Just awhile ago, I dropped by the Mercury Drugstore to buy my baby a can of powdered milk. I was surprised as I took a peek on the receipt and my mind was immediately drawn to the three capital letters printed four times on the lower part of my receipt — VAT. My eyes widened as it landed on the text which says “VAT 12% P38.01.” Fortunately, the P354.75 presented on the tag fits our budget but as an entrepreneur, who calculates even to the last cent, this amount already matters specially considering the point that I need to purchase six to seven cans of milk in a month. I would’ve gotten a monthly saving of P266.07 at the eradication of the VAT. For the average and the below average, nursing Juan dela Cruz, this instantly added to and expanded their burdens.

Tax in its plain self is already heavy at times for most Filipino consumers, then here came Value Added Tax, indeed an added weight. But it doesn’t end there, following VAT was the Expanded Value Adde d Tax. It’s like terrible taxes times two! I can not wholly comprehend why and how these taxes where legalised. Why pass the heavier and additional load to the struggling consumers when successful companies have the larger pockets and stronger shoulders? To my perception, it just makes the rich richer and the poor poorer.

Again I queried, who passed the bill anyway? When a campaign advertisement flashed on our screen saying pacifying things about helping the poor, brushing off corruption, and the like, my sister convicted “Hmp! I will not vote for him! He was the one responsible for the VAT and EVAT!” She then added that he was bluffing his way again to the senate. Believing those strong words from my sister’s sensible mouth, made me erase that politician’s name off my ballot.

As May 10 is less than a month away, it is high time for me to strain my voting list. Scrutinizing political candidates’ profile, dissecting their track records, and critically examining their platforms would certainly avoid a morbid mistake of voting for someone like the one behind the VAT and EVAT.  Lawmakers who sincerely aim for the relief of fatigued Filipinos deserve to sit within the corridors of power. So, as they say, vote wisely!

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By far, this is the most sensible commercial I have seen. Actually, I didn’t have any clue that this is an advertisement even though before clicking it, I read “extraordinary commercial.”

Indeed, yet if there is such word beyond “extraordinary”, it would best describe this video clip.

The drama at the beginning really dragged my senses. The angelic face of the little Thai girl mezmirized by the smooth sway of the fiddle’s bow was certainly catchy. Also, the portrayal of her  inability to hear and speak was artistically done. The shot was really drawing sympathy as she walked on the street, head-down while a car, tailing her, frantically blew its horn.

The lines too were profoundly penned: “A duck tries to fly?”

“You’re wasting everyone’s time” is a stab straight to the heart enough to kill one’s determination. But this video inspiringly showed how the girl’s hopes of playing the violin died and resurrected through the old man’s wisdom.

The girl’s  bitter question “Why am I different from others,” was simply answered  by the violinist with a soul stirring “Why do you have to be like others.” Truly, each of us is unique.

Music lovers too, would surely fall in love with it as the old man said, “Music is a visible thing. Close your eyes. You will see.” What a beautiful statement. I’m  a music enthusiast but I never thought of it that way before.

The girl is deaf and mute, but definitely not blind to “see” music.

The climax was likewise striking as the antagonist young pianist untiringly and ragingly practiced for the classical music competition. The piano presentation ended with an exclamation point. Such scene was brilliantly intertwined with that of the commotion happening with the girl and the old man, how they were bullied and got her violin crushed.

I got goose bumps everytime I get to the part where the girl is on stage, the moment she started to play the violin.

The moment I found out it was a mere shampoo commercial was at the very end when it flashed “Pantene. You can shine.” My amazement while watching the clip was immediately diluted in awe with a pinch of chuckle. I needed to check on my senses and pause for a while. I was  stunned.

I then realized the reason behind the strong emphasis on the raging sways of the violinist’s long, shiny, black hair.

My amazement goes to the smart minds behind this brilliant advertisement which, on the surface, is not obviously selling something. I hope they also do something like this here in the Philippines.

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Oct. 4, 2009

I admit, my feet, legs, and thighs went bigger than my husband’s. It swelled so badly that I can punch dimples on my feet that lasted seconds. Very amusing. But the thing which was not amusing in anyway was, all but one of my footwear seemingly rejected my plump feet.

It’s official, I walked like a waddling penguin — a very keen observation from my friend Apple who also had gone through some funny “waddlings” herself. I already expected this ugly duckling walk, anyway.

