The Beautiful Game

It was 1999 and I had just joined an IT services and consulting comany in Makati. It was inevitable that I would be drawn into football, the beautiful game, as my Scottish-born, British-passport-holding-boss was an avid fan. EPL, FA Cup, Champions League ... these were words that I heard as often as client visit, change request, documentation. I started scouring the net for information, just so I could put in a word or two when he'd say he's off to watch a game. I got to the point where I could name the star players for each team, and recognize them by sight. I found it strange at first how a Frenchman could be a goalie for an English team, and how Arsenal's lineup was more Latin than caucasian.

But two major events that were about to happen in my life would cement the foundations of my football fanhood. One was meeting the man I was going to live with for the rest of my life. He introduced me to the football the rest of the world played. I quickly learned the difference between FIFA and UEFA and the Euro, Conmenbol and Primera Liga, Serie A and Bundesliga. I assimilated his admiration for Real Madrid, and with him followed the odyssey of players from one team to another. Soon I became as quick as he is to shout "offside!" and I proved indispensable when it came to "translating" the English of football commentators, which often sounded greek to him.

The other event was the World Cup 2002.

The World Cup Korea-Japan and the days that led to it put the Kalayaan-Jupiter-Makati Avenue area in an absolute tizzy. Almost all the bars advertised LIVE matches, some even opening in the morning if there was a scheduled game, and putting on special menus as an added come-on. There were streamers and blinking colored lights everywhere, but it was all third-person limited to me until one afternoon when my boss suddenly came into the dev room and crooked his finger at me. "Bring your mobile," he said. I thought we were going on an urgent client call. Then as I found us walking down the length of Rockwell towards Kalayaan, I realized the urgency--but it was not for a client. It was Spain vs Slovenia. He was rooting for Spain. He had made sure I had my mobile so the people back at the office could contact us if they needed to. They didn't.

I was up for a week's leave after that, and my boyfriend and I used my time off savoring game after thrilling game. During the Brazil vs England quarterfinals match our group even got into a tumble with an expat (he was a Brit and we were cheering for Cafu and the boys) which could have landed us in the evening news if cooler heads had not intervened. In the evening of that same day, a couple of drunk Englishmen accosted my boyfriend's brother who was wearing the Brazil yellow and green jersey. "I'm here to cheer for Germany," he declared. The Englishmen backed off, they were cheering for Germany too. The Germans were playing the Americans.

When the practice became too rich for our pockets we settled for the Yahoo tickertape coverage on the internet. The screen would click everytime there was a shot, and something that sounded like a cowbell would ring if there was a goal. It was a great boon to us when the championship game between Germany and Brazil was shown LIVE on a big screen at the Rockwell parking lot. We sat on the cement steps with a group of boys from Don Bosco, heckling the female host who pronounced the French superstar Zinedine Zidane's name to rhyme with "pain"... "Sine-din Zee-deyn" she said. We shouted "Mag basketball ka na lang!"

As my husband and I count the days till World Cup 2006, there are games to watch on ESPN and Star Sports. On nights before a LIVE match we set alarms for 3am and sleep before 10pm. Our daughter claps her hands at every goal she sees in the daytime roundups, and her father is thinking of getting her the kiddie-sized Real Madrid kit he saw at the Shangri-la mall. Her brother can't wait till we move to a bigger place with enough room to kick a ball around. A genuine football family we are, because it really is a beautiful game.

Red Ribbon's Reply, Part 2

Dear Ms. Gaerlan,

I am mortified to learn about your unfortunate experience in our Iligan store and can empathize with the contempt you felt as a result thereof. In fact, I marvel at the restraint with which you conducted yourself, given the gross disservice accorded you. I can only offer my profuse apology as there can be no excuse for what you had to go through.

However, beyond mere contrition, I am sincerely grateful that you took the time and bother to make sure that this matter reach our attention here in Manila. Our organization prides itself in consistently providing all our customers a unique and gratifying experience beyond simply consuming our products, and nothing less will do. This is the reason we go through great lengths to ensure that the quality of our products, the ambiance in our stores and the service levels we offer our customers are the best that you deserve. Nevertheless, all our efforts will be for naught unless we get constructive feedback, as you have provided us in this case.

