How about a rice field art in the Philippines?
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 TerracesIt 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).
Rice fields in the Philippines
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!
Thea Louralei’s 2nd Birthday
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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“Filipinos” chocolate
This is very interesting.
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, fun-loving, god-fearing, 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.
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: filipino chocolate, filipinos chocolate
Not Smart Enough
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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An XX or an XY?
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.
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: pregnancy, pregnant
The Figure of Freedom
(Feature Story: Descriptive )
Yellow ribbons hug every post. Patriotic songs linger the air waves. Even Dawn’s “Tie a Yellow Ribbon…” comes to life. The Arm Forces of the Philippines (AFP) offers a Volley of Fire. Eight canon balls continuously blasting; one every thirty minutes until sunset. Philippine flags, half mast. Tears flood the nation. (descriptive lead)
The world-wide democratic icon just passed away.
Not just the Filipino people mourn but the whole world grieves upon the passing of former president Cory Aquino after an excruciating and long, one-year-and-four-month fight against colon cancer — a battle she failed to win.
Today August 1, at exactly 3:18 a.m. marked Cory’s last gasp of air due to a cardio respiratory arrest.
***
My eyes were glued for about two and a half hours at the early morning news over GMA’s special coverage report, “Salamat Cory.”
Ninoy & Cory's Marriage
Never-before-seen pictures of Cory flashed on the screen, from her high school years in Philadelphia, to her marriage with Ninoy.
The Cojuangco Siblings
The Aquino family’s portraits yellowed by years adorned the TV monitor. Nonstop phone and personal interviews of various political figures. Noynoy Aquino’s announcement of her mother’s death. Brief interview on Boy Abunda, one of the Aquino’s close friends who told the media how peaceful and emotion-filled the last minutes of Cory’s life were — her five children huddled around the bed, hand-in-hand prayed the rosary.
As Virna Lisa’s “Magkaisa” played together with a VTR of the People Power Revolution of 1986, my tears started to build up; my throat tightened.
Nuns were on their knees with huge fighter tanks on their faces; grasping their holy rosaries. Civilians were offering flower garlands and food to heavily armed military officers, as the revolution counted three days. A heart-swelling site! Thousands of people mobbed the EDSA Shrine for their raging cry for freedom, armed only with posters, flags, and prayers. Our three-stared flag with a sun tirelessly fluttered by freedom-hungry Pinoys. Aquino’s brevity equally exuded. 
On the other hand, on a live interview with Winnie Monsod by Arnold Clavio and Vicky Morales at the said morning news, she storied her favorite analogy about Cory: At Cory’s disputable defeat on the snap election in Feb. 7, 1986, where at first, she was reluctant to join into, believing she was unjustly served at the election, she proposed for the need of a revolution. Her advisers were afraid for her and the possibilities of such. They strongly suggested to launch the rally anywhere but in Luneta. They might not pack the place with people; they were extremely anxious it could just end up a failure. But Cory said with conviction, as quoted by Mareng Winnie — “If the Filipino people really support me, I want to know now.” An undefeated courage, and an unfailing faith. Then indeed, came Feb. 22, thousands of people joined the rally with a blazing desire for democracy.
![edsa2[1]](http://www.servitokss.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/edsa21-300x186.jpg "edsa2[1]")
In an interview with Jessica Soho taped last 2008, she uttered as a response to the reporter’s question, that one the highlights of her regime was during her attendance and speech at the US Congress in 1987. She was welcomed with an astounding standing ovation from US leaders and political figures. I could clearly quote one of the best lines she released with conviction: “You (referring to the US as a whole) have spent so many lives and treasures in giving freedom to some nations who were reluctant to receive it; but here you have people (referring to the Filipino people) who won it by themselves…” (referring to the peaceful victory of the People Power I). What a huge honor for the Filipinos.
yellow rose for Cory
Speaking about her fight against the deadly disease, she related she was overwhelmingly touched by people, even by those unknown to her, who sent cards, flowers and love notes; making her wonder, “What have I done to these people that they support me all the way?” What a very humble heart!
