Nakatayo ako sa bukana ng masikip na kalye sa Maynila. Mataimtim kong sinusuri ang pamilyar na lugar na ito, ngunit sa kabilang banda, ay para bagang nakakapanibago.

Sinimulan kong baybayin ang kalsadang iyon. Sa bawat hakbang ay pawang hinahanap ang mga iniwan kong bakas ng nakaraan. Naghahalong tuwa at lungkot ang aking nararamdaman. Mahigit sampung taon na rin ang nakalipas mula nang huli kong magisnan ang lugar na ito.

Ang kalyeng aking tinatahak ay ang kalye ng Norma. (see previous post about Norma)

Norma. Ito ang lugar na umaruga sa aking pagkabata. Dito ako naglaro at lumaboy-laboy ng malaya noong aking kamusmusan. Dito rin ako namulat sa payak na katotohanan na ang mundo ay malupit. Ngunit dito rin sa lugar na ito ako natutong mangarap, magmahal, at tumanaw nang may pag-asa.

mga asong kalye ng Norma

Hindi mga tao o dating kakilala ang unang sumalubong sa akin sa aking paglalakad, kundi dalawang asong kalye (askal) ang nakapuna sa aking presensiya. Marahil ay naamoy nila agad na ako’y dayuhan na sa kalsadang aking tinutuntungan.

Sa aking pagmamasid ay natunghayan ko ang marami nang pagbabago ng Norma. Wala na pala ang maliit na tindahan ni Aleng Poleng. Napagalaman ko na pumanaw na rin pala si Aleng Poleng. Nagtataasang bakod at matatayog na apartment building na ang nakatirik sa mga dating simpleng bahay noon. Pawang tahimik na ang lugar, at wala nang masyadong batang paslit ang naglipana at gagala-gala sa kalsadang ito.

magbobote dyaro sa Norma

Sa patuloy kong pagtahak ay palakas nang palakas ang kabog sa aking dibdib. Papalapit na ako sa lugar na aking tinuturing na pinagpala. Hindi nagtagal ay tumambad sa aking paningin ang tahanan na aking pinaglakihan. Bahay na aking pinanggalingan.

Wala pa rin itong masyadong pinagbago. Bakas pa ang pangalan ng aking ama na nakaukit sa batong poste sa tabi ng gate. Pareho pa rin ang tabas ng mga pader at hugis ng mga bintana. Pati kulay ng pintura ay pawang hindi rin nila pinalitan. Walang ring pinagbago ang kapirasong silid sa gilid ng bahay kung saan ko sinasaksihan noon ang pag-ikot ng munti kong mundo. Bakante pa rin ang lupa na nasa tabi ng aming bahay.

Ngunit mayroon rin namang nagbago. Wala na ang puno ng bayabas sa tabi na aking inaakyat noon. Wala na rin ang malaking puno ng Chinese Dama de Noche na tumatabing sa harap ng bahay. Iba na ang mga palamuting nakasabit, at mga nakasampay na mga damit na lamang ang pawang tumatakip sa nakalantad na harapan nito.

bahay sa Norma

Mayroon pang malaking pinagbago: iba na ang pamilyang naninirahan dito, at iba na ang batang nakadungaw doon sa may veranda.

Matagal-tagal din akong nakatindig sa labas ng aming dating bahay. Tila baga tumigil ang pagtakbo ng oras at pumihit pabalik ang panahon. Umaapaw ang mga alaala sa aking isipan habang ako’y nakamasid. Umaapaw din ang halo-halong damdamin sa aking puso. Hindi ko na mapigil…….

Ako ay kumatok sa pintuan. Sa kabutihang palad ako ay pinagbuksan. Ako ay malugod na nagpakilala. Ngumiti ang tadhana, at ako ay pinaunlakan pang makapasok sa loob ng bahay na aking kinagisnan.

Muli akong tumapak sa sagradong lugar – sa bahay doon sa Norma.

I already stated in a previous post that I really don’t like airports and terminals, because I associate them with goodbyes and separation. Just ask any overseas worker or an expat, and they most probably will agree with this sentiment.

Well there’s another reason that I abhor airports and terminals is because of the wait and the time-killing involved especially during long layovers. Not to mention if your connecting flight is delayed, then it can really be agonizing.

My last travel back home to the Philippines, which involved a total of 17 hours of flight time, with 2 connecting flights and layovers, includes a total of 23 hours from my airport of origin to my airport destination. That means I sit for 6 hours in an airport terminal just waiting. Six long idle hours waiting and doing nothing!

Until I happen to have my layover in this terminal gate in Minneapolis, that killing time became a less tedious experience. In fact, it was even enjoyable.

The place was highly wired, with several televisions and many available (yes, empty!) seats with each individual iPad on them, with fast internet connection. The best part is it is free to use with no time limit as long as you are still in the terminal. Maybe they should offer this convenience with a cot so a weary traveler can even lie down and relax. That will be a dream layover!

The annexing restaurant offers the same convenience of free iPad use and internet connection, with added benefit of ordering delicious food (though a bit pricey just like anything in an airport) and eating it in an unwinding atmosphere that you would not feel that you’re in an airport gate. But in truth, the terminal gate is a look away so you don’t have to worry of being left behind. However with these amenities, maybe you would like to be left behind.

And what do you suppose I did with my almost three hours of layover in this terminal? I could not help it. I gave in. No, not the part of being left behind.

It was a dreary snowy day in January. I drove to the hospital with snow coming down and with strong blowing winds, that it was almost a blizzard-like condition. Unlike schools and other offices that can close down for a snow day, hospitals runs business as usual, with or without blizzard. Besides, I am in-charge of the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) that month. I got to be there.

