Thank you, Mataji

“ So, what do you want to do?” she asked me as soon as we took our seat in an airconditioned café not far from her home. It was a respite from the sweltering heat that plagues the March afternoon. A bead or two of sweat fell from her forehead and she took a hankie to wipe away the moisture. 

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to finally meet a virtual friend. She’s Mataji and she’s a yogi, painter, and traveler who had lived in India, Africa, and Europe. She’s been back to her hometown seven months ago, but the free-spirit in her yearns to explore the world again. She is a vibrant soul so enthused with life that it beams in her authentic smile. The moment we exchanged pleasantries, I thought that already knew her for so long.

She asked me this question that inspired me to : “What do you want to do?” Wow. It hit me inside. 

For that seemingly simple question I was stunned.

“What do I want to do?”

“Hey, self, give the lady an answer! What do I want to do?”

Sounds pretty easy, huh? But it WAS not!

“What do I want to do?”

What do I want to do is different from what do I do. If she asked what do I do, without batting an eyelash, it is easy to tell her that I work as a librarian and I also teach. In between those tasks, I take care of a drunkard-father who’s temporarily sober, I edit other people's works to end up a failure in doing what he wants.

There…

But what do I really want to do?

I want to write for myself… With that, I don’t want to write a academic paper or edit a research (which I do every day). I just want to write what’s really on my mind. As of this writing, I guess, I am doing exactly just that. I haven’t done this for almost a year or so for many reasons. Perhaps, I was afraid I couldn’t write any more. I fear straying away from what my heart tells me had constricted my thoughts and I didn’t know if ever there’ll be enough creative juice to awaken the writer's spirit in me...  

Do I want what I am doing now?... As in this very minute!

Definitely. I am like a child playing under the rain. The 8-6 grind is paying my bills, but it isn’t paying my soul. I love my work as a librarian and I enjoy teaching, too, but there are many people asking me to edit their work. I am afraid if I let myself be caged in all these expectations I might miss the most profound things in my life. Writing a technical or research paper is easy. It is predictable. You know what you’re going to write and that makes your mind work mechanically. But it isn’t doing any help to make myself fly beyond the limits.

I have to do what I want!

I started out as an online writer in 2008 when I was about to graduate from college. I wrote from 5-8 in the evening when SEO was at its height. But prior to that I was already a college editor and I would bask myself on the poems and short stories often featured on the college paper or some local news. I survived as an SEO writer and then here’s comes blogging, which I also loved to do. It’s another platform for my writing endeavors. Writing really is exploring the unchartered territories of your mind. It entails you to go deep into your emotions. You don’t expect anything when you write freely. But you just write and write to the bones until you’re surprised you have actually filled a piece of paper with your thoughts. For me, that’s a relief and right this very moment, it relieves me. When you get to do what you want you have that sense of feeling free. And when your mind if free to think, write and create ideas, you get to that sense of accomplishment.

So, am I doing what I want?

YES! And I love every word of what I just did.

Thank you, Mataji, for that very enlightening question! 

All photos in this post are Mataji's. You can visit her blog here

Experiencing Malate, Manila’s Bohemian District

Malate lives up to its image as Manila’s bohemian district. Or so I thought. One late afternoon, I ventured out to stroll on its two-lane alleys. Life seems the same as any fast-paced streets of the metro, but wait til darkness comes and excitement would come out from its daytime slumber. 

I checked in at Malate Pensionne, a romantic accommodation that offers guests that old-world feel. I got the Eco-Air Room, which is airconditioned but doesn’t have its own comfort room and shower so I have to take the communal amenities. Rooms do not also have wifi connectivity, though. 

 Below are photos of the hotel and of the room that I got. 

A short walk away is Café Adriatico where a friend and I had coffee. The tsokolate, pan de sal and white cheese, and chef’s salad really satiate the palate. The cozy, masculine interior offers a very inviting ambiance—especially for intimate moments.

It is my habit to attend the anticipated mass every Saturday so I decided to go to nearby Malate Church. But having to that place only once, and that was two years ago, I can’t remember which road to take. Thankfully, Google map comes in handy to make things easier. The Baroque-style church is considered one of the oldest in the  country. The façade was scarred by time; its adobe walls can tell. It was actually damaged many times over, by war, fire, and earthquake. Still, it continues to stand proudly to this day despite the towering structures around it.