Rest assured that we will take the necessary remedial actions to make sure that the ineptitude you had to face will not happen again. I hope that you will sometime soon favor us with your esteemed patronage again, so that we can have a chance to prove ourselves worthy of the trust and confidence you have come to expect of the premiere bakeshop reputation that Red Ribbon has painstakingly built over the years.

Thank you.

Respectfully,

Jorge Ma. Q. Concepcion
Vice-President & General Manager
Red Ribbon Bakeshop, Inc.

I now consider this matter closed, the fault forgiven. Would that all companies were as quick to react as these gentlemen who have replied to my complaint.

Murder in my heart

I have been a non-practicing Catholic for a long time. It started in the mid-80s, when I was in church with my eldest son who was then just a toddler. Everything was going fine until the celebrant/priest started talking about who to vote for in the upcoming elections. Being one who until now believes in the separation of church and state, I stood up and walked out of his sermon, toddler in tow. From then on I only set foot in a church if someone was about to be baptized, married or buried.

I don't know if this is psychologically sound, allowing single incidents to ruin my relationships with religion and bakeshops. I know this does not extend to my relationships with actual people, as I have disappointed and been disappointed by several people (hey, i was once in a marriage that tasted like very bad paksiw for 19 years before I decided to get out) but that didn't deter me from keeping people around me. When you're a mother you don't have a choice.

But today I have been seriously considering multiple murder, a virtual massacre of both human- and canine-kind. Our landlord and landlady (landpeople?) have 20 dogs, give or take a mutt. This apparently is to compensate for the lack of grandchildren, as their kids are thoroughly enjoying singleness. If you listened to them without looking you'd think they were talking to little kids when they romp around with the dogs.

Fact is, I'm having a bit of a problem with them already, as there was one afternoon when Mrs. Landlady told me to have Maia put her shoes on so she could play with the puppies that they had let loose on the grounds. There they were pooping and peeing and she wanted my little girl to get down and play with them, as if they were next door neighbor's kids!

Just this morning, as my 12-year-old was on his way out to school, we didn't know that Mr. Landlord had let loose the german shepherd and was playing a game of fetch with it. This german shepherd is about six months old, which means it's almost at its full height & weight but still with the "playfulness" of a puppy. This GSD could easily pin down a slight-of-build 12-year-old kid and it may have happened, had I not ran out to intervene.

For some reason I hold no fear of dogs of any kind, but I could not for the life of me pass on this lack of fear to my kids. It's not like a stick.

Mr. and Mrs. Landlord made no move to collar their wayward pup, but they kept calling out to it like it was a one-year-old child who could heed his grandparents. This dog had never been through any training, formal or otherwise, and I saw no reason why it could not have knocked my son to the ground. It was barking incessantly at my son who was now immobile. But it stopped when I stood in front of it, pointed a finger at it's nose and growled "Bantay lang jud ka..." which in Cebuano is a clear threat that implied anything between maiming and murder.

Mr. & Mrs. Landlord quickly stepped in and grabbed the GSD by the collar, as if to sheild him from the damage I might inflict on him. I took this opportunity to escort my son to the gate, open it so he could go out to the road and catch a ride to school. Behind me I could hear their usual assurances not to worry, the dog had had his shots anyway... the dog, always the dog, no thought at all for my human son.

When I turned around I willed myself not to look at either Mr or Mrs Landpeople. They would have dropped dead if they had seen the look in my eyes, because at that moment I really had murder in my heart.

UnDress Code

I have been scouring the Internet for the online version of the 5 December 2004 issue of the Philippine Star online. There is an article there of how Mayor Solitario Ali of the Islamic City of Marawi has imposed a dress code for the residents and visitors of his city. Either Philstar does not have an archive or I just missed it with all the ads they have on their page. Not even Google could give me the page I wanted, but with several keyword combinations I managed to find a similar article in the Gulf News and to save you from one more click here is the entire text of the article:

World | Philippines
Published: 5/12/2004, 07:04 (UAE)

Homosexuals and indecent attire prohibited in southern city
By Al Jacinto, Correspondent

A city in the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao recently imposed a ban on gays as well as tight-fitting jeans, tube blouses that expose a woman's midriff and other scanty attire in public.

"Since Marawi City is the only Islamic city in the country and part of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM), we have to comply with the culture, religion and tradition of the Muslims but without going against the country's Constitution," said Mayor Omar Solitario Ali.