I knew I had a very busy day ahead of me. I had 17 ICU patients to take care of, 5 scheduled bronchoscopy* I need to perform, and 1 new consult for hyperbaric oxygen therapy** I need to dive. It would be a long, long day.

Our ICU was bursting in its seams. It was the height of a “bad” flu season. We were always pressed for beds, and we had to juggle patients, sending them out of the ICU as soon as we stabilized them, only to replace them with more sicker patients.

Then during the course of that day, as if my plate was not yet full, I had 4 more additional admissions to the ICU: 1 coming from the operating room, a patient who had a cardiac arrest while in surgery; 1 coming from the medical floor, a patient who had received a lung transplant years ago and was now in respiratory failure needing mechanical ventilation; 1 patient coming from another hospital who had an advanced liver disease and was on liver transplant list, and now with fulminant hepatic failure; and 1 patient who was brought to the Emergency Room (ER) with fever and chills.

Since there was no more available ICU bed, the patient in the ER had to stay there, until we open up some beds.

That was when I went down to see the patient in the ER. I brought along the senior medical resident with me.

Our patient was in her 70′s. She was diagnosed with malignant melanoma several months back. Unfortunately the melanoma had metastasized to her bones and lungs. She had received several treatments including investigational therapy. In fact, she was involved recently in a clinical trial in Mayo Clinic, and according to them the drug seems to be working, but the study was discontinued and she stopped receiving the said therapy. Needless to say her cancer continued to advance.

Now she presented to our ER with a high-grade fever, shortness of breath, low blood pressure and worsening confusion for 2 days. I reviewed her labs and radiographic tests, and it was consistent with severe pneumonia. Due to her immunocompromised state (from cancer and chemotherapy) she cannot adequately fight the infection. She had an overwhelming sepsis and was in septic shock, a very serious condition.

I swiftly examined the patient, who was barely awake, confused, and was incognizant of her condition. After that, I approached her husband and introduced myself (even though my name and specialty was already clearly embroidered on my white hospital lab coat) and told him the severity of the situation. I gently laid the facts to him that she was indeed critical yet we will give her our utmost care, but mortality can be 50% or higher.

The patient’s husband silently broke down in tears. He told me that she was his best friend, his life’s partner, and wife for 48 joyful years. “Please take care of her and treat her as your own,” he stated submissively.

I politely told him that we will take care of his wife to the best of our ability. That’s when he patted my shoulders and said: “I know you will, I can see your angel’s wings.”

I paused for a moment. Never have I heard those words spoken of me before. I was really touched with his remark. I looked at him straight in the eyes as I respectfully and whole-heartedly thanked him.

I then quickly excused myself. Perhaps he noticed I have tears in my eyes too.

I am not sure I deserve the compliments (frankly, I received a chilly reception on my next patient), for I am merely human as anybody else. But it surely made me fly through a long and difficult day.

(Photo of the hospital’s center courtyard that I have taken with my iPhone later that day. Please take note of my reflection on the glass window: I have no wings.)

* see related post about bronchoscopy here

** see related post about hyperbaric oxygen therapy here

The young couple looks gorgeous that day. He looks impressive in his impeccable Marine Corps Dress Blue uniform. While she looks beaming in her gorgeous flowing white dress with a beautiful bouquet of flowers in her hands.

The minister was ready. The most important guests were in attendance and ready. The place was basking in radiant lights and ready. It was time for a wedding.

Many would dream to have their wedding in a big historic cathedral. Others would prefer in a more Edenic scene, like an enchanting garden. While some would choose a more relaxed yet romantic place, like an exotic beach.

photo I took in a beach at Ilocos Norte

But the wedding that I witnessed did not happen in any of the above special places. Instead it happened in one of our mundane Intensive Care Unit (ICU) room.

Yes, you read it right, a hospital ICU room.

At least the room has a big window with a view of an old nearby church. At least the room was warm and bright, as it was gloomy and cold outside in that wintry afternoon. Not to mention that it was a very expensive room to be in. A day’s stay in the ICU is far more costly than a night in Ritz-Carlton Hotel in New York City.

The groom’s mother had been sick for a while. She had been in and out of the hospital for several months for a variety of medical problems. And now she got seriously ill and had been lingering and languishing in our ICU for about a month. She had been on mechanical ventilator and we were unable to get her weaned off of it.

The groom’s father had been sick as well. In fact, he was admitted also in the hospital and just got out a few days ago.

But the young couple wanted to commit to their vow to each other, whatever the circumstances may be. Perhaps they have been planning for their wedding for some time. The groom even came home from overseas where he was stationed. And I’m sure that the original plan was not to get married in a hospital. But you roll along with what life offers you. It must go on.

So in the presence of their parents and choice guests, in that cramped hospital room; there was no bright glare of church’s grand chandelier, but instead a glow of ICU floodlights; no wedding bells were ringing, instead intravenous pumps were alarming; no melodious birds were singing, instead the constant chirping of the ICU monitors; no sounds of ocean waves lapping on the sand, just the low hum of the ventilator: where the two lovers exchanged their sacred “I do’s.”

There is no such thing as a perfect place for a wedding. No such thing as a perfect day to get married. There is no perfect circumstances. Not even perfect couple. Just perfect love.

In the midst of sickness and suffering, when life hangs precariously in a dance between life and death, in a world of uncertainty and unclear tomorrow, love still conquers all. It always will.

May you all have a meaningful Valentine’s.

*****

(*This is the second ICU wedding I witnessed; read the other one here.)

We Filipinos have some odd foods. The “adidas” or chicken feet, the bagoong or fermented fish, and the infamous balut or duck’s embryo, to name a few. Outside the Philippines, these foods can be met with much disdain with the mere mention of them. If you don’t believe me, just let a foreigner sniff the bagoong and watch their expression as their face crumpled like a paper.

