countless snow balls formed during less severe winter days; of “Dandy”, the Valentine cruise we took with friends down Washington Bay in our finest dresses and tuxedo suits; or of just simply concocting our own fixings at our favorite Fuddruckers hamburger joint.
I can just go on and on reminiscing those wonderful days. The pictures I kept of 2139 Toronto will always remind me of all these precious memories. I hope to return to Virginia again one day and maybe even live there once again but in the meantime, I will just be a sentimental tourist each time I revisit.
“Do you still remember our old house, Gino?” I asked my son, then eleven years old. We drove down the street and toward the end of the road he pointed to it beaming from ear to ear as if having just won a guessing game and with his still boyish voice excitedly shouted, “That’s our house!” There it was, 2139 Toronto Street, a charming little house we rented from Dr. and Mrs. E.E. Saulmon, looking exactly as it did when we left it five years ago. Of course none of it looked familiar to my five year old daughter, Rianna who was only a year old when we returned home. But to us it unleashed an avalanche of wonderful memories.
The big tree on the left side of the driveway reminds me of bags and bags of leaves raked during autumn. I see myself again disappearing through the familiar latticed porch leading us to the front door as we went home each day. I see the bedroom window from where I peeked out each morning to check if the school bus had arrived.
My husband and I left for the United States in 1985 with our two and a half year old son and settled in Falls Church, Virginia. It was a close fifteen to twenty minute drive to Washington D.C. where he was to take his Masters in Law at the Georgetown University. My daughter was subsequently born there in 1987 and so it was home to us for over three years.
We are on our first visit since we came home and we are tourists now. George Washington Parkway, the scenic route, was our preferred route then into Washington D.C. during weekends as it would take us straight into the city. It was a sight to behold in autumn’s splendor as the trees burst into vibrant hues of red, orange and gold transforming the landscape into a vast mural. However, when we landed jobs all in the Georgetown area we crossed Rosslyn Bridge straight onto the heart of Georgetown, M Street. It is a weekday now but hey, we’re not on our way to work anymore.
We joined hundreds of other people in our hunt for that ever elusive parking spot. We finally found one pretty much in the center of “The Mall”, where all the monuments stand. With cameras slung around our necks, we walked miles from one monument to another, taking snapshots never before taken. The Tulip Library made up for the relatively seeming drabness of the trees along George Washington Parkway as the flowers were at the crest of their loveliness during springtime. My children were lost in a sea of brilliant colored pretty, pretty flowers as I captured what was my favorite city during this season. We managed to catch a few of the remaining cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin as they clung to their branches for the last few remaining days.
We stopped in silence for a few minutes at the Vietnam War Memorial and continued on with our trek until we were tired and weary. We didn’t realize there was so much more to see so we got our schedule organized for the remaining days. One day was reserved for visits to the Air and Space Museum, the Museum of Natural History and the Holocaust Museum, our choices from the many museums to choose from. We also scheduled a visit back to a more familiar site, Hains Pointe, to once again view “The Awakening”, a colossal sculpture of a man seeming to rise from the dead, his face, an arm, a hand, a foot and a knee jutting out from the ground. We were disappointed though to learn that the White House tour had already been discontinued.
Another day was yet reserved for a trip down memory lane where we showed our daughter places close to our hearts… the Arlington Hospital where she was born; St. James Catholic School were our son studied; St. James Church where we observed Sunday mass; Great Falls Park where we celebrated our children’s birthdays under one hot summer sun melting the cake and bursting balloons; the Bernard P. McDonough Hall at the Georgetown Law Center where my husband spent hours pursuing his Masters degree; the Georgetown University campus where my husband’s graduation ceremonies took place; the DRG Financial Corporation office building on 21st Street where I once worked which was now the Embassy of Venezuela; and the Washington Harbour where we spent some cool spring days. The children had once again a glimpse of their lives five years past in a foreign country, which were to me the best years of my life.
