My Chiang Mai Story

No, it's not Shanghai. No, it's not in China. Not Vietnam. It's in Thailand. Chiang Mai. Charming Chiang Mai.

These are just some photos during my Chiang Mai, Thailand trip from February 3 to 8, 2010. Enjoy!

Click on the picture to go to the album.

My Chiang Mai Story

Serendipitous Little Words of Encouragement

Nothing really, just appreciating how you get the same message from unrelated people and in various ways. It's sometimes creepy - but it's also mysterious. And that makes it beautiful.

 

click on the image to get a bigger view

My Barcelona Story 2

You cannot avoid the question, "How was the food?", when you have just come from a foreign country.

Unfortunately, I do not have much to say regarding the food in Barcelona.
For one, I brought my own food - my stash of instant noodles, bottled sardines. Not because I expected the food to be bad. I just expected it to be expensive. I ended up saving those Euros, but then you're shortchanged with the stories. :).

For another reason, my mostly Asian contingent was fiercely loyal to eating rice - and for all the other times that we had to eat in a restaurant - it was to be, without fail, a Chinese restaurant. And there was only one Chinese restaurant in the vicinity. So there we were, in Barcelona, eating Chinese.

Our room was also a recipient of left overs from restaurant meals by our other colleagues. Throughout the nine days that we were in Barcelona, we had more than enough food in our mini - ref. I actually ended up bringing food I brought back to the Philippines. That's a lot of food miles for those oatmeal packets. I still have not eaten them.

So I really couldn't say how the food was. We did try some. On our second day, we had our lunch in the hotel restaurant. It took around an hour (or maybe 2) before the food we ordered arrived. Lunch was also served at 1 PM, which was actually an hour early than their usual lunch hour of 2 PM. We started streaming into the restaurant at 12:00. We had to go back, of course, because there was no way lunch would be served at 12:00.


Two of my African colleagues ordered fish and rice, and chicken and rice. All of us agreed that they didn't look or tasted the 15 Euro each that they were worth. The one who ordered fish complained it was bland. The one who ordered chicken was so aghast at the "rice" part of his meal. It was probably a mound of just five tablespoons of rice.



I ordered paella (pork and seafood). I thought our paella tasted better. And my Asian and African colleagues kept on saying, "They don't know how to cook rice.", because  the rice in the paella was what we would normally consider half done.

On our second to the last day, we did get to eat in a Spanish restaurant. We were with an Italian colleague who did the ordering for us. We had steak on a sizzling plate, which did not seem to taste any different from the steaks that I did get to eat before. (Although I did not eat much because it was medium - rare). And then we had artichokes - which tasted pretty much like - the banana "heart" (What is "puso ng saging" in English?) Except you don't have to struggle with fibers when you eat "puso ng saging".

I did get to eat in a "semi - Spanish" household on the night before we were to leave Barcelona. I say "semi - Spanish" because it was an American husband with a Catalan wife who have lived in the UK (and probably other places in the world) with multi - lingual children. We were served vegetarian lasagna, pomegranate salad, and cake. I'd say it was the greatest way to culminate my food experience in Barcelona. It was the best food I ate throughout my stay.

Worthy Undertakings

"Indigenous peoples account for 5% of the world's population, yet they protect and care for 22% of the Earth's surface, 80% of remaining biodiversity, and 90% of cultural diversity on the planet. They are also among the poorest and most socially excluded people in the world. (World Bank, Social Dimensions of Climate Change Workshop Report 2008.)"

Bangkok 2009

All This Talk

The Russian Federation currently has the floor. And the Co-chair interrupted him to ask what he meant by BPOA - to which he replied "The Bali Plan of Action - it came out funny, somehow, generating laughs from the people inside the conference room. It was usually referred to as BOP or the Bali Action Plan. Australia is now speaking, chuckled when she said she would express the principles she had in mind in sixty seconds.

It's hard to be distracted, on such a time like this, actually. I have the bigger urge to listen to what the speakers are saying, rather than trying to write this - fearing I might miss something -  something that will definitely be historical and worldwide in scope - and missed it because I was not paying attention.

