Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

An old Chinese saying to wish newlyweds longevity in their marriages is "同享共福，同甘共苦," roughly meaning "enjoying all the fortunes together, suffering all the bitterness together."  Centuries of experiences show that while the first comes pretty for most, the latter almost inevitably lead to some sort to schism between the two halves of the couple, especially when the "bitterness" occurs after "fortunes."  People are fundamentally selfish, too willing to put the interests of others and the collective on the line so that they themselves can enjoy just a bit more .  The increases in divorces in recent years attest very much to this.

Modern human beings live in the cyberspace, getting all the stimulation to get on with our lives, both desired and unwarranted, the needed and the unwanted, from the electronically led-up screens all around us.  Disseminating information to a broad audience no longer involved physically traveling to distant corners, seeking out like-minded individuals to preach novel ideologies, hoping that the few minutes of attention span may completely reorient a person’s dispositions on a certain topic.

The author is not a big movie-watcher, but he sees a extraordinary theme emanating from what critics would call an overly cliched plot-line and background, the them get stuck in his mind for days.  Recently, "the Purge" has been such a film.  The film takes place in a wealthy neighborhood in 2022 America, where government allegedly created a wealthy society of little crime and unemployment by permitting an annual 12-hour "no-sin" period when all crimes are legal.  The film tracks one such 12-hour period for one specific family to detail the moral and psychological meaning of such a law.

A supermarket, a shopping mall, plenty of nice houses scattered around, and even a highly decorated, futuristic-looking church, the streetscape of so-called Manila ’s largest urban slum is not what a casual visitor expects it to be.  Yet, the neighborhood of Tondo, lying right besides the industrial harbor in the northern half of City of Manila , has a far-reaching reputation that scares off well-off locals and attracts hordes of international NGOs, charity workers, and do-good volunteers.

Like all great Filipino establishments , the subdivision does not look like at that much from the outside.  A high wall and a guard post, with a security guard lazily asking visitors for their IDs, separates the gated area from the traffic-clogged main road.  Yet, once past the lazy guard, it seems like a whole new world really does open up.  The constant honking of the outside suddenly becomes a distant memory.  large trees, shielding million-peso single houses on both sides, suddenly replaces the shantytowns that are prevalent on the main road outside the subdivision.

The news of tragic accidents are always shocking, especially when it happens as rarely as plane crashes.  With solid statistics of safety, planes have surpassed cars, trains, and boats as the fast, safe way to quickly transport oneself from point A to B, even in short distances in which alternative means of travel are price competitive, and perhaps even faster and more convenient (especially given the recent toughness in airport security, combined with long lines and delays ).  Even the wealthy are willing to pay a premium as well as the cost of losing coveted privacy, to get themselves to desired destinations onboard a plane.

On many previous instances in this blog, the idea of familyas the center of Filipino life and identity has been visited andrevisited .  The lengths for which the concept of family matters here, in all matters from having large number of kids and cousins, to business connections and political patronage, are omnipresent and omnipotent.  In a place where social safety net is primitive and sense of trust in civic society is low, those family ties become necessary preconditions for many issues to be resolved.

The driver sighed a long dismayed sigh when he heard that the heavy rain has brought about the news of flood in northern Makati .  At least now he had an explanation for the heavy traffic on the mainthoroughfare heading north into the heart of Metro Manila.  The semi-closed highway, an extension of the main expressway going south into the satellite towns of southern Luzon , is the fastest, least trafficked way to cut through the dense city.  Yet on that rainy day, traffic jammed up all the way to its exit tool gates.

A corporate goodbye and welcome party seemed like an over-sized, yet subtly protocol-led version of the previous pool party described . Presence of similar activities means noting their socio-cultural significance will be redundant and thus omitted, but the different atmosphere and context for which it was held mean that the event, as a supposedly more casual yet dramatic extension of the regular workplace relationship espouses certain theories of how people of different levels and motivations may very much behave in coordination to satisfy their own self-interests.

How should one define the "high position" that one holds, in life, in a job, in any sort of community?  Is it the amount of money one earns, the amount of respect received from others, the amount of responsibility one takes on?  The answer is an all-encompassing one that mingles all three, but yet is none of them, strictly speaking.  To be precise, cash flow or that nice title on a business card , by itself, does not really mean much.  Instead, "high position" is always a comparative term, one that draws comfort from comparison, a thought that "ahh, I am doing good because I am better than X and Y."