We were to return again in another five years to celebrate my parents-in-law’s golden wedding anniversary as one of my husband’s brothers had settled in Virginia. We no longer were the once eager tourists we were before but we found ourselves going back to 2139 Toronto Street. Sadly, it was no longer there. A new development had risen in the area with more upscale homes dotting the neighborhood. I wondered what happened to our neighbor Mrs. Brown, a very pleasant old lady who welcomed us into the neighborhood with a bottle of champagne and gave my daughter her very first teddy bear when she was born, brown with a red ribbon tied around its neck… the very same teddy bear she hugged and kept her secure all throughout her first long flight home.
2139 Toronto may no longer be there but Falls Church, Virginia and Washington D.C. will forever be in our minds. It’s not about monuments and museums visited by millions of tourists each year. For me it’s all about memories of barbecues spent with friends at the park and our backyard; of sandwiches shared with my husband over lunch at the Washington Harbour on a cool spring day as our offices were just two blocks apart; of apple picking trips to Culpeper where thousands of red apples shone from trees, transforming orchards into a virtual Christmas; of outdoor concerts at Reston Park, one of them by George Benson; of Washington’s Redskins football team Superbowl victory parties on M Street; of a sea of dried leaves waiting to be raked during autumn; of braving the cold winter standing in line one night outside Blues Alley, a bar in Georgetown, to watch Noel Pointer perform; of braving a snowstorm that descended upon us all too suddenly and caught the four of us sharing what was inside my son’s lunchbox, a peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips, throughout the eight hour ordeal; of snowmen and countless snow balls formed during less severe winter days; of “Dandy”, the Valentine cruise we took with friends down Washington Bay in our finest dresses and tuxedo suits; or of just simply concocting our own fixings at our favorite Fuddruckers hamburger joint.
I can just go on and on reminiscing those wonderful days. The pictures I kept of 2139 Toronto will always remind me of all these precious memories. I hope to return to Virginia again one day and maybe even live there once again but in the meantime, I will just be a sentimental tourist each time I revisit.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Listen to Your Heart
(Somewhere along the way, as we journey through our roles as obedient daughter, dutiful wife and doting mother, we somehow lose ourselves and forget who we are. Eventually we need to pause to reflect and embrace ourselves once again. Here goes... )
Listen to your heart
in moment’s stillness
when passions have melted
in the dead of winter
turning them into ice
leaving dreams frozen
Rekindle the flames that
once burned in your heart
furiously leaping out from
the windows of your eyes
burning your body
with a raging fever
calling you in its warm embrace
Turn back now to your
inner most desires
Just listen to your heart
and follow what it tells you
Listen to your heart
in moment’s stillness
when passions have melted
in the dead of winter
turning them into ice
leaving dreams frozen
Rekindle the flames that
once burned in your heart
furiously leaping out from
the windows of your eyes
burning your body
with a raging fever
calling you in its warm embrace
Turn back now to your
inner most desires
Just listen to your heart
and follow what it tells you
Friday, September 22, 2006
The Way
(As I continue to discover myself, I have also embarked on a spiritual journey to lead me to a higher purpose. And for this, there is no other way but to seek God’s guidance. This is my prayer.)
Lead me to my path
only You can truly see
the beginning of any situation
Take me back to where I began
show me every step that I have taken
green pastures I sometimes tread
dark tunnels I should have left
Make me understand clearly
mistakes that I have made
Now I am lost, not knowing where to go
Show me what direction to take
Light my path as I follow You
in preparing me for the next step
Let not fear overwhelm me
Let me see opportunities amidst
life’s mountain of difficulties
Give me strength to overcome my weakness
Grant me patience, open my mind
so that I may understand
why You brought me here
Lead me to my path
only You can truly see
the ending of any situation
Lead me to my path
only You can truly see
the beginning of any situation
Take me back to where I began
show me every step that I have taken
green pastures I sometimes tread
dark tunnels I should have left
Make me understand clearly
mistakes that I have made
Now I am lost, not knowing where to go
Show me what direction to take
Light my path as I follow You
in preparing me for the next step
Let not fear overwhelm me
Let me see opportunities amidst
life’s mountain of difficulties
Give me strength to overcome my weakness
Grant me patience, open my mind
so that I may understand
why You brought me here
Lead me to my path
only You can truly see
the ending of any situation
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
All Aboard!
