Snow!!! I exclaimed as snow slowly fell last Thursday. I was going home in the rain when suddenly the "rain" seemed to float lightly in the air. My friend P.A. sent me a message earlier that it might snow that night, so it was such a delight when I realized that I was seeing snow.
It was my first time to see real snow up close. Sure, I have made snow out of cotton, white paper and glue almost every December when I was a child. I have shaken a dozen snow globe paperweights to make snow glitters swirl. I have seen all those puffy white flocking on Christmas trees. I have touched fake snow from a snow-maker machine. But this was my first genuine snow. Snow that precipitated gracefully from the sky.
I examined the curious icy crystals that fell on my arm, rushed into the apartment and sent text messages to loved ones back home. Then I stood watching by the window, mesmerized at the snow falling, thought briefly about snowflake patterns and Whoville and the Grinch, amazed that I was actually seeing things that I have only seen in movies, books, pictures and postcards.
Another first for Bootsie. I thought to myself. A long way from my tropical country, I have had many firsts here in Geneva. First time to set foot on European soil. First time to be in another continent. First time to pick cherries from a tree, first time to eat blackberries from the side of the road. First time to taste this and that. First time to try this and that. And when one is in a different country and the language is different from one's own, even the most mundane task becomes strange or challenging. I had a lot of learning first times, like my first time to buy groceries, first time to ride the tram on my own, first time to go somewhere alone when all I knew was to say "bonjour" and "merci". And one of the things I learned from those first times is that you can go a long way with just a charming smile and saying "bonjour" and "merci".
Merci. Yes, I have a lot to be thankful for. On Saturday when everything was blanketed in white, my American friend Danny invited P.A. and me for a belated Thanksgiving dinner. P.A. and I walked to his place with snow falling non-stop. It was like we were in one big freezer. On the way, I made a tiny deformed snowman, we had a small snowball fight, and I stuck out my tongue to taste snow. People were stranded, a bus overturned, and cars reportedly skidded out of control... but everything looked beautiful. For me, it was a winter wonderland. It was like ice cream and halo-halo everywhere. I especially loved the smooth "snowfields" and the way dark branches of trees were lined with white snow.
And so, after we ate the Thanksgiving turkey on that snowy day, each guest shared what they were thankful for. I am thankful for a loving family, P.A., good friends, work, for the many good things that are coming my way. I am thankful for God's provision -- even for the winter boots that P.A. bought two years ago which she never wore and now, perfectly fits me. I am thankful for the dinner where we were reminded that we do have a lot to thank God for -- the people around us, good health, protection from harm, talents, peace...
And of course, I thank God for my first snowfall -- for beautiful wonders, for many learning opportunities, and for many firsts to come. #
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Crows
"The Quiet Earth," I said to myself, referring to that 80's movie where a man finds himself literally all alone in the world, as I walked through a big, empty park. It was early Sunday morning and I was walking to church as I missed the bus that comes only every twenty minutes. The quietness and the cold were giving me goosebumps.
Waark! Waaark! A loud scratchy caw sliced through the silence. It was from a crow perched on a bare tree branch. Waark! Waark! Several other crows joined him. I almost ran. It was like a scene from a horror movie.
Today, as I walked down the hill from the Bocage at the UN, I saw three crows pecking on the ground. They were on my path. To me, they looked liked they owned the area and might get mad if I pass by. I opted to go back up... But I saw it was a long way up. So I decided to continue going down... I almost had a heart attack when two of the birds flapped their wings and flew towards me. I was almost sure they were going to strike me with their sharp beaks...
...But then the birds didn't attack me. They went back to the ground and continued eating.
I stood there and I stared at them for a while. As my heart rate returned to normal, I realized I anticipate problems too much, too often. Fears and worries get the better of me.It's human nature to worry and to fear something. These can be useful. Worry can make us anticipate future events and resolve problems beforehand. Fear tells us of danger and can prevent us from doing something harmful. But sometimes we worry and fear too much, and about too many things. We are scared of ghosts, failure, change, rejection, going to the dentist, dying, flying, falling, falling in love, losing someone, losing money, looking stupid, getting old and getting crow's feet...