During the recent International Food Festival held at downtown Des Moines, where one can sample foods from different booths from different cultures and nationalities, the Filipino association had its own stall. One of the served food is billed as “chocolate soup” among other Pinoy foods. People were interested to try the “chocolate” dish until they learned that it was dinuguan or pork blood stew, and that made some of them blush.

However we have other peculiar Pinoy foods that are less detestable to the non-Filipino people. In fact, these certain foods can even be palatable and downright appealing even to the uninitiated. The puto (rice cake), the pastillas (milk candies), and the lumpia (egg rolls), are examples of these.

When we invite our non-Filipino friends for a gathering, they were always hoping that my wife will serve her home-made lumpia, which is the best in town. (Of course I am biased!) They really crave for the lumpia, that I think they’re more excited to see the lumpia than seeing us.

During our last visit to the Philippines, we brought back here some more unique Filipino foods – cornick (fried corn) and butong pakwan (watermelon seeds).

We were in Vigan to visit family for the holidays and we bought several bags of the original Ilocos cornick to take home. It is quite ironic that we brought more corn products here to Iowa from somewhere else, when Iowa is already overflowing with corn. If you don’t know it yet, Iowa is the number one producer of corn in the US, and perhaps the whole world. Maybe I should start my own cornick business here.

When we pass through Pampanga, we were invited by my wife’s family friend. We were served a very delicious homecook Kapamapangan meal of “pindang damulag” (“tocino-like” carabao meat), Pampangueno’s version of daing na bangus (fried milkfish), and fresh carabao’s milk. Besides the sumptuous lunch, we were also given several packs of ”Paning’s Butong Pakwan,” which is their family business.

my cornick from Ilocos and butong pakwan from Pampanga

When we came back here in Iowa, we had some non-Filipino friends came over in our house. We offered the cornick for them to sample. Even though we are in the midst of the sea of cornfields, they have not tasted this kind of corn snack. It was a hit, as they liked its garlicky taste.

Then we brought out the butong pakwan for them to taste as well. But before we can even show them how to eat it, somebody already took a handful and directly munch it. “Hmmmm chewy!” was her comment.

Fighting not to laugh so not to embarrass her, I politely demonstrated how we eat the butong pakwan, by cracking it open and getting out the pulp. She looked at me with a grin and discreetly spewed out the chewed seeds.

Perhaps next time I’ll serve the balut and show them how it is eaten. But I should dim all the lights in the house first. The less they see what they are nibbling the better. Isn’t that the reason why balut is sold at night and eaten in the dark?

I admit it. I have been slacking!

I have not been to the gym regularly lately. Like in the month of January, I think I only went to the gym three times for the whole month. Well, it was bone-chillingly cold. I was jet-lagged from the Philippines’ trip. I was busy in my ICU rotation. The dog ate my alarm clock (we don’t even have a dog). Black Ninjas barricaded the gym……

No more excuses!

In reality I miss going to the gym, not just for the health reasons, but for the amusement as well. Because I am a gym watcher.

My first gym experience was right after I finished my undergrad course in Manila. I asked my father if I can use the refunded laboratory fee deposit of 400 pesos from my tuition, to sign up to a gym for the summer. I then enrolled in a gym located somewhere in Quezon Avenue.

On my first day, I was intimidated by the hunky muscular guys and athletic-looking gals working out in the gym. I was a measly 115-pound in a 5′ 8″ frame person. I was a wimpy kid! In fact, I spent more time in the gym that day, sitting in a corner, watching people.

Fast forward to today (25 years later), I may have gained 40 more pounds of muscles (and bilbil) and I may be more adept now in using the gym’s equipment and machines, but that has not stopped me still from watching people in all sort of shapes and sizes, and the different personalities and their idiosyncracies.

Here are some of the personalities I have observed over the years. Though they are real people, they may not be just one person, as in every gym there is a similar version or so, of them.

1. The gym rat. She goes to every exercise machine, from the treadmill, to the stationary bike, to the elliptical machine. She looks emaciated, like she just got out of the concentration camp. I guess she doesn’t know when to stop. She doesn’t look healthy at all. Just like everything else, even if it something good (like exercise) if it is done in excess, it is not good.

2. The chicken-legs guy. He has big burly shoulders. Heaving chest and pectorals. Hulking biceps and triceps. But thin legs. Chicken legs! I think he forgot that he needs to exercise his legs too. Legs are important you know. They hold you up against gravity.

3. The perfect make-up gal. It is 5:30 in the morning and she looks perfect with her full make-up on. Going where? To the gym! To sweat! I think appearance is so important to her. Aside from exercising, she also socialize, as she seems to know and greet everyone in the gym. Maybe she’s running for a popularity contest.

4. The slob. Almost opposite of #3. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, with his bed hair and clothes that he seems to have worn to sleep. The shirt is an old tattered college shirt with a visible food stain. Maybe he really slept in the gym. Maybe he really don’t care what his appearance is. Maybe I should cut him some slack. What is important is that he gets his exercise.

5. The grunter. He grunts when he stretches. He grunts when he runs. He grunts when he lifts weights. And not just silent grunts, it is a guttural noise that you can hear across the gym. It is as if calling attention to all, how fast he is running or how much weight he is bench pressing. It is kind of uncomfortable to be near him. Sometimes the grunting sounds he makes is as if he’s choking and I wonder if I need to jump behind him and do the Heimlich maneuver.

6. The hog. When he uses a machine, he hogs the equipment and does not let others  use it in between his 21 reps (or that’s how long it seems!). He will definitely make your gym time longer. Make sure you get ahead of him or you’ll wait till kingdom come. He doesn’t know how to share.