Cory's yellow glow!
On a separate instance, the yellow-clad lady said that if she were to die, she is a bit luckier than her husband for she was given the chance to behold and know how many people treasure, love, and support her; comparing Ninoy’s death procession wherein two million Filipinos showed up and crowded the streets, yet he never get to see the soul stirring site of pouring love and support!
At the conclusion of her interview she expressed her gratitude to the nation for their support and conveyed that it is her sincere privilege to be born a Filipino. How proud she was to be one!
Paradoxically, as a full-blooded Pinoy for 26 long years, I never wholly realized how vital and monumental Aquino’s contributions to the Filipinos were — until just this morning, the dawn of her death. I was just three years old when the revolution, the great bloodless fight for freedom erupted. How I hope I was mature enough that time to realize the significance of that blessed day, able enough to understand and feel I am a free Filipino, old enough to appreciate and express gratitude to those people instrumental in attaining liberty. One of those heroes was Cory herself; once sorrowful, crying widow turned fearless freedom fighter, continuing his late husband’s halted quest of unlocking the fetter of dictatorship.
After my BYUH experience, I have not yet again felt such a burning bosom triggered by pure patriotism until this morning.
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My Pregnancy: 2nd Trimester
At 5 months
My clothes won’t fit me; maternity dresses were too big for me. I had nothing to wear; left me frustrated.
My bulge began to show; people stared at it and I wasn’t used to it, I wore a jacket. Awkward.
Back and joint pains were killing me; I can’t sleep on my back nor on my belly; not used to sleeping on my sides. I was deprived of good night Z’s.
My hands and feet were beginning to swell; my sister exclaimed I had huge thighs and feet bigger than my husband’s –to which I crisply disagreed!
July 2009
I had puffed cheeks which came from either eating or swelling. My hands weren’t spared; my wedding ring stuck in my finger.
With my husband Khristopher (puffed up cheeks at 5 1/2 months)
Occasional headaches doubled my anxiety.
I was constipated but ironically advised not to push hard.
I had hearty appetite; made me gain close to 20 pounds! I felt like consuming twice my regular meal. My weight gain though, delighted my friends saying it fits me better than walking all-bones.
Since voraciousness seemed to satisfyingly haunt me; heartburn and breathlessness frequented me.
At 5 1/2 months
My abdomen began to itch like ants infesting it; and scratching was a no-no. At times I just can’t fight the strong urge to run my nails up and down my belly.
My navel amusingly started to protrude. It’s funny how cleaning became easier.
But one of the worse parts of the second trimester came to me at midnight of July 21 when I suddenly woke up howling in pain. My husband, from his deep sleep frantically got up shocked and confused. I yelled “cramps!” tapping on my right foot which I couldn’t move. A slight one tripled the sting.
My screams and cries got him carried away, he didn’t know what to do. Without any tinge of exaggeration, the bawling didn’t stop for about 20 seconds I could hardly catch up my breath. Until after few more seconds, the pain naturally subsided; I had a huge exhale of relief it immediately put me back to sleep. It was my first leg cramps in my entire 26 years of existence!
In the morning while recalling what happened that night. He said he was trying to do some stretching with my feet like how he does on his basketball games. Unfortunately, he did it with my left foot instead. That night I didn’t notice at all that he was doing such with my left foot, because all my attention was drawn to my suffering right foot!
Notice my weight gain.
I know these cramps were of no match to the natural pains I would undergo on actual labor and delivery day. I just can’t barely imagine how painful it would be when a simple right leg cramp already kept me hysterical!