It’s affirmative, I gained 40 pounds! It’s just a good thing I didn’t go gaga over that fact; gratitude went to my not being weight-conscious.

With my extra pounds, it became more and more difficult for me to move around. I even needed my husband’s gentle push or pull when I got up from lying down or sitting. I wrapped my hands around his neck just to lift my upper body.

Sleeping, most of the time, did not serve as a resting time for me. It became more like a hard task. Sleeping on my left side, (for smooth blood and air circulation), then switching my heavy self to the right a few minutes later, then back to my left again, and so on. What made things worse was my aching pelvic bone. A slight twist triggered pain. I could just lose count on how many switching and twisting I did during bedtime.

Until I came to a point where I realized I should get used to the discomforts as they are all part of my pregnancy. There’s no smooth way out the nine months. Hence, I befriended the various pains. In this way I managed to at least lessen my physical distress by dealing with it emotionally.

The worst though was the constant visit to the bathroom. My practitioner advised me to drink at least two liters of water a day to compensate for the possible inadequacy of amniotic fluid as my growing baby used up more space inside. Two to four groggy midnight visits to the bathroom really spelled nightmare. Yet, it was not only me who accumulated huge, black, eye bags. I felt guilty at times that I needed to wake my husband up just to give me a good lift.

Sleeping surely became arduous as sweet dreams left me for a while.

One of the good and exciting things during my 3rd trimester of pregnancy though, was the stronger and more frequent fetal activity. My tummy began to wobble; sometimes quick waves, sometimes smooth ones. August 9 was when my husband and I had an early morning entertainment. It was his first time to see my tummy do some fancy waves. We were just so happy to conclude that our little one is a strong baby.

Indeed I felt her strength. Her tickling and poking (during the 2nd trimester) turned into full-strength kicks which actually hurt! When my baby’s feet found a resting place between my ribs, it really gave me some “ouches.” Most of the time they were unexpected that they made me jerk from my seat. A few kicks at the middle of my tutorial classes really gave me an abrupt pause with some “oohs” that left my students puzzled.

This one thing was also amusing. I did not know about this until I’ve read it from a pregnancy book and proved it to be true the moment I noticed a constant pulsation at my lower abdomen where my baby’s head was situated. It was hiccups! It was a cute happening which lasted for 10-20 minutes, almost everyday during the last two months.

My days seemed longer and longer after each sunset. I came to a point where I became impatient; I can’t wait for another day. I was really counting the hours. I pathetically became bored of my pregnancy. Nine months came like years. But my friend Marisol told me that she missed the kicks of her first born, and so I should enjoy my baby’s twists and turns while she’s still inside my womb.

My appetite on my last three months, on the other hand, became hearty (during the 2nd trimester) to voraciousness. I sort of pointed finger to my  baby every time I was accused of such. I felt hungry every hour. And I just didn’t eat – I feasted! I just couldn’t get enough.

My sisters, and friends were surprised to see me gobble like I was deprived of food for years. They laughed because they unusually see me eat like a hungry and greedy street dog.

At first, my husband liked the fact that I “eat a lot.” Before my pregnancy, he oftentimes coaxed me to finish my food or have a few more spoonfuls, for he knew I ate like a chicken since I was a child. But nearing my 7th month, he began to show a little anxiety as I started to take some bites off his cookie, take his extra rice, frequently ask him to buy me more, and eat five to six times a day!

Initially, he was worried our baby might gain too much, that I would end up with a ceasarian operation, which costs more than we could save up for. I defended that my practitioner regularly measured my abdomen, and in each time, she assured me that the size was within normal. To calm my husband’s distress, I asked her if my appetite might be too much for the baby. She told me that the extra fats might be absorbed by my body. And she added it was alright since I was so skinny, surely I needed some filling.

Undoubtedly, the last trimester was the most stressful (physically and emotionally) phase of my pregnancy. Ironically, it’s the most exciting as it hinted the near coming of my baby. With all the discomforts oddly mixed with excitements I knew at some point that these were just the tip of an ice berg.

I am yet to experience more.

almost 9 months

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3. The day we found out…

My fingers were itching to write.

I know houses are for rent, cars too, gowns, and just recently, bags and accessories also, but friends? This is something new and interesting.

* courtesy of www.trendhunter.com

Yet as I research more about this “friend for rent,” I learned that it has been a trend and a huge business going on in Japan for a couple of years now! There are actually rent-a-friend companies with 30 or so agents being paid to pretend! What a wower!