Ali said the ordinance is part of the "cleaning and cleansing" programme to improve Marawi City's image.

The mayor said there was a clamour from both public at large and government authorities to ban these types of behaviour that entail putting cross-dressers back into the closet.

Aside from the ordinance, Ali said the beautification drive also includes the ongoing clean-up of garbage in the urban area, demolition of illegal structures and the cleansing of bad influences in the community.

The Marawi City council also requires Muslim women to strictly wear the headscarf and the prohibition of wearing skintight denim or non-denim pants and other skimpy attire, so as "not to induce impure thoughts or lustful desires", the mayor said.

In fairness to Mayor Solitario, the ban was on cross-dressing, not on gays per se. I think even the most free-thinking artist, gay or otherwise, will agree that self-expression may take second place to a respect for the culture and customs of the place that they are living in or visiting, if one's life or freedom were at stake, and that people, gay or otherwise, do have an instinct for self-preservation.

Red Ribbon's Reply, Part One

Reactions to my Seeing Red at Red Ribbon post helped me decide to go ahead with informing their Manila office about the horrible mistake Iligan/Cagayan de Oro branches committed on my daughter's birthday. Late this afternoon I decided to call the main office in Barrio Ugong to find out who I should talk to. I ended up talking to Mark Sevilla, Sales and Delivery Service Manager for Red Ribbon. I started to tell him my story over long distance, but then I felt my blood pressure rising again as it does every time I recall the incident. I told him I had the entire incident written down, and I would very much prefer to just email my story to him. He agreed that with my well-being in mind, that was the best thing to do. I emailed him the contents of my post, letting him know that it can be found online at this address, with the order form as an attachment.

I received his reply in less than two hours. This is what he said.

Ms Gaerlan,

First of all I would like to apologize sincerely on behalf of Red Ribbon bakeshop for the unacceptable service you've experienced in our Iligan branch. Another is to thank you for your time spent writing and calling us even here in Manila. Rest assured that your complaint will be taken cared of, I will relay this to our Group Operations manager and even to our VP / Gen manager here in Manila. I will also send your email to the Iligan Operations so they can rectify immediately. We just hope that you and your family will continue patronizing our products and services.

Thank you very much.
sincerely,

Mark D. Sevilla
Sales and Delivery service mgr

I emailed Mark again thanking him for his reply, and explained to him that I called and wrote not for rectification of an unrectifiable error. How can one rectify an error of time? Can they manipulate time and warp back my daughter's first birthday party, this time with the cake at the center of the table?

I called and wrote him because if this should happen to a more influential personage here in Iligan, they may not get off as easily. This is Mindanao, after all.

It would be interesting to find out how the Group Operations Manager and the VP and General Manager would react though. I do hope that no heads will roll. On the contrary, if their Iligan/Cagayan de Oro people had just kept their heads this would never have happened. But I'm overwhelmingly curious ... abangan!

Blending In

Para sa aking mga kamag-anak,
kung sakali lang namang gusto nyong malaman
kung ano ang gayak ko kung mamamalengke,
eto o.

Seeing Red at Red Ribbon

On 11 Feburary 2005 at 9 o'clock in the morning, I walked into the Red Ribbon Bakeshop Iligan City branch, with the intention of ordering a birthday cake for our daughter Maia's party two days hence. I stated my need to one of the attendants who promptly took the appropriate forms and asked me to sit down at one of the tables so she could get the appropriate information. Before saying anything else, I asked if the cake I was about to order would be ready by lunchtime of Sunday, 13th of February, and she said yes, that there would be no problem.

After the usual name, address and contact numbers, she asked me if I wanted to pick the cake up or have it delivered. This was a pleasant surprise for me, and I said, "Oh good, you deliver?" anticipating limits in the areas that they do deliver to.

The attendant looked up at me blankly and said, "I don't know."

I told my blood pressure to stand down and told the attendant, "I want to talk to someone who knows what she's doing, please."

That would be the branch manager, as it turned out, another girl not much older than the attendant who had first talked to me. This one had a bit more confidence though, and she took me through the rest of the form questions. When I had satisfied all her information requirements, I asked again if the cake would be ready by 11:30 a.m. of Sunday the 13th. She told me not to worry, and then proceded to enter the delivery time in her form as 9:30 a.m. I told her that was much too early, as my reservations at the venue were at 11:30 a.m. She said she put in 9:30 a.m. as the cake was to be manufactured in Cagayan de Oro and delivered here to the Iligan branch.