Above all, one of the best parts of the second trimester was the awaited fetal movements. It was amazing; it’s like tiny bubbles bursting inside me; like bouncing butterflies. My husband envied and at times pretended he felt the baby punch or kick. Then came July 16; the baby was actively playing and poking my intestines. I grabbed my husband’s hand, pressed it against my abdomen. After a few minutes of waiting and searching for the right spot he shouted an abrupt, airy, and long “ooohhhhhhhh….” He finally had his, I should say, first communication with our baby– a priceless feeling!
See my baby? (at 6 months)
The 6th month was also worth anticipating, as this is the usual time for undergoing ultrasound. One more week and we’ll learn if our baby’s a girl or a boy.
Proud of my tummy at 6 months
Another superb feeling on the 4th to the 6th months is the emotional acceptance of pregnancy. I finally felt one with my baby. I could already proudly parade my tummy’s shape with the least thought of people staring at it; awkward feelings faded. I was already soaked into the reality of a baby, our baby, growing in me. My feelings had finally intertwined with the truth of cradling, in three more months, an angel my husband was talking to and giving kisses every morning and every night — a heart melting site for me.
Can't wait for him/her to come out.
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: discomforts of pregnancy, feature, knowledge, learning, pregnancy, pregnant
My Pregnancy: 1st Trimester
No morning sickness. No dizziness. No nausea. My practitioner said, “Good for you.”
Indeed; it was a blessing. No early and unwanted signs of the first trimester.
I wanted and needed to work. Otherwise I’ll be as bedridden, immobilized, and could possibly be hospitalized as how my Mother was when she was conceiving me.
Those were also some of the reasons why we didn’t find out at once about my pregnancy until one month after conceiving.
Recalling the first 30 days I got pregnant but unaware of it, I could point out signs; yet subtle ones. . I always got so heavy headed; I can’t help but sleep. I am a natural sleepy bear; but those yawns were simply irresistible. I also craved for my student’s Kelogg’s, strawberry-sprinkled, rice crispies snack; I ate four. How queer; I don’t usually ask for my students’ snacks. In another instance, the same student was merrily munching this circular Filipino delicacy showered with peanuts on top (I don’t know exactly what it’s called) when I asked him to buy me one from the puto (rice cake) stalls. Later I realized the irony: the person who bought me my first craving for my first baby was my student, instead of my husband! Funny.
My emotions, as well, got the most of me. It was a bit unusually intolerable.
After the memorable day of finding out about our baby, more symptoms and discomforts came mushrooming.
Cravings became stronger. Mine though were not like those odd and hilarious stories of some who’d ask their husbands for an order of KFC fried chicken in the middle of the night, and with much accuracy; or ask for a freshly-picked mango in a December afternoon, like how my Mommy compelled Daddy; not to mention, it should be his own hands who’ll pick the mangoes. She even desired for a roasted wild bird from the rice fields. The hunter should and must be no other than my Daddy. To relate the brief and amusing story: he went to the rice fields with an air gun, headed home with a lifeless wild bird, held upside down on its cold feet and immediately grilled it; the smoke kept my mother salivating; more so when she ate it. She even described it with many M’s — mmmmmmasarap (delicious). All the while she thought Daddy really did the sharp, skilled shooting; but the fact is: he bought the bird! My mom just learned about it years later.
I also didn’t demand for a refrigerator, a karaoke, a cushioned bed, or a house and lot, and if request is ungranted, I’d bleed, or even undergo miscarriage – the thing my husband was very anxious about. He even warned me with a shaking head about such behavior.
The least things I asked from him were sopas (chicken soup), chicharon, french fries and Jam Sweet Jam spaghetti. Nothing super specific. Nothing deadly demanding. Nothing surprisingly strange. These were not because of my husband’s warning nor did I prefer to; it all came naturally.
People frequently commented that my pregnancy is not maselan (crucial). But I still took unsolicited advice on taking extra care during the 1st three months since it’s the most critical stage. Almost all my moves were calculated; my husband gave me extra nursing; almost pampered me.
At one and a half months, no obvious tummy yet. (March 26, 2009)
The physical changes, too, are worth note taking.