But why rent a friend?

I learned that Japanese are very much concerned on social status. Brides and grooms rent friends to attend their wedding just to impress their wife or husband-to-be and the rest of their genuine guests. With $150, a best man or a maid of honor comes in handy.

Some even rent colleagues and bosses. I was surprised why they do such — it’s because of the present recession where many Japanese lose their jobs. They tug along fake bosses just to make an impression of having a nice, decent job!

It’s the fear of belittlement and embarrassment as an unemployed. It’s pretty ironic why and how they could spend extra yens at the peak of their financial struggle. It’s pathetic to conclude that they still give “social status” a better rate than practicality, specially in these days of crises.

I don’t think I have the guts to fool my friends, specially myself in doing such acting.

They likewise rent cliques on different parties and social gathering. Japanese are fond of jamming with vidoeke, and with 15,000 yens, they have an instant sanguine friend to brag about. A little extra fee is charged when the phony friend sings or does a dance or a speech!

It’s interesting how they do this kind of business. The agents or the pretenders, if I may say, need to know at least enough about their “friend” and should answer every question the true friends will throw. One wrong answer or a dead air might ruin the reputation of the agent and the company he/she is working for.

My amazement intensified as I found out that “friends” are not the only ones available on the rack. Even “aunties,” “uncles,” “brothers,” “sisters,” even “mothers” and “fathers.” Name it, the rent-a-friend companies in Japan (which was said to have grown to 10) got it, in different ages and personalities!

But I was a bit saddened upon discovering some of their reasons why they rent such boguses: some divorced women rent “fathers” for their sons being bullied at school; some rent “uncles” to attend school soccer games as a number-one fan cheering his heart out for poor teenagers whose true uncles or fathers are absent on their championship game; some even rent “husbands” or “lovers” just to find a little solace in their sort of “loveless lives.”

This made me think of how lucky we are as Filipinos having a tight family bond. I am very blessed my family and friends were present on my celebrated days — on my 18th birthday, I had family and friends present more than I could ever ask for; on my wedding day, my aunties overseas even took a vacation to be there; my parents, as we were growing up, attended our school activities to show love and support. I couldn’t ask for more.

This value we put on family ties made a low divorce rate in t he country.

It is also amazing how we could find “family compounds” in almost anywhere in the Philippines; even Americans were amazed how up-to 100 people who are relatives live together in an array of houses.

Indeed, we are a family-centered country. And nowadays, with all the elements trying to dismantle and degrade the family, we should keep the knot tight.

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What a heart-melting sight!

The Greater Manila Area and some 25 more neighboring provinces were under the state of calamity as typhoon Ondoy (international name: Ketsana) flaunted its raging winds and unquenchable rainfall. Within six hours, many parts of Metro Manila, which were hit the greatest, went almost 100 per cent under murky water.

This did not happen in more than 40 years! Though a furious flash flood swiped the area in June 7, 1967, people thought it would never happen again, but unfortunately, it did, September 26, 2009. The day the whole Philippines would never forget. Yet it was not as huge as the waters of Ondoy. This was the worst so far.

*courtesy of www2.canada.com

***

This was also the worst time not to have a television at home. Our set died down two weeks ago.

It was Saturday, and I woke up hearing the wooshing wind. It seemed very unusual and unfriendly. My husband and I still took the time to go to Dagupan City to buy some things for our baby. The wind came in duet with drizzles.

Careless of anything else, I walked down the isle of colorful baby clothes and cute, little bottles. My eyes were feasting. I did not know what and where to put my hands on. I was in the midst of careful choosing, when my husband said “It’s already 12 noon.” I replied, “Please don’t put me in a hurry, I am still enjoying.” I was thinking it was my right to take my time since it was my first time to go shopping for our baby. He defended, he just heard the bell rang which implied it’s 12.

I would constantly ask my husband, laying down five pairs of booties to choose from, and ask “which is cuter?” He would answer “up to you, you know better than me with those things.” I had a couple rounds of which-is-cuter and he would say the same thing every time.

Finally, we’re ready for the cashier. We had three pairs of pink booties, some white baby caps and mittens, and three milk bottles.

We went home satisfied yet surprised on how costly 15 pieces of baby stuff cost. In the afternoon, my husband went to Binmaley to pay his relatives a visit while I attended a church activity on fitness and healthy living. Everybody enjoyed the aerobics. Even I as an spectator with my huge tummy had a blast taking pictures of mothers burning some extra calories. It lasted till 5 p.m.

