Intermission Number

I can still recall when I was a second grader at the University of Nueva Caceres (UNC) during the Linggo ng Wika celebration in 1990, my class adviser, Ma’am Fe Valenciano, asked me to give an intermission number in our class. I could not say, “No” to my teacher who even informed my mother, a teacher in the secondary level of the same school, about it. So that night, my mother coached me in singing Isang Lahi, which was probably the only song I memorized at that time because it was one of Manay Cynthia’s, my elder sister, contest pieces. The next day, I sang in front of my classmates in a small class program. Then, Ma’am Fe brought me and other older students to Aling Sonia’s program at Bombo Radyo to sing on-air. AM radio-listening was a popular means of entertainment at that time, so many of our neighbors and relatives heard me sing.

That was my earliest moment of inspiration, the first time that someone other than my parents saw some potential in me and gave me a “break.” In my next opportunity to sing, I faced a big crowd at the UNC Gymnasium comprised of the school community and the Naga City general public during that year’s Founder’s Day outreach. Even today, twenty-three years later, my mind can still replay the memory of that time when I crooned The Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody,” which was a hit movie soundtrack that year. While I sang, the crowd applauded three times, especially when I reached the second to the last line which goes, “I need your love...”  In my very limited appreciation then of the word “inspiration,” that moment was what totally defined it.

Before this important point in my very young life, I did not know that I could sing. I was first labeled as paraadal and magpapadion but not parakanta. It was Manay Cynthia, my elder sister who used to be the singer in the family – that is, before the time of my “discovery.” She spent a significant part of her childhood years singing at every pageant and baraylehan in Brgy. Lerma, where we lived, and joining singing contests during town fiestas. I even remember how one time, Mama and she came home with a bag full of groceries as a prize for her having won in Dalan sa Kalangitan, a popular amateur contest then.

I was a “regular” elementary student. I barely managed to make it to the ‘Challengers list’ and never made it to the Top 10. So I tried to be the best instead in the field that I just found: singing. I was inspired and, at the same time, pressured by my teachers to memorize songs which were usually Mama’s choices namely, those of Basil Valdez, Rey Valera, Martin Nievera. I practiced hard in our old Astron karaoke, which slowly became my constant companion. Mama trained me in singing with the same zeal with which she trained her students in speech delivery. She would be very meticulous with how I enunciated every lyric of the song, how I positioned my hand so as to keep proper distance between this and the microphone, and how I projected myself on stage. Many times, our training sessions ended up with her scolding me as I always forgot the lyrics. That would be her cue to tell me to memorize my song first so she could use our karaoke and sing her favorite Blue Bayou.

From Grade 2 to 6, I sang in many other venues and occasions in and out of campus – from singing Ako ay Pilipino during flag ceremony to serenading ladies who were ten years older than I in pageants at the auditorium of then Colegio de Sta. Isabel. I joined the combined UNC college and elementary choirs, which performed Bikol songs in events like the Caceres Quadricentennial concert at the Metropolitan Cathedral in 1995. I joined a few contests as well. I still keep a copy of one issue of “Children’s World,” the elementary department’s paper, where my photo as I sang my winning piece “Nais Ko” appeared.

It was my younger sister Sweet who was somehow influenced by Manay Cynthia to enter in singing competitions. There was a time when she joined PTV 5’s “A Star” and became a defending champion for three weeks with her winning pieces I Dreamed a Dream and Cabaret. Sweet became our instant favorite singer in the family because of her confidence when performing and her Zsazsa Padilla-like vibrato.

Our youngest, John Rudolf, found interest in dancing first. When he was about five years old, he did a solo dance of the Extasy Extano, which easily roused the crowd at Lerma basketball court to exhilaration because of his kolokoy movements. But as soon as he entered grade school in UNC, his teachers expected him, simply by virtue of his being a Virtus, to sing like his brother and sisters. And so he did. His entry to our little musical world made us officially the singing family on campus.

Our motivation behind singing was not just family or school pressure but our personal desire to sing as well. In fact, it became a regular habit and an opportunity for bonding for the family to do “karaoke” singing during weekends. And when Papa had visitors, it became a practice for them (the visitors) to call us one by one and sing for them. As if on cue, we would proceed to do so like a ready multiplex ready to be played: Manay Cynthia would sing Hiram; I would sing Nais ko; Sweet would do Cabaret; and John, Father and Son. Unfailingly, the visitors would express their appreciation for our performances and tell my proud parents, “Swertehon man kamo. Matitibay magkanta ang mga aki nindo.”

As I entered high school, I started to feel awkward in singing solo. That was also the time when I wanted to explore my other potentials and pursue other interests that did not involve a huge, visible audience. I joined “Trailblazer,” the UNC high school paper, where I could not see my audience as I wrote news stories, features and poems. I did elocution and oratorical speaking, which involved smaller audiences. In these areas, I found new niches. I was not just singing the way I mostly did in elementary. I was also writing and speaking! I expanded my horizons and grew as a student and as a person even though doing intermission numbers was still part of my routine. In fact, one of my favorite performances in high school was a duet with Manay Cynthia of the song One Sweet Day. We did this song twice in UNC and once in a radio contest in DWOK FM.

One of the best things that happened to me in high school was becoming part of the UNC High School “Choralaires.”  Manay Cynthia and I joined the choir at the same time. Later, when we both were already in college, Sweet and John became part of the choir, too. Ma’am Quennie Miranda was our ever supportive trainer and friend. It was through her also that we became members of the “Voce Christiana,” a church choir which became active in the 90’s until the mid-2000. We served with the mass choir at the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral every Saturday evening and during the Siete Palabras mass. We also sang during different occasions – weddings, funerals and Christmas caroling.

I can still remember my last two performances during my final year in high school: a quartet singing of When I Fall in Love and If I Could Spend my Lifetime Loving You at the Senior’s Prom, and a solo of Here I am Lord during the baccalaureate mass before the graduation rites.

Those were just about the last times I sang in public. When I went to Manila to study, I practically left singing at home. I did try joining a school choir, the “UP Vocal Ensemble,” but I had to leave it because of its great demands for rehearsals. Even when I returned to Naga to continue my college and get a job, singing did not have a place in my extra-curricular activities anymore. I was invited by Ma’am Queenie to return to the “Voce Christiana” in their parish now, the Holy Cross Parish in Tabuco, Naga City, but I just ignored the invitation. As such, without any venue to regularly practice for the last fourteen years, my voice naturally deteriorated. This fact makes me feel guilty sometimes as I recall what my parents used to tell me about singing, “Dai mo pabayaan ang boses mo ta regalo ‘yan.”