As I looked at the crows, I realized that they do "own" the area. God has provided food for them to eat everywhere. And the God who provides for these birds is the same God who has lovingly shown me, time and again, that He never fails.
God has faithfully provided for me here in Geneva. Friends have been generous -- giving me food, clothes, all that I need. God granted me my permits, gave me a job, just at the right time.
God gave me a loving community and beautiful opportunities. My family back home has been very supportive.
I still worry sometimes, I get insecure, I get scared. But through many circumstances where all I can do is cry and pray, "Lord, ikaw na bahala," God is slowly teaching me to put my full trust in Him.
As I continued down the hill, I descended slowly as not to disturb the birds. One slow step by one slow step... just like my faith journey... one slow step at a time, I am giving all my inadequacies to my perfect God, and lifting all my concerns and plans to the Almighty.
Hopefully, the next time I hear crows caw, I will be reminded that I have nothing to be afraid of... Because God will take care of me, as He always has.
#
*CEV, GNT version. Other versions mention ravens.
Friday, November 19, 2010
A Bus "Tail" (-light)
Celebrate small victories, they say. Appreciate the little things. Acknowledge small miracles.
One of the small miracles I appreciate everyday is being able to catch the bus on time.
Here in Switzerland, where they make precision watches, buses and trams come on time (99% of the time), and people are forever running to catch them. My roommate P.A.'s usual morning parting words include "Please pray that I catch the bus!"
Part of being reliably on time, bus drivers are pretty strict. Once they close the doors and move a millimeter, even if you were just one-tenth of second late, they won't open the door for you. And you will be left staring at the bus' tail light. I get upset when that happens, when no matter how may times and no matter how hard I press the open button, the bus leaves without me, and I wait for another 7 minutes or more. But I understand too, that if I was the one waiting at the next stop, I would be upset if the bus was a minute or two late, because it waited for other people. So it's pretty fair when you stick to rules.
I used to hate buses, because I get nauseous when I ride in one. But I love the buses and trams here. The Transports Publics Genevois (TPG) are environment-friendly (most run on electricity), they run on moderate speed (I gather the drivers are salaried, unlike in the Philippines, where drivers tend to overspeed to earn more), they are clean and spacious (not like a can of sardines), they look safe, they come on time, they load/unload at the proper stop, and for a someone like me who is bad at directions , I appreciate the fact that buses and trams have monitors and speakers that tell you where you are, what is the next stop, and what other bus or tram connections you can get at that stop.
Once, I thought, why don't we have transport service like these in the Philippines? And I answer my own question... Oh I forgot this is Switzerland. A pretty rich country. Geneva even burns money by holding a pretty huge fireworks display every year. (Don't get me wrong. I loved the majestic fireworks display over the lake during the Fêtes du Genève. But after it went beyond an hour... I felt uneasy, and thought of all the food that could be bought with the money spent for fireworks). I know someday, the Philippines will get there. Maybe not as fast as the MRT gets from North Ave to Taft... but at least now we have the MRT 3 Purple line! Celebrate small victories, they say.
The transportation system here also operates on an honesty system. You don't have to show your ticket to a conductor, or swipe a card when you get on/off. One can ride without paying. Sounds good? Try it at your own risk. Big guys in black go on board when you least expect it, and they spot check! If you get caught without a ticket, you pay 80 francs for fine (that's around 3,200 pesos), as opposed to just paying 3 francs for the ride (or less when you have abonnement). I did ride a couple of times without a ticket (or an abonnement) and I was soooo stressed and got so paranoid. It definitely was not worth it. I have to thank TPG for keeping me honest, that way at least.
Every once in a while, God uses buses and trams for sweet miracles to happen. A kind stranger sees you running and holds the door open until you get there. Or the driver takes pity on you and waits for you. Like last week, I was across the bus stop, but I could not cross the street as I was caught at a red pedestrian light. The bus left, and the bus driver looked at me. I shrugged. C'est la vie. He shrugged back... and then before he turned at the corner, he nodded towards me... stopped, opened the door, and let me in...
