Rizal at 150

This year,  I thought it was time to make an effort towards connecting my children with their history and their lineage. When I use the word "lineage" I don't mean it in a haughty, blue-blooded (yeah, right) way.  I believe that to be judged by blood is a thing of the past and today, what truly counts is a life measured by deeds.  Having said that, I also don't think it's right to ignore one's heritage, the way I tried to, because I just felt that if people found out I was a Rizal descendant, I would simply fade away in comparison. 

Maria Rizal

We are descended from Maria Rizal.  Her son, Moris, was the father of our beloved grandmother,  Fe Arguelles Cruz, whom we fondly called Lola Ba (short for Lola Taba, I kid you not), which later morphed to Mamoo.  Moris was nephew and student to Rizal.  For the longest time, Mamoo kept a letter of Rizal's to Maria, telling her of her's son's progress during a summer spent with him in Dapitan. Every so often she would show us this letter and tell us other stories that were passed on by her grandmother and father. (translation here) The letter has since been donated to the Ateneo.

This letter was the only true connection I ever felt I had with Jose Rizal, whom Mamoo referred to as either Lolo Jose or Lolo Rizal.  I can count on one hand just how many Rizal family reunions I have attended, but now that I have my own children,  I feel it's time to hear the stories again and inspire them to find the Rizal in them, as every Filipino should.

This year, I brought my youngest son, Jose Andres (yes, named after both heroes because I thought it was a good way to put all the discussions to rest), to two events: the visit of President Aquino to the Rizal shrine at his residence in Calamba and then the family celebration at Fort Santiago at night. It was a full day!

We started our day early, as the invitation specifically said the President would arrive at 8 a.m.  We were there well before and were very happy when the President arrived ahead of time as well.

President Aquino arrives at the shrine

Raising the flag

Laying of the wreath.

President Aquino does a brief round of handshakes with the family.

The ceremony at the Rizal Shrine was short, sweet and well-organized. When we got to the second floor of the house, my mother immediately took my son to the window and told him to pay attention, because on the 200th year celebration, it would probably be his turn to participate in the program.  At that moment I felt my task as a mother was done.

It's enough for my son to get a glimpse of what it means to be descended from the Rizal clan. It does not bring a sense of entitlement or superiority (heaven forbid), but a sense of responsibility to make sure that there is continuity in the family. Last night an aunt said that it was time for the Catholic Church to apologize for its transgressions against Rizal and the people of Calamba who were evicted from their homes during his time.  Another relative spoke about the work that needs to be done do document all the writings and work of Rizal, making sure that everything is in place, well-preserved and cared for. And who painted the house green? ;p Different family members had their own ideas of what project they might take on. 

It is not for me to say how my children will choose to participate in this part of their heritage. It is enough for me to make the connection.  What is important is they know it is there as just one part of who they are, but the rest of the work, of laying down deeds as their life's work, that is all up to them and no amount of blood ties will matter then.  In the end, it is what we do with our lives that makes us who we are. Everyone has Rizal in them. Everyone.

I loved being able to share this moment with my son on this day in history.

I am happy to be connecting with Rizal as an adult again. I have been living with so many questions about who I am as a Filipino, and what my deeds this far in my life have amounted to. His 150th year has roused me from inner lethargy. I hope this time the journey is more lasting.

Words

We don't often think of the true meaning of words. We tend to use them casually, without a thought as to what they truly mean. Worse, we adapt someone else's definition or idea of it and leave it at that, no questions asked.

I have a friend who was always told (by her husband) that she had no compassion and that she was cold.  She asked a therapist or two if that's what they thought and they looked at her and said she was quite the opposite. Her husband, who considered himself King of Compassion(that he uttered these words to her speaks volumes), equated compassion with gushing, tears and dramatic emotional displays.  Well, that was not her forte.  But it didn't mean that she wasn't a deeply feeling and compassionate person. I like to point out that it was her compassion that made her stay in a marriage that was full of lies. She just kept trying to understand her husband, give him space and time to heal his wounds and change on his own. If she were not compassionate, she would not have been able to stay as long as she did.

How many words do we spout, carry and use inappropriately?  How many have mislabelled and wounded others? Your idea of what a word means isn't always what it is. Your perception does not make a word, so be mindful when you speak.

Words create worlds, but they can also be weapons that degrade the human soul.

Bohol Files 4: The Forest

On our way to the Chocolate Hills, we passed a beautiful stretch of road.  It was lush forest on either side. Aaaaaahhhhhhh....just lovely! I commented on it and our driver said the forest was man made! Whoa!

I realized I was of the thought that man damages the environment.  I had never seen such a positive expression of man's contribution to it. This was awesome. If I remember correctly, our guide said the trees were planted some time in the Eighties.