It is already overwhelming being a spectator as all these talks go on. On some other circumstance, I would have been very cynical, having such an aversion to "so much talk." With the news of typhoons, floods, earthquakes, and tsunamis that have recently rocked the world, this gathering of 4,000 people has become more real to me, and I am actually appreciating it, even the tedious process. As part of the delegation of an observer NGO representing indigenous peoples, I am even in more awe of the thought that what we are here for can make a difference on the lives of millions of people who have historically been marginalized, and are placed in a most vulnerable position, despite being least contributory to climate change.

There is yet more talk to happen, until deals are sealed at Copenhagen in December. Bangkok has its place in this process. And as I watch, I can only hope that "all this talk" will amount to something that people in here, including me, would be proud of.

News of Manila in Bangkok

"There's a typhoon now. Floods all over this am. But seems to be fading."  Got that as a text message, and just took note of it. Because the day was far from done, there was more to talk about, by this group of around a hundred indigenous peoples all over the world. I do not think the arguments became much hotter than the warmth of the Bangkok sun, and as I strained to listen, I was more concerned with those 34 pieces of translation equipment that my colleage and I issued to the participants. I had a lot on my mind. Including, how to get all of them back.

At the end of the day, in the restaurant, we finally had a chance to talk about the flooding in Manila, but we became engrossed on the bouquet of greens that was brought to our table - which happened to be my dinner.

The following day, the flooding in Metro Manila was all over the news. I finally got the details of the situation from the Bangkok Post paper that I picked up from the hotel. It did look bad. It looked even worse when I was finally able to view videos of the flooding.

Now, as the talks on climate change start here in Bangkok, many of the speakers, representatives of the different countries who are here to negotiate on what to do with the changing climate,  have already expressed their sympathy for the disaster that has befallen the Philippines.

It feels strange being a recipient of these sympathies, and having to respond to people from other countries asking what the situation in the Philippines is now, when I have also been merely a spectator of the news that has come.

I feel that things are okay, because I have contacted family and they have assured me of their safety. But I know it is not, because when I watched TV this morning, the Metro Manila flooding is still in the news.  "Worst flood in 20 years. " "A month's worth of rain, in a day."  Tell me this is not climate change?

Counting Blessings 1 - Clear Sidewalks

Walking my usual route to work, I became aware of a pleasant sight - a stretch of sidewalk I could actually walk on.

It's not a spectacular view, but in communities where there's not much parking space, it's quite often to see something like this:

As you get nearer the business area, the walkable sidewalks even become more scarce:

It could be worse, because sometimes, you can't use the sidewalk at all:

So I am thankful for that stretch of sidewalk. And although it can be annoying that sidewalks are used as parking spaces, or storage spaces, or whatever, I still like this part of Quezon City.

Favorite Places 1 - UP Diliman

UP Diliman's welcoming trees.

I was born and raised in Baguio, and most of my travel experience before graduating from college was mostly in the Cordillera - where even if the roads seem totally dangerous, I was with family and relatives. And I felt safe. Oh, our high school class had a field trip to Zambales - a few years after Mt. Pinatubo erupted - and I brought home two lahar rocks as a souvenir - I still have them, gathering dust on the divider that my father made - but still there.

Anyway, the first time I was in (UP) Diliman, was probably when I needed to get my transcript of records, just before graduation. I was with college friends and it wasn't so bad. I do not remember having memories of fear, but then I don't remember much.

The next time I was there was summer of 1999 - for summer classes - at the college of Education. I was to become part of the second batch of volunteer teachers under the Ugnayan ng Pahinungod - Gurong Pahinungod Program, and the summer classes was part of our training. I guess for many of us who were there, it was a life - changing summer. I was blessed being there with the people I was with. Diliman became for me a friend as well. I relished every corner that I discovered. I delighted in the welcoming trees that seemed to give me a warm hug evertime the jeep enters the campus. I eventually, considered it home.

I remember how Diliman became my safe haven after that, when I didn't go home and instead chose to work in Manila. I would take the hour-long commute after work, to get from Sta. Mesa, Manila where I was teaching, just so I could have 30 minutes of quiet in the Diliman grounds.

Until now, almost a decade after, it is still one of my favorite places.

Finding Sunshine in Grey Skies

Spent the last 10 minutes just trying to set up.
Fifteen minutes before that trying to open the door.