It was more than a meter away from the stop. Miracle.
At times like those, I say "merci beaucoup" over and over, and promise to myself that I will pay the kindness forward.
But today, I did miss the bus. The bus driver also looked at me, and his face was expressionless.
So I decided to walk. My office was just three stops away anyway. A ten to fifteen minute walk. It was a cool and quiet morning. I looked at the trees almost bare, getting ready to sleep during winter. People on bicycles serenely rode by. Cheeful chatter blended with the quiet hum of the morning.
It was a beautiful morning and a beautiful walk.
And so, today I was left staring at the bus tail light... and God gave me the opportunity to walk -- and appreciate little things, celebrate small victories, and acknowledge small miracles.
#
For a related blog article by PA, please see
http://thewandererstales.blogspot.com/2005/09/100m-dash.html
One of the small miracles I appreciate everyday is being able to catch the bus on time.
Here in Switzerland, where they make precision watches, buses and trams come on time (99% of the time), and people are forever running to catch them. My roommate P.A.'s usual morning parting words include "Please pray that I catch the bus!"
Part of being reliably on time, bus drivers are pretty strict. Once they close the doors and move a millimeter, even if you were just one-tenth of second late, they won't open the door for you. And you will be left staring at the bus' tail light. I get upset when that happens, when no matter how may times and no matter how hard I press the open button, the bus leaves without me, and I wait for another 7 minutes or more. But I understand too, that if I was the one waiting at the next stop, I would be upset if the bus was a minute or two late, because it waited for other people. So it's pretty fair when you stick to rules.
I used to hate buses, because I get nauseous when I ride in one. But I love the buses and trams here. The Transports Publics Genevois (TPG) are environment-friendly (most run on electricity), they run on moderate speed (I gather the drivers are salaried, unlike in the Philippines, where drivers tend to overspeed to earn more), they are clean and spacious (not like a can of sardines), they look safe, they come on time, they load/unload at the proper stop, and for a someone like me who is bad at directions , I appreciate the fact that buses and trams have monitors and speakers that tell you where you are, what is the next stop, and what other bus or tram connections you can get at that stop.
Once, I thought, why don't we have transport service like these in the Philippines? And I answer my own question... Oh I forgot this is Switzerland. A pretty rich country. Geneva even burns money by holding a pretty huge fireworks display every year. (Don't get me wrong. I loved the majestic fireworks display over the lake during the Fêtes du Genève. But after it went beyond an hour... I felt uneasy, and thought of all the food that could be bought with the money spent for fireworks). I know someday, the Philippines will get there. Maybe not as fast as the MRT gets from North Ave to Taft... but at least now we have the MRT 3 Purple line! Celebrate small victories, they say.
The transportation system here also operates on an honesty system. You don't have to show your ticket to a conductor, or swipe a card when you get on/off. One can ride without paying. Sounds good? Try it at your own risk. Big guys in black go on board when you least expect it, and they spot check! If you get caught without a ticket, you pay 80 francs for fine (that's around 3,200 pesos), as opposed to just paying 3 francs for the ride (or less when you have abonnement). I did ride a couple of times without a ticket (or an abonnement) and I was soooo stressed and got so paranoid. It definitely was not worth it. I have to thank TPG for keeping me honest, that way at least.
Every once in a while, God uses buses and trams for sweet miracles to happen. A kind stranger sees you running and holds the door open until you get there. Or the driver takes pity on you and waits for you. Like last week, I was across the bus stop, but I could not cross the street as I was caught at a red pedestrian light. The bus left, and the bus driver looked at me. I shrugged. C'est la vie. He shrugged back... and then before he turned at the corner, he nodded towards me... stopped, opened the door, and let me in...
It was more than a meter away from the stop. Miracle.
At times like those, I say "merci beaucoup" over and over, and promise to myself that I will pay the kindness forward.
But today, I did miss the bus. The bus driver also looked at me, and his face was expressionless.
So I decided to walk. My office was just three stops away anyway. A ten to fifteen minute walk. It was a cool and quiet morning. I looked at the trees almost bare, getting ready to sleep during winter. People on bicycles serenely rode by. Cheeful chatter blended with the quiet hum of the morning.