I was recently introduced to the hassle free travel experience of going on a cruise. In today’s world where terrorist threats abound, cruising presents itself as a more attractive way of traveling, skirting the inconvenience of very tight airport security checks. Much to my amazement, it was a truly enjoyable and memorable experience.
There it was standing, actually more likely floating before me, the colossal “Freedom of the Seas”, the world’s newest and largest ship commissioned by the Royal Carribean, one wonders how it stays adrift. While I had the impression that a cruise was mostly enjoyed by senior citizens who do not want to be bothered with hotel and luggage transfers, I was surprised to see entire families with toddlers and infants in tow waiting for their turn for that one time check-in. Wide smiles flashed as cameras popped capturing the excitement of each passenger.
DAY 1: ALL ABOARD! The ship sets sail.
I was so impressed by the grandeur of the ship, I panicked at the thought of the sinking of the Titanic! “Where would I go if anything happened?” I thought to myself. But of course, as a standard operating procedure, we were all asked to don our life vests found in our very well appointed cabins and proceed to the designated area marked on the vests for the emergency briefing. It was only after then that my fear subsided.
We had our first sampling of the endless eat-all-you-can buffet meals… the all American burgers and hotdogs, Italian pasta and pizza, Asian noodles and various Continental dishes. While everyone else seemed to enjoy their mountains of food on serving trays instead of dining plates, for someone who has a highly discriminating palate, I thought the food, although it looked appetizing was actually very bland. VERDICT: Not worth the calories and every ounce of fat threatening to settle in one’s already bulging belly!
Nonetheless, just with the sight of the food waiting to be devoured, I decided to look for the gym and check out what they had to offer… hmmm, every physical fitness activity I engage in was offered, from pilates to yoga. They even had a boxing ring! But for my mother who at, sssshhhhhh… I mustn’t reveal her age, is still very vain, the services offered at the beauty salon were more appealing to her.
A parade down the Royal Promenade welcomed us to usher the beginning of a fun-filled cruise. It reminded me once again of Disneyland, where one had to wait way ahead of schedule just to get a good glimpse.
In the evening, we had our first taste of our superb gourmet dinner, every single dish to die for, something I looked forward to every night. And with that, I decided to forego the buffet meals during the day and settle for the weight watcher’s tried and tested fruit platter. If I were to gain a few inches around my waist, might as well be worth all the calories. We were to be seated with a Canadian based Chinese family every night, one of the daughters taking a shot of every single dish served to her.
“Are you taking a culinary course?” my sister couldn't help but ask.
"Oh no, just for posterity reasons." she replied with a smile.
Aside from the gastronomic delights, we were introduced to a highly professional brand of service provided by our friendly staff composed of the head waiter, who I can only remember for the proverbial smile accompanied by the wink of an eye, our Turkish waiter named Yaman and our assistant waiter, a very young, pleasant and attentive Filipino named Jerome. "Why can’t we have this kind of service back home?" I wondered.
“Huwag ka munang mag-girlfriend ha!” my mother would tell him.
“Opo Mommy!” he answered with a smile.
Obviously missing his own mother, he attended to mine like his own, and engaged each other in warm and friendly conversation.
We would retreat to our cabin each night to be greeted by the most unusual towel origamis of animal shapes, sometimes even using one of our own accessories. Imagine a monkey hanging from the ceiling wearing your very own sunglasses. How creative can that be!
DAY 2: AT SEA
With the sun’s intense heat threatening to sear my body had I laid down on the lounge chairs, to my delight I was surprised to discover the walking/jogging path around the ship’s deck. As usual, I slathered my body with a sunscreen, stuck my ipod earphones and started working up a lovely tan while I walked with a slight breeze gently blowing on my face.
I continued to explore the ship, making a mental note of the activities I wanted to engage in and where I can get an ice cream cone to cool off when the heat became unbearable. Surprisingly, every food item on the ship was free except for bottled water. But hey, you gotta stay hydrated so that was practically the only item I paid for.