My participation in the “Ship for Southeast Asian Youth Program” (SSEAYP) as diplomatic and cultural ambassador evoked my childhood memories as I had to contribute something to the Philippine delegation’s cultural presentation. I could not dance, so I joined our choir. Indeed, the experience gave me a sense of fulfillment as I led our contingent’s choir in singing the nationalistic songs Bayan Ko and provided support in rendering Tagumpay Nating Lahat and Ako ay Pilipino in Manila and Japan. During the program abroad, I also initiated the formation of a ‘boy band’, The Vending Machine, which performed three times on board the ship “Fuji Maru.” Those performances were not only some of my proudest moments as a Filipino, but they were also a dream-come-true for me to sing again.

Looking back to where the exciting part of my life started, I can say that I was never the same again after those moments of inspiration in my second grade. Not only did this event launch my little singing ‘career’ during my ten-year basic education years and give me bragging rights and colorful childhood memories. More importantly, the experiences it eventually afforded also gave me a positive self-image and precedents that showed me how I could later succeed in my other endeavors. Indeed, those times have had great impact on me and my life during all the subsequent years up to the present time. In my memory, I still continue to hear a young boy with a determined voice singing while dreaming: Nais kong malibot ang mundo sa kanyang kasuluk-sulukan/ Nais kong makita ang paligid na puno ng kagandahan/ Nais kong makadama ng kakaibang damdamin kahit minsan man lang/habang ako ay may buhay, wala nang hangarin pang tunay/ Nais ko… nais ko…

Hopes of Hamoraon

The sky and sea were grey, separated by a deeper shade of grey, when I sat on the edge of a long bench made of hamoraon that lay outside a house in ruins facing the Ragay Gulf. A weak intensity of orange crawled behind Itangon on the far left end of the beach while the rest of the sky turned pale blue. On the left end of this appeared the different shades of grey: Bagaposo, Bical, Daruanak and Sarimao. Amidst the changing colors of the sky, the February full moon still hung, undeterred by the sun about to rise from the other side. Below the moon and the sky was the most tranquil sea I had ever seen. Its tranquility calmed my heart and spirit after some days of hard work and stress.

The sun had risen, commencing my second day in Hamoraon, the farthest barangay in Minalabac from the city. I went there for the community immersion of freshmen students of Ateneo as volunteer-assistant to NSTP teacher Ma’am Jude to help her monitor the safety and behavior of students during their pakikihimanwa. The beach and the idea of watching sunrises and sunsets while there further motivated me to leave the City for a while and continue the volunteer work which I had already been doing for the past six years. I remembered when, three years ago, my boss Fr. Ritche took me and my colleagues to an area visit in Bagolatao to assess its potentials as an eco-photography site. I found the beach interesting not only because the water was so clear but also because the shore was covered with white pebbles instead of either black or white fine sand. The locals we met there at that time encouraged us to visit the beach in Hamoraon, which is of the same shoreline as Bagolatao’s but offers additional features that spelled adventure like cave spelunking. We were quite intrigued by this, but a sudden downpour drove us back to the car.  As we were leaving Minalabac, I remembered repeatedly uttering the word “Hamoraon,” which had a tender and deeply romantic appeal to my ears, so that I would not forget the place.

Being there again finally made those three years feel like a moment.  And being there by the shore and at sunrise, I embraced solitude, tried to clear my mind of anything that could spoil the moment, and just allowed myself to be awed by the picturesque view before me. My eyes were so fixed on the sea when my attention was caught by a vessel that gently sliced through the waters, growing larger before my eyes until it finally reached the shore. An old man in his bandana and faded striped polo shirt walked out of the boat on bare feet and singlehandedly carried the small vessel to the shore. I approached him, greeted him “Marhay na aga po,” and curiously asked him how many fishes he had caught.  As I was a stranger to him, he answered in mixed Rinconada and Bikol-Naga dialects that the catch proved to be frustrating and that he would not, in fact, be able to sell what he had caught. He took out from a small galon a few pieces of bisugo dangling from a tansi chain, some of them smaller than the others. Very soon, a grey-haired woman in duster came to receive the fish that he had brought with him, her facial expressions attempting to complain but breaking into a laugh instead as she nodded at me.

The fisherman, Basilio, went to the part of the beach where a net spread, its two ends tied to wooden posts in the sands. I followed him and saw many tiny lifeless fish scattered on the sand around the net. I learned that they were leftovers of the sinsoro fishing done the night before. He picked up the dilis one by one, careful not to include the tikong which was darker in color. He said he would use them as bait as he would try his luck in the sea again because what he had caught was not enough for his family to survive that day. By the time he paddled back into the offing, the sun had already brightened up the entire landscape in front of me.

The owner of the sinsoro net, Dionisio, was sewing the parts of the net that had already become detached from the frame when I approached him. He recognized me as a volunteer and told me that his family was hosting two students. He said that I should not worry about the safety of the students as Hamoraon had been peaceful for the past years, contrary to what people had labeled their place to be. In the 80s and 90s, he admitted, fear and isolation characterized their community.  The fear was coming from the tensions between the between the rebels and the military that reaulted in the two parties’ occasional firefights. He even recalled instances when the armed rebels occupied his boat and asked him to transport them to as far as Pasacao for free. But when a military detachment was installed in Salingogon, a neighboring barangay, the tensions neutralized. The isolation, which had been happening since even far back, was caused by the lack of paved roads that could have effectively connected them to other towns and facilitated development for them. For the longest time, however, crossing the sea was their only means of transportation as the roads came in late 80s. But amidst all these concerns, he had spent his youth, raised a family, and grown old as a fisherman.

When I asked him how the sinsoro turned out the last night, he said that his group caught only a bañera of iliw (flying fish) and some kanoos (squid) which were distributed among those who helped draw the seine ashore. “Bulanon kaya,” he blamed the full moon and looked forward to dark nights when their net would harvest schools of fishes. His eyes glowed as he recounted that they had caught bountiful dilis in previous weeks.  A butanding even got trapped in the net, but they set it free as they knew it was prohibited to catch or kill the whale shark. My eyes widened upon learning that there was a season when some whale sharks and even dolphins would be spotted straying in Ragay Gulf.

When Dionisio was finished with the net, he lit a cigarette, sat on the pebbles, and engaged further in our conversation. He said that he wished he had a big trawler and high-wattage superlight that he could drop into the sea to attract more fish regularly and bring his family fortune. But he laughed as he remembered that the local government had banned the big boats that used superlights before from fishing in Ragay Gulf.

“Ma-Tag-init naman. Madarakol na naman ang sira,” he said with a confident voice and a smile, the lines on his forehead and under his eyes deep.