At home, my husband called at 6 p.m. He said he would be on his way home in minutes. I was puzzled why, on a regular Saturday family visit, he would go home that early. He then anxiously told me that he just watched over the television about a typhoon. He was horrified on what he saw on the screen that’s why he hurried home.

With the television broken, everyone at home were unaware of the typhoon, nor of the destruction happening in Manila that time. We turned on the radio and tuned in to AM radio.

On the other hand, my mother was booked for a flight to Cebu that night for a week-long affair. After hearing the news over the radio, she made a bunch of calls confirming their travel to the airport in Manila. She was anxious of going yet saddened not being able to go to Cebu. Text messages flooded her cellphone, flash reports about typhoon Ondoy enshrouding streets and high-ways made her and her party’s plan of traveling impossible. She was finally calmed and convinced. She decided not to go.

I later realized that those times I was in a delight choosing cute booties and entertained in our church activity, many of my fellow Filipinos were on an exact contrary with my situation. They were trying to save each other’s lives from the cruel waters of Ondoy. I felt a bit guilty yet immensely grateful that we only received buzzing winds, but not destructive, and some rain showers.

***

But it was not until Monday morning that I witnessed over youtube the horrific site caused by the unforgiving Ondoy. I was greatly interested when our neighbor informed me on how even famous Filipino actors and actresses with their families were on their roofs, helpless! As my eyes glued on the LCD and my ears covered with ear phones, I saw how Magazine cover girl Cristine Reyes called GMA News Station solicited help and rescue, as she with her mother and two nieces, one aged 10 were soaked wet, hungered, shocked, and fatigued on the roof of their two-storey house for more than 24 hours! Friend and co-star Richard Gutierrez, upon hearing the news instantly went with a speed rubber boat to the rescue.

Celebrity couples Gladys Reyes and Christopher with their two children, one is an infant also witnessed the massive flood on their roofs. It was reported that Gladys fortunately made a call to her celebrity friend Judy Ann Santos. Few hours later, Judy Ann’s husband Ryan came on a rubber boat.

Showbiz reporter and celebrity, Boy Abunda was on The Buzz describing how Ryan swam the water just to at least hand in some milk for the baby and food for the rest of the family.

What really filled my heart was Abunda’s descriptions on how ordinary civilians wanting to help but unable to get to the stranded victims on their roofs, packed some food and provisions and let it float and swim towards their hungry and chilling fellow citizens, to whom some were children and babies.

With the rescuers outnumbered by the victims, rescuing eveybody and on time was quite impossible. Perhaps even life savers themselves needed to be rescued. So, every one capable of helping, even ordinary people stretched out a hand.

Abunda then followed up with profound thoughts: “This only means one thing, that everyone is a victim, whether you’re rich or poor.”

Indeed, even the two-storey mansions of celebrities were not spared.

Few weeks ago, I happen to read on a magazine a feature on TV host/actress Carmina Villaroel’s mansion. As the pictures imply, it worth millions — neat furnitures, nice and costly gadgets, fully-furnished rooms, luxurious bathrooms. But with Ondoy’s unwelcomed visit, the mansion, their refrigerators filled with food, and cabinets full of clothes and every good and expensive things in it went broken or useless. The only thing left useful to her, to her husband, and to her twins, during the typhoon was their roof.

Abunda’s co-host Kris Aquino expressed another lesson worth pondering: “We were not prepared, no body was.”

Truly, this was a lesson on preparedness. Merely knowing that ABS CBN’s special coverage on Ondoy had solicited over 9 million pledged donation in cash and over 20 million worth of food and clothing, and still counting would give one a big picture on how many people needed help, how great the number who were not prepared.

Ondoy and many other natural calamities were proof of today’s need for expecting the unexpected — a low, public warning signal number 1 was given to Metro Manila, yet the damage done was obviously intense. This tragedy served as a wake-up call for the estimated 300,000 people affected by a single typhoon and the rest of the Filipino people.

If we look on the bright side, however, one good thing happened. Impressive amount of rainfall flooded the afore mentioned areas, relief goods, clothing, and cash donations likewise overflowed. Every Filipino from government officials, private business establishments and companies, to ordinary citizens helped out. If the places left by Ondoy were soul stirring, so was the love drowning the victims.

