Citizen of the world

When I was looking for my permanent accommodation, a Thai woman said, "You look like Thai. Go talk to Ivan (the other Filipino Ausaid scholar) so you see who's handsome who?" hahaha!!!

Tapos nung una pa, the Chinese landlady said, "I knew you were a Filipino, but you've got American accent. Pretty weird." (Ano ako hybrid???!!!).

And then during the getting started session, the lecturer pointed at me, nasa pinakalikod kasi ako kasi wala na akong kasamang Pinoy dun, "Are you from Vietnam?" "No, I am from the Philippines." Then she said, "Kamusta?" "Mabuti." tapos ngiti na lang siya dahil wala na siya maireply na Filipino. hahahaha!

Whew! I'm so generic. ;)

Jaime in da city (Australia version)

Sa airport

Two minutes lang pwede magbaba kaya sa sasakyan pa lang mega plan na ang ate ko sa mga mangyayari sa 2 minutes. Kinuha niya na digicam niya, tapos nakaplano na din ang mga sunud-sunod na yayakapin ko. Hahaha!

Baba sa kotse


Mama: Dali baba ka na anak at ang dami tao.
Jaime: Opo ma.
Ate 1: OK ayan nakababa na. Picture picture. Bilis. O jan ka Pa sa tabi, kuya jan ka sa tabi ni papa...

Yakapan na, si Kuya muna, ate 2, ate 1, papa, and then si mama.

Ate 1: O siya dali na at baka paalisin na tayo dito.

Yakapan ulit part 2, with the same sequence. Hahaha! And siyempre, naiyak mama ko. Tapos habang hila ko yung bag ko, babay kami ng bonggang-bongga. Ng papasok na ako, paglingon ko, nakatingin pa din sila kaya babayan ulit. Pagpasok ko sa airport, may text agad mama ko, miss niya na daw ako.


Sa eroplano Manila to Bangkok

Pagpasok ko pa lang e mejo nawawala ako sa sarili, nagulat na lang ako ng biglang may nagbabow, sudaka ba yun? Paulit-ulit. Ayan, naki bow na din ako. Hahaha! Dis wey plis... hahaha!

Nung nagseserve na ng meal.


Jaime: Excuse me, this one, it has egg?
Attendant: Egg? (Ngingiti muna)
Jaime: yes, i’ve got food restrictions, cant eat eggs.
Attendant: (ba bow then ngingiti). I’ll ask, but yeah i think it has egg yolk. (ngingiti ulit) How about coffee?
Jaime: decaffeinated?
Attendant: (Ngingiti muna) Yes (at magbibigay ng kape)
Jaime: (Checking if decaf nga) decaf?
Attendant: ha? No it’s not. Im sorry we’ll change it. Please wait.
(Ang charming niya ang liit pa, ang cute-cute ng instance na yun)

Sa Bangkok

Mabilis ang paglakad namin ni ate mae dahil lilipad din kami agad. Pero napag-usapn pa namin ang mga buhay-buhay, edad niya, reason for studying abroad, and alot more in less than 10 minutes. Tapos nung marami na kaming napag-usapan, sabay tanong si ate, ano nga ulit pangalan mo? Hahhaha!

Sa loob ng eroplano, ayan at pagpasok may mga nagbabow na naman. Na notice ko lang pare-pareho sila ng head dress, yung mga bata. Yung mejo senior staff nila, ginto o nakaplaster ang ngiti. Haahaha! Miminahin mo ngiti nung senior attendants. Katuwa. Parang ngingiti saglit tapos bigla poker face ulit. Hahahaha!

Katabi ko dalwang aussie girls. Tapos gulat ako sa ibang aussies, kasi ayaw nila maistorbo yung katabi nila na natutulog na, kapag gustio nila umihi, dumudukwang na lang sila, as in! Tawang-tawa na talaga ako nun. Astig di ba?

Tapos bigla nagsalita ang captain, hay, niyak! Katakot ang boses. Ano ba yung salita ng mga Thai, basta yung wika nila muna, then english. Nung di ko maintindihan, sabi ko na lang sa sarili ko, Brisbane na daw maya umaga. Hahaha!

Sa buong 8 hours na flight na yun, wala ako makausap ng matagal. Mabuti na lang at nadala ko si Sophie sa Sophie’s World, muntik ko pang matapos yung book ko kung di lang ako inantok. Ang weird lang kasi natatawa ako mag-isa kay Sophie. Sa PhilRice or nung college pag may mga ganun, mga adik kong friends agad. Siyempre ala naman mga ka barkada ko sa eroplano di ba? Hehehe. Napaka intelektuwal tuloy ng trip ko from Bangkok to Brisbane. Si Sophie, hilung-hilo na sa mga philosophers na inintroduce sa kanya ni Albert Knox. Kawawang bata, pero magaling siya ha, malamang laki sa am yun.