Wall climbing on a ship? Of course I had to do this… one, two, three times, each climb getting more difficult, my knees starting to tremble, my fingers slipping with sweat until I could no longer hold on to the hand grips, sending me flying on my harness before I threw in the towel.
Drained of my energy, I grabbed a taste of some very yummy raisin cookies at the café, instantly turning it into my comfort food. My mother loved it too, the following day she just had to have more of it.
“How many of those cookies can you give me?” she asked.
“I can give you the whole tray if you want!” the reply came.
She settled for six pieces and that was to be the start of her love affair with the mouth watering cookie.
I was told that for every cruise there was to be a Captain’s Gala Dinner. Well, tonight’s the night and it was my chance to get all dolled up hoping to catch someone’s attention!? I was hoping it would be some kind of a Love Boat. Tough luck! Anyway, we watched “Marquee” the very first of the shows lined up for the entire duration of the cruise, all grand productions it was like Las Vegas at sea.
DAY 3: COZUMEL, MEXICO
Wanting a mix of land and sea, today we opted for a tour to mainland Mexico, arriving at the Playa del Carmen after a 45 minute ferry ride. Walking past the Tulum Mayan Ruins under the intense heat was not very pleasant, sending us back to the comfort of our airconditioned bus where a boxed lunch awaited us. Whew! Little did we know that our next stop would be an ocean park. Although now weary, we again hiked up the trail getting lost in the process, frantically looking for directional signs and hoping not to be left by the bus lest we get left behind by the ship and there goes the rest of our cruise! We were now gasping for air as we took bigger strides. We finally made it just in time!
Tonight’s highlight: “Now You See It”, a magic illusion show, a casual Venetian Feast and Dancin’ Through the Decades 50’s – 70’s night. Imagine the biggest 70’s disco party at the Royal Promenade, dancing to your favorite beat while sipping frozen Mojitos.
DAY 4: GEORGETOWN, GRAND CAYMAN
While my mother stayed on board, we all went on a snorkeling expedition and got to do something we only imagined in our dreams… swimming with stingrays! My mother was apprehensive letting me go lest I get knocked out by the whip of its tail! But we just have to let go of our fears, take every opportunity that presents itself only once in a lifetime and have no regrets. The truth is, I actually freaked out I went on board right away. The coral reefs left us disappointed, with the effects of global warming turning once colorful corals into brown. What a waste!
A barbecue lunch awaited us at the Beach Club Colony Resort and after some relaxing moments sipping a drink called “Sex on the Beach”... hmmmmm sounds kinky!... we hied off to get a taste of the very popular Tortuga flavored rum cake before heading back to the ship.
Tonight’s highlight: “Freedom-Ice.Com”, a spectacular ice skating show, a casual Surf Dinner and Surfing Under the Stars Dance Party.
DAY 5: MONTEGO BAY, JAMAICA
Another day on land. Driving past a landscape not too different from our own didn’t leave any impression on us but I was touched by the children at a pre-school with even less resources than the school where I myself teach. Wearing a wide brimmed hat purchased in Cayman Islands the previous day, my sister teased me saying I looked like Princess Diana, while pictures were being taken of me surrounded by the children.
I was only too happy to select the plantation tour as it gave me a taste of everything Jamaican while listening to reggae music. We sampled their variety of fruits again not different from ours, the real jerk pork, pina colada with their special rum and of course, the Blue Mountain coffee. Served with coconut milk and brown sugar, it was the best coffee I ever tasted. On top of that we had the most knowledgeable tour guide.
Tonight’s highlight: A repeat of the ice skating show which gave us room to rest and get dolled up again for another formal Crown & Anchor Dinner.
DAY 6: LABADEE, HAITI
Another day not just on any island, but a private island owned by the Royal Carribean making it exclusive only to their guests. An island playground, it was a day just for discovery and simply romping around. Riding a jet boat at 1000 km per hour in the morning felt like having our skin pulled away from our faces wondering if it will go back to its shape. In contrast to the high speed, we rowed ourselves in kayaks around the island with the afternoon winds posing quite a challenge to our perceived strength.