Maybe I should have cancelled my order right there and then. Cagayan de Oro was a mere hour's drive away, but anything can happen en route. And if anything did happen on the road, Red Ribbon will not be responsible for it, as it would fall under the clause "circumstances beyond our control" as stated in the terms and conditions at the back of the order form.

But this was Red Ribbon, one of the Manila-based stores that had just opened in Iligan City, a bakeshop whose products I had always preferred over Goldilocks. I once again asked the manager for assurance that the cake would be on time and she said, "Rest assured ma'am, we've never been late."

For someone who blogged about Murphy's Law and its corollaries, I should have known better. But I decided to gamble on this store manager's confidence and proceded to sign the order form, all 5 copies of it, and paid my bill in full. And with the sureness of one who has never been disappointed by a supplier, I walked out of the Red Ribbon Iligan City branch to worry about other things for the party.

Fast forward to 13th Feburary, 11:00 a.m. I dialled the Red Ribbon Iligan City branch phone to ask if the cake I ordered was ready for delivery at Tatay's Grill as agreed. The person who answered me excused himself for a few seconds to find out, and then he was back with the three words I had dreaded to hear:

"Wala pa Ma'am."

I took four, maybe five really deep breaths and asked for the store manager. When she came on the line I said my name and asked if she was the same store manager who took my order last Friday. I had to make sure I was talking to the right person, as what I was about to unleash would be too cruel for someone who had nothing to do with what I still hoped was just a misunderstanding. "Yes, " she replied, she was the one I had spoken to.

"I asked you," I said in rising tones, "I asked you if the cake could be ready today, I said I was worried because it was a Sunday and it was rather early for deliveries from Cagayan de Oro, but you told me, you assured me that the cake would be ready. You told me 'Ma'am, we've never been late'!"

"Yes Ma'am," was all she could say.

"I want you to find out where my cake is. I want you to call me back in 10 minutes and tell me where my cake is. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Ma'am."

I put the phone down and took ten more deep breaths. When I was calmer, which definitely took more than 10 minutes, I called Red Ribbon Iligan branch again. Their line was busy. Which was a good sign, I thought, at least she was still trying to find out where the effing eff my cake was. After 10 more minutes had passed I decided to talk to the store manager in person.

She was still on the phone when I got there, frantically dialling numbers that apparently were not as responsive as she had hoped. When she saw me she turned to me but after five seconds had passed and she had not said anything, I said to her, "Where's my cake?"

She was still trying to contact Cagayan de Oro production, she said. The cake may already be in transit, but no one seems to know the driver's mobile number, if he indeed had one. She asked if I wanted to sit down and wait, but I said no, I preferred to stand and walk around and let off the steam that I will be directing at her should my cake prove to be untraceable. After several more minutes had passed, the store manager came up to me and asked for my mobile number. I said, what for? She said Cagayan de Oro production wanted to talk to me. I heaved a deep and very angry sigh and gave her my number. I took out my mobile phone and stared at it, waiting for the call to come in. When it did, it was another hapless Red Ribbon employee who did not introduce herself. What she did say was this:

"Ma'am, kadto man gud nga mga ingredients sa imong gi-order nga cake, sa Manila pa nako ga-orderon, unya wala man ma-abot... sorry jud kaayo, ma'am..."

I could not believe what I was hearing. Here is this person telling me that the cake WAS NOT EVEN MADE AT ALL. That was it, nothing she could do, the ingredients did not arrive from Manila, the cake was never made.

This was the most indescribable depth of incompetence I had ever encountered. They had three days to let me know that my order had proved to be impossible. They had three days to offer an alternative to the chocolate mousse cake I had ordered, mocha or plain chocolate would have been fine, but no . . . no one bothered to call me. No one.

I said all that to the person I was talking to, in increasingly loud Cebuano, as people were starting to come into the place. It was Sunday after all, people were going to their after-mass brunch/merienda. They all politely avoided looking at me, but I knew they were listening to every word I said. "Do you have any idea," I was telling Cagayan de Oro production, "of what is happening here? I have guests waiting at the venue and I am standing here being told that the cake I ordered three days ago was never made! You have customers coming in here who are realizing that ordering a cake here may prove to be an experience they might not enjoy!"