Brisbane airport

THIS ISREALLYISIT! OMG! AM HERE! Hahaha! OK, I composed myself. Took a deep breath, dapat maayos ako pag kaharap ko na immigartion officer para di ako maintimidate. Hehehe.
Pagpasok namin sa Airport, ang sungit nung immigration officer. Sabi niya dun sa babae before me:


Officer: Do you understand this? (papakita sa matanda na babae na parang Chinese)
Babae: (Tatango)
Officer: Can you read this? Read! Read!
Di makabasa yung ale. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, loko to ah. Kawawa yung babae, promise. Tapos nung ako na:
Officer: You speak english?
Jaime: Yes (gusto kong dagdagan ng fluently at You want to see my IELTS speaking score? Yabang niya kasi). Anyway, nalampasan ko yung quarantine etc.

Sundo


Ayan nakita ko agad yung sundo ko hawak ng isang matandang babae. THE UNIVERSITY OF QUEENSLAND!

Jaime to self: Siya ang driver ko???!!! (I approached her.)
Old woman: Hi! You are Jay-me?
Jaime: No, I’m Jaime.
Old woman: (Suspicious) You’re not Jay-me?
Jaime: I pronounce it as Jaime. I’m Jaime Manalo IV
Oldwoman: A, Manalo? Yes. Im not your driver. Your driver is on his way. He will be here in a few minutes. Please wait over there.
Jaime: (Salamat sa surname ko. Yun naghintay ako. Tapos nakakita ako ng internet, yan need to chat my sister, she’s online now for sure, sabi ko sa sarili ko. O di ba English na din ako mag-isip kasi Australia na, katulad ng relo, na synchronise ko na din brain ko. Hahahah! Kaya lang, may bayad yung net. Kaya di ako tumuloy. For sure may libreng internet sa UQ. )
Sinundo ako ng driver ko. Yun. BTW, yung old woman ay driver din. Sinundo niya yung mga pinoy na sa barko naman nagwowork. Nung naovertakean niya yung driver ko na kaibigan niya din, nilabas niya pa dila niya. Hahaha! Ang cool niya talaga. Mga mag 60 na ata yun.

Accommodation

Una agad na pumasok sa isip ko ay hanapin si Claudia Morales. Tanong agad ako dun sa babae. Excited.


Jaime: Hi! Are you Claudia Morales? I’m Jaime Manalo IV.
Receptionist: No, Im not Claudia.
Jaime: (Ganun? Dito ba talaga nagtatrabaho si Claudia sa UQ? In the first place, meron ba talagang Claudia Morales? Naloko ba ako? At kung anu-ano pang kaparanoidan ang naisip ko. Then, I collected myself) OK she must be working somehwere here.
Receptionist: Yes, this is just for your temprary accommodation. (ayan Jaime, temporary accommodation lang naman kasi, mamaya pa si Claudia Koronel este Morales)
Jaime: Thank you. (At dito na nangyari yung mga nauna kong kunuwento, yung binigyan ako ng dinikdik na carrots, hiniwa-hiwang pipino, at may turkey pa. I hope you like turkey sabi nung babae). Sigaw ko sa sarili ko: Rice! Rice!!!!)

The end

When our book, Kamalig, was launched last Sat in Powerbooks, I was very happy. For me, it's a dream come true. I have long been aiming for our publications to be displayed in the bookshelves of Powerbooks or any bookstores. I can recall the day when I was just e-mailing all the bookstores that came into my mind. I was just thinking that they would respond. And Powerbooks did. That started it all. I appreciated the fact that everything was coordinated through emails. Even the book launch, I was very glad upon learning that we had guests who learned about our event from our website. They did not receive any formal invitation from us.

Oh well, our books at Powerbooks is one great achievement. We can now reach our audiences in the city. Even our friends abroad can buy our books. They have long been waiting for it.

Let me borrow from my friend in closing this post: Good things!

Publications

“Oh my gosh! When will they ever stop commenting?” This is my favorite line whenever I get exhausted managing publications whose end hasn’t come yet.

Since high school, I have been involved in publications work either as a writer, editor, layout artist, circulations manager, or managing editor. I’ve had a few memorable experiences I wish to share here. Mind you managing publications can be so mechanical, not until you start reflecting on the process.