I went back to the house of Kap Nono, who had generously allowed us, the Ateneo staff, to stay with his family. The househelp, Grace, invited me to the kitchen to follow Ma’am Jude and a fellow volunteer, Kinno and Kap’s wife, Tess, who were conversing there over coffee. As soon as I joined them, the househelp served medium-sized kanoos cooked in its own ink with vinegar and soy sauce for breakfast. Apparently, the squids had come from Dionisio’s sinsoro. They told me that Kap had left early to meet with his political partymates as he was busy preparing for his bid for municipal councilor in the midterm elections in May. Kap comes from one of the biggest families in the barangay and a political one at that. His brother had served as captain before him; his nephew is the Sangguniang Kabataan chairman, and his sister-in-law, the barangay secretary. The clan had high hopes that his constituents and influence in the village and the backing of his party would deliver him the votes that he needed to win the election. Ironically, Tess used to work for the government, too, until ‘politics’ had allegedly forced her to leave work and work instead in Singapore. In fact, she was just home for vacation. Before the summer ends, she would return overseas to help secure the education of their two children.

Already full and perked up by coffee, we later decided to walk around and visit the students who had been distributed to different host families so as to check if anyone had health or security concerns. When we reached the barangay basketball court, we met Tatay Roberto stirring with a rake the unhusked rice that covered one-third of the court. He enthusiastically invited us to his house and told us that the students were alright. A row of beige fibers and piles of firewood outside his house greeted us. He explained to us that he had stopped fishing but had raised two of his sons as fishermen. With God’s mercy, he said, his family has survived with his meager earnings as a palay and abaca farmer and, sometimes, as a worker in a coprahan in Zone 1. At 71, he still works very hard because he has children and grandchildren who depend on him.

He said that people in the barangay considered him so lucky to have four of his six children working abroad. Three of them were welders in Riyadh. The other one had just recently left to work in Qatar. I teased him that he must be rich now, what with all the remittances coming in from overseas. But he said that his three welder-sons, though enjoying good salaries, had their own families. So he did not receive any assistance from them. He still hopes to retire from farming and have a concrete house one day so he does not have to worry when storms ravage their community. This hope now rests on his youngest son, who just left the country last weekend. He would sometimes get jealous, he intimated, whenever he saw the big concrete houses in the barangay that were built through the support of overseas contract workers. As we continued our routine roving, I easily recognized the houses that Ernesto was referring to. They were usually two-storey concrete houses that stood out from the rows of nipa shacks. The other big houses at the beachfront were said to be owned by foreigners, one an Italian and another a Norweigian, both rumored to have plans of developing resorts in the area. Some locals liked this idea as they believed that tourism would bring in more employment opportunities and boost their livelihood. Others, particularly the fishermen, expressed the pessimistic view that the presence of resorts would limit their fishing activities, especially the sinsoro operations.

It was late afternoon when, after long walks and conversations with mothers, fathers, and children in the community, we settled on the shore of white pebbles. We just sat there, silent, with our aching leg muscles stretched across the shore while feeling the cold stones underneath and our hands supporting the weight of our backs. The waves were different that afternoon. They rushed to the shore furiously, seemingly echoing the beat of my heart. Yet,  this eventually did not matter to me as my eyes glowingly followed the sun sliding from the blue sky and patches of yellow-shaded clouds, quickly sinking into the sea, and leaving a brilliant reddish light. Then the horizon and the sea became homogeneous grey and then dark. I was calmed.

A few fishermen had just finished loading their nets into their bigger boat when Dionisio stood from a smaller boat, ready to begin the sinsoro activity. Not far from them was Basilio, who lit a kerosene-fueled gauze lamp, also ready for his solitary journey. Then one by one, they paddled away from the shore until all that I could see were their lamps that looked like fireflies floating on the sea.

There was a bonfire along the shore from which some children lit their dried palapa which they then waved as they ran along the beach. They left behind them golden glitters that seemed to compete with the stars that started to light up the heavens.  In their dancelike-ritual, they seemed to be asking the gods to protect their fathers from the dangers of the sea and give them luck.

Then the students came in small groups, gathered around the same bonfire, fueled it with more wood, and were determined to enjoy their last night of immersion in Hamoraon. As I watched them, I wondered whether they had met Basilio, Dionisio, or Roberto and heard their stories, their frustrations, their dreams. I wondered whether they had seen the sun as it rose and set with the same eyes as mine. I wondered whether they had seen connections between the realities in this place and development issues in education, environment, and livelihood which their Ateneo education had taught them. I wondered whether they had truly immersed themselves into the lives of the people in Hamoraon.

Amidst the chatter, singing, and boisterous laughter that blended with the sound of waves, my eyes were fixed on the ‘fireflies,’ which at that time, were scanning the sea and trying to attract luck. They might return home frustrated again but tomorrow, when the sun rises, the sea of Hamoraon, the same sea that frustrated them, would bring ashore still another wave of hope.

Kopiroti, Fuji Maru and Being Happy at Thirty

Today, at 30,I am not the person I had planned myself to be last year. Being 30, I had imagined, should be a turning point in my life, a time when I get to have a clearer picture of how and where I would spend my life, at least for the next ten years. I do not want to grow old with regret of not doing what I should have done today. But few hours before the year concludes, I still fail to meet complete discernment, so at some point I asked myself: What happened to my experience of retreats and other discernment activities? Meaning, next year I should expect to feel the same feelings and confront the same questions about recurrent issues - about my career, for instance.

More than frustration and impatience, however, what I feel as of writing is a sense of courage, openness and excitement to life’s options, surprises and opportunities I would find for myself as a consequence of my decisions and life’s kindness to me. These positive energies are enough self-reassurance that things would be all right.

For indeed, despite some personal struggles, my 30th year unfolded as one of the best years of my life. This year, I experienced some firsts, went to places near and far, and achieved dreams that have changed me forever: self-awareness, courage, maturity, perspectives. I met new people, strengthened old relations and made new ones that I hope to nurture for good.

Looking at the twelve months of 2012, I must confess that I overwhelmingly received more than I gave this year:  engaged less in outreach activities, but shared more in terms of inter-personal relations – in friendship and family. Maybe, I made more conscious efforts for my personal happiness this year. And I’m happy to be happy. For all that I have done and accomplished in the last thirty years of my life, however modest they may seem to the world, I deserve to be happy.

----

These are the thirty most significant things that happened to me this year. It is notable that many of the items happened during the 39th Ship for Southeast Asian Youth Program (SSEAYP) journey, understandably because it took one-thirds of my 2012.

1.       The Biggest Loser. Losing weight was in itself a journey for me, and a challenging one. I did not go to the gym or have a special diet. I just had the discipline and determination to significantly cut my food intake and do brisk walking or jogging at the Basilica Grounds almost office hours. It was a struggle for me to resist what I love doing – eating a lot of carbs and sweets, but aside from personal will, the support of my family and friends helped me achieve my goal: from my parents’ healthy selection of grocery items to my officemates’ participation in my no-rice lunch diet. I did not regularly keep track of my weight, but I lost around 8-10 kilos in seven months.