This was when my husband, always the calm one, touched my elbow and said, "Ask for a refund and we'll just go find a cake somewhere else."

I asked for a refund.

"Sige ma'am, I'll ask the store manager to give you a refund, and then I'll still send a cake over to your house tomorrow."

I really didn't care what she did after giving me a refund, and I told her so. The store manager came over with the amount I had paid and handed it over to me with her own apologies. I was not mollified.

"You told me you've never been late. You just broke your record. I'm never going to buy anything in this store ever again." Which was really something for me, as I was just getting used to ensaymada and mamon over again.

I walked out of that store vowing never to go back. I told the guests I had riding with me about the incident, and by the time we got to the venue, I had pretty much calmed down and managed to retell the incident from a self-deprecating standpoint. There was to be no cake, which was just as well, as most of us were on low-sugar diets anyway. But I was determined to call Red Ribbon main office in Manila to report the incident, first thing Monday morning.

The party went on. And on the next day we all went on a road trip and were out most of the day. When we got home late in the afternoon there was the cake I ordered, on our dining table, a day late and 10 pesos short, as my order included a number candle which this one did not have. This one did have "Happy Birthday Maia" written on the hastily iced, chocolate mousse slab. I decided not to call Manila office for the report, but I did promise myself to write about this and tell other people about it as well. And in case there is anyone from Red Ribbon who may be reading this now who says my story is not true, here is a scanned image of the order form, of which I still have a copy.

Is it safe to come out now?

Bad Bambit, holing up in her room when there are guests in the house. With the presence of grandparents, uncles & aunts and cousins galore there were enough people in the past week to entertain the birthday girl to her heart's content. Come to think of it, Iligan is their hometown, their territory. Sometimes I feel like I am the guest.

The past week was frenetic with visits to other grandparents, uncles and aunts and cousins galore. Road trips in and out of Iligan at all points of the compass. I even managed to start an arches collection, and an amateur attempt at documenting a vehicular mishap. Visited a farm in Manticao, from which the picture in the preceding post was taken.

I feel I need to explain why all the fuss. Maia is the first grandchild of Lolo Toming and Lola Maring Gaerlan. Daddy Toming is 81 years old. Mama Maring is 70. Maia is also the only baby among the cousins here in Iligan, which explains the non-presence of children at the non-children's party on her birthday.

But now the house has quieted down, as the entourage has returned to their homebase in Manila. *whew*

In the meantime I have discovered, thanks to the inspiration gained from Gelay, the magic that is WordPress. This may be sacrilege, mentioning WordPress on my Blogger blog ... but I feel there may be a move in the offing. And I don't mean just the blog.

:)

New Hybrid Tree!

The cocowayan, found only in the hills of Manticao, Misamis Oriental,
bred to provide all materials needed for building shelter,
as well as to provide the builders with their well-deserved drink
after a tiring day of work.
:)

Maia's Birthday Party!

Seated: Lola Maring & Lolo Toming Gaerlan. Standing: Tita Inday,
Tito Aleking, Ama, Ina with Maia, Kuya Maui, Tito Bunso

The family in Iligan

Banay sa Gaerlan

Musically Tagged by Luchie!

My random 10 songs are:
1. Peaceful - Kenny Rankin
2. Angel - Sarah McLachlan
3. Iris - Goo Goo Dolls
4. I'll Be - Edwin McCain
5. Any World that I'm Welcome To - Steely Dan
6. Moonlight - Sting
7. The Way You Look Tonight - Tony Bennett
8. Someone to Watch Over Me - Sting
9. What are You Doing the Rest of Your Life - Barbra Streisand
10. Just a Love Song - Walter Murphy

What is the total amount of music in your computer?
4.31GB in 1,179 mp3 files

The last CD you bought?
Gitara Española

What Was the last song you listened to before reading this message?
No One is to Blame by Howard Jones

Write down 5 songs you listen to a lot or mean a lot to you?
1. Beautiful In My Eyes - da hubby says this song was written so he could sing it to me (*naks naman*)
2. The Way You Look Tonight - this is what we sing Maia to sleep with
3. Theme from Il Postino by Itzhak Perlman - no matter what my mood is, this always makes me smile
4. Tango from Scent of a Woman, also by Itzhak Perlman - mapapatango ka talaga!
5. One Place ng EBTG - because in the end, it's where I want to be

Who are you gonna pass this stick to and why?
Samuel Bilibit - because he's the handsomest music lover i know :) (sa walay dinapig-dapig ha ... )

Our Little Lady

Our Maia is turning a year old on Valentine's Day. She's everything a mom could ever hope for, and more ... sometimes a bit too much, in fact.