I have managed technology bulletins, magazines, and a coffee table book. The process involves varied emotions from the mind boggling, excruciating, thought-provoking up to the rewarding moment once it is out.

Let’s start with the idea process. It is where the people involved brainstorm on what they want with the publication. In this process, I get amazed at how the human brain functions. Creative ideas emanating from everywhere pour in at an instant the documenter can have a hard time capturing them all.

The execution part is the bloodiest of all. It is when I work with the layout artist to come up with the first draft. Once the first draft is out, I present it to the team so they can feast on it. After the comments, hey, summarize it, it is OVERHAUL. Whew! We will surely need some exercise to do the next draft.

“Please transfer this to the next page. Oh this page looks nice, very nice, but I think the picture is a bit pixilated, so we should change this (the very nice page now fades). The book is great (with two-paragraph single-spaced comments). Oh, this is great! But we need more! More! More!”

Comments after comments, never-ending comments can be so tiring. Until we are near completion.

Just when everybody seems to be resting and preparing to close the pages, last minute comments will come in, which can alter the course of events or just suspend completion for a bit later. A Hollywood suspense thriller is no match on this part. Whenever this happens, I take a deep breath so I won’t lose my sanity. Sometimes I listen; sometimes I don’t. But then again, I am left with no choice but to listen to the powers that be.

There are times when a publication gets extended to their original schedule. The major publications can take months even years to be completed. When I get fed up, I can no longer see the mistakes even as I keep re-reading the material. When somebody looks at it, the most obvious and basic mistakes will surface. It can be so shameful.

There were also instances when I was able to do the table of contents without going back to the actual pages. When I checked it, voila! I only missed several pages. I have mastered the publication. When I get so immersed in it, I can hear the comments of the team in my dreams. I can hear them requesting if one more photo can be added, if the deadlines can be moved. Sometimes, I can spot what word was added if the layout artist added one without my consent effortlessly.

Publications, they can be so addictive. If they were a drug they should have been banned long ago.

Bringing the material to the printing press is second to the best part. That’s when I argue with the colors and the nitty-gritty of everything. You just can’t let the material go without much supervision. Mind you my eyes are so sensitive; I can distinguish the slightest difference between different shades of the same color. But then again, there are excruciating and persistent human errors no matter how high the standard is.

Once it is out, there seems to be an indescribable feeling of relief and fulfillment. We did it! When the coffee table book was out, I leafed through it for innumerable number of times—seeing the pictures, checking the pages and the binding, I felt every page with my hands. I even slept with it by my side. I tried looking at it at different lighting conditions, and at different positions. But of course, nothing beats looking it with a coffee and a table by my side (what a cliché!). There are imperfections, but I’m happy with it.

For 23 years, I have been through a lot of seemed unexplainable occurrences. I have been through a lot of heartaches, failures, nostalgia, what have you. I have been asking myself: what’s with all these? I have been searching for books for explanation. And oh yes, the answer is printed. I have found the answer in what I am doing—publications.

Young as we are, we need to welcome comments, undergo a process so we’ll end up triumphant—not completely thou, because we need to work for something more. Something that will lead us to being the best.

A colleague said this to me: “Allow your outputs to be critiqued so when they come out they can stand.”

Kamalig: A treasure trove of rice, a coffeetable book on Philippine rice production, will be launched in Powerbooks Megamall, November 28, 2-5 pm. See you there.

Blogless blog

It’s been awhile since I last posted here. I know that Matell and Kitt are just so busy now. I can just imagine juggling everything to cope with the year-end stuff. Me, I am quite busy layouting publications, writing, and a lot of russians and argentinians (rush yan, urgent yan hehe) on the side.

For some reasons, I am just so paranoid now, but I am trying to be calm. There are just lots of things that I need to attend to, and I am having difficulty giving my best to each of them. My officemates are now seeing my temper, and there are moments when I am crying because of the sudden outburst of emotions.

Thanks to this blog. I have a way to let my insides out. The previous weeks caught me in a series of emotional extremes. I was overjoyed, but then all of a sudden extreme paranoia got the better of me. I ended up crying and going back to the dorm. I found myself writing, talking to God. That worked.

The Lord has been merciful to me, ever since actually. At times I have the tendency to always do things my way. To rely on my wisdom, until I get so weary. Then I’ll cry to God. After that everything is taken care of.

Now, I am writing again. I am glad. I hope this emotional stability continues.