“We have slightly gusty winds out there today.” Our guide announced. “If you think you can’t make it back to shore you might as well stay.”
“Okay, right, left, right, left” I shouted to my sister behind me… trying to stay in a straight line… “left, left, left, right, right, right” as we huffed and puffed against the wind. Back on shore our muscles ached.
Tonight’s highlight: “Once Upon a Time Production Show”, very avante garde and highly entertaining, a casual Chef’s Dinner and an 80s dance party.
Also featured was a Culinary Gala Sensation, a feast to the eye of butter, ice and fruit sculptures, and a mix of cocktails and sinful desserts. Did I see caviar there? The buffet was opened for consumption at midnight and having no companion as my family was fast asleep didn’t stop me from feasting on those black fish roe popping in my mouth as I savoured every mouthful mixed with onion and eggs on freshly baked hard rolls. Heavenly!
On this very night I also had a chance to have a photo taken with the Executive Chef who gladly signed the only souvenir I got, a cookbook containing all the recipes of the glorious food served at dinner. Can't wait to prepare them myself.
DAY 7: AT SEA
Our cruise was ending now and it was time to relax, do some shopping on board and enjoy the rest of the ship. More room for raisin cookies, anyone?
Tonight’s Highlight: “Farewell Variety Show”, a casual Feast of Nations Dinner and a Farewell Dance Party.
It was time to pack away for the evening collection of our luggage. With everything perfectly organized and color coded luggage tags provided, I was amazed at the efficient operations and management of such a large ship.
As we disembarked the following morning, the porter asked me if this was my first cruise. Indeed it was and he said to me “This is your first cruise and on the newest and largest one at that. Anything after this will be unsatisfactory”. Yes, I believe him. Now it’s time for me to introduce my children to a fun way of traveling… cruising. I would surely love to do it again.
There it was standing, actually more likely floating before me, the colossal “Freedom of the Seas”, the world’s newest and largest ship commissioned by the Royal Carribean, one wonders how it stays adrift. While I had the impression that a cruise was mostly enjoyed by senior citizens who do not want to be bothered with hotel and luggage transfers, I was surprised to see entire families with toddlers and infants in tow waiting for their turn for that one time check-in. Wide smiles flashed as cameras popped capturing the excitement of each passenger.
DAY 1: ALL ABOARD! The ship sets sail.
I was so impressed by the grandeur of the ship, I panicked at the thought of the sinking of the Titanic! “Where would I go if anything happened?” I thought to myself. But of course, as a standard operating procedure, we were all asked to don our life vests found in our very well appointed cabins and proceed to the designated area marked on the vests for the emergency briefing. It was only after then that my fear subsided.
We had our first sampling of the endless eat-all-you-can buffet meals… the all American burgers and hotdogs, Italian pasta and pizza, Asian noodles and various Continental dishes. While everyone else seemed to enjoy their mountains of food on serving trays instead of dining plates, for someone who has a highly discriminating palate, I thought the food, although it looked appetizing was actually very bland. VERDICT: Not worth the calories and every ounce of fat threatening to settle in one’s already bulging belly!
Nonetheless, just with the sight of the food waiting to be devoured, I decided to look for the gym and check out what they had to offer… hmmm, every physical fitness activity I engage in was offered, from pilates to yoga. They even had a boxing ring! But for my mother who at, sssshhhhhh… I mustn’t reveal her age, is still very vain, the services offered at the beauty salon were more appealing to her.
A parade down the Royal Promenade welcomed us to usher the beginning of a fun-filled cruise. It reminded me once again of Disneyland, where one had to wait way ahead of schedule just to get a good glimpse.
In the evening, we had our first taste of our superb gourmet dinner, every single dish to die for, something I looked forward to every night. And with that, I decided to forego the buffet meals during the day and settle for the weight watcher’s tried and tested fruit platter. If I were to gain a few inches around my waist, might as well be worth all the calories. We were to be seated with a Canadian based Chinese family every night, one of the daughters taking a shot of every single dish served to her.
“Are you taking a culinary course?” my sister couldn't help but ask.
"Oh no, just for posterity reasons." she replied with a smile.