She's still a bit shaky when she walks, and her teeth are sure taking their time to pop out from her gums, but she likes climbing the stairs with anyone who'd hold her hand. Her favourite past time is to disarrange her puzzle mat, take the letters out and munch on them.

Checklist

1. Clean all bedrooms.
2. Move Maui's stuff out of his room and into ours.
3. Tell Maui to calm down, it's only for a week or two ...
4. Change all bedsheets and pillowcases.
5. Wait, we don't have enough pillowcases. We don't even have enough pillows. Gotta go out and buy some.
6. Get groceries. For 10 people * x weeks. You don't know how it can be done but you need to get it done.
7. Make sure all the plugs are secure in their outlets in the server room (a.k.a. guest room). We don't want the network conking out amidst all this. The internet is what keeps us sane. Also the network gaming.
8. Make sure there's enough packaged MRE's in our bedroom. In case of emergencies.
9. Hire spacious passenger vehicle with lots of gasoline in the tank. Hire driver. You know you can't drive.
10. Smile. Relax. It's only for x weeks.

CTRL+C

The keyboard shortcut ctrl+c has become notorious these days. Much has been said about the bopis incident, but since I was also a recipient of the crusading email, allow me to add my own two cent's.

There are other keys on the keyboard, other than ctrl+c and ctrl+v. The other 99 or so keys are so that one can write, among other things:

"shamelessly lifted from insert-sourcename-here"
"this isn't my own work, I copied it from insert-copied source-here"

But best of all, the other keys are there so that one can proclaim:

"This is my own work. 100% d'original. Beware of imitation."

Nature is what we see

(Ayala Resort, Islamic City of Marawi)

Nature is what we know

(Emeralda Beach Resort, Misamis Oriental)

But have no art to say,

(Maria Cristina Falls, Lanao del Norte)

So impotent our wisdom is

(Timoga tributary)

To Her simplicity.

--Emily Dickinson

A Mindanaw Travelogue

Samuel Bilibit Diaries

Let Samuel Bilibit take you on a road trip through Mindanaw... (with the corrected link, mali pala yung link na nalagay ko kagabi).

Samuel, next time, pwede sama naman kami? :)

Walang ganyan sa Iligan

• Wendy's
• McDonalds
• KFC
• Pizza Hut
• Shakey's
• Burger King
• all the other food places you see in malls
• wala rin kasing malls

You must understand, I was the undisputed takeout/delivery queen of Guadalupe Nuevo, Makati City. That is, until we uprooted kith and kin and followed the sun (i.e. hubby) here, to the city of waterfalls, as government propaganda for tourists call it. To have discovered that none of the above mentioned establishments existed in Iligan was devastating. They do have ChowKing, Dunkin Donuts and Jollibee (their first drive-thru opened just last year), but after you've done the rounds a few times they start losing their novelty.

So, there was nothing else for me to do but go to market. I was told the supermarket was where I should go, one short multicab ride away. It turned out to be not the supermarket I was used to, city mom doing groceries with baby perched on shopping cart. Super Market is what they call the wet market in Pala-o. As opposed to the bigger market near Gaisano, which they call the Wet Market. Go figure.

One thing I must admit, on pain of being tut-tutted to embarrassment, is that I had never mastered the politic art of haggling. Which is why I really don't like going to market. I prefer the bar-coded certainty of a price tag, even on the tiredest bunch of kinchay on a supermarket shelf. Better that than to endure the suspicious glance of a tindera who has just announced the total amount of what I had just purchased, to which my only answer is to give exact change and go. The closest thing I do that has been misconstrued as haggling is the pause I make from the time the amount was mentioned to the time I dip into my wallet to pay it. Then the monger him/herself takes a fraction off the price he/she just quoted, as if worried that if he/she didn't take 5% off the total price I would go away and do business somewhere else.