2.       Northbound: the Vigan-Pagudpud-Laoag Road Trip. With limited budget and our own itinerary, Janice, Lax, Jan and I went north-bound as Part 2 of our great Sagada-Baguio adventure last year. It was amazing that in just four days we went to many places in these three destinations and experienced much like trying popular local food and taking gigabytes of photos. Best things in this trip: the dinners in Vigan and Pagudpud, the Bangui Windmills and the Cape Borjeador Lighthouse.

3.       September 6, 2012. I had many reasons to celebrate this day. One, it is my 30^th birthday. Second, it coincided with my fifth year of service to the Ateneo de Naga. Third, on this day the family decided to have the blessing of our home, which is a product of our family’s hardwork over the years. To cap it all, my birthday was about celebration of family, which I shared to people who have been part of my life – from my grade school teachers to my office colleagues and friends.

4.       The SSEAYP Interview. Usually, whenever I join a program with competitive selection process I would have a feel if I get it or not after an interview. And in SSEAYP’s case, I knew I got it right after my interview. And I did, realizing one of my college dreams. I think my experience in coaching students for interviews helped and pressured me to give my best before the SSEAYP panel. I pressured myself a little bit more, thinking that I had postponed my entry for long, and this year was my last chance, knowing the age requirement for the delegates (18-30). Thank God and to NYC, I made it.

5.       The SSEAYP Pre-Departure Training. It was both an affirming and humbling experience for me.

6.       Bugkos Lahi. One of the best gifts that I received in SSEAYP was the gift of friendship: twenty-seven new friends with whom I shared my SSEAYP journey – from the pre-departure training to the cruise.

7.       Golden Panda. The dormtel – the fifth floor rooms, the meeting area, the elevator, the canteen, the basketball court, the mezzanine, even Mini Stop and Grill Prince – formed part of my home for one month before SSEAYP proper. These spaces became witness to the joys, small victories, frustrations, pains, secrets, blossoming friendship and romance, and storming period between and among Bugkos Lahi during their Pre-Departure Activities.

8.       National Day Presentation on Fuji Maru. Singing nationalistic songs Bayan ko, Tagumpay Nating Lahat and Ako ay Pilipino before an international audience and being appreciated for it, was one of my proudest moments as a Filipino. Performing the Singkil even as a clapper and dancing the It’s More Fun in the Philippines with the Philippine contingent were quite challenging and fulfilling for a bad dancer like me.

9.       Singing Someone Like You with Ryan, Mayjee and Aaron on Fuji Maru thrice, again before an international audience, was definitely a dream-come-true for me.  The performance got many people on board on LSS mode, so I think we did well.

10.   The fun swimming and bumpcar riding with my little host brothers Zackie and Indera and homestaymate Landon in Jakarta, Indonesia. I felt like I had the opportunity to be a small kid again.

11.   Tochigi. During the institutional visits, I met the only Filipino student at Utsonomiya University, and the only Filipino student at Wanda High School. In Tochigi, I also experienced the tea ceremony and other firsts: net-fishing by the river and apple picking during my homestay with the Sakurai family and buddy Aki.

12.   I will always remember: the night walk under the rain, lightning chase and drinking sessions with new friends in Singapore; the temples and museum, Terminal 21, Tom Yum and two-hour massage in Amazing Thailand; and the endless eating with closely-knitted extended family in Brunei.

13.   Fuji Maru, every part of it and everything that happened onboard: too many to mention (separate blog re SSEAYP coming soon).

14.   Press PPY. I am happy about my humble contributions to the Philippine SSEAYP delegation as head of the Secretariat, Press PY and friend.

15.    Bonding with my roommates at Golden Panda (503) and cabinmates at Fuji Maru (420); and my buddies John, Mae, Apple and Joss. 

16.   The post-SSEAYP Baguio ‘country program’. With April, Mae, John and Ryan, this trip somehow facilitated our re-appreciation of our country’s cultures as we practically did institutional visits and homestay courtesy of Ryan, plus sessions of reminiscing and looking forward. Further, being in Baguio reminded me of my retreats, so coming there slowed down my emotional state from my overwhelming SSEAYP experience. In a sort of ceremonial toast, we expressed our wishes for one another and together set our eyes towards the future for sustained friendship. Then, I journeyed back home.

17.   Overall, it was a great honor, commitment and challenge for me to represent the Philippines in the 39th Ship for Southeast Asian Youth Program, and sharing the culture, arts and vision of the country to the Japan-ASEAN youth community.

18.   I am happy to have sustained my form of Marian devotion by serving as volunteer-photographer during the Penafrancia Fiesta, with Ligaya friends Herold, Tin and Errol. I had an improvement this time as I decided to be among the crowd during the time when Ina was being brought to the river for the Fluvial Procession. It was a fulfilling experience for me, even if the steel handle of the andas nearly struck my chest when I positioned myself near the river bank from where Ina went down to the pagoda.

19.   I attempted to inspire the UNC Elementary Graduation Batch 2012 as their Guest Speaker. I took it a challenge to make the approach of the speech more engaging than the usual, and its message, clear and relevant. 

20.   It was quite an honor for me to be recognized by my high school alma mater, University of Nueva Caceres, as one of their outstanding alumni for School Year 2011-2012.

21.   Kopiroti. It’s not about their coffee, but just being there alone or with friends that made me like coffee suddenly.

22.   T-Ice. My favorite liquor has facilitated many small talks and lifeplanning sessions with my trusted friends, old and new.

23.   Traveling with my mother and brother John for the first time in Hongkong and Macau has always been a dream for me. John’s girlfriend Mariane also joined us in this trip. The happiest memories in this trip were the whole-day Disneyland fun and the casino-hopping in Macau.

24.   The Formative Processing Seminar-Workshop in Emmaus, Ateneo de Manila University. This is by far one of the most useful skills training I have attended through Ateneo, with Ate Thea, Ate Julma, and Kuya Edsel. I practically use, consciously or unconsciously, the learning that I got here in informally processing the experience and issues of people who come to me for some help.

25.   I have always considered organizing the Dugong Atenista bloodletting a personal challenge and outreach for me. It’s so close to my heart that, although an office outreach, I feel a personal drive and ownership to take care of it. The Ignaciana bloodletting in July 2012 was satisfying for me as the office’s hardwork in promoting the formation activity was responded to by 300+ donors. The program again recorded the highest number of donation by a private institution in Bicol.