What's good about the rain? by Toni Kindipan

Posted by my friend, former officemate in Devcom Division here at PhilRice, Toni Kindipan. Toni,together with her two sisters and her mother, 25, died after the landslide in Benguet.

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"Doing what is right today means no regrets tomorrow."I was looking out
from the window this afternoon while the strong winds battered and the
heavy downpour of rain lashed houses and trees in our neighborhood. A
super typhoon is heading our way, again. While staring at the pouring
rain, I thought, "What’s good about the rain?"

Seven years ago, a super typhoon hit our area that damaged a lot of
properties and took a number of lives. I was about 18 years old then and
although I have grown up to such a stormy environment, this typhoon was
one of the greatest shocks of my life, that until now left a bad memory in
me. A big landslide came rushing down from the mountain cutting the area
beside our house. The impact was so strong that the earth shook. We all
thought it was an earthquake. After a few minutes, people in our
neighborhood all came out to see a huge area dug out with thick mud all
over the place. A house beside ours was partly taken and I saw a person
being pulled out from the mud. I was totally scared. Immediately, I and my
family were out into the rain heading towards the evacuation center where
we stayed for a few days until the storm was gone.

A week ago, our capital city was the center of media attraction, both
local and international, because of the storm that hit a record high of
rainfall in just a matter of hours and send raging waters along the roads
and streets of Manila making it like a big river inundating thousands upon
thousands of houses, washing away years of investments and livelihood of
more than a million people. The sight was horrible and pathetic. The storm
was no respecter of people. Rich and poor, famous and ordinary people
alike were on their roofs waving for help. Thousands became homeless and
starting back to zero. Children could not go to school. People couldn’t go
back to work. For a time, the world for them came to a halt. It has been
said that this was the worst disaster that affected the whole of Metro
Manila in 40 years.

My personal experience about the storm gave me a bit of trauma that
whenever it rains, I always think of our safety. When the rainy season
comes (usually starts from June to October), I start to worry about my
family especially when I am away from them. Even when I am at home,
hearing the rain pouring at night keeps me awake, not because of the
strong downpour but because of thoughts that I may be caught off guard in
case something bad happens. Because of these, I hated the rain. Today,
this thought kept me thinking. “What’s good about the rain?” Sure, it
sends irrigation to scorched lands and all other areas and creatures
needing water but too much of it sends catastrophe to others. Thinking
about it further however, makes me believe that there is more to it than
that.

After the flooding in Manila, people are pointing fingers at each other on
who is to blame for this disaster. Some said it’s not an act of God as
people have become so irresponsible of taking care of our environment
instead it’s a wakeup call from God that we be conscious of our roles as
stewards of what He has given us. In the name of development, people have
cared less of the consequences of their actions. High-rise commercial
buildings mushroomed everywhere even in places where they are not supposed
to be located. Talk about poor urban planning as pointed out by one
official. Garbage! Yes, the ubiquitous wastes which scatter at every
corner now clogged the supposed waterways and drainage that should have
eased the flow of water. Climate change? This is yet another easy culprit
or say, lame reason for some but could be a consideration. Now, is this
the prize for socially irresponsible way of development? I leave it up to
you to judge. What’s good about the rain? Perhaps it’s nice to think that
it reminds us of our social responsibility as good members of our society.

When we were at the brink of that situation back in 2002, there was
nothing we could do but pray and ask the Almighty to spare us from the
wrath of nature. Natural calamities are always stronger than us and almost
always, we as humans are helpless in this. When we got back to our house
after the storm, we were so grateful that everything was intact. Nothing
was lost or damaged. It was amazing that the area on both sides of our
house had landslides but our house was untouched. I realized that in times
like these, what’s good about the rain is that it makes one draw closer to
the all-powerful God who holds everything in His hand.

Many also believe that what happened in Manila is an act of God to which
we don’t have control. It is pretty scary in fact to think this way. But
even in the Bible, it tells of stories about people who suffered disasters
because of their sins. More than the garbage that floats around us, a
better attention should be given to the garbage in us or our sins that
makes this place a sickening abode of injustice, crime, and all sorts or
perversion. But it is comforting to know that there is also the story of
His forgiveness and salvation of our self-inflicted garbage.

If there is something good about the rain, for me, it would be these
realizations. Tonight, even as I write this, the rain continues to pour
on. But what’s good about it is that it makes me value more the thought
that life is brief, that there are so many things to be thankful for, that
I can always trust the One who gives life to spare my life and the ones I
love from this storm.

To those in the area of the storm Pepeng and to everyone, keep safe!