The church is dedicated to the Nuestra Sra. De Remedios (Our Lady of Remedy). Inside the church, at the altar, gloriously stands the statue brought by the Augustinian friars from the Andalucia in 1624. Our Lady is the patroness of childbirth. I wonder how many couples in dire want of a child have come to pay homage to the Lady, praying, pleading ceaselessly to grant their wish.

I stepped out of the Church to the catch Malate’s life at night. It was just 7pm and wind coming from Manila Bay offers a refreshing respite after an afternoon of sweltering heat. Clichés begin to converge. Office workers enjoy a leisurely stroll after a busy day at work. Lovers hold each other’s hands while sitting on the bench. They don’t want to let go. But will they ever quarrel later on? Then, there are husbands and wives and their kids admiring the dancing fountain, spewing water amidst the changing hue. Behind the fountain I noticed a team of hilot, traditional massage therapists, provide healing and relief to otherwise wornout laborers tired of the day’s back-breaking toil.

The Malate Fountain with all the romance transpiring in it makes the ideal location for a prenup photoshoot. Oh, yes, the fountain in its most glorious state makes a perfect backdrop. Planning a wedding calls for a lot of work, doesn’t it? And then, you have this. The would-be groom and bride dressing themselves at their best, even wearing uncomfortable clothes while forcing themselves to smile as if everything is all ready. Aren’t happily-ever-afters a commodity nowadays? Passersby would catch glimpse of them. I wonder how many single ladies have seen them, wondering when would the right man come? And what about guys pondering, “will I ever give my love the wedding she so desires?” Oh, I can only imagine!

It was already 8 pm so I decided to head back to my hotel. Malate is fully awake by this time. Restaurants are teeming with diners, night clubs and lounges open up but patrons don’t arrive until 10, I guess? Meanwhile, I relished looking around, the vibrant lights, and the buzz that made Malate Manila’s most colorful district.

The River Was Calling—Experience Palina Greenbelt Ecopark

“The river is constantly turning and bending and you never know where it's going to go and where you'll wind up. Following the bend in the river and staying on your own path means that you are on the right track. Don't let anyone deter you from that.” Profound thoughts from Eartha Kitt and her words were stamped well in my mind—reminding me of the gentle rush of the river that leads to the open sea.

Mabaay Island, the Hidden Gem of Ivisan, Capiz

“Come join us swim!” Mataji invited me with that excited look in her face, as if it’s my first time to swim. In fact, it’s been over a year I haven’t plunged myself in the water.

“No, I’m good,” I replied. I contented myself in taking pictures of the clear water, the fine, white sand, and the azure sky. Mabaay, you’re such a beauty!

The small island of Mabaay, hidden behind two islets that lie just a swim away (or even a short walk when it is low tide), is in the municipality of Ivisan. From Roxas City, it is a 15 minute jeepney ride to the town proper. It is not a boring ride, though. The short trip beholds a view of cerulean mountains from afar. The statue of Jesus at the Shrine of the Sacred Heart of Jesus lingers on, assuring any traveler of divine guidance as one searches for a little piece of paradise here on earth.

Tell the driver to drop you off at the jeepney terminal heading to Basiao. The first trip usually starts at 8 am. Take some patience with you if you plan to ride on a public utility vehicle because it could take 30 to 45 minutes to leave, not until the jeepney is jampacked with old ladies heading back home after shopping for the freshest produce or fishermen satisfied after their morning sale of last night’s harvest from the sea. If you want to hasten your trip, you can charter a tricycle, which costs 200-250 pesos for a one-way ride. Transact nicely and wisely with the driver, then you’ll hear him tell you about his life story. You may either laugh at it or simply keep quiet if you’re having enough. It is another 30 to 40 minutes to Basiao Beach. Tall trees would give way to expansive rice fields and then hills so full of life that grow into mountains—these are the views to behold. You know you’ve reached Basiao when the road becomes uphill and then you see a relaxing view of the sea lined by cream-colored sand.

Stop either at RBM or LA beach resorts, where boat operators standby along the shore. A boat ride to and from Mabaay Island usually costs P600 pesos and can sit 10 passengers. It is just a 5-minute ride away. Tough waves were out of sight when we made our trip but the still water offers a clear and resplendent view of the massifs of the nearby town of Sapian and of Batan in Aklan.