7. The silent observer. He seems to be minding his own business yet he is keenly observing all the people around him. He is not a stalker, but beware of him. He will write about you in his blog.

It’s March. Are you tired of winter yet like me? I am so ready for Spring!

However, my surrounding is still covered with snow, and there’s more snowfall in our forecast.  Yet there’s no use of cursing the snow, so might as well appreciate its beauty. Just bundled up of course!

Here’s the sunrise in our neighborhood.

Maybe you can even have fun in the snow. If you ask my son, he wishes for more snow. A feet more of snow!

Here he is in our front yard throwing snowballs.

My daughter also joined my son in playing in the snow. However she always ends up as the target of snowballs.

My wife even made “snow art.”

Here are my kids again frolicking outside. Or perhaps my son is enjoying it more than my daughter.

Pausing to admire the sunset, after some time of laughter in the snow.

As always in life, we don’t have to always curse the dark or the cold. We can learn to accept it and even embrace it. Just like the adage: “If life gives you lemon, make some lemonade.”

And if I may add: if life gives you snow, make some snowballs.

I have spent my impressionable years in Manila, so there are images of the city that are forever etched in my mind. However, being away for long, those images of the city when I was growing up, may not be the same anymore.

Here are the images of the current Manila that I have witnessed, during my last visit home:

There are constructions everywhere I look. The old neighborhood has been changed with high-rise buildings and condominium complexes. This has altered the landscape of the city I used to know. You may argue that this is a sign of progress. Or is it?

Here is a ghostly image of the Manila skyline in the morning haze. Or in a more blunt term, in the polluted morning smog.

Even the bay area looks different. For one, with all the land reclamation projects, the sea has been pushed farther and farther away.

Believe it or not, this is Manila Bay. It looks pristine and inviting, at least from the distance. Though I wouldn’t dare take a dip on it still.

Many of the roads and passageways I used to go to, also looks different. Of course the traffic is the same if not even worse. But instead of posting a gnarled-up traffic scene, I decided to post a picture of a widely open road for a change. It is more refreshing, isn’t it?

Even my old stomping ground, shows signs of progress. Here is the Metro Rail Transit (MRT) station in front of SM City Santa Mesa. This mall, which is formerly known as SM Centerpoint, had just opened when I was in college. Having lived near Santa Mesa, I frequented this place a lot, though the MRT was not there yet at that time.

I got to experience to ride the MRT and the LRT during my last visit, which I believe is the best way to travel through the metro, as it is faster and mostly unaffected by the unpredictable Manila traffic. The trains can be very crowded though, especially during rush hours, that you can almost exchange faces with the passengers beside you.

Of course, I also rode the jeepney, and the tricycle once again, not just for the nostalgic feel, but that’s the only way of transportation where I needed to go.

I also visited places that have been a fond memory of my youth, like the Rizal Park or also known as Luneta. (See previous post about Luneta here.) Here’s the new dancing fountain of Luneta.

Even the more than 400 year-old university where I spent my college and medical school years looks different. Here’s the “new” look of the University of Santo Tomas.

With all the new swanky shopping malls and eateries, there are even places in the metro that are pictures of opulence. Here’s a nice restaurant where my classmate from high school brought my wife and I out.

Even old establishments have been updated and improved. Here is the lobby of the Sofitel Manila, which was used to be known as Philippine Plaza.

It was in one of the ballrooms of this hotel that was converted into a testing center, where I took the United States Medical Licensure Exam (USMLE), about 20 years ago. Passing it was my ticket in obtaining post-graduate training in the US.

With the seeming images of changes, progress, and even luxury, it is hard to ignore the solemn part, that some facts have never changed. Like the state of the poor in the city.

Here is a scene I used to know, and sadly to say, still very much exists. If you note, the shanties are quite a stark contrast to the tall buildings in the distance in this photo.

Among all the changes that I have seen, there is one thing that has not changed for me. Even after years of living abroad, Manila will always be considered my home, for here is where my heart is. 

Here is the paramount image of Manila for me: the street where I grew up in. This is where the dream started.

I may have lived in many places after I left the city, and I don’t know where else will this life’s journey will take me, but I will always be the boy from Manila.

I woke up today and decided that I will run outside. It is the first day for Daylight Savings Time (DST) this year. That means, Spring is in the air!

I looked at the temperature gauge outside and it was a few degrees above freezing. The snow that has blanketed our surrounding for most of the winter has largely melted and what was left were small patches. You may say that it was still too cold to go outside, but hey, I was wearing my Black Ninja running gear. Ninjas are fearless and are not afraid of anything, not even frosty weather.

The sun was nowhere to be found, even though it was already 8 o’clock (DST), as dark clouds hang over the sky. In fact it was even drizzling. But since it was at least 35 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius) that means the rain will not freeze over the ground, and I will not encounter Black Ice (see post about Black Ice here).

I was already running for about a mile, when I have noticed that my eyeglasses were fogging and fine precipitations were misting my vision. I also became aware of the gusty winds, and that the drizzle was getting stronger. But Ninjas are not afraid of the rain. Besides, I was too far out already to turn around, might as well press on.

As I continue to run, I started to enjoy the morning even though it was not a picture perfect day. I have also observed that the migratory birds were back.

Here are the ducks, geese and swans taking a leisurely swim in the cold foggy morning.

I completed my run without any major snag, though I have taken off my glasses the rest  of the way. Ninjas don’t just rely on sight, they can feel their way with their keen sense of hearing, smell and “Ninja” sense.

Yes, I may be a little out of breath and may have a little muscle soreness after the run, but it just feels so good to be out again, and breathe the cool misty air.