Realized I did not really know what to write about.
Checked out Twitter and decided I did not need another social networking site to log into.
I thought I'd write about the different people I saw while walking on my way to work -
A young boy with a plastic bag over his head, maybe some magic hat to protect him from the rain
With a cart of nice looking vegetables.
Had the urge to stop and look at his wares.
But moved on, thinking I don't know what sort of vegetables to buy, anyway. Having nothing in mind to cook.

Work Day Ramblings

Time wasted so far: 41 minutes

Doing what: Downloading internet explorer for Windows vista

The nice thing about being in Metro Manila, as compared to being in Baguio, is that the day seems longer. When in Baguio, 8:00 PM is already very late, and it's likely that you'd like to be asleep by 10:00 pm then wake up the next day at 7:00 am. In Metro Manila, sleeping at 11:00 PM is normal and for some reason, your body wakes up at 6:00 am.

Time wasted so far, since last count: 8 minutes

Doing what: Waiting for windows internet explorer to install

Doing this because: Everytime I use the internet explorer that I have in my computer, it always suddenly closes, after I close a tab, for example, the whole thing just disappears - and it does not even go bak to the sites I was previously on.

It is hard to type without using the left forefinger. I cut myself yesterday trying to open a pack of mongo.

Comfort Room

I surprisingly found comfort walking in the hallways of a hospital in this time of anxiety and tension.
It was familiar, the corners not daunting, the walls unimposing. But also maybe because, here, I had the experience of being cared for and of being assured safety.
Should it be strange, that a hospital incident could actually be pleasant?
Maybe.
When there are high hopes for the body's wholeness, and people who really care, then a hospital is a place of comfort indeed.

Horizontal Communication

This girl gives us a smile - Clark Kent and I, in a later conversation, thinks she's one of those fund raisers, out to ask for money - asks us, instead, if there's anything that frustrates or bothers us about the world - and if we could write and add that to the list she's holding. Clark Kent writes: Buses running late.

Because Clark Kent is curious, she answers it's part of a class project. Members of their performing arts class were to position themselves in the different subway stops, and do what she just let us do. She explains it provides a way for people to talk to each other, and people get to have a glimpse of other people's minds by reading all the rest of the items in the list. Horizontal communication, I think that was what she called it.

Chloe, that was her name, then asked us if we could hand the list to another friend of hers in the subway station where we were going to get off. She said her friend will be easy to find - and we only need to look out for someone who's holding the same sign she was holding - "underground communication."

And we did see the friend, who was also named Chloe (and it was not part of their performing arts thing - they were just both named Chloe) - waving the sign frantically over her head when we got to the station where we were to get off. Chloe 2 gave us a warm thank you and generously obliged to have her picture taken.

We thought it was an interesting interaction.

Cordillera Nonsense Rhymes and Children's Songs

Credits to my colleague, Helen Magata for providing the text of the following Cordillera rhymes.
I would appreciate additional contributions so we could come up with a more definitive list and ultimately a reference. Comments on source and other information is also welcomed.

Duldullanis
Duldullanis, saluppakin utanis
Umud-udong gutib ti bado isto.

Issallat, duwallat
Tamtamang en mab-uwang
Buambayang

- Helen says this is a game that they play at home back in Paracelis, Mt. Province where they sit and an "IT" taps the players' laps. The lap which is tapped at the end of the song is retracted or hidden.


Kulunged
Kulunged tanged tange
Tanggayom nan dinuple
Dinuplen palluyapoy
Palluyapoy nungippo
Nungippon naminhula
Naminhulan katiti
Katitin bumangiwa
Bangiwaom nan bugan
Nan bugan biklayugan
Layu layu layugan

Kong Kong Kong
Kong kong kong
Pakgong ko'y mankongakong
Is-islong ko ed bakong
Ta umeyak ed num-a
Ta umeyak mensadak
Sin igtok sinan lagbak

Kong kong kong
Pakgong ko'y mankongakong
Ta nu wada'y lames na
Sin ube ay kanan da
Ta isaak ed baey
Ta way kanen ungung-a

Kong kong kong
Pakgong ko'y mangkongakong.

Bagbagto
Bagbagto, bagbagto lambik
Tolambik, tulambawikan
Bawikan, bawikalanay
Kalanay, kalana punay
Napunay, napunayagta
Nayagta, nayagta kumpa
Takumpa, takumpayaaw
Payaaw, paya-astibaw
Astibaw, astibalangaw
Balangaw, balangawisdan
Gawisdan, gawis tannabo
Tannabo, tannabugaoy
Bugaoy, buga papayos
Papayos, papayudtiken
Dyutiken, dyutika mek-en
Kamek-en, kamek chiyungas
Chiyungas, chiyung asa-as
Asa-as, asa-as binyas!