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The design of the 1st rice field art in Thailand

One Friday night as I was watching the news over GMA 7, I came across a headline about Thailand’s rice field art — an art of strategically planting different colors of rice  showing amazing patterns as the rice plants grow months later. Aside from how magnificent that kind of art is, what really caught my attention was the fact that the above mentioned art initiated by Green Peace, which was the very first of its kind in Thailand was created honoring the country because it’s the World Record Holder for exporting the largest amount of rice!

That is indeed an achievement for the Thais.

An example of a rice field art from a bird's eyeview

Yet as I was contemplating on it, my mind landed on a little contradiction: The Philippines is the home of the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI). Triggering my curiosity, I further researched about IRRI and Green Peace on the web.

IRRI is the largest “autonomous, non-profit, agricultural, research and training organization” with offices in 14 nations worldwide. Established in 1960 by the Ford and Rockefeller Foundation in cooperation with the Philippines, IRRI aims to “find sustainable ways to improve the well being of present and future generations of poor rice farmers and consumers while at the same time protecting the natural environment. IRRI was established to help poor rice farmers in developing countries grow more rice on less land using less water, less labor, and fewer chemical inputs.” This 252-hectare farm located at the University of the Philippines in Los Baños exists with a mission to “reduce poverty and hunger.”

An up-close look on a rice field art

On the other hand, prior to the creation of different branches outside the Philippines, Thailand was one of the countries who sent people here to be trained in IRRI. Now, few decades later Thailand beats Asia’s home of the Green Revolution.

The meticulous planting of different varieties of rice plants is evident on this photo.

If you’re pondering and arriving at my point, you would likewise realize that there is a huge irony going on: the student becomes better than his teacher!

What happened? Have we down cycled and leveled down? Have we lowered our standards and caliber? Having IRRI in our soil should be a huge advantage; enough to make the Philippines the largest exporter of rice; enough to scatter rice field art works and make it a household name here in the Philippines. But the saddening fact is: We don’t even have one. Another intriguing thought: our very own the Banaue Rice Terraces is world renowed in its grandeur and glory. Are these not enough to be the king of rice in Asia?

The spic-and-span Banaue Rice Terraces

It is a privilege to have been chosen as the cradle for an international organization as the IRRI. If almost ten years ago, the Philippines was given this rare privilege, I could just imagine how strong and stable, independent, and potential-filled, our country and economy was; how our neighboring countries including Thailand looked up to us; how other foreign countries believed and trusted us (knowing that the Ford and the Rockefeller Foundation which established IRRI in the Philippines are international organizations run by people of other race).

Reviewing IRRI’s goal, it is inevitable to ask: has poverty reduced (specifically in the Philippines)? Has hunger relieved? What do farmers’ hunger strikes imply? What do farmers’ rallies in front of the Department of Agriculture convey? Why do their cries rang real loud still? Why do we still need to import rice from Vietnam, Thailand and other Asian countries when we were the ones who taught them how to have abundance in the rice fields?

I hate to admit, it seems like the rumored tag for the Philippines has become a nasty reality. Do we disclose we are a “sleeping giant?” If the IRRI irony repeats itself over and over again in other aspects besides agriculture, and rice training, then we are bound to answer a shameful “yes.”

Being Filipinos, we should know our potential, our talents and capabilities then put it into proper application. In 1960, the world has seen us worthy to be a caretaker of an international organization, after that, there wasn’t any of its kind built again in the Philippines.

Stop the snooze Filipinos!

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It was my niece Thea Louralei’s 2nd birthday. After church at 4 p.m. everyone was busy in the kitchen. Her mommy Dolour prepared some spaghetti, macaroni salad, and home-made ice cream. Her Auntie April cooked special fried chicken – a recipe of her own, while her Grandma and Grandpa had birthday cakes for the celebrant.

We were on a rush as triggered by our rumbling stomachs. The table was set. “Let’s pray, let’s pray,” we all spoke at the same time. The one to lead the prayer was not yet assigned but as we bowed our heads and closed our eyes, Thea started, “Heavenly Father…” then she quickly mumbled some words beyond comprehension, went on and said “cake,” and muttered a few more. “Birthday,” was her next recognizable word and ended with a clear “Amen.” The very moment we realized she was praying, her Daddy Thelmo told her, “Oh wait baby…” But the toddler went on, and so while she was praying, we all took a peek at each other with the same conversing eyes and smiles, had good giggles, and uttered a huge “AMEN!” after she’s done. Laughs and amazement immediately filled the room; though that was not the first time she volunteered to pray, she still kept us adorning her.