From the first look, he did not seem all that welcoming.  Long nails, unwashed hair, dark skin that is perhaps a bit too dark to be considered purely natural, crooked teeth...he was not the ideal guide, or for that matter, a good example of an ordinary citizen in a cosmopolitan tourist town.  Yet, somehow, as the author spent more and more time with the diminutive 27-year-old man who was his two-day guide in Siem Reap and the Temple of Angkor, his life experiences and stories became, in many ways, the most interesting portion of his trip, much more so than imposing stone temples or fantastic local food.

In the little town of Lucena two hours bus-ride south of Manila, there is a little park right on the main north-south boulevard running the length of the town.  Despite being just south of the commercial markets and malls, the park has a constantly solemn air, maintained by uniformed guards lazily watching the passers-by from their wooden rocking chairs under the big trees.  In the middle of the park is an imposing statue of Manuel L. Quezon, the first president of the Second Philippine Republic, after whom Quezon Province (for which Lucena is the capital) is named.

The entertainment strip of the town is always packed with people and lights.  Perhaps not crowded with visitors but always full of guys and gals of the nights peddling condoms, massages, and themselves.  Every joint has decorated heavy metal doors under their shiny neon lights advertising the best experiences and girls in the strip.  And it is into those heavy metal doors that the author, along with his friends, casually strolled in, full of smiles and expectations that a whole new world was behind the premise guarded by a perpetually serious security guard/bouncer.

After a night of unproductive carousal at the local nightclub , the author is starting to get the realization that perhaps developing more substantial (i.e. not strictly work-related) relationships with one's coworkers may be much more fulfilling than trying to carry on pointless conversation with a complete stranger in vain hope of finding some sort of common ground.  After all, in the case of coworkers, one can always fall back on talking about entertaining rumors and incidents of the workplaces, when attempts at conversations of other topics falls flat due to, say, lack of common interest or cultural differences.

The author has not gone out often, ever since the day he departed London and all its grad-school-justified alcoholic mayhem .  The high alcoholic prices in Malaysia only served to discourage going out even more, just as the work culture, with sweaty operations and tough hours, brought down spirits.  The situation only got worse in the Philippines, as work became six instead of five days a week, and more work-related worries (read: homework) made the prospect of going out even less.  The result is an all-round loss of any urge to seek those fun moments that lasts well into the wee hours of any day.

Back in December when the author first arrived in the Philippines, his spoke of Muslims in Malaysia at his first dinner with his real estate agent in the local shopping mall.  The first reaction of the real estate agent, a good Catholic Filipino, born and brought up in an exclusively Catholic environment, was to express his detestation of Muslim food.  "Those Muslims are so filthy...I cannot eat their food...I'm afraid I might get sick."  His straightforward condescension toward the country's Muslim minority (less than 5%, concentrated in the deep-south island of Mindanao) was simply shocking.

Walking around the mall on a lazy afternoon, the author was suddenly tapped on the shoulder by a middle-aged Filipino man casually walking by.  "Hey, I remember seeing you at the hotel lobby," the man cheerfully recalled, noting the dual-purpose hotel-condominium complex that the author currently resides.  The author quickly noted that the man is the security guard as the complex, and struck up a casual chat on his way to the store.  The man noted that he was on his way to meet his family to celebrate his 5-year-old daughter's birthday.

All the sudden, everything on the floor came to a stop.  All the usual sounds of pop music blasting, packing materials screeching, and scanners beeping were suddenly cut out from the heavy dusty air of the overworked, sweat-filled warehouse.  The chain was broken and the process was paralyzed.  It was a blackout, a complete outage of power within the whole compound.  But it was more than just a realization of over-dependence on electricity that came about, it was fear and stress that the orders that need to be sent out, with all the items already in the building, had to be halted.

The Chinese New Year's decorations in the local mall in Makati becomes gaudier and gaudier every week the author goes for his weekly grocery shopping.  In the run-up to this year's official February 10th countdown when a new year begins on the lunar new year, the mall has introduced Qing-dynasty Manchu uniforms for its employees, 1960s Taiwanese romantic ballads for its repetitive theme music, and of course, bright red and golden signage for every floor and department to make sure any passers-by know exactly what this fuss is all about.

"Hiya" "amor-propio" "compadre"...and series of local sociological concepts rolls off the pages of a cultural learning book detailing the tendencies of Filipino behaviors.  All of these, foreign-sounding at the first sight, after even the most brief of explanations, become terribly familiar for someone who has seen perhaps a bit too much of the collectivist values so ingrained within Asian societies .  It is as the author said so well in the prologue, Filipino society, despite its Western-looking facade of English use, Christian beliefs, and American cultural affinity due 400 years of Western colonization, is not at all a Western society at heart.