It was a beautiful morning and a beautiful walk.
And so, today I was left staring at the bus tail light... and God gave me the opportunity to walk -- and appreciate little things, celebrate small victories, and acknowledge small miracles.
#
For a related blog article by PA, please see
http://thewandererstales.blogspot.com/2005/09/100m-dash.html
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Je suis philippine. Pinay po ako.
"I didn't think you were a Filipina. I thought you were Indian," a new acquaintance tells me. I pause and, instead of getting upset like I used to, I say "I get that a lot."
I do get that kind of comment a lot. One of my close friends here in Geneva told me that at first she thought I was from South America. Someone told me I look Middle Eastern. Most people say I look Indian. The closest guess was Malaysian.
One Filipina asked my Filipina friend in Tagalog, referring to me, "Anong lahi nya?" My friend said "Pilipina po". The lady continued, "Ay talaga, akala ko ibang lahi." And I answered, partly to let her know I understood every word she said, with conviction, "Pinay po ako. Bisdak (bisayang dako) ako."
I am proud to be Pinay. I used to get sad when people mistake me to be from another country, because being a Filipina is a great part of my identity. I am proud to be from the land of eternal sunshine, except for the monsoon months, as described in Glee. I am proud of be of the people who love to laugh, sing, and eat, who have strong family ties and strong faith in God, who are resilient, talented and capable. One of my proudest moments was when my officemate, who is from Sierra Leone, tells me that her husband had a Filipina officemate and told her that "You are lucky to have a Filipina officemate."
It's funny when people insist that I am not Pinay. Like, when I was waiting in a hotel in Korea, an Egyptian man approached me and asked where I was from. I said "I am from the Philippines." He said "No, you're not Philippines." (sic) I raised my eyebrows. I was there for the Philippine-Korea Youth Leader Exchange Program. Last time I checked, I was not Korean. "But I am from the Philippines," I repeated. "You don't look like Philippines"(sic), he insisted. I thought, of course, I don't look like a country, because I am a person. But as a pleasant Pinay, I said "I am... uh... mixed. Chinese-Spanish-Filipino." To this he said, "Me too. Spanish-Egyptian. Mixed."
Mixed. That was what my Vietnamese friend said about me when we were introduced. "You look kind of 'mixed', yes?" To which I jokingly replied "Yeah, like a mongrel?" I proceeded to explain that most of the people in the Visayas region, where I am from, looked like me. We have a lot of Chinese and Spanish influences. My dad calls our city, "Tagbilaran City, the city of mus-Lim", because there are a lot of residents with "Lim" as family name. Most Lim.
So I am "mixed". I have brown hair, brown eyes, aquiline nose and fair skin. That does not make me less of a Filipino. Instead, my being "mixed" is part of my being a Filipino. It tells of a country which was under 300 years of Spanish colonial rule. It tells of a country with rich history and diverse culture.
What is funnier though is when people compare me to a totally different creature. "Ate Boots, you look like a vampire", my student in Ateneo told me. "Excuse me?" I reacted. "It's your eyes. When vampires feed on animals, their eyes turn topaz," she explained. And it happened again here Geneva, with a friend saying "Oh my God, your eyes are so brown you look like a vampire". First... a vampire? Not so flattering. But in this Twilight generation, I guess looking like Edward Cullen is not so bad. So I will take it as a compliment. Second, a vampire is not a Filipino creature. Yes, I would mind being called 'aswang', though I heard aswangs are beautiful. But at least aswang is from Philippine folklore...
And so, I may look like an Indian vampire (or maybe a Malaysian one), but I am 100% Pinay. I crave for balut, isaw, isdang paksiw. I love eating nilagang saging with ginamos. I use tabo. I interchange my i and e. I care about Manny Pacquiao winning, or who PNoy is dating. And of course I dream that Philippines would have political and economic growth. I pray that the poverty situation will be alleviated, that there will be no more hungry children, and that everyone will have a chance at getting an education and a better life. My life goals include helping the Philippines in whatever way I can.