26.   One of the items in my 2012 Wishlist that I managed to do is having a separate calendar for personal life, so I would not to be tied all the time with my work calendar. This is an indicator that right at the onset of the year I was determined to pursue personal happiness.

27.   This year, I did a lot of cooking for my family and friends. I also learned new recipes of food with gata.

28.   Fr. Ritche brought us to a falls and beach in Camarines Norte – just what we needed after some weeks of hardwork and, therefore, stress.

29.   Watching Games of Throne, The Walking Dead and Dexter made some of my idle nights very exciting.

30.   Swimming with friends and family at Sulat Pool, Hydro Hot Spring, Spring Valley, Kate’s and Stonehouse.

31.   The refurbishment of my room. To accommodate my growing stuff (books, archived folders of college and work papers and mementos, travel souvenirs and clothes)and to have a more ‘homey’ feel, a bigger closet and a Japanese table and bed were fabricated.

The Archbishop's Legacy Lives

(From the Citation for Archbishop Leonardo Z. Legazpi, O.P., D.D., Archdiocese of Caceres

Doctor of Humanities, honoris causa, 60^th Commencement Exercises

of Colleges and Graduate School, Ateneo de Naga University)

Written by Rodolfo SB. Virtus Jr.

Who in fact is the priest, if not a man converted and renewed by the Spirit, who lives from a personal relationship with Christ, constantly making the Gospel criteria his own? Who is the priest, if not a man of unity, aware of his own limits and at the same time, of the extraordinary greatness of the vocation he has received, that of helping to extend the Kingdom of God to the ends of the earth?”[1]

    -          Pope Benedict XVI

His vocation began, as in most stories of birth of priestly or religious vocations, from a sense of confusion and dissatisfaction with his life. After his high school graduation at St. Mary’s Academy in Meycauayan, Bulacan, the young Leonardo Legaspi - or Kading - did not have a definite idea of what he was going to be. At first, he planned to enter the Philippine Military Academy. He next considered being a sportsman as he got offered to play at a commercial basketball league. However, he ended up studying Civil Engineering at the University of the Philippines when he knew he was not a math and drawing person. Half-hearted in his decision, he earned disastrous marks in his major subjects, and then he felt homesick and got literally sick. His discouraging situation prompted his father to transfer him to the pre-Law of the University of Santo Tomas where he performed better, but not much.[2]

Kading’s first experience of his calling came upon him during the summer of his sophomore year in UST when he played basketball at a seminary facility.  He vividly recounted that he was struck by the awe-inspiring silence and peace that embraced him at the seminary. When asked by his father how his game was, he expressed instead his feelings of entering a seminary life. He was never extraordinarily religious in his youth, so his family and even his uncle who was a monsignor did not believe at first that he had the priestly vocation. But with the help of another relative, some Dominicans welcomed him under their formation. At 17, he found his way to the corridors of St. Albert Priory in Hong Kong of the Dominicans to study Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy. The teenage Leonardo, unaware of his grander role in the future, thought that he was called to teach.[3]

The Making of a Priest-Educator

Upon completing his studies in Hong Kong, he returned to the Philippines and was ordained a Dominican priest in 1960. He continued his studies at the Faculty of Sacred Theology at UST, finishing degrees of Licentiate in Sacred Theology (1961) and Doctorate in Sacred Theology Magna Cum Laude (1962). In 1971, he was a grantee of the Asia Foundation and Alfred Sloan Foundation to a scholarship in the Institute of Educational Management at the Harvard Graduate School of Business Administration in the United States. In 1975, he finished Doctor of Philosophy at UST.

As a priest deeply involved in the teaching ministry, the young Fr. Leonardo helped facilitate the Filipinization of UST education when he was appointed as its Central Seminary’s first Filipino Rector, and later the Pontifical and Royal University’s first Filipino Rector Magnificus (1971-1977). Within the Order of Preachers, he was the first Filipino Vicar of the Philippine Dominican Vicariate. In both societies, he manifested his gifts of prudent and vision-driven leadership and management which earned him the respect and admiration of his fellow educators, priests and theologians. Fittingly, he received prestigious accolades like the Ten Outstanding Young Men award for education, Gran Cruz del Alfonso X El Sabio of the Spanish Government, Rizal Pro Patria Award and the International Association of University Presidents Award, to name a few.

He was drawn nearer to his destiny in 1977 when Pope John Paul II appointed him as titular bishop of Elefantaria in Mauritania and auxiliary bishop of Archbishop Jaime Cardinal Sin of Manila. Still mindful of his passion in the teaching ministry, Cardinal Sin allowed him to remain rector of UST. But with a heavy heart, he had to relinquish his post to his vice rector because holding the two positions at the same time was not compatible with the rules of the Dominican Order.

A Gift Richly Given to Bikol

Seven years later, there was a prospect unfolding for Msgr. Legaspi at Caceres: the old Archbishop Teopisto Alberto just announced his retirement. He was nominated to take his place. His friends and parishioners who knew his effective leadership rightly described this event as “Manila’s loss, Bikol’s gain.”[4] Indeed, on January 17, 1984, the Bikolano faithful received him as gift upon his installation as the 33^rd Bishop and third Archbishop of Caceres. On his way to Naga, he was greeted by jubilant crowds along the streets of Daet, Villazar, Sipocot, Mambulo, Tambo, San Fernando and Milaor. As he received they keys of the province from Governor Felix Fuentebella, he described the Bikolanos with these words:

On my way to Naga from Daet this afternoon, the beauty of Mt. Isarog caught my attention. “What placidity! What serenity!” I told myself. And I could not help thinking of that other mountain of the Bicol Region, the fiery Mt. Mayon. How fittingly, I thought, these two mountains portray the two sides of the Bicolano character, vigorous and fiery yet sober and peace loving.[5]

Initially, the Archbishop’s confinement in the academe for 14 years posed some challenges for him. Except for the occasional Masses in a parish, he practically had no experience of parish life. To overcome this, he utilized his management experience and looked at Caceres in that light. While the many bishops before him had administered the Archdiocese as a parish priest, he viewed it from the perspective of a university. He introduced planning, organization and assessment of resources.

Nourishing Seminary and Priestly Formation in Caceres

At the onset of his episcopacy, the Archbishop recognized the local Church’s lack of understanding about its prophetic role vis-à-vis the reality of the world. To respond to this, he knew that he had to start right at the seminary where priestly formation begins. Quite logically, among his first accomplishments was the introduction of major development in the formation program, faculty development and direction of the seminaries. Specifically, the three stages in seminary formation (preparatory, minor and major seminaries) have been delineated and endowed with their particular facilities.

Although a macro-manager who trusts seminary formators, he still personally looks over the development and concerns of the seminarians. He would know each one of them, have breakfast with them, assist in their financial concerns, and help formators guide them in their journey to priesthood.