The Black Ninja runner strikes again! Next on my running gear wish list: eyeglasses with wipers.

Black Ninja runner

(*At the time of posting, the rain has turned into snow once again. Will the Black Ninja tread through snow? Until next time….)

Pakbet is a traditional Ilocano dish, from the northern part of the Philippines. The word pinakbet or pakbet, came from “pinakebbet,” which means shriveled. The dish uses vegetables like sitaw (string beans), ampalaya (bitter melon), eggplant, okra, and kalabasa (squash), sauteed in bagoong (condiment made from fermented fish).

During our last visit in Ilocos, we had pakbet, but in a pizza! Still tasted like the classic Ilocano recipe, albeit with an Italian twist.

(*Entry for WordPress photo challenge prompt)

May bagong himig ang hanging umiihip,

Pakingan ang awit ng ibon sa himpapawid,

Tunaw na ang niebeng, bumalot sa ‘ting paligid,

Lumisan na ang marahas na tag-lamig.

Magbunyi o lupa, tag-sibol ay salubungin,

Gisingin ang mga binhi, sa iyo’y nakahimbing,

Iluwal ang mga talulot sa iyong sinapupunan,

Iwagayway ang mga bubot na dahong luntian.

Bangon na mga natutulog na kaluluwa,

Nalibing na mga pangarap hayaang lumaya,

Ating iwaksi mga agiw ng pag-aalala,

Panahon nang pausbungin, ang bagong pag-asa.

bagong sibol na bulakak sa aming harapan

I admit it. You’ve been out of my mind lately. Or more accurately, you’ve been out of mind, for a long time now. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.

It’s not something that you’ve done. And no, it’s not that I’ve found someone new either. It’s just that I’ve lost that certain feeling. That certain enthusiasm. That’s certain thrill. Somehow it’s different now.

Then I saw you the other day. You seemed abandoned. You looked pleadingly into me, as if you’re begging me to hold you again. Longing for my touch. Imploring me to carry you in my arms once again. I know you felt forgotten.

I can only vaguely remember that we spent long hours together before. But we had so much fun together then. I have almost forgotten that once upon a time we made beautiful music together. Those were the good times. No. Those were the best of times. But that was many summers ago. That was when I was much younger. Now I hardly know you.

Again I’m sorry. I am really sorry. It’s not you. It’s all my fault.

But something sparked inside of me. I am again inspired. Maybe I still have it in me. Maybe I still have that touch. Maybe I can awaken that enthusiasm once more. Maybe I can relived that thrill once more. I know I may be rusty. I know I have lost my dexterity and virtuosity. But I know also that I can hone that mastery again.

I am looking forward to caressing you and lifting you into my shoulders. I would like to rest my head on your well-figured body. I would like to run my fingers in your long neck once again. I am excited to lovingly stroke your strings again. And maybe, just maybe, I can make you sing once more.

It would be such a delight to hear your voice again……..my forgotten violin.

my forgotten love

“Mama, bayad ko ho. Isang Quiapo, kasasakay lang. Paki abot na nga lang po.”

Iyan ang naging linya ko araw-araw noon. Matagal-tagal ko na ring hindi nasasabi ito. Dahil wala namang jeepney papuntang Quiapo dito sa Iowa.

Pero kahit mahabang panahon na akong hindi sumasakay ng jeepney, ay mayroon pa rin akong mga naranasan noon, na nagagamit ko hanggang sa ngayon.

Heto po ang mga natutunan ko sa pagsakay ng jeepney.

1. Natuto akong yumoko. Mababa ang bubong ng jeepney, kaya’t sa pagsakay mo nito ay kailangan kang yumuko. Kung hindi ay mauuntog ka, o kaya’y matatanggalan ng ulo.

Oo nga’t maraming panahon na dapat tayong taas-noo at tuwid ang pagtindig. Ngunit may pagkakataon ding kailangan nating yumoko. Isa na ang sa pagsakay sa jeep.

Sa ating buhay, minsan kailangan nating yumoko at magpakumbaba. Tulad ng kawayan, kahit matayog ang tindig nito, ito’y yumuyuko sa malakas na hagupit ng hangin, upang hindi mabali at makatayong tuwid muli.

2. Umusog kahit konti. Kadalasan sa pagsakay natin sa jeep ay pinakikiusapan tayong umusog kahit konti. “Konting ipit lang po,” sabi nga ng drayber.

Alam kong may mga  drayber na pinagpipilitang sampu-an ang laman ng upuan, kahit hanggang pito lang talaga ang kasya. Pero mas madalas ay makatuwiran naman ang pakiusap sa atin, para naman may maupuan din iyong ibang pasahero.

Hindi naman siguro natin ikamamatay kung kalahati lang ng puwit natin ang nakasayad sa upuan. Hindi rin naman siguro mababawasan ang pagkalalaki (o pagkababae?) natin kung uupo tayo nang hindi nakabukaka. Sa ating buhay, kailangan lang ng bigayan. Konting usog lamang po.

3. Natutong magpa-abot at maki-abot. Hindi lahat ng oras ay makakaupo tayo sa tabi o sa likod ng drayber. May pagkakataong nasa dulo tayo ng jeep, at maliban na ikaw si Yao Ming, sigurado akong hindi mo kayang iabot ang iyong bayad nang direkto sa drayber.

Kaya makiusap tayong pakiabot na lang ang ating bayad. At kung ikaw naman ang napakiusapan, ay iabot na lamang din naman po. Ganyan talaga ang buhay sa loob ng jeepney – abut-abutan lang.

Sa ating lipunan, hindi lamang sa loob ng jeepney, ay hindi rin tayo mabubuhay ng mag-isa lang. Kailangan natin ng tulong ng isa’t-isa.