- Bagbagto is probably the most popular nonsense ryhyme in the Cordillera. Nobody has claimed yet to know what it means.

I was asked whether I am infringing the copyright properties of my ancestors by publishing these rhymes online. But I think that in this modern times where indigenous languages are facing threats of extinction, I would rather have these rhymes available - than forgotten.

One Warm Day

One winter day
The sun decided to
Shine brighter
warmer
Such that the sky
Was blue
And the clouds high














Come join me
Watch the blueness
Of water and sky
While the wind is not yet chilly














Maybe we'll have enough of a conversation
To warm us
Even as the sun sets
Or the clouds turn dark














And just maybe
This winter will not seem so long
Anymore

A Valentine Realization

I told a friend, when she bemoaned her being alone on Valentine's day, that it was a Hallmark invention and we don't have to go along with it.

The Wikipedia entry for Velentine's Day (see quoted below) all the more convinces me that in its modern context, it is a mere commercial ploy:

(Saint) Valentine's Day is a holiday celebrated on February 14 by many people throughout the world. In the West, it is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending Valentine's cards, presenting flowers, or offering confectionery. The day was originally a pagan festival that was renamed after two Early Christian martyrs named Valentine. The day became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished.

The day is most closely associated with the mutual exchange of love notes in the form of "valentines". Since the 19th century, handwritten notes have largely given way to mass-produced greeting cards.The sending of Valentines was a fashion in nineteenth-century Great Britain, and, in 1847, Esther Howland developed a successful business in her Worcester, Massachusetts home with hand-made Valentine cards based on British models. The popularity of Valentine cards in 19th-century America was a harbinger of the future commercialization of holidays in the United States.

The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates that approximately one billion valentines are sent each year worldwide, making the day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year, behind Christmas.

And although I claim to be totally unaffected by the occasion, I remember now how it's actually a pleasant childhood memory. Growing up in a culture where affections are not openly expressed, I remember that it was probably only during Valentine's where I was able to express "I love you" to my parents through hand made cards that we did as craft projects in school during the day. I remember cutting out red colored paper hearts and pasting them into quarter folded white bond papers. I took pride in being able to make my valentine cards as creatively as I could - mosaics from tiny heart pieces, heart shaped cards instead of plain squares, pop - ups, ruffles. Because I was not into childhood crushes, the primary recipients of my cards were my parents and my friends. I remember holding the cards for my parents on my way home and handing it to them knowing it was one of the very few ways I was able to show them my affection.

I think I stopped giving valentine cards to my parents when I got into high school, but I know I continued to do something special - small notes, hand made tokens, maybe - for my friends on Valentine's. I called it "heart's day" bent on my resolve to reframe it away from it's romantic associations and just to make it an opportunity to affirm and express affection to the people that matter in my life.

And then I grew old, or probably got busy - or probably all these technology has taken the place of hand made cards and hand written notes. Now that I realize it, I should make way again to the "hearts' day" that I used to have in my life, remembering also that there is a Divine Presence in my life that loved me first even before I was in existence, even before I knew the existence of love. Happy Heart's Day everyone!

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, new every morning, great is thy faithfulness O Lord”. Lamentations 3:22-23

Missing Home

Eternal summers

Afternoon rain showers

Drifting through my mind

Rays of sunshine

Warming me

Melting the cold icicles of snow

That covers my soul.

I dream

Of roadside conversations

And walking around small neighborhoods

Where people know each other

Exchanging looks

A nod of heads

They say,

“Oh you’re back”

“Since when have you been home?”

And I would say,

“It’s been a long time.”

I smile and look around me

It’s a cold winter day.

It’s been some time

I would say.

It’s been some time.

Rut

I think
It's called
A rut.
Where I am.
It's like a black hole
But it's right where
I am standing
And it is sucking
All the life
Out of me.

It is watching
The stories
of Everyone
Around
Near
And far.
And wondering
Whatever happened?
To me?

It is.
A rut.
And I wonder.
How.
Is it?
That
I am here.