My tummy was not yet that conspicuous, I could still camouflage it under baggy shirts and loose tops. But my slight weight gain was noticeable, being naturally skinny. A beige line ran down my abdomen. Suprisingly, my hair became darker and grew faster; my face got the luxury of clearer, zit-free skin people noticed it. They said I will be expecting a girl having this sort of pregnancy glow, which I didn’t really take seriously. Fatigue naturally didn’t spare me. Though I didn’t actually do any exasperating activities; my body was so exhausted, so withered. “What to expect when you’re expecting,” answered that unusual feeling: even though my outside body is not exerting much effort, my insides were busy and often got worn out building and producing my baby’s cradle within me — the placenta, amniotic fluid and what-not.
Emotionally, I was also in a whirlpool or caught in a cyclone!
During the second month, in spite of the confirmation from a disposable pregnancy test and from my doctor; I still had some skepticism. I was yet emotionally detached to the fact that I am a mom-to-be; that another heart beats inside of me.
I just didn’t cry, I howled over petty things; my husband would complain.
I was also so anxious I might make a wrong move and lose the baby. A slight jerk worried me. Bumps on the road made me lift my butt off the seat. The irony is: I ride on my husband’s two-wheeled vehicle, the thing which many people worry about especially my parents.
I was close to being paranoid.
At three months, I was so impatient, I want the baby already cradled in my arms; but fortunately reading pregnancy books really helped me overcome those emotional roller coaster.
This is my online journal entry on my baby’s first three months of life; and my experiences with him/her. 
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: English speaking, feature writing, interesting, ironic, Journalism, Journalist, knowledge, learning, pregnancy
I Miss You My Hawaii
My favorite trio
This is one of my favorite Hawaiian songs ever. It was sang and performed by the Hawaiian trio Na Leo Pilimehana; and this was their number one song; the most famous one, released in 2000.
NA LEO PILIMEHANA, which in Hawaiian means the voices blending together in warmth, is the most popular, most award-winning and biggest selling female Hawaiian group in the World. Na Leo consists of three childhood friends, Nalani Choy, Lehua Kalima Heine and Angela Morales. These three Hawaiian women run their own record label; compose, write lyrics, record and perform music; they do volunteer work; play sports and they’re moms and wives. They are real women with real lives sticking close to their ideals and putting their friendship first. (source: www.naleo.net)
(left) Angela Morales, (right) Nalani Choy (bottom), and Lehua Heine
The song was composed by an uncle during the time when his niece moved away from Hawaii to pursue college. She wrote his uncle saying how she missed the islands; and the words in the song expressed how she long for Hawaii.
Whenever I hear the song, I get extremely nostalgic on going back to Hawaii. I hope someday I could visit the islands again, bringing along with me my husband and my family.
We performed a hula dance with the tune of “I Miss You My Hawaii” during the RYSA in 2007; and I can’t get enough, I wanted to sway some more; I wanted to tell more of the stories with my hands and hips, on how I feel wistful about Hawaii. The song really conveys the mystic enveloping the Aloha islands, you just can’t help but long for it.
Na Leo Pilimehana
I Miss You, My Hawaii
By: Na Leo Pilimehana
I. I hear the wind traveling down the Koalou
It touches my skin and makes me think of
how much I miss you, my Hawaii
I breathe the fragrance of the yellow ginger lei
I look inside myself to find the words to say
How much I miss you, my Hawaii
CHORUS:
Everytime I stop to watch the moon dance
across the early evening sky
Everytime I hear a country tune I can see the
shores of Wai’ani
Everytime I listen to my heart telling me it longs
to go back home
And it makes me want to
Cause I miss you, my Hawaii
II. I catch the glimmer of your face across the sky
I watch the setting sun and I begin to cry
Because I miss you, my Hawaii
I rest my head upon the sands of Waikiki
I close my eyes and I hear you calling me
How I miss you, my Hawaii
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: English proficiency, English speaking, feature writing, Hawaii, knowledge, learning
Things I miss about Hawaii
They say that at the end of a rainbow rests a pot of gold.