4. Maging alisto sa mga nangyayari sa aking paligid. Marami akong nasaksihan noon na mga pasahero na natutulog sa loob ng jeep. Maaring pagod na pagod lamang sila. Meron din namang mga nakasakay na pawang gising ngunit tulog ang mga isipan.

Minsan ang mga taong tulog ay lumalagpas sa dapat nilang babaan. O mas masaklap, sila’y nadudukutan.

Maraming beses, kapag tayo’y tulog o nagtutulug-tulugan, ay nalalampasan tayo ng mga pagkakataon sa buhay. O maari naman din tayong pagsamantalahan ng mga taong maiitim ang kaluluwa. Maging alisto po sana tayo.

5. Natutong hingin ang sa akin ay nararapat. May panahon noon na hindi ako sinuklian agad ng drayber, o kulang ang sukling ibinigay sa akin. Marahil ay hindi lang niya ako narinig ng tama, o kaya’y mali ang kanyang kwenta.

Sa pagkakataong iyon, ay aking hinihingi sa drayber ang dapat kong sukli. Dahil unang-una alam kong ako’y tama. Pangalawa, wala na akong pera at magiging kulang na ang pamasahe ko sa susunod kong sakay, at ayaw ko namang tumagaktak ang aking pawis kung ako’y maglalakad na lamang.

May pagkakataon sa buhay natin na kailangan nating ipahiwatig ang ating opinyon o kaya’y ipaglaban ang sa atin ay nararapat. Alamin ang mga bagay na ukol sa atin, at ipagtanggol ang ating karapatan.

6. Ang jeepney ay hindi Limousine. Pero ihahatid ka rin nito sa iyong patutunguhan.

Opo, masikip at siksikan sa loob ng jeep. Mainit. Mausok. Hindi mo pwedeng piliin lagi ang puwesto na iyong uupuan. Hindi mo pwedeng piliin ang iyong makakatabi. Kung minsan ay mapanganib pa ang pagsakay sa jeep. Subali’t sa kabila nito, makakarating din tayo sa ating paroroonan.

Ang biyahe ng buhay ay parang biyahe sa jeepney. Hindi laging maginhawa parang biyaheng sakay ng Limousine. Konting tiis at tiyaga lamang po. Aabot din tayo sa ating gustong marating.

Hanggang dito na lamang po, sa susunod na lang muli.

“Mama para na diyan sa tabi!”

Quiapo circa 1980′s

(*photo from here)

A child was being carried by his father to the hospital’s Emergency Room. The kid was wearing an oversized skirt, which was heavily blood-stained. And the kid looked scared, and rightfully so.

But before you speculate more on what happened to that poor child, let’s just say that the kid had a complication of a common procedure. A procedure being done to boys. Especially in the Philippines. Did I just told you that the kid with the oversized skirt was a boy? And he just had a circumcision.

Circumcision. Almost all young boys in our country have to go through this kind of initiation. I am not so sure though, why we Filipinos are so hung up with this tradition. If we are Jewish, then I can understand that. But we are not. Not all cultures are particular in circumcising all their boys. Globally it is estimated that only about 30% of all males are circumcised. But in Filipino culture, you dare not be branded as “supot,” or uncircumcised, as this is viewed as bad as being neutered.

When I was a boy, I was told that the statue of Andres Bonifacio in Balintawak with his raised hand holding a bolo, was a symbol that he was looking for all uncircumcised boys. I even heard that BSP does not really stand for Boys Scouts of the Philippines, but rather “batang supot, patuli!” That’s how ingrained this circumcision is in our culture that every boy cannot escape this “painful” tradition. And the mere mention of the word “tuli” can bring shivers to the spine of every uncircumcised boy.

I can tell you that circumcision is more of a “traditional practice” rather than a real medical necessity. In 1975, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) stated in no uncertain terms that “there is no absolute medical indication for routine circumcision of the newborn.” They have restated this position in 1983, 1999 and again in 2005. Though there are mounting medical evidence of the benefits of circumcision, at this point it is still not recommended as a “routine procedure” by any medical organization.

I think the real danger, at least in our culture, of having all our boys be circumcised is who and how this surgical procedure is being done. I have heard stories from my elders, that in many barrios, it was traditionally the barber who performs this surgery using “labaha” or razor. They employ the “pukpok” (you don’t want me to elaborate on this!) method. The boy being circumcised chews on some guava leaves, and after the “pukpok,” he had to immediately spit the chewed leaves to his wound. Then they were ordered to swim right away into the river or the ocean. No wonder little boys were scared to death!

I know it is better now, with medical and semi-medical professionals performing this procedure nowadays. From midwives, to nurses, to medical students, to licensed doctors. Circumcision Clinics abound even in small towns especially during summer months of April to June. Many medical missions sponsored by different organizations and schools bring these professionals to different barrios to perform free-of-charge circumcision to right-age boys.

Operation Tuli

I had the opportunity to join several of these medical missions when I was in medical school and when I was an Intern. After learning from my mentors, I performed a few of this minor surgical procedure. The method we employed was much sophisticated and sterile than the “pukpok” method. We used scalpel and sutures. And yes we gave anesthesia!

Whatever the reason why we Filipinos are so particular with circumcision or why it is so deeply rooted in our culture, I really cannot tell. But somehow, this ritual, which is mostly done during the summer, has become like a rite of passage for young boys. And after bravely undergoing this “painful ceremony,” they can be rightfully called young men.

By the way, that boy who was wearing a skirt who was brought to the Emergency Room and was terrified? That was me.

(*photo from here)

To all mothers, Happy Mother’s Day.