Aside from the gastronomic delights, we were introduced to a highly professional brand of service provided by our friendly staff composed of the head waiter, who I can only remember for the proverbial smile accompanied by the wink of an eye, our Turkish waiter named Yaman and our assistant waiter, a very young, pleasant and attentive Filipino named Jerome. "Why can’t we have this kind of service back home?" I wondered.
“Huwag ka munang mag-girlfriend ha!” my mother would tell him.
“Opo Mommy!” he answered with a smile.
Obviously missing his own mother, he attended to mine like his own, and engaged each other in warm and friendly conversation.
We would retreat to our cabin each night to be greeted by the most unusual towel origamis of animal shapes, sometimes even using one of our own accessories. Imagine a monkey hanging from the ceiling wearing your very own sunglasses. How creative can that be!
DAY 2: AT SEA
With the sun’s intense heat threatening to sear my body had I laid down on the lounge chairs, to my delight I was surprised to discover the walking/jogging path around the ship’s deck. As usual, I slathered my body with a sunscreen, stuck my ipod earphones and started working up a lovely tan while I walked with a slight breeze gently blowing on my face.
I continued to explore the ship, making a mental note of the activities I wanted to engage in and where I can get an ice cream cone to cool off when the heat became unbearable. Surprisingly, every food item on the ship was free except for bottled water. But hey, you gotta stay hydrated so that was practically the only item I paid for.
Wall climbing on a ship? Of course I had to do this… one, two, three times, each climb getting more difficult, my knees starting to tremble, my fingers slipping with sweat until I could no longer hold on to the hand grips, sending me flying on my harness before I threw in the towel.
Drained of my energy, I grabbed a taste of some very yummy raisin cookies at the café, instantly turning it into my comfort food. My mother loved it too, the following day she just had to have more of it.
“How many of those cookies can you give me?” she asked.
“I can give you the whole tray if you want!” the reply came.
She settled for six pieces and that was to be the start of her love affair with the mouth watering cookie.
I was told that for every cruise there was to be a Captain’s Gala Dinner. Well, tonight’s the night and it was my chance to get all dolled up hoping to catch someone’s attention!? I was hoping it would be some kind of a Love Boat. Tough luck! Anyway, we watched “Marquee” the very first of the shows lined up for the entire duration of the cruise, all grand productions it was like Las Vegas at sea.
DAY 3: COZUMEL, MEXICO
Wanting a mix of land and sea, today we opted for a tour to mainland Mexico, arriving at the Playa del Carmen after a 45 minute ferry ride. Walking past the Tulum Mayan Ruins under the intense heat was not very pleasant, sending us back to the comfort of our airconditioned bus where a boxed lunch awaited us. Whew! Little did we know that our next stop would be an ocean park. Although now weary, we again hiked up the trail getting lost in the process, frantically looking for directional signs and hoping not to be left by the bus lest we get left behind by the ship and there goes the rest of our cruise! We were now gasping for air as we took bigger strides. We finally made it just in time!
Tonight’s highlight: “Now You See It”, a magic illusion show, a casual Venetian Feast and Dancin’ Through the Decades 50’s – 70’s night. Imagine the biggest 70’s disco party at the Royal Promenade, dancing to your favorite beat while sipping frozen Mojitos.
DAY 4: GEORGETOWN, GRAND CAYMAN
While my mother stayed on board, we all went on a snorkeling expedition and got to do something we only imagined in our dreams… swimming with stingrays! My mother was apprehensive letting me go lest I get knocked out by the whip of its tail! But we just have to let go of our fears, take every opportunity that presents itself only once in a lifetime and have no regrets. The truth is, I actually freaked out I went on board right away. The coral reefs left us disappointed, with the effects of global warming turning once colorful corals into brown. What a waste!
A barbecue lunch awaited us at the Beach Club Colony Resort and after some relaxing moments sipping a drink called “Sex on the Beach”... hmmmmm sounds kinky!... we hied off to get a taste of the very popular Tortuga flavored rum cake before heading back to the ship.