It was only in Hawaii where I have seen the literal end of those mysterious bows of colors. It was morning when I was strolling down the campus of BYUH when transparent rows of colors rested upon the green leaves of a petite coconut tree; almost kissing the ground. I didn’t see any pot of gold. Yet the fact that I have actually saw something close to a myth –that is the end of a rainbow; for me is more than beholding a pot of gold! To add to the mystic of Hawaiian rainbows, I am equally amazed on how one is reflected by another; “double rainbows,” to be exact. Yes. Surprisingly, those perfect bows across the Hawaiian sky were at times come with another, equally exquisite!
More so, Aloha rainbows are never aloof. In a day, one could see at least two to three rainbows! How adorable and magical they are!
The miss the rain showers of Hawaii.
One night on my way to Hale 5 (women’s dormitory) from an exhausting day at work, I was welcomed by rain showers, so fine it waltzed with the wind! I then raised my head up and allowed the shower tickle my tired face. It’s like pure, wet silk gently wiping my forehead down to my chin — a relaxing, very calming experience I long to feel again.
I miss clipping a flower on my right ear.
Flowers are a huge part of the Hawaiian culture and identity. On an ordinary day, ladies, married or not walk around with a flower on their ear; be it as big as a hibiscus (gumamela, Hawaii’s state flower) or as simple as a plumeria (calachuchi) and a gardenia (rosal). Even the buds of a ginger flower (camia) adorn and accentuate their long, wavy hair.
Flower on the right ear means you’re single or “available.” Flower on the left, convey you are “taken” or married. If I may get the chance to visit Hawaii again, mine would be on my left ear.
I miss the flower leis of Hawaii.
August 15, 2002 was my first day in Hawaii. Landing at the Honolulu International Airport, I was welcomed with flowers leis embellishing my neck. The most leis I received however was during my graduation in June 15, 2005; it almost drowned my face. I also received leis from friends and my sister Dolour yearly during my birthday.
Offering leis mean many things; it could mean a warm welcome, a bubbly birthday greeting, a great gratitude, a crowning congratulations, a friendly farewell, or an expression of lasting love. This is indeed a very beautiful Hawaiian tradition very nostalgic.
I miss the 8-lane highways of Hawaii.
With an everyday traffic jam in almost anywhere in the Philippines; there’ll be no wonder why something as simple as a highway is worth-longing for.
Travelling is no hustle. In my three-year stay in Hawaii, I had no experience of being caught helpless in a car-clogged road. In addition to the ease they bring to trekkers, the mesmerizing mountains on the right and the blue beaches on the left, doubles the comfort of travellers.
I miss the “shaka” Hawaiian style.
The hand-flashing showing only the little finger and the thumb, commonly shown as “shaka,” has a funny story to tell. In a small show at the Hukilau beach, purposed to raise funds, showcased a role-playing on a historical event – the unifying of the Hawaiian islands.
The fisherman portraying King Kamehameha kept waving at the crowd. The giggling people answered with a sarcastic wave showing only their little finger and thumb, unknowing of the tragic, equally amusing experience behind it. While fishing, a shark literally tore off three of his fingers leaving only his first and fifth fingers! That clearly explains the y-shaped gesture.
I miss the sea breeze of Hawaii.
BYUH lies a few yards away from the seashore; and you can really smell and feel the fresh, soothing sea breeze; and even if the sun is up and shining, the feeling doesn’t go near bad; amazingly it augments the rejuvenating sensation. It’s ironic because my past experiences (in the Philippines) with sea breeze coupled with the pricking sun rays equals to an icky, sweaty feeling. It queries me because obviously, we have the same sun and yet the feelings vary.
I miss The Bus of Hawaii.