1340 1/20/09

First Snow 2009

Snow came with the morning today. Our window provided a good view of the flurry. Watching snow fall is like watching the rain - but without the sound.



On our way home, we noticed the snowflakes that got caught on my coat sleeve.

It was delightful to see the snowflake and be able to discern its shape and pattern. We spent several minutes just trying to catch snowflakes on our sleeves (and bonnet and gloves), taking pictures of the individual snowflakes.


We tried to take photos as close as we can but our digital camera's macro function could not do a super macro. We had to make do. But we still had fun! And it was a truly amazing experience.

Boston to Baltimore Trip Notes - New York 1

November 26, 2008

00:45, South Station, Boston

I'm sprawled on the floor in this part of South Station where people are supposed to take the buses out of Boston, supporting my back on a large concrete post that had an electric outlet – therefore allowing me to have my EEE PC plugged and charged. We have tickets for the Fungwah bus that leaves at 2 AM. We got ourselves to South Station at around 1230 AM – because we needed to make sure that we catch the last Red train that leaves Alewife, supposedly at 12:22 AM.

After getting off from the subway, we meandered through South Station – it being a major transportation platform – subway, commuter rail, buses to all directions – before finally getting to the bus gates. Getting as near to the boarding gate as possible, no matter how far from the departure time, is a lesson I learned from being left behind by the plane in Hongkong. I never forgot it: Get to the boarding gate first. And then maybe rest, or nap, or window shop – around the area of the boarding gate.

Getting to South Station and looking at the information screens – I realized I had so many choices of buses to take for New York. There was Lucky Star – which also had a trip for 2 AM. The other major bus lines – Greyhound and PeterPan had trips for early morning – but starting at 7 AM, I think. And there was Bolt, and Megabus. I could have tried to look at Lucky Star – it might have a cheaper ticket than the $25 that Fungwah charged - $10 more expensive than their regular rates. I guess I did not Google enough.

A security officer answers a question from a passenger: “No, taxis are the only way out now. The last T has already passed the station.” It is 00:58. About a half hour before, another security officer was going around asking passengers for their tickets – because only passengers with tickets – or those leaving after 12 AM - are supposed to be the only ones allowed within the area.

My alarm has sounded. Got to go. It is 1:22.

7:22 AM, Starbucks – Corner Delancey Street and Allen Street, New York

With the Chinatown buses (the general term referred to the cheap fare buses, having started operating from and to New York Chinatown) seating is always on a first come first served basis.

Make sure you “checked in” with the ticketbooth if you bought your ticket online.

Being sleep deprived, I tried to sleep during the trip from Boston to New York. For his wake up call, the driver blared loud music when we were near the New York bus stop. With Fung Wah, and I think with most of the Chinatown buses – there is no terminal – just a drop off point. You basically get out of the bus to the sidewalk. Much the same feel as going down at BGH Rotunda when coming from Metro Manila to Baguio City.

We arrived at around 5:00 AM! Our ticket for Baltimore was at 9:45 AM. So what do we do now?

“Get out of the way.” The first words I got from a New Yorker on his bicycle in a cold November morning. Still dark. Not the most pleasing welcome remarks.

The sun has not yet risen and it felt creepy walking in long tunnels – turned out we were walking in the wrong direction. But we eventually found Allen Street – the pick up “terminal” for the New York – Baltimore leg of our trip. Getting a sense of the location, the next thing to do was – find a Mcdonald's.

Funny as it may seem, fastfoods have become a sanctuary for travelers in that uncertain zone of killing time before the next bus schedule. But this particular Mcdonald's was not friendly to weary, sleep – deprived travelers. People were not allowed to loiter, so we had to pay to stay there by ordering a meal. Just as well, I was hungry and it would be breakfast anyway. The staff were not fastfood cheery though – no point telling you that you've just made their day just by entering their door. So this is New York, I guess.

Anyway, I made sure to consume the breakfast I ordered as slowly as possible. Logic: as long as there was food on the table, I had a right to stay there. We finally finished the one breakfat meal that I ordered and decided to have coffee in a nearby Starbucks, not because I am a fan, or that it is a habit – but we assumed it was a safe place where people can stay as long as they want and maybe even have free wifi access with their coffee order. Note to the uninitiated: Venti does not mean small. It is the size bigger than Tall.

So here we are. So this is New York. At least one street corner of New York. I have a good view and there are many interesting people to watch.