The Optimism of Uncertainty by Howard Zinn

I find meaning and purpose in this piece. A silver lining in the midst of the disasters that our country faces today.

===========================================

The Optimism of Uncertainty
by Howard Zinn

In this awful world where the efforts of caring people often pale in comparison to what is done by those who have power, how do I manage to stay involved and seemingly happy?

I am totally confident not that the world will get better, but that we should not give up the game before all the cards have been played. The metaphor is deliberate; life is a gamble. Not to play is to foreclose any chance of winning. To play, to act, is to create at least a possibility of changing the world.

There is a tendency to think that what we see in the present moment will continue. We forget how often we have been astonished by the sudden crumbling of institutions, by extraordinary changes in people's thoughts, by unexpected eruptions of rebellion against tyrannies, by the quick collapse of systems of power that seemed invincible.

What leaps out from the history of the past hundred years is its utter unpredictability. A revolution to overthrow the czar of Russia, in that most sluggish of semi-feudal empires, not only startled the most advanced imperial powers but took Lenin himself by surprise and sent him rushing by train to Petrograd. Who would have predicted the bizarre shifts of World War II--the Nazi-Soviet pact (those embarrassing photos of von Ribbentrop and Molotov shaking hands), and the German Army rolling through Russia, apparently invincible, causing colossal casualties, being turned back at the gates of Leningrad, on the western edge of Moscow, in the streets of Stalingrad, followed by the defeat of the German army, with Hitler huddled in his Berlin bunker, waiting to die?

And then the postwar world, taking a shape no one could have drawn in advance: The Chinese Communist revolution, the tumultuous and violent Cultural Revolution, and then another turnabout, with post-Mao China renouncing its most fervently held ideas and institutions, making overtures to the West, cuddling up to capitalist enterprise, perplexing everyone.
No one foresaw the disintegration of the old Western empires happening so quickly after the war, or the odd array of societies that would be created in the newly independent nations, from the benign village socialism of Nyerere's Tanzania to the madness of Idi Amin's adjacent Uganda. Spain became an astonishment. I recall a veteran of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade telling me that he could not imagine Spanish Fascism being overthrown without another bloody war. But after Franco was gone, a parliamentary democracy came into being, open to Socialists, Communists, anarchists, everyone.

The end of World War II left two superpowers with their respective spheres of influence and control, vying for military and political power. Yet they were unable to control events, even in those parts of the world considered to be their respective spheres of influence. The failure of the Soviet Union to have its way in Afghanistan, its decision to withdraw after almost a decade of ugly intervention, was the most striking evidence that even the possession of thermonuclear weapons does not guarantee domination over a determined population. The United States has faced the same reality. It waged a full-scale war in lndochina, conducting the most brutal bombardment of a tiny peninsula in world history, and yet was forced to withdraw. In the headlines every day we see other instances of the failure of the presumably powerful over the presumably powerless, as in Brazil, where a grassroots movement of workers and the poor elected a new president pledged to fight destructive corporate power.

Looking at this catalogue of huge surprises, it's clear that the struggle for justice should never be abandoned because of the apparent overwhelming power of those who have the guns and the money and who seem invincible in their determination to hold on to it. That apparent power has, again and again, proved vulnerable to human qualities less measurable than bombs and dollars: moral fervor, determination, unity, organization, sacrifice, wit, ingenuity, courage, patience--whether by blacks in Alabama and South Africa, peasants in El Salvador, Nicaragua and Vietnam, or workers and intellectuals in Poland, Hungary and the Soviet Union itself. No cold calculation of the balance of power need deter people who are persuaded that their cause is just.
I have tried hard to match my friends in their pessimism about the world (is it just my friends?), but I keep encountering people who, in spite of all the evidence of terrible things happening everywhere, give me hope. Especially young people, in whom the future rests. Wherever I go, I find such people. And beyond the handful of activists there seem to be hundreds, thousands, more who are open to unorthodox ideas. But they tend not to know of one another's existence, and so, while they persist, they do so with the desperate patience of Sisyphus endlessly pushing that boulder up the mountain. I try to tell each group that it is not alone, and that the very people who are disheartened by the absence of a national movement are themselves proof of the potential for such a movement.

Revolutionary change does not come as one cataclysmic moment (beware of such moments!) but as an endless succession of surprises, moving zigzag toward a more decent society. We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world. Even when we don't "win," there is fun and fulfillment in the fact that we have been involved, with other good people, in something worthwhile. We need hope.

An optimist isn't necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time. To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places--and there are so many--where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.