I miss everything about The Bus (Hawaii’s public transportation) but the smell and the motion sickness it brought me – not to mention my unpleasing experiences light-headed.
The travelling system is very profound, not to mention how highly sophisticated those yellow, wheeled boxes are! Forgive my being almost naive but I am amazed by the electronic box that swallowed up my one-dollar fare (be sure to bring an exact amount; it doesn’t give change); I am impressed by how it specifically announced names of places it passed by – “Kamehameha,” “Ala Moana Boulevard,” “BYU,” and so on. The robotic, close-to-human voice of the bus still runs through my head. I am also pretty astonished by the way you say “para.” Actually you don’t have to utter a word to make a stop. But if you need to, you just have to pull the silver wire lined against the huge windows then the voice would say “stop requested,” with the words written in red on the rectangular screen positioned atop the bus operator’s head.
I miss the Hawaiian beaches.
You may refer to my previous blog dated July__ , and you’ll learn why I miss the beaches of Hawaii.
I miss the Aloha spirit.
I miss the rainbows of Hawaii.
They say that at the end of a rainbow rests a pot of gold.
Pay closer attentionto the 2nd bow, a bit faint yet equally exquisite!
It was only in Hawaii where I have seen the literal end of those mysterious bows of colors. It was morning when I was strolling down the campus of BYUH when colorful and transparent stripes rested upon the green leaves of a petite coconut tree; almost kissing the ground. I didn’t see any pot of gold.
Notice the subtle, 2nd bow.
Yet the fact that I have actually saw something close to a myth –that is the end of a rainbow; for me is more than beholding a pot of gold! To add to the mystic of Hawaiian rainbows, I am equally amazed on how one is reflected by another; “double rainbows,” to be exact. Surprisingly, those perfect bows across the Hawaiian sky at times come with another, equally exquisite! More so, Aloha rainbows are never aloof. In a day, one could see at least two to three rainbows! How adorable and magical they are!
The miss the rain showers of Hawaii.
Rainshowers waltzing with the wind
One night on my way to Hale 5 (women’s dormitory) from an exhausting day at work, I was welcomed by rain showers, so fine it waltzed with the wind! I then raised my head up and allowed the shower tickle my tired face. It’s like pure, wet silk gently wiping my forehead down to my chin — a relaxing, very calming experience I long to feel again.
I miss clipping a flower on my ear.
white plumeria on my right ear
Flowers are a huge part of the Hawaiian culture and identity. On an ordinary day, ladies, married or not, walk around with a flower on their ear; be it as big as a hibiscus (gumamela, Hawaii’s state flower) or as simple as a plumeria (calachuchi) and a gardenia (rosal). Even the buds of a ginger flower (camia) adorn and accentuate their long, wavy hair.
Flower on the right ear means you’re single or “available.” Flower on the left, conveys you are “taken” or married. If I may get the chance to visit Hawaii again, mine would be on my left ear.
I miss the flower leis of Hawaii.
June 15,2005 BYUH Graduation (with sister Dolour) I love the leis and the haku!
August 15, 2002 was my first day in Hawaii. Landing at the Honolulu International Airport, I was welcomed with flower leis embellishing my neck. The most leis I received however was during my graduation in June 15, 2005; it almost drowned my face. I also received leis from friends and my sister Dolour yearly during my birthday.
Offering leis means many things; it could mean a warm welcome, a bubbly birthday greeting, a great gratitude, a crowning congratulations, a friendly farewell, or an expression of lasting love. This is indeed a very beautiful Hawaiian tradition very nostalgic.
I miss the Hawaiian hula.
hula dancing for my husband on our wedding day
The first day I got to watch a live Hawaiian wahine (woman) dancing hula was during our freshman orientation at BYUH; I still clearly remember, it was by the Banyan Tree in front of Hale 1. She was dressed in a beautiful flowery dress; she had her hair tied in a bun with a smile stamped on her equally pretty face; and of course hips that were smoothly swinging like fine golden lace. She swayed so effortlessly, mesmerizing the crowd.