Mabaay is a small island. Just like the nearby islets, it boasts of solid rock formations, scarred by strong winds and tough waves. It stands in a carpet of white sand surrounded by crystal clear water. It is here on the sandbar where boats could dock and visitors rest. Be careful with the rocky ground, which are either slippery and pointed. The lure of the water is too enticing to resist—so, come on! Give yourself a dip. While a plethora of marine life abounds, including corals, fish and other sea creatures, lamentably, garbage scatter freely everywhere. This is something that the local officials and the community should act upon. More so, tourists must be wise enough to pick their own trashes before they go or the best they could do is just bring themselves with them—no food, just a bottle of water. Then leave all by themselves, too, without taking anything from the island.

Mabaay is simply perfect in its ruggedness. No cottages, no residents. Perhaps, she’d love to welcome some guests every now and then, but most days, let her be on her own.   

Notes from Naga City, the Pilgrimage Capital of the Philippines

Naga City was not declared the Pilgrim City of the Philippines for nothing. It is my first time here in Naga, and for that matter, in the Bicolandia, and I have felt the deep religiosity of the Bicolanos.

The plane which I took from Manila landed at the domestic airport in Pili, the capital of Camarines Sur. It rests near the foot of the imposing Mount Isarog, a natural greeting to any guest arriving in this part of the country.

The trip went well and despite the last minute reservation I made with Naga Land Hotel, I was pretty surprised I was offered a nice accommodation and free shuttle from the Airport! The front desk provided me with the only room available, a Deluxe suite, which can accommodate three people. It is spacious and clean. The hotel staff were very friendly. I made special requests many times over but they never hesitate to provide me with what I needed. The bed was comfortable and they offer three pillows, more than the usual most hotels offer. Breakfast is available for an additional P50.00. 

Camarines Sur is known for its pili nuts and spicy delicacies! The hotel is located at the heart of the city center and a short walk is 1st Colonial, the restaurant that offers authentic and innovative Bicolano cuisine. Worth trying is its famous Sili Ice Cream. You can opt for varying intensity of the  ice cream’s spiciness, depending on how much you can tolerate!

The town was established in 1575 upon the order of Spanish Governor-General Francisco de Sande, the city, then named Ciudad de Nueva Cáceres (New Cáceres City), earned its status as the third Spanish Royal City in the Spanish East Indies after Iloilo and Manila.

Tourists can go on a Naga history and culture tour to visit many of its centuries-old structures. At Plaza Quince Martires, you can marvel at the memorial established in honor of the Fifteen Martyrs of Bicol. Eleven of the 15 were executed at the Luneta in Manila five days after the execution of Dr. Jose Rizal, while the rest were  either exiled or died in prison. Their heroism, though, was not as celebrated as the GomBurZa, although Naguenos would commemorate their martyrdom. The monument at Plaza Quince Martires was formally dedicated on November 30, 1923.

The Bicolanos are deeply religious and their fervent faith an interesting phenomenon. Which is why I am not surprised that the churches are teeming with parishioners, especially every Sunday. The San Francisco Church is one of the many churches the faithful devoted flock to pray, especially during Sundays. Established in 1575, the church was a witness to centuries of Bicolano religiosity that continues into the present.

Another must visit religious destination is the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral, which is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Caceres. The first church was established after the creation of the archdiocese as the Diocese of Cáceres in 1595. The present cathedral was built in 1808, and was completed and consecrated in 1843. Its Romanesque ornamentation adds to its imposing appeal, while the noticeably huge arcades and columns inside the cathedral ensures that the church would stand earthquakes that usually rock this part of the Philippines.

The most identifiable proof of the Bicolanos’ depth of faith is their devotion to the Lady of Peñafrancia, which they affectionately call "Ina." The Blessed Virgin of Peñafrancia has long been venerated in Salamanca, Spain, and a priest brought a replica of her image to Naga from Spain over 300 years ago after he was miraculously healed by the image.  Attestations of the Virgin’s many miracles have attraction millions of faithful who travel to venerate the shrine every year. By 1655, the annual festival celebrated in the Virgin’s honor was attracting more devotees than the shrine could handle, so it was decided to take the image to the bigger Naga Cathedral for her feast day.

This annual ritual of transfer is known as the Translacion. The route begins at the shrine to the cathedral every second Saturday of September. The Virgin is accorded pomp and enthusiasm  with all-male retinues escorting the image. Legend has it that bad luck comes when women are let to join the Translacion. The festival, though, has seen its share of tragedy. Twice, in the 1650s and again in 1973, too much spectators caused the overloaded bridge collapse. The 1973 tragedy claimed 138 lives.