We all okayed to her prayer, and I’m pretty sure the One above also did.

Speaking of praying, there was this one dinner where everyone was on the mode of giving grace while my mommy was busy by the kitchen sink adjacent to the dining table, Thea blurted, “Grandma pray!” There it was, a baby reminding an adult to pause and pray!

Thea indeed exuded surprising abilities long before she turned two. I actually kept track on her fast intellectual progress; and even checked on the cellphone and digital camera videos of her with stamped dates on it.

Avoiding expected biases or exaggerations, (given the fact that she’s the first and only niece and grandchild in the family), we indeed have observed how extraordinarily smart she is.

Before she turned one year old, we taught her of course the popular “close-open” and “clap your hands.” She easily learned how to call on our cats and dogs, including the traditional sounds we utter, the Filipino way. We even taught her how to slap on mosquitoes and imitate the U.P. oblation pose. At first, we thought it was all plain baby tricks, until we noticed her fast learning, and how long she retains and how well she retrieves whatever she is taught.

At one year old, she already had a firm and proper grip on a pen. While a three-year-old student of mine held a pen like a cane. She could even name or point at the different parts of the body like, eyes, ears, nose, hands, face, feet, hair, neck, mouth, teeth, elbow, shoulder, and even the navel.

A little over one year old, she displayed a surprising skill in communications. Caught on video, her mommy was talking to her about a ruler she was playing with. Ate Dolour worried her baby might poke her eyes with it, was saying “Baby be careful with the ruler, Ok?” After a few more gentle coaxing, the baby replied with a cute and clear “OK!”

As early as one and a half years old, Thea knows how to count from one to ten!
Her interest in music was likewise enhanced. Her list included: full version of “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” first stanza of “Somewhere over the rainbow,” “I am a Child of God,” just to name some. Our relatives, on a family gathering were thrilled when they heard her sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” on the videoke! She could utter the first line clearly and though some words in between were ambiguous, her melody is extraordinarily recognizable.

Long before turning two, she audibly sings from “A” to “now I know my ABC, next time won’t you sing with me;” with a few stumbles on the “L,M,N” part. Her articulation of English phonetics, with her crisp consonants is likewise a wower.

Not to mention, she answers the phone!
To relate an amusing story:
If it rings, she dashes towards it, picks it up and utters an immediate “hallo?” If my husband calls, she gives the phone to me; if Ruslan calls, she passes it to her Auntie April; but if her mom calls, she talks to her. One time the phone rang, as usual she’s the first one to answer. Her dad, Kuya Thelmo, who was expecting a call from her wife, politely asked for the phone. The baby won’t give it to her daddy, instead she was giving it to me. Kuya Thelmo insisted but her little girl, too, insisted on passing it to me, and so I did get the phone. To my surprise, it was my husband calling! No wonder why. She indeed evokes an exceptional communication skills; knowing that there are four communications/journalism major in the family, including of course her mother.

Not only is she musically inclined, intellectual, profoundly articulated, but she is also emotionally intelligent that her parents need not lure her, or peek and run from her when they ought to go to school or someplace else leaving her with a baby sitter. They will simply tell her the truth, “Baby, Mommy will teach, I’ll be back later Ok?”, “Daddy needs to go to school.” The baby understands. Gives her mom or dad a kiss and a sweet “bye!” Also, she knows how to say polite words like, thank you, please, excuse me, sorry, bye, take care, and good night.

I mentioned many times that if I tutor my niece at the age of three of four, I would not have that much difficulties, since she already knows some fundamentals of learning such as reciting the alphabet, identifying shapes, counting from 1-10, and object names. She stores at least 200 English object names which create a huge jumpstart for any teacher.

It is an inside joke in the family knowing that her grandmother graduated as a cum laude, and her mom was a magna cum laude, then baby Thea Louralei is foreseen to finish as a summa cum laude!

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My sister Dolour’s laugh was contagious. I was immediately drawn to what she was chuckling about — a video on youtube. Ever heard of the “Word of the Lourd?” It is a compilation of video clips by a guy named Lourd, which tackle intriguing and thought-provoking issues, mostly on Philippine patriotism.