Dancing the enchanting hula, on the other hand is a very relaxing and love-filled experience. The hips and the hands tell a story; most of the time, a story of love. On my wedding day, I conveyed my Aloha to my husband in the form of a hula; dancing to the tune of ”Love and Honesty;” a song I really love. That was the most memorable; the sweetest hula I ever did.
I miss the 8-lane express ways of Hawaii.
With an everyday traffic jam in almost anywhere in the Philippines; there’ll be no wonder why something as simple as a highway is worth-longing for.
Travelling is no hustle. In my three-year stay in Hawaii, I had no experience of being caught helpless in a car-clogged road. In addition to the ease they bring to trekkers, the mesmerizing mountains on the right and the blue beaches on the left, double the comfort of travellers.
I miss the “shaka” Hawaiian style.
"shaka" local Hawaiian style
The hand-flashing showing only the little finger and the thumb, commonly known as “shaka,” has a brief and funny story to tell: a show at the Hukilau beach, purposed to raise funds, showcased a role-playing on a historical event – the unifying of the Hawaiian islands.
The fisherman portraying King Kamehameha kept waving at the crowd. The giggling people answered back with a sarcastic wave showing only their little finger and thumb, unknowing of the tragic, equally amusing experience behind it– while fishing, a shark literally tore off three of his fingers leaving only his pinky and the pointer fingers! That clearly explains the y-shaped gesture.
I miss The Bus of Hawaii.
The Bus of Hawaii
I miss everything about The Bus (Hawaii’s public transportation) but the smell and the motion sickness it brought me – not to mention my unpleasing experiences being light-headed.
The travelling system is very profound, not to mention how highly sophisticated those yellow, wheeled boxes are! Forgive my being almost naive but I am amazed by the electronic box that swallowed up my one-dollar fare (be sure to bring an exact amount; it doesn’t give change); I am impressed by how The Bus specifically announced names of places it passed by – “Kamehameha,” “Ala Moana Boulevard,” “BYU,” and so on. The robotic, close-to-human voice still runs through my head. I am also pretty astonished by the way you say “para.” Actually you don’t have to utter a word to make a stop. But if you need to, you just have to pull the silver wire lined against the huge windows then the voice would say “ting! stop requested,” with the words written in red on the rectangular digital screen positioned atop the bus operator’s head.
I miss the sea breeze of Hawaii.
Feel the Hawaiian Sea Breeze
BYUH lies a few yards away from the seashore; and you can really smell and feel the fresh, soothing sea breeze; and even if the sun is up and shining, the feeling doesn’t go near bad; amazingly it augments the rejuvenating sensation. It’s ironic because my past experiences (in the Philippines) with sea breeze coupled with the pricking sun rays equaled to an icky, sweaty feeling. It queries me because obviously, we have the same sun and yet the feeling is different.
I miss the Hawaiian beaches.
You may refer to my previous blogs and you’ll learn why I miss the waves and beaches of Hawaii.
I miss the Aloha spirit.
“Aloha”to Hawaiian means many things; it could be as simple as a “hello,or “welcome;” it could be a “farewell” and itcould be as deep as an “i loveyou.” These are the things “Aloha” is famous for; but I learned that this sweet five-letter word means more than a greeting; even more than an expression of love — the “Ha” in it means “the breath of life.” “Aloha” is more than a mere word or a simple greeting. It is love; it is life, it is also the spirit of a supreme being. It may be referred to as charity, the pure love of Christ. It is indeed a very meaningful, sacred word for the Hawaiian people.
It is at times inexplicable; but for those who have come to Hawaii and experienced it; they share the same feeling of nostalgia; they long for the Aloha spirit. I hope it would stay thriving in me and radiating it though I am away from Hawaii.
Categories: CHIT-chats Tags: BYUH, English speaking, feature writing, Hawaii, knowledge, learning