A novena is held every day nine days before the feast day. On the first day of the novena, the image of the Virgin, a replica of the Madonna in Peñafrancia, Spain, is taken from the shrine to the Naga Cathedral after which the novena commences. The image is returned to her shrine following the Naga River route on the ninth day. The procession is illuminated by the thousands of candles held by the followers riding boats as they escort the image. When they finally reached the destination, the faithful would shout "Viva la Virgen" (Long live the Virgin!) and the image is carried back in a procession to the cathedral. Millions of Bicolanos will once again show to the whole Christian world their strong faith and loyalty to their Heavenly Mother.

A multicolored pagoda which bears the images of the Virgin of Peñafrancia and the Divino Rostro traverses the Bicol River. The male devotees, already sunburnt by the this time, would join the images in the huge pagoda in their most devoted way they can to send her off back to her home shrine at the Basilica. Upon her arrival, a throng of religious devotees would welcome her, together with the Roman Catholic dignitaries of the Bicol Region.

The Bicolanos’ religiosity best explains their temperance despite the calamities that strike it year by year. Faith has seen them through and as disasters hit them time and again, the Bicolanos have their subtle way of suffering and enduring in silence knowing that the Virgin of the Penafrancia will make them live for another day. 

Book Review—Alice Steinbach’s Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman

The concept of slow travel had not yet been probably coined when Alice Steinbach decided to spend a year in Europe, but here’s a book that epitomizes the beauty of lived experiences, of escaping your comfort zones and discovering that inside you lies a person that’s waiting to be freed. Alice Steinbach definitely mastered that craft as she spent almost a year in four different countries to encounter brand new experiences that enabled her to emerge with new perspectives.

Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Women has become a classic travel memoir that aspiring travel writers should emulate. Here, Pulitzer winning Steinbach chronicles her European journey after taking a nine-month off from her job as a journalist at The Baltimore Sun.

Alice was a self-professed independent woman and I think she was adamant of living up to that image. “For years I’d made my own choices, paid my own bills, shoveled my own snow,” she wrote. But does independence mean only being physically free to do as the body wills? The author, perhaps, pondered and realized there’s more! “I had fallen into the habit of defining myself in terms of who I was to other people and what they expected of me.” And so, off to Europe she went, to chase liberty, to run after herself.

Her sojourn led her to some of the most beautiful places in the world: Paris, London, Oxford, Venice, to name a few. Alice Steinbach took the company of Freya Stark with her. The British Italian explorer and travel writer was an inspiration to Alice and many times the author referred to one of Freya's books, whenever she felt lonely and needed to ignite the zest to continue.

In Paris she started her travel, feeling dismayed and anxious. Explorer’s remorse, perhaps? She came to terms with herself as she progressed in her museum trips, shop exploration, and frequent visits to cafés and restaurants. Then, she met a Japanese man named Naohiro and the two became lovers—parting ways for the meantime, then meeting once more somewhere else.

But whether Naohiro was around or not, Alice ventured on her own. Her writings delved on her inward travels and travails and in the book, she would narrate part of her past (her divorce, for example) and “musings on aging, intimacy, her two grown sons and the purpose of work,” as Janet Rae Brooks wrote.

Along the way, she met people and the book is sprinkled by tales of their stories and how Alice connected with them. In Milan, for example, she enjoyed some time with a charming American on the verge of marriage. Steinbach would tell shopkeepers she was her daughter, while the American would refer to Alice as her mother. Then, in Asolo, where Freya Stark died, she joined two “patrician” travelers as they toured Villa Barbaro.

It took me seven months to finish reading Steinbach’s memoir, the longest I have spent with one book so far. The impact became sentimental as I neared the end. Every day I would read one chapter after another, slowly, soulfully. I enamored myself with Steinbach’s vividness in describing the people she met, places she’d been too, and experiences she’d encountered and recounted. I loved it when she described Seine as “silvery and serpentine, it moved like mercury through the center of the city, a mesmerizing force”; of Naohiro as “slim, attractive, elegantly dressed completely in black except for a white sweater thrown across his shoulders”; and  that one night in Venice when the “moon… glowed silver through the fog, like light shining to the eyes.”

Steinbach’s deftness in writing evokes a romantic appeal. Without Reservations made me realize that to travel is not only to satiate the eyes and senses, but also to unleash our hidden potentials and aspirations. Traveling goes beyond what the eyes can see or what our feet can tread, but on how much the experiences pierce through the soul and mark a positive effect on our being. This work is worth reading again and again, a perfect partner when you’re bound to explore Europe, with or without reservations. 