I always wear my Pilipinas shirt when I go somewhere. It is the shirt where the map of the Philippines is embroidered on the left chest. It signifies that wherever I go, no matter how far, no matter how lost I get, I have a map to lead me home.....
And I think that what makes me Pinay. I always call the Philippines my home. And I carry home in my heart.
I do get that kind of comment a lot. One of my close friends here in Geneva told me that at first she thought I was from South America. Someone told me I look Middle Eastern. Most people say I look Indian. The closest guess was Malaysian.
One Filipina asked my Filipina friend in Tagalog, referring to me, "Anong lahi nya?" My friend said "Pilipina po". The lady continued, "Ay talaga, akala ko ibang lahi." And I answered, partly to let her know I understood every word she said, with conviction, "Pinay po ako. Bisdak (bisayang dako) ako."
I am proud to be Pinay. I used to get sad when people mistake me to be from another country, because being a Filipina is a great part of my identity. I am proud to be from the land of eternal sunshine, except for the monsoon months, as described in Glee. I am proud of be of the people who love to laugh, sing, and eat, who have strong family ties and strong faith in God, who are resilient, talented and capable. One of my proudest moments was when my officemate, who is from Sierra Leone, tells me that her husband had a Filipina officemate and told her that "You are lucky to have a Filipina officemate."
It's funny when people insist that I am not Pinay. Like, when I was waiting in a hotel in Korea, an Egyptian man approached me and asked where I was from. I said "I am from the Philippines." He said "No, you're not Philippines." (sic) I raised my eyebrows. I was there for the Philippine-Korea Youth Leader Exchange Program. Last time I checked, I was not Korean. "But I am from the Philippines," I repeated. "You don't look like Philippines"(sic), he insisted. I thought, of course, I don't look like a country, because I am a person. But as a pleasant Pinay, I said "I am... uh... mixed. Chinese-Spanish-Filipino." To this he said, "Me too. Spanish-Egyptian. Mixed."
Mixed. That was what my Vietnamese friend said about me when we were introduced. "You look kind of 'mixed', yes?" To which I jokingly replied "Yeah, like a mongrel?" I proceeded to explain that most of the people in the Visayas region, where I am from, looked like me. We have a lot of Chinese and Spanish influences. My dad calls our city, "Tagbilaran City, the city of mus-Lim", because there are a lot of residents with "Lim" as family name. Most Lim.
So I am "mixed". I have brown hair, brown eyes, aquiline nose and fair skin. That does not make me less of a Filipino. Instead, my being "mixed" is part of my being a Filipino. It tells of a country which was under 300 years of Spanish colonial rule. It tells of a country with rich history and diverse culture.
What is funnier though is when people compare me to a totally different creature. "Ate Boots, you look like a vampire", my student in Ateneo told me. "Excuse me?" I reacted. "It's your eyes. When vampires feed on animals, their eyes turn topaz," she explained. And it happened again here Geneva, with a friend saying "Oh my God, your eyes are so brown you look like a vampire". First... a vampire? Not so flattering. But in this Twilight generation, I guess looking like Edward Cullen is not so bad. So I will take it as a compliment. Second, a vampire is not a Filipino creature. Yes, I would mind being called 'aswang', though I heard aswangs are beautiful. But at least aswang is from Philippine folklore...
And so, I may look like an Indian vampire (or maybe a Malaysian one), but I am 100% Pinay. I crave for balut, isaw, isdang paksiw. I love eating nilagang saging with ginamos. I use tabo. I interchange my i and e. I care about Manny Pacquiao winning, or who PNoy is dating. And of course I dream that Philippines would have political and economic growth. I pray that the poverty situation will be alleviated, that there will be no more hungry children, and that everyone will have a chance at getting an education and a better life. My life goals include helping the Philippines in whatever way I can.
I always wear my Pilipinas shirt when I go somewhere. It is the shirt where the map of the Philippines is embroidered on the left chest. It signifies that wherever I go, no matter how far, no matter how lost I get, I have a map to lead me home.....
And I think that what makes me Pinay. I always call the Philippines my home. And I carry home in my heart.
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