He has also given equal attention to the continuing formation of priests. As he stressed in The Diocesan Priestly Life and Ministry Formation Manual, the formation of a priest does not end in his ordination, but needs to be continuously nurtured in his priestly life and ministry.  To the Caceres priests, he resembles the typical Filipino father who impresses strict discipline on them and places call of duty above any personal matter. But he can also be very understanding and sensitive to their needs. He once described his relationship with the priests:

“The priests are my sons and friends. In virtue of sacred ordination we have in common, we are bound together in the intimacy of brotherhood which should be spontaneously and cheerfully demonstrated in mutual help, spiritual and material alike, pastoral and personal. That is why one of my chief anxieties is the welfare of my priests, and I believe that my first responsibility is to look after, care for the priests.[6]

The creation of programs like the Caceres Clergy Security System, for the priests’ insurance benefits; ‘Kapwa ko, Parroco’ (My Fellow Pastor), a fund-building campaign for priests; Gaudium Sacerdotale (Joy in the Priesthood) Fund, a program for priests’ renewal; and Pro-Seminario Collection, provision of subsidies to poor parishes; and Madrigal Foundation scholarship grants manifest his care for the priests.

Revitalizing Catechism

Being a former Catholic educator, the Archbishop has made catechesis his first priority. In fact, one of his first decrees as Archbishop was the establishment of the Caceres Catechetical Ministry. Consequently, the ministry opened in 1987 the Caceres Catechetical Center which trains catechists who would assist the parishes and provide religious instruction in public schools. Today, this ministry claims to have formed some 1,300 volunteer catechists, and extends beyond Caceres as model and inspiration.

To expand the reach of catechism, the archdiocese utilized the media through the creation of the Caceres Commission on Communications (CCCom). By serving as the liaison between the Archdiocese and media practitioners, the teachings of the Church are promoted through the local media. And to further encourage the media to promote Christian spirituality, the CCCom has even organized six St. Peter Baptist Catholic Mass Media Awards to recognize media organizations and practitioners who live up to the motto, Christian Values Make Good Media.

The Archbishop has also provided monumental leadership in shaping catechism in the nation. When he was chairman of the Episcopal Commission on Catechesis and Catholic Education (ECCCE) from 1977 to 1978 and 1994 to 2003, new catechetical tools were designed like the National Catechetical Directory of the Philippines and the Manual for Family Catechesis, and remarkably the Catechesis of the Catholic Church, which is the first national catechism document published by Vatican after the Universal Catechism. It was also through his leadership that ECCCE established the National Catechetical Week and forged close collaboration with the Catholic Educational Association of the Philippines (CEAP). These achievements have made the country a subject of admiration and imitation even in other parts of the Catholic world, bestowing him the reputation as the “Architect of Philippine Catechesis in Our Time.”[7]

Making Pastoral Care Accessible to All

In his book Light to all (2004), Archbishop Legaspi underscored his duty as the one most entrusted with the responsibility to keep the local church under his care in the grace of God’s visitation, so that in its midst, the visit made ‘once-and-for-all’ in Jesus Christ becomes present anew from age to age.”[8] Evidently, he brought about significant initiatives and changes which have resulted in the greater access of the faithful to pastoral services and have empowered both the clergy and the laity in Caceres and in the country.

From 1987 till 1991, he served as president of the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines. In his term, he convened the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP II), which Pope John Paul II described as one of the most significant events in the ecclesial life of the Catholic Church in the country.[9] Some of the Church’s continuing pastoral priorities emerged from PCP II’s acts and decrees: the preferential attention to the poor and the engaged role of laity in carrying out the Church’s mission in social transformation.

At Caceres, the growth of the Church has been on continuous rise. The number of parishes dramatically increased by more than 100 percent, from 38 in 1984 to 75 parishes today. Where the government cannot provide even the basic services, Caceres has a priest to take care of the people, especially the poor. The map of Caceres dramatically expanded in 1989 when, through a petition of the Archbishop, Rome approved the Prelature of Libmanan as a new ecclesiastical jurisdiction. And a decade later, Libmanan was recognized by Pope Benedict XVI as a new diocese, which now has 27 parishes.

To be closer to homes, the Archbishop created the Family Ministry in the Archdiocese of Caceres, a major pastoral strategy towards the promotion of marriage and family as a domestic church and the locus of new evangelization. This ministry has made counselling services available for married couples and families, leading the family towards social participation and apostolate. In one of his pastoral letters, he made clear the importance of this ministry, declaring that:

 “... the family is where the Gospel is first heard and witnessed to by the members. The family has to be a true school of evangelization, where every member first learns to participate in the evangelizing mission of the Church”[10]

With parishes now closer to homes, the lay faithful have been inspired to participate in the ministries and assume responsibilities. One concrete articulation of the laity’s participation was the establishment of the Caceres Social Action Foundation (CASAFI). Through CASAFI, the laity and other church-based groups engaged in social apostolates have been coordinated to sharpen focus and impact on Bikol development. This is consistent with the archbishop’s social action vision, articulating that:

“... the challenge of our church is to make it truly the ‘home for the poor.’ The Church shepherds her flock not only by nourishing their souls with the Eucharist but by creating an environment that ensures human development.”[11]

Young people also found opportunities for self-expression within the church’s organizational structure. With the creation of the Caceres Youth and Campus Ministry, the archdiocese has seen the energies of the youth in various youth encounters, vigils and camps. To widen the reach of this program, he strategically established continuing relationships with schools such as the Ateneo de Naga University and the Universidad de Sta. Isabel, but also the non-sectarian ones. The University of Nueva Caceres and Naga College Foundation can confirm how he has generously helped in shaping their respective campus ministries and provided them priests for their students’ sacramental and spiritual needs.

The Archbishop’s pastoral achievements have provided a highly encouraging environment for religious and apostolate communities. In fact, Caceres witnessed the increase in the number of religious communities from seven in 1984 to now 28 religious congregations, pious associations and secular institutes for men and women. The archdiocese is home now to more than 300 religious persons. This growth has also been complimented by the rise in the number of apostolates: for the sick and the dying, the elderly and the disabled, the abused and the abandoned and other disadvantaged sectors; and the apostolates in counselling and retreat ministry, pre-school and non-formal education, livelihood programs and even native tribal promotion.

Protecting the Peñafrancia Devotion

Before he even came to Caceres, Archbishop Legaspi had been conscious of the filial relationship between the Ina and the Bikolano. He aptly described the Bikolano people as “inheritors of a past where being a people is interwoven with being Church. And at the heart of this convergence of culture and faith is Mary ... Ina is Bikol; Bikol is Ina.”[12]

Nonetheless, he was also aware of the mounting challenges of secularization and commercialization to this Marian devotion. This awareness helped him appreciate more clearly his special role in Bikol: to protect the Marian devotion and, through her, bring the people closer to the Church and to God. And through her, animate the Church’s flock towards empowerment and change.