One of the videos entitled “Word of the Lourd: Putim” dealt on racial colors: how the Americans love to get tanned and how the Filipinos envy their fair skin.

How ironic. Two nations wanted to switch colors!

Increasing the fact on this irony, interestingly Lourd showed at the near end of the clip, a chocolate bar manufactured in Spain intriguingly named “Filipinos.” The perfect description for Filipinos: brown in the outside; white in the inside.

If we put our thinking caps on and critically think about the logic behind this chocolate, we would probably conclude: yes, we are a representation of this satiric bar of snack. Born brown yet wanting white.

But this is actually not an issue on color alone, the entirety of our individuality and culture seemingly enshrouded by “white” clouds — our thinking; the way we talk, dress, act; the music we listen to, the movies we watch, the food we eat, the places we go to and want to be in.

But what’s wrong with this? Does it hurt?

I have personally witnessed this paradox during my college years in Brigham Young University- Hawaii (BYUH); actually even long before that. This irony on colors has long been alive here in the Philippines, since who-knows-when.

In BYUH, many Americans marry Filipinos: one proof that the true Filipina color and beauty undisputedly magnets the Haoles (as they’re referred to in Hawaii). Definitely a complete compliment; as the attraction is mutual.

More on color concerns, I had this major class in BYUH which centered on the study of international cultures and cultural differences. We had one discussion on racial colors; the same irony on the let’s-switch-colors issue.

I was the one orally reporting on the topic. I went on talking about how Filipinos carry their umbrellas around anywhere they go on a sunny day with the most concern on not spoiling the whitening cream they just rubbed on their faces, necks, and arms, (but even if there’s no such, umbrellas are still tightly hand-gripped). How benches are nowhere to be found in any spot in the Philippines where sunlight could reach. How Filipinos go from buying costly whitening creams to enduring painful peeling effect of astringents; and now, undergoing equally expensive and painstaking surgeries.

Everyone in the class which was 80% American was somewhat amazed; knowing that they themselves would want a chocolate or a mocha tinged skin and yet Filipinos appear to be incubating themselves just to get rid of some melanin.

But there was one statement I blurted out which made me regret saying. I ended my report with “Maybe when I’d come home I would go back under my umbrella.” Then I got negative and disappointed “Ahhh’s” from my classmates. One of them was my sister Dolour who is an advocate of Filipinos’ natural characteristics and culture, including color,language, and hair.

As a pure Filipino, I should’ve acted better, should’ve been prouder of my color specially in a foreign country.

But in general, I have never been prouder of my roots, my color, my language, and everything that makes up my being a Filipino than when I am hundred of miles away from the Philippines.

We are a race of unique and rich culture; home to famed and unsung heroes; hardworking, funloving, godfearing, hospitable, and happy people; land of beauteous natural resources…

Hence, as Filipinos, we should hold our heads high, be righteously proud and close our umbrellas, take off our jackets (except of course with the purpose of avoiding UV rays), and flaunt our beautiful pigment; flaunt our beautiful land and culture; flaunt us, the Filipinos: brown in and out.

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I just came from 7-11, a stone throw away from KSS. My niece was getting bored and so we treated her for some slurpee to which she refers to as “juice”, and some of her favorite peanuts. We found a spot to settle in when my attention was drawn to a noodles and pancit canton rack which says: ” save P2, pay only P9.” I did a quick math. As a frequenter of grocery stores, I know the suggested retail price of different products. If consumers really would save P2 as they pay P9, then a pack of regular pancit canton is P11; as implied by the tag.

I can’t help but call on my sister who was so busy tailing her baby around the store. I mockingly read the label to her and sarcastically asked, “Does a pack of pancit canton cost 11 pesos? It’s P7 something, right?” She nodded with a pout.

Buying one of those will definitely not save anyone two pesos but cost them additional two.

I know convenience stores like 7-11 have higher prices since what they sell is more expensive — convenience. But this is another issue. It’s a clear false advertisement which I always condemn.  Misleading information, ambiguous statements. I always dislike those tactics which obviously show lameness. It’s very obvious. That makes it doubly ridiculous to even post and advertise.

Looking at wikipedia for “false advertisement,” I was surprised to discover a long list of various kinds of this deceptive advertising:

Sale/Inflated Price Comparison

This is a very sly style, wherein advertisers compare the sale price with the “regular” price for the same product. Retailers may inflate the price misleading purchasers that they have saved money, when actually they have not.