Reaching Out in Ganzon, Jamindan, Capiz

Last February I decided to go to a remote school on the mountains of Jamindan. The purpose was to give books to Manuel Ganzon Advincula Elementary School. It’s totally a different world. Children were shy yet unaffected by what we city dwellers see as bareness in their existence. For them, nature makes them abundant and so I think. I believe there is an eagerness in them to learn but for some reasons, like the lack of learning materials, the need to help their parents at work and their isolation, education becomes just a secondary or even a tertiary priority.

Notes on Holy Week the Capiznon Way

Holy Week manifests the fervent faith of Roman Catholic Filipinos on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In fact, it is heavily embedded in the history, culture, and way of life of the locals, one that is difficult to part with. It is the lasting imprint of over 300 years of Spanish colonial rule. Capiznons to be specific, take Holy Week to heart seriously.  Aside from Christmas and All Saints’ Day, Holy Week sees family reunite for after its sobriety follows the celebration in Easter.

Palm Sunday

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday or Mierkules Badlis, where the faithful receives anointment of ash on the forehead. The ash comes from burnt palm and coconut leaves blessed by the priest from the previous year’s Palm Sunday or Lukay-Lukay. Palm Sunday commemorates the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem. The Capiznons would celebrate Lukay-Lukay by the distribution of coconut (as substitute to palm) leaves. However, I observe that the event has become commercialized endeavor already. Outside the church line dozens of vendors on the street, convincing, sometimes begging, churchgoers to buy their lukay. Parishioners think of this as convenient enough for them, so they would not have to make their own lukay but simply buy one and get it blessed by the priest. 

The lukay is typically designed to look like a cross or a fancier version of a palm leaf. I remember when I was younger my grandmother would make lukay and bring it with us to the church. After the High Mass, the priest would bless them as the churchgoers would raise them up. Tradition has it that these sacred leaves have the power to ward off evil spirit. Local shamans (herbolaryo or albolaryo) would use this during the buok, a ceremony performed when an albularyo diagnoses an individual to be suffering from ailments caused by evil spells. It involves exposing that patient to the smoke emitted by the burnt lukay and other ingredients prescribed by the albularyo.

 Maundy Thursday

The day begins with a mass at the Cathedral attended not only by the parishioners but by the parish priests, too, who renew their vows in this time of the year. When afternoon comes, the last mass before Easter is celebrated. The highlight is the reenactment of the Washing of the Feet of the Twelve Apostles. This is followed by the procession of the Blessed Sacrament before it is finally laid in the Altar of Repose. After this, locals would start their Visita Iglesia or Church Visit. Usually, Capiznons would see seven churches to pray at each Altar of Repose.

Good Friday

There are parishioners who would embark on their Visita Iglesia on Good Friday, while there are those who would go on Via Cruces or the Way of the Cross in the morning. In the midday, the Siete Palabras or the Seven Last Words of Jesus would be spoken in the churches. At 3 pm, the Mass of the Presanctified is held and when dusk arrives, so the procession begins. Everyone from all walks of life would converge and lining up right after the carozza (carriage) of their choice. The procession of the passion of the Christ showcases well-adorned saints, usually decades old, followed by parishioners with lighted candles as they say the rosary.

Black Saturday and Easter Sunday

Frenzied pace is usually absent on Black Saturday to give way for the renewed life on Easter. It begins in the wee hours of the dawn, around 3 am, when a procession commemorating the resurrection of Christ is held. A mass is held afterwards to celebrate the resurrection of our Savior. Christ is alive and so life resumes to its normal ways. Noticeably, families would head to the beach, while some would spend the day drinking and merrymaking until they drop drunk by the afternoon. It is usual that after two or three days of repentance and abstinence the old habit that never dies resumes,habits that too many of our brothers and sisters find difficult to break.

Holy Weeks shows us what fervent faith, or at least religiosity, do churchgoers have! But to whom do we really place our faith? To the coconut and palm leaves? To the flowers adorning the pasos we quickly snatch after every procession? To the well-adorned saints? Or to Him who was crucified to save us all? Ponder upon this. Beyond the tradition, the essence of Holy Week is to commemorate the sacrifices of Jesus Christ who so loved us and yearned to save us that He offered His life to cleanse us all from sins.