I was again on-call the other weekend. After the extended hours of working a very long week (2 weeks that blended into each other), I felt exhausted and depleted. Am I getting tired of this profession? What if I call it quits today? Will I be able to survive on my current passion and skills other than being a physician?

I can give more time to writing. In fact, writing is my stress reliever, that’s why I still blog no matter how busy I get. I enjoy writing, maybe because I don’t have any deadlines or quota on how many articles I can spew out. I write only when I want, and is always on my terms. But that may change if I have to write to earn a living.

Talking about earning, I was offered an honorary* amount of $25 for every article that I contribute to a national newspaper in the Philippines. So that can provide enough money for a decent meal for a day. And on days I cannot produce an article, I guess I don’t eat. Forget about supporting a family or sending my children to college.

But maybe I can write a book that will be a bestseller. Then maybe my book will be adapted into a movie. Then I certainly have it made. I can dream, can’t I? Or maybe I can make big money from this blogging? Ha! Dream on.

How about if I pay more attention to my piano playing? I was asked to play for a funeral service once and I did it out of respect. I was not expecting anything in return, but was surprised when they gave me an honorary sum of $75 for about 30 minutes of playing. Not a bad gig at all! But then I need to find more dead people to play in their funeral to make this a living. (Hanap-patay instead of hanap-buhay.) That’s not a good wishful thinking.

Maybe I can hone on my violin playing once more and move back to New York City to play at the Lincoln Center. Did you think the concert hall at the Lincoln Center? No! I’ll play in the subway station at Lincoln Center. I read some news articles that panhandlers in New York City can make up to $200 – $300 a day! Really? Really.

I can also consider teaching or giving lectures. Last year, a national medical organization invited me to speak in one of their educational courses. I obliged to give the lecture since they prepared all the materials and slides, and all I have to do was present it. I did it for the love of teaching, but was delightedly surprised when they handed me an honorary fee of $200 for spending about 2 hours with them. They invited me again this year, and of course I said yes. Did I mention they gave me free lunch too?

Maybe I can be a traveling lecturer, like the ancient Greek philosophers. Maybe I can assume the title “Pedagog.” Or maybe I can be a motivational speaker. That will be great! But wait a minute. What if I am a lousy teacher? Or what if I am a boring speaker? And what if…….

*****

After giving so much thought on all these options, I have decided that I will keep my current day job……..for at least a little bit longer.

(*honorary job really means without pay, so an honorary fee is definitely less than its market value; in other words, they can pay you better but they wouldn’t)

Philadelphia. It is commonly referred as Philly and is also known as the City of Brotherly Love, obviously from what its name implies. (Philia means brotherly love in Greek). Last month, I attended a conference held in this city, and we had the opportunity to tour it.

Below is one of the well-known landmark in the city, the LOVE Park.

This city was founded by William Penn in 1682 to serve as the capital of Pennsylvania Colony. Currently it is one of the largest cities in America, being 5th of the most populous cities in the US.

Below is the city hall of Philadelphia. Construction of this building started in 1871, and was designed originally as the tallest building in the world. However, upon its completion in 1901, it was already surpassed by the Washington Monument and the Eiffel Tower. Who do you think is the statue of, on top of the building? William Penn, of course.

Philadelphia played a vital role in the history of the United States. It was here where the founding fathers of this nation met and signed the Declaration of Independence and later on, the Constitution.

Above is the Liberty Bell, and on the background is the Independence Hall where the forefathers of the United States held meetings.

The Liberty Bell is the iconic symbol of American Independence. Formerly placed at the steeple of the Independence Hall, now it is housed in its own chamber. The bell was cracked and damaged, and was last rung in 1846, however the freedom and liberty it symbolizes continues to ring loud and clear.

The city is a rich mix of old and new. A perfect example is a photo below, where a well-maintained old house sits right next to a modern building.

When it comes to food, Philadelphia is known for Philly cheesteak and soft pretzels, the emblematic foods of the city, which you can buy on the streets. But it also offers world-class cuisine and unique eating establishments.

We had the pleasure to dine at the City Tavern Restaurant. This tavern was established in 1773. We experienced an authentic 18th century culinary history with their entrée. After we were seated at a table in one of the rooms on the second floor near a window, our waitress told us that we were seating at George Washington’s favorite spot.

You can tour the city by riding the trolley and also by walking, as many of the points of interest are within walking distance. We did both.

The city is also known for its arts and culture. And sure enough, Philadelphia’s city center is lined with different museums which are stone-throw away from each other.

Here is Shakespeare Memorial with the inscription: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women, merely players.”

Below is Rodin Museum. In front of it is the iconic sculpture of “The Thinker.” As I ponder at this statue, I can’t help wondering, what is he thinking?

Perhaps the most well-known museum in the city is the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It is one the largest art museums in the US. If you are not really into arts, at least you will recognize this museum, as it was here where Rocky Balboa, from the movie Rocky, was shown running up its stairs.

At the side of the Museum of Arts is a statue of Rocky.

Below is a view from the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Arts.

As I was looking at the beautiful view of the city, (even though I was still carrying my messenger bag as I came directly from the conference, and did not have the chance to change to my “boxing” shorts and shoes) I was compelled to take a “Rocky pose.” Anyone standing on this place can feel like a champion.

I hope that you got a glimpse of this place from this post, and maybe someday you will visit it too.

From the engaging city of Philadelphia with love,

Pinoytransplant

******

(*most photos were taken by my wife, so I cannot even take credit for these beautiful pictures)

June has rolled in upon us. The entry of this month heralds that spring will be officially transitioning into summer here in the northern part of the hemisphere. Born and raised in a tropical country, where there is eternal summer, I can’t wait for the summer to come, after experiencing a harsh winter here in Iowa. Come to think of it, we even had a snowstorm in May this year!