Tonight’s highlight: “Freedom-Ice.Com”, a spectacular ice skating show, a casual Surf Dinner and Surfing Under the Stars Dance Party.
DAY 5: MONTEGO BAY, JAMAICA
Another day on land. Driving past a landscape not too different from our own didn’t leave any impression on us but I was touched by the children at a pre-school with even less resources than the school where I myself teach. Wearing a wide brimmed hat purchased in Cayman Islands the previous day, my sister teased me saying I looked like Princess Diana, while pictures were being taken of me surrounded by the children.
I was only too happy to select the plantation tour as it gave me a taste of everything Jamaican while listening to reggae music. We sampled their variety of fruits again not different from ours, the real jerk pork, pina colada with their special rum and of course, the Blue Mountain coffee. Served with coconut milk and brown sugar, it was the best coffee I ever tasted. On top of that we had the most knowledgeable tour guide.
Tonight’s highlight: A repeat of the ice skating show which gave us room to rest and get dolled up again for another formal Crown & Anchor Dinner.
DAY 6: LABADEE, HAITI
Another day not just on any island, but a private island owned by the Royal Carribean making it exclusive only to their guests. An island playground, it was a day just for discovery and simply romping around. Riding a jet boat at 1000 km per hour in the morning felt like having our skin pulled away from our faces wondering if it will go back to its shape. In contrast to the high speed, we rowed ourselves in kayaks around the island with the afternoon winds posing quite a challenge to our perceived strength.
“We have slightly gusty winds out there today.” Our guide announced. “If you think you can’t make it back to shore you might as well stay.”
“Okay, right, left, right, left” I shouted to my sister behind me… trying to stay in a straight line… “left, left, left, right, right, right” as we huffed and puffed against the wind. Back on shore our muscles ached.
Tonight’s highlight: “Once Upon a Time Production Show”, very avante garde and highly entertaining, a casual Chef’s Dinner and an 80s dance party.
Also featured was a Culinary Gala Sensation, a feast to the eye of butter, ice and fruit sculptures, and a mix of cocktails and sinful desserts. Did I see caviar there? The buffet was opened for consumption at midnight and having no companion as my family was fast asleep didn’t stop me from feasting on those black fish roe popping in my mouth as I savoured every mouthful mixed with onion and eggs on freshly baked hard rolls. Heavenly!
On this very night I also had a chance to have a photo taken with the Executive Chef who gladly signed the only souvenir I got, a cookbook containing all the recipes of the glorious food served at dinner. Can't wait to prepare them myself.
DAY 7: AT SEA
Our cruise was ending now and it was time to relax, do some shopping on board and enjoy the rest of the ship. More room for raisin cookies, anyone?
Tonight’s Highlight: “Farewell Variety Show”, a casual Feast of Nations Dinner and a Farewell Dance Party.
It was time to pack away for the evening collection of our luggage. With everything perfectly organized and color coded luggage tags provided, I was amazed at the efficient operations and management of such a large ship.
As we disembarked the following morning, the porter asked me if this was my first cruise. Indeed it was and he said to me “This is your first cruise and on the newest and largest one at that. Anything after this will be unsatisfactory”. Yes, I believe him. Now it’s time for me to introduce my children to a fun way of traveling… cruising. I would surely love to do it again.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Romancing the Tree
Sometime in January last year, I decided to attend a one day writing/psychology workshop entitled "Romancing the Tree". Not knowing what to expect, I just wanted to do something new, something different, something that might bring out the creativity in me, albeit in another form or medium. I tremendously enjoyed the workshop and unexpectedly, it was to be the beginning of my new found joy in creative writing.
Now try to picture my drawing of a tree...
"Today I was asked to draw a tree, to me a symbol of life, ever changing, constantly evolving, beautiful. With a foundation strongly anchored on its roots I have experienced the different colors of life as the leaves have turned to green as a child and young adult, to oranges and yellows in the present. As the wind begins to blow I now enter another stage in my life. I am now discovering myself, choosing to be just me, shedding off the leaves that have turned brown. And as I discover more of myself, I'm beginning to feel that life is indeed beautiful."
Now try to picture my drawing of a tree...