To fulfil his special role, his first step was to set up structures to safeguard the image of Ina by renovating the Basilica where she dwells and the Shrine where she stays during the Peñafrancia novena. He designated personnel such as the rectors of the said churches who are responsible for helping promote the devotion. He also directed the making of the image’s replica which has been used in the annual traslacion and Fluvial Parade so that the original image would be preserved.

At the eve of the Tercentenary Celebration of the devotion, the Archbishop introduced essential changes in the fiesta like the establishment of religious zones for devotees and pilgrims, and formation sessions for the voyadores to ensure peaceful and orderly processions and more meaningful novena. Most importantly, he moved to redefine the devotion and free the novena from the many secularized and commercialized fiesta activities like pageants and street parties. The Ateneo de Naga University and other schools under the Bicol Association of Catholic Schools heeded to his call for discernment on the actual values involved in the fiesta activities, and overwhelmingly supported his cause. His move may have brought him and the entire archdiocese into tension with the local government, but he knew that it was the right and moral thing to do to protect the Peñafrancia devotion.

Today, as he continues to work for a more meaningful Marian devotion, the Archbishop expresses his hopes for more socially engaged devotees: This must be our hope, to have faith that goes beyond the traslacion and the fluvial procession. And this means a conversion for mission, that is, an active responsibility for the past failings of society...and total renewal of the Church towards a better future for all.[13]

The Archbishop’s Legacy Lives

This 2010, Archbishop Legaspi reaches the 25th year of his episcopacy. Remarkably, he also celebrates his 75th birthday, which would normally mark his retirement as foreseen by church law. Sooner or later, the Pope may have to assign a new caretaker of Ina and the Archdiocese. But as he leaves the episcopacy, the Bikolano will be forever grateful to him for selflessly and faithfully shepherding the Bikolano faithful, and for protecting our shared story of devotion to Ina and faith in God.

Therefore, as a fitting tribute in recognition of his promotion of the Devotion to Our Lady of Peñafrancia, purifying it of aberrations in its external manifestations; for drawing the Church closer to the Filipino and the Bikolano people, especially the poor, through catechesis, pastoral care and good governance; and for his defense of the Catholic Church and Christian values against the threats of secularism and materialism, the Ateneo de Naga University is most privileged to confer upon His Grace, Archbishop Leonardo Z. Legaspi, O.P., the degree of Doctor of Humanities, honoris causa, in this City of Naga, this twenty-seventh  day of March, in the two thousand and tenth year of our Lord.

---

[1] One Who Prays Is Not Afraid; One Who Prays Is Not Alone, by Pope Benedict XVI, www.cbcponline.net.

[2] Responses of Msgr. Leonardo Z. Legazpi during The University of Santo Tomas Varsitarian Interview, 2009.

[3] The Caceres Experience: A Bishop’s Story, Ina nin Bikol Foundation, p. 2.

[4] Tribute to the Architect of Philippine Catechesis in Our Time, by Msgr. Gerardo O. Santos, http://eccceonline.org.

[5] Leonardo Z. Legazpi: A Shepherd Among Us, by Rex Andrew C. Alarcon, p. xv.

[6] The Caceres Experience: A Bishop’s Story, Ina nin Bikol Foundation, p.20.

[7] Tribute to the Architect of Philippine Catechesis in Our Time, by Msgr. Gerardo O. Santos, http://eccceonline.org.

[8] Light to All, by Leonardo Z. Legazpi, 2004.

[9] http://www.cbcponline.net.

[10] Pastoral Letter, by Msgr. Leonardo Z. Legazpi, January 2004.

[11] The Caceres Experience: A Bishop’s Story, Ina nin Bikol Foundation, p.31.

[12] Ina and the Bikol People: A Journey of Faith, Ina nin Bikol Foundation, 2004, p. 5.

[13] Ibid, p. 196-197.

Sa Food Court (From my 2006 Notes)

Heto na naman ako sa food court ng Ali Mall. Gaya ng dati, magsusulat na naman ako ng aking mga kawirduhan habang hinihintay ang 8:30 night trip ng Isarog na mag-uuwi sa akin sa Naga.

Ganitong-ganito rin may tatlong taon na ang nakakaraan. Wala pa ring pinagbago ang Ali Mall. Tambayan pa rin ito ng mga biyaherong tulad ko. Noon, kahit alam ko kung saan ako dadalhin ng bus matapos ang walong oras ng pagtulog sa biyahe, tila wala pa ring katahimikan ang aking pag-iisip. At kahit alam kong may pamilyang nakaabang sa akin sa bus terminal upang ihatid ako sa aming tahanan, alam kong babalik ako dito upang magsayang ng oras sa mga mall, sa MRT, sa mga sidewalk, sa mga sinehan at mga overpass ng Maynilang pilit kong inaangkin. Babalik ako para magkunwaring dito ako nababagay.

Tatlong taon din yun. At tatlong taon na rin ang nakakaraan noong huli akong umupo dito sa Food Court at sumumpa na hindi ko na babalikan ang bawat lugar na nagpapaalala sa akin ng mga tagumpay at kabiguan ko sa pinili kong landas.

Ang totoo, makailang ulit na akong bumalik dito sa food court. Ngunit sa pagkakataong ito, masaya na ako. Alam kong kahit ilang beses pa akong maghintay dito, mayroon akong babalikan, doon kung saan ako masaya, doon kung saan laging may naghihintay sa akin at nagmamahal ng walang kapalit, doon kung nasaan ang puso ko.

Isinulat noong September 1, 2006 sa Food Court ng Ali Mall, Araneta Center, Cubao, 6:30-6:54 ng gabi.

My 101 Korean Experiences (happy, funny, sad, interesting, shocking, etc.) in the IYF World Camp, June 27 to July 17, 2011

1. First night at Daegu Lincoln House, the first time I learned about the common bathroom

2. The common bathroom, and waking up as early as 4:30 a.m. for me to take a shower alone, which was not always successful

3. Walking barefooted in the IYF buildings

4. When someone used the slippers I left at the entrance. Since then, I almost always hand-carried my slippers wherever I went to.

5. Sleeping on the floor without pillows

6. When I realized the two adapters I bought from the Philippines do not fit the outlets in Korea

7. Borrowing an adapter so I can charge my laptop and camera

8. The array of street food downtown of Daegu and the free taste of food at the department stores/malls at Daegu and Seoul (Lotte, Shinsegae)

9. The rows of food stalls in the markets and the vendors in the streets of Daegu and Seoul

10. Kimchi…kimchi… and more kimchi. I still had the stomach to eat them in the first week. In the next weeks, when there were more choices (especially in Busan), I had to politely say no kimchi, please.