Buy one take one

Many are deceived by this kind of propaganda, where products were doubled or even tripled in price. Even if consumers get another product besides the one they intend to purchase, the truth is, they spent the same.

50 % off

I don’t really buy into this kind of advertisement. Just think about it, why would they sell a product still in a good condition half the price?

If I came across one of these huge posters that says “50% off” I always take a peek at the tag. Most often than not, I observe the tags appear to be very new. I suspect that before putting the product on a discount as huge as half the price, they increased or even doubled the price; making buyers pay for the same price without the discount.

Two days ago, I accompanied my sister in buying a pair of pants and shoes. She saw a pair of black step-in marked “50 %” off. An old white tag was shrouded by a green one that says “P400.” My sister thought since it was for half the price, she’d pay P200. Later, after deciding that she’d purchase it,  she was told that the regular price was “P800″ instead. I wasn’t convinced it was for that much as I suspiciously inspect the quality of the shoe wear. It was obvious, surely not durable. Not seated on a nice, shiny glass shelf (which may imply that a product worth a huge deal). It was just thrown into a huge rectangular box.  It wasn’t even of a good and famed brand.

But since she needed it urgently and she can’t afford to spend another two long hours of searching for a pair of her size, she eventually bought it.

They’re playing it smart with buyers, but that’s definitely not smart enough.

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Blue or Pink?

We’re tres marias. My husband Khristopher has five sisters. Girls rule (with nine girls) in my Mommy’s side. Girls also outnumbered the boys in Daddy’s family. My in-laws already have two granddaughters and a grandson. A baby girl adorns my parents’ grandparenthood.

Obviously, we are a family of XX chromosomes! It’s no wonder why both our families (my husband’s and mine) hope for a baby boy.

Long before our marriage, we’ve already had those what-to-name-our-future-kids and how-many-kids-you-want talks. He convicted he wanted his first born a boy; a junior at that — another Khristopher. I begged to disagree. With a positive purpose though. A cheesy one — I want him to be the one and only Khristopher in my life. Contrary to what he thinks: that I don’t like his name.

On the other hand, people who notice how pretty I carry my extra pounds and my bulge can’t help but insist I am having a girl. Mommy & Daddy observed it as well, they stated, “Looks like it’s a girl again.” Some meticulously examined the shape of my belly. Pointed or round? Another queerly studied my nose and concluded that a baby girl is on the way. Others took a peek on my neck. Is it darkening? How about my underarms? Do I look more masculine or feminine?

So it is blue or a pink? A toy train or a barbie doll? An XX or an XY?

To cut the suspense, I underwent ultrasound yesterday afternoon at 3:20. Dra. Chuson showed and explained, one by one, the baby’s brain, heart beating at 147, rail-like spinal column, legs, shoulders, nostrils with no signs of cleft palette; measuring every part — from head to toe. It was amazing how she said the baby is “chewing.” The silhouette of its face astonished me. Beholding the form of its head kept me in awe. I could just imagine how my husband quietly flashed his big smile. It slipped my head to take a glance on his reactions as my attention was pasted on the screen. It would’ve been another amazement.

“How about its gender doc?” he excitingly butted in.

Scrolling down between the legs, pointing the cursor to a flat surface emphasizing a distinct line, she surely uttered, “It’s a baby girl!”

Way before this official declaration, my motherly instincts were already at work. I had this in depth yet unsure feelings of cradling a girl inside of me. Perhaps that was the reason why as early as the second month of pregnancy, I looked for my Mommy’s Hawaiian-English dictionary; literally browsed each page; knitted some two to three words pleasing to the Filipino ear; and came up with a considerably, nice-sounding Hawaiian wahine (girl) name.

My husband, in a couple of times was tempted (but denied) to put his hopes high for a Khristopher Jr. Yet certainly, both our prayers contained hopes for a healthy, normal, and strong baby leaving behind the least thought of preferring a boy.

Now buying blue boots and bibs or pink panties is definitely out of the question. Besides, having a baby is already an extreme blessing and a bliss, more so a healthy and normal one. Requesting for a boy instead, is too much and unnecessary.

Khristopher and I couldn’t wait for the coming of our baby girl. Pink ribbons, lacy hats, butterflies and sunflowers, cute knickknacks. Can’t wait.

That night he, as usual, spoke to the baby in my tummy telling her how happy we were to find out she is a girl.

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