"Today I was asked to draw a tree, to me a symbol of life, ever changing, constantly evolving, beautiful. With a foundation strongly anchored on its roots I have experienced the different colors of life as the leaves have turned to green as a child and young adult, to oranges and yellows in the present. As the wind begins to blow I now enter another stage in my life. I am now discovering myself, choosing to be just me, shedding off the leaves that have turned brown. And as I discover more of myself, I'm beginning to feel that life is indeed beautiful."
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Over the Hill?
I just turned 47. As customary, we celebrate milestones in our lives. Not to be bypassed is the 1st birthday when we’re actually either asleep all throughout the party or “Waaahhh!”, screaming at the top of our lungs over our fear of clowns, magicians or mascots who are actually supposed to amuse us. The other years that clearly mark the stages in our lives may or may not be celebrated. For us women these are:
the 7th , the age of reason…
“Look mom, I can fly!” she says as her mother frantically runs to her in anticipation to catch her fall as she swings so high she can actually take a 360 degree turn round the pole! “Whew!”
the 13th, the start of our tumultuous years…
“Mom, can I go my friend’s party?”, she bravely asks her mother one day.
“What’s the occasion?... Who will be there?... Will there be boys?”
One has to answer a barrage of questions careful not to agitate her mother and merit her most wanted permission.
the 18th, the debutante’s coming out party…
“Mom, do I really have to do this?” Unlike before, girls have taken a liking to choosing a special gift instead or perhaps celebrating for a cause.
the 40th , is it over the hill or the new 30s?...
“Gosh! I’m getting wrinkles on my face!” We have no right to be a woman if we’re not vain, right? But with the varied supply of miracle creams now available to slather on our faces, we can actually look like we are just in our 30s. And with a body to boot, hey don’t we look great!
the 50th , the year of the golden girls…
“What is it like to be married, Grandma?”
“Staying and loving in a marriage is actually a decision we make, dear.” Once we reach this age we get to share our wisdom with whoever cares to learn from us, most especially our grandchildren.
Days before my birthday, I was contemplating on whether or not to celebrate. It was just a few days before my scheduled Carribean cruise and I was afraid that it might be too stressful for me to plan a party. Nevertheless I decided to host a special dinner for friends and family. Little did I realize that I invited a chosen few girl friends and family until the responses came in through my phone saying “Thank you for making me feel special, I will definitely be there.” Then I remembered a message sent to me before saying “Your girl friends will always be there, without them you will never ever be the same.” How true this was for me.
Unexpectedly, it turned out to be one of my most memorable birthdays as I truly enjoyed preparing every special dish, designing and supervising table settings, selecting the drink of the night introduced by my twin celebrant, getting everyone to chug a shot of Mandarin vodka, then biting into an orange slice drizzled with brown sugar and cinnamon… yum! And after having a few drinks, my dear friend managed to get everyone on their feet dancing the night away. “The last time I had this much fun was back in high school!” another friend exclaimed. What a party that was!
As I told my twin's husband the following day that we should celebrate again next year with her girl friends too, he reminded me that life’s too short, why wait another year? Every single day is reason to celebrate.
Well, I turned 47. It is clearly not a milestone but it was certainly a celebration of life, of friendships made and sealed, amid laughter and tears, throughout the years. I am certainly not over the hill. On the other hand, I am just beginning a new journey.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Morning pages
Thanks to my brother-in-law, Ernie, I just discovered a fun way of doing my morning pages. You see, I am now reading The Artist's Way, A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity and one of the things we have to do is write a 3 page entry in a journal about anything and everything that's in one's mind... silly, mundane, thought provoking, intellectual, spiritual... anything that matters to nourish one's soul. So forget the right brain, just let anything flow from the left brain as I was taught in my writing workshop. I once thought it would be good to improve one's writing skills by attending the advanced writing workshop but what the heck!... this is more fun. I can write about anything I want to, no pressure finishing assigned writings, dealing instead with the more personal issues one faces as we wake up each morning. So, here goes... it will not be daily as I don't want to risk it being a chore, only when I feel like. The journey begins...
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