11. Chopsticks, which will I try using once in a while from now on

12. Korean boys carrying girly handbags

13. High school girls in their skimpy uniform

14. The Korean wrestling match, which I won with ease

15. My newfound friends, Truth 5, and our escapades, boredom, struggles and friendship which started at Daegu

16. Our cool Truth 5 volunteers, Sin James and Kyoung Won Lim

17. A gift from Kyoung – a Korean name for me – IM DONG HO - for which I am very pleased and thankful

18. Jepoi’s (a.k.a Jepuri) winning Korean speech

19. Jepoi coaching Kyoung in English

20. Migs (a.k.a. Mix) sleeping at every opportunity

21. Migs and Niko’s smoking sessions

22. Niko being all over the place

23. Picture-taking with Niko at the Lincoln auditorium, with the red chairs at the background

24. Herman… where is Herman? a. Holding the kawayan b. Fixing his bangs c. Taking photos of himself. Peace Herman!

25. Boom’s exercises

26. Sin James: “You (Jepoi) are very kind. And Boom…also very kind.”

27. Kyoung: “May muta ka.”

28. The walkout of James

29. The long walk to Nakdonggang River

30. The Hahoe Mask Museum and Mask Play at Andong Village, Daegu

31. The convenience I experienced at Centum Hotel, Busan

32. My roommates at Centum Hotel, Jihnan Kim, Jason Hyedong and another friend (I forgot his name.)

33. My new Korean, Indian, Nepalese and Filipino friends – Truth D3!

34. The buffet meals at Centum Hotel and BEXCO.

35. The most delicious burger I have eaten so far – Double Bolgogi at McDo!

36. When fellow Filipinos Rolando Bolanos and Manuel Martinez and I ate ramen at 7 Eleven, and when Manuel accidentally spilled his soup on my shorts

37. The Samsung Motors, where there are more machines than people. It was like watching the Transformers!

38. When we went to Hyundae Bay, and some of my team mates tried to throw me to the ice-cold water. They failed hahaha… But I lost my camera cap.

39. My jumpshot at Hyundae beach

40. When Hans requested me to sing I Believe-Tagalog version, while he sang the Korean version

41. When Jason blushed upon seeing and talking with a pretty girl hehehe…

42. The hair and skin vanity of Koreans

43. Drinking Max and soju with some Truth 5+1 friends one night at a bar along Hyundae in Busan

44. The subway ride from Centum to Hyundae

45. Being sad upon reaching Daeduk Retreat Center (from bed to floor again hehehe…)

46. The ice-cold water at Daeduk Retreat Center

47. When Pastor Cho caught me staying in our quarter during the mind lecture because I had to take a bath and washed some clothes

48. The IYF shirt which I washed three times

49. The cancelled water rafting

50. The world class performances of the Gracias Vocal Ensemble and Orchestra

51. The superb Nessun Dorma performance

52. The African way of saying “more”.

53. The repeated dance routines of the Righteous Stars

54. The repeated Chinese, African, Chinese and Korean cultural performances in the multiple opening ceremonies in different cities. I never got tired of watching the African dance over and over again.

55. The fantastic Samgo-Mu (Korean Drum Dance) performances

56. The awesome taekwondo dance-exhibition

57. The dramatic (and usually late) entrance of the VIPs

58. The balloon art workshop

59. The Wild River ride

60. The76th floor of the Woobang Tower

61. Ock Soo Park

62. Ock Soo Park’s interpreter and other interpreters in the mind lectures

63. Kkkkkkkkkkkkkk…

64. Pastors Cho and Nam

65. The challenge of staying awake during mind lectures in the morning, afternoon, evening and late evening. I think I was successful at some point, considering No. 66.

66. Many people sleeping during mind lectures

67. The all-Filipino meetings and mind lectures

68. The premature departures of many Filipinos

69. The Korean-Filipino interpreter who speaks Tagalong better than many of us

70. The pali-pali expression, which honestly got into my nerves

71. Questions like, “Are you righteous?”, “Are you a sinner?”, and “Are you saved?” which I honestly answered

72. Fellow Filipino Anna not wanting to talk to her teacher and to answer questions on No. 71.

73. IYF’s idea of change of heart

74. Walking, touring, shopping in the rain

75. Few attempts not to attend the mind lectures

76. The sauna and the orange clothes given to us

77. The happy pork barbecue lunch with my Truth D3 friends. It was the last lunch I shared with them. And I ate a lot!

78. Our kind pastor in Truth D3

79. Finding our bus…

80. The many and long bus rides, and the happy and meaningful interactions along the way (usually with Rolly, Manuel, Jinhan or Seung-woo.

81. Transferring my heavy luggage from one bus to another, from one venue to another

82. Arirang… a-ri-rang… a-ra-ri-yo… a-ri-rang… go-gae-ro…neo-meo-gan-dah…

83. You Raise Me Up song

84. Sorrow song

85. Sharing my experiences with Truth D3, with an interpreter

86. Korea’s cleanliness

87. Koreans’ road discipline

88. Koreans’ love of country and patriotism

89. Korea’s story of economic development

90. Koreans’ love of native language. Being unable to speak English well should not be an embarrassment. It’s just reflective of their love of Hanggul. I just wish many of us, Filipinos, are like the Koreans on that point.

91. The story of kimchi being a symbol of Korea’s survival during the country’s difficult times

92. Koreans’ top sports interests - baseball and football

93. The Korean TV programs shown on the bus, which I tried to understand from the characters’ actions hehehe…

94. My homestay with cool company Donghee Park and Yeong Myeong Choi

95. The homestay snack (second dinner, actually) - pork feet, fried chicken, eggs, watermelon, corn, etc.

96. Donghee Park’s great enthusiasm to serve his duty in the army next year

97. Yeong Meong Choi’s drawing of army (himself being on duty in the army as part of the Special Forces) on his message for me

98. Shopping at Namdaemun and Dongdaemun, Seoul, with only 50,000 Won left

99. Eating noodles at Namdaemun and conversations at Dunkin Donut with Julius Levy Bunsol, Sheena Anne Melody Salvador and Jason Cutaran.

100. Saying goodbye to my D3 friends while Gracias Choir was singing “Time to Say Goodbye” at Seoul Capitol Park

101. The entire IYF Korean experience, which, despite some not-so-met expectations and minor inconveniences, challenged my tolerance and patience; strengthened my personal faith and humbled me; and opened my heart a bit more to build friendship that transcends cultural differences and language barrier. This, I believe, is the change of heart that I experienced in Korea.