Another thing that June is known for is weddings. This month is named after Juno, the Roman goddess of marriage, and that may be the reason why it is the most popular month to tie the knot. Many couples will take the plunge this June and start their own little family.

Speaking of family, it’s not just humans who raise their little family this time of year. I can see mother deer and their fawns, as well as big and little rabbits frolicking in our yard, much to the dismay of my wife, as they eat her flowers.

A few mornings ago while I was running, I saw a family of geese swimming in the pond near our place.

A couple of weeks ago, we also came face to face with a family of ducks, while we were dining in a restaurant that is beside a man-made pond.

Like the seasons, with spring turning into summer, then into autumn, and finally into winter – these little goslings and ducklings will grow and mature, and then not too long after, they will become parents and will have little critters of their own.

It was spring last year when we learned that my wife was pregnant with our third child. And it was also spring last year that we lost our supposed to be third child in an early termination of pregnancy.

Few nights ago, my wife commented that we could have been holding our 5-month old baby right now. Yeah, that’s an endearing thought.

But we don’t dwell on the “what ifs” and “could have been.” We have long accepted that it was not meant to be. Besides we have two “older” children that are constant source of joy and inspiration for my wife and I.

Being a parent, I believe, is the greatest privilege that our Creator have endowed us.

For all the parents out there who have little ones right now, can you please hug your babies a little tighter, for our sake. May you all have a beautiful summer.

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I came home one day and saw my son in his room, busy tinkering on something. He had our tool box open on the floor. Was he working on a new project, like the time machine? Or transmogrifier gun? Or perhaps the shrink ray gizmo? No. He was just assembling his newly bought Nerf toy gun.

Everything that we purchase nowadays has some kind of assembly required. From furnitures, to gadgets, to toys. Next time, even our pets will need assembly. Pet robots, that is!

I bought my first furnitures from IKEA, 19 years ago. Like everything else from this store, it required some assembly. I am proud to say that I assembled my table and my single-size bed on my own. Without help. Yes, they may be crooked a little bit, but hey, they were functional. The table still sits in our home, and being used. The single-size bed, I gave away a long time ago, after I got married.

The key to these some assembly required things, is following the instructions that accompany them. It may be something like this: 1. Set up part A parallel to part B. (What is parallel again?) 2. Insert tab C to slot C. (But it does not fit!) 3. Connect fixture D to proximal end of slab D. (Which of these 5 types of screws provided would I use?) 4. Find piece E. (Find piece E! It’s missing!)

Many times though, we forego of the instructions and assemble them on our own instincts, until we learn that we are doing it wrong. I know, I have done that, as I have to disassemble something almost halfway, when it did not fit right. Of course the instructions was right there all along, I just have to read it.

Not too long ago, we bought a bookcase that needed some assembly. My son (who is 10 years old) and I worked hand-in-hand to put it together. In fact, I let him do most of the work. I even let him use my battery-powered screw driver which was a Father’s Day gift from my wife a few years back. It surely gave us some father-and-son time. Though most of it, we were arguing about the instructions.

Like many things, our relationships are some assembly required. Especially our relationship with our spouse and our children. But the instructions are not exact nor universal. They are more like recommendations rather than a command. It is up to us to figure it out and work it out. There may be trial and error at times. But the important thing is to assemble it up.

I am fully aware that it takes time and effort to assemble anything. Whether it is a 3-piece furniture like a bench, or 300-piece contraption, like a children’s play set. And I know it will be much easier for us if it comes already assembled. But that’s not the case with our relationships. It does not come pre-fabricated nor assembled. It needs our time and effort to put it up properly.

Now what’s our next project? What will my daughter and I assemble? A grand piano?

For all the fathers out there, may we all have a meaningful Father’s Day.

(*photos from the net)

During our last trip to the East Coast, we took a train ride from Philadelphia to Trenton, New Jersey. Our plan is to meet our friend there, who will tour us inside the campus of Princeton University. But our friend brought us also to a nice detour on a nearby park, the “Grounds for Sculpture.”

This park is located at Hamilton, New Jersey, and was opened to the public in 1992. Since its inception they have collected more than 240 works of art, including sculptures of renowned artists. It is kind of unique that sculptures blend with the landscapes, and visitors are free to “interact and touch” the art.

The sculptures are scattered all over in the 42-acre lot. Some are in spacious lawn…..

Others are up on a hill…..

On water…..

On slabs of concrete…..

And even up the wall.

Some of the art pieces are abstracts…..

Some not so abstract, but still captivating…..

And some so captivating, I felt like ogling. (For your curiosity, that is a sculpture and not real.)

Besides the art pieces, the terrain and the passageways are also interesting and varied. Below is a road in the open…..

This one in the midst of bamboos…..

Here’s a narrow path walled by trees…..

And below is a walkway among the hedges.

With all the walking we did, we got hungry. We came to this place inside the park where we had our lunch. The name of the restaurant is “Rat’s.” My son was disappointed when he learned that they don’t serve rats!

The restaurant is beside a man-made pond and has this French garden ambiance. If you feel like you are inside impressionist Claude Monet’s painting, it is because that is exactly what they are imitating. Below is a view from our table.

But the best part of the visit to this park is interacting with the arts. We tried to poke (or pickpocket?) them…….

And whisper sweet something to them……..

Do mathematical equation with them (supposed to be pie x radius, get it?)…..

Imitate them……..

Imitate and outdo them…..

Or be a part of them.

We really enjoyed our visit to this park and I hope you caught a glimpse of this beautiful and fascinating place through these pictures.

Here’s looking through the arts…….

Pinoytransplant.