Truth is, here in Iligan I've never had much reason to make tawad, or hangyo as we say in Cebuano. Everything costs so much less than they do in Manila, so much so that here I can take P1,000 to market and come home with enough to feed my family healthy lunches and dinners for an entire week. And since this is the "province", people here pay special attention to shoppers with babies in tow, asking me to sit for a while as they double-bag my purchases (Lingkod usa mam kay duna ra ba kay bata), even volunteering to walk me to the nearest multicab stop. I never got such special treatment at the Guadalupe wet (or dry) market.

So now I say so what kung walang insert-fastfood chain-here sa Iligan. Here we can live for a fraction of the cost than was required in Makati. Here I can take a PU (non-aircon taxi) and be charged only P30 to any point within Iligan City. Here multicab drivers wait until a passenger is comfortably seated before he steps on the accelerator.

Walang ganyan sa Manila. :)

Pakurat

My friend Cora, an educator, poet, literary performer and bon vivant, was reading this blog the other day and had left a comment:

Salamat!!! Nalingaw ko og basa! I also noticed that u mention Jacques Derrida's Le Difference. That is really exciting! It's one of my favorite discourses on Deconstruction by the same intellectual!!! Hope to read more here in ur blog!

I blinked twice after reading that. Did she mean Leoncio Deriada? It wouldn't have surprised me if she did, as I have happy memories of the old teacher we are so fond of, well, except when he was asleep ...

But, no, Cora said Jacques Derrida, and I'm thinking, who da heck is Jacques Derrida? And I wouldn't know the difference between deconstruction and boa constriction if it swallowed me whole. You see, I never had any formal education for the things that I eventually did to earn a living for myself. Never went to school for writing, html design or even I.T. project management (ooops, there goes my headhunter out the door). All of that I learned hands-on, and from the most exacting--if not the best, at least in my opinion--employers. The only thing I ever studied for was something I never actually became: a teacher.

And that perhaps is my greatest frustration.

In Advance

As we'll be very busy on Valentine's weekend* I would like to leave the following lines to my partnerless-but-still-hopeful friends, to encourage you and let you know that there is a happy ever after, that there are second chances, and that love is still as perennial as the molave (i mean the tree, not the other xxx). Yes, Cora, that includes YOU.

But as you ARE still partnerless (can't help it, i gotta rub it in) here's my virtual elbow jab at you.

Murphy's Laws on Love:

All the good ones are taken.
If the person isn't taken, there's a reason.
The nicer someone is, the farther away (s)he is from you.
The amount of love someone feels for you is inversely proportional to how much you love them.
Every kind action has a not-so-kind reaction.
The good ones die first.
Availability is a function of time. The minute you get interested is the minute they find someone else.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!

---

* our daughter Maia's 1st birthday

pancit in the most unlikely places

One of the referrers to this blog today was One if by land, Two if by C++. An engineering student in the United States, Cyphoid's most recent post is a very interesting exposition on something that an integral part of the average pinoy diet: instant pancit (pronouced pun-sit, Cyphoid, it's what we call ramen here in the Philippines).

Cyphoid writes:

These little cubes of joy pack a lot of food, good taste, and quick preparation all in one minute package. It is actually rather astounding, the combination of good traits and the lack of bad that have been packed together in one package. And with the extremely low price tag of around $0.30 per package it is possible to have a whole weeks worth of lunches for under $2.00. Clearly a bargain. And the time and frustration it saves is astounding. To create a whole meal takes only a few minutes and minimal effort. It most likely saves hundreds of hours of a college student's precious little time.

This under-appreciated necessity is exactly that, both under appreciated and a necessity.

Them were the days. There was always money for pansit, if for little else. Nissin's Ramen (in the old blue/red packs with sesame oil, not the sissy yellow-brown ones of today) was what I had in my college years. Nissin's Ramen sustained the small group of would-be educators that I was a part of through endless reports, preparations for presentations, mock-ups & visual aids. Later in my life it was Lucky Me, chicken flavor, that kept us alive when I was in-between jobs.

While we all have our favorite brands of instant pancit and memories that go along with it, I have never really bothered to make an in-depth analysis of what exactly it was that has sustained us through those years of dire need. So I am impressed and even put to shame by the tenacity of the young people of How Much Is Inside? as they provide a meticulous investigation of the magic that is ramen.

Thank you, Cyphoid. Mabuhay ang instant pancit!