This is what we noticed about Bohol, in general. People tend to live with an awareness of going with nature rather than against it. Of course there are pockets that show otherwise, but for the most part, there is a good healthy blend of man and nature.

What a hopeful stretch of road.

It's How We Roll

I watched a rather silly film called "Hall Pass" recently. It's about two mid-lifing men who get a hall pass from their wives: a week off from their marriages to get everything out of their systems. The men are total flops and are proven to be total losers in the dating game. The women inadvertently do better. This made me think of how different male and female sexuality truly are.

I read before that women's orgasms really happen in the brain, but I have to say it's not really the brain. It sounds so terribly corny, but for a woman it starts in the soul.  So, if you're inattentive, spacing out, not listening, being a flake, not holding your own, don't expect us to want sex. It just doesn't happen that way. Women are turned on by engagement. When we are seen, heard, spoken to, appreciated, heart to heart and soul to soul authentically by our faithful lovers, that is the hottest thing.

Perhaps I speak for myself, but rippled abs don't do it for me.  In fact, men who spend too much time trying to do the macho turn me off.  Men who are engaged in life and truth, who have integrity, are gentle and kind and are not led by their hormones and emotions, are not dazzled and dazed by superficiality, who find beauty where others can't--these are the qualities that turn a woman on, so much more than muscles or wealth.

For a woman, the way to sexual intimacy is an all-terrain ride. Sorry, but that's just the way it is. For men, the close proximity of flesh is all it takes. For us, it goes further back. Are you present when we're together? Do you see me? Hear me? Are you interested in what I'm saying or are you nodding off absently? Every meeting and coming together is a building block towards better sex. We need for the invisible connections to be vivid, strong and present, and then we want to take it to the next level. But if all we see is disinterest or physical need and nothing more, a good read might be more enticing.

And that is just the way it is for us, especially as we grow older and come into our own. Sexual intimacy happens way outside the bedroom first. Every encounter with our partner throughout the day, in every way, will determine our enthusiasm and desire for more later on.

Yup. That's just how we roll.

Bohol Files 3: The Tarsier

photo by DALE DIAZ

This part of our trip was a little sad.  We saw this little guy right on the Loboc riverbank. I've seen photos of tarsiers perched on shoulders and arms before and I'm glad that human beings are no longer allowed to touch them. They feel totally traumatized, actually, and there are stories about them banging their heads to induce death because of all the stress tourism brings. That's just heartbreaking.

There was a baby tarsier where we were and the poor thing was just curled up and huddled, all alone on a branch.  I could feel his fear so I told the kids to go quietly into the next hub where the adults were. On the upside, the tarsiers are free to roam. Their caretakers say they always come back, but I'm not sure that is a measure of their health or happiness.

Our guide said that they are not endangered. He claims the reports are false and the tarsiers are still everywhere.  His tone suggested that all the new guidelines about the care of tarsiers are a bit over the top. My experience with them tells me the opposite. Wouldn't it be kinder to just let them be so that future generations can flourish in the wild again?

Bohol Files 2: The ATV Experience

photo by DALE DIAZ

Anything that requires helmets has never been my thing. I thought about that as I painstakingly navigated my very first ATV (all-terrain vehicle) through the Bohol countryside.  It occurred to me, out in the middle of nowhere, that my automatic shunning of any activity that needs head gear might be traced to the death of a much loved uncle, one of my mother’s favorite cousins. 

Tito Benny was young, warm, funny, and father to gorgeous twins.  As a child, I remember the bottomless grief that surrounded us during his funeral and the strange siren sound that filled the chapel on the last day. It was his widow’s wail--an ethereal sound I will forever associate with pure pain. That was my first lesson on loss and it was a hard one.

But our children lead us to untold destinations and on this particular trip, my boys brought me to this place of reckoning:  a vehicle that required a helmet.  I suppose it can be described as a motorcycle with four wheels and that gives some kind of consolation when that’s all you have on your side. I tried to scan the place for any other kind of vehicle that didn’t require me to learn a new skill or don the dreaded metal head wrap, but the only tandem ride they had was under repair.  I wasn’t about to lose sight of my boys or hand them over blindly to the locals just because I didn’t like the idea of helmets and rides.  So, at the ripe middle age of 44, I donned a smelly helmet and got on the thing with wheels.

The first thing they make you do is drive the ATV on a little practice trail. Of course I drove straight into the grass and knocked down a wooden pole;  I forgot that brakes are useful things.  You press them and then you stop, hopefully before you destroy property or body parts. I use my feet for brakes, but for this particular vehicle, that doesn’t work. Once I got my hard-wired brain around that detail, I was okay. D thinks I held everyone up with my lack of speed and skill, but I don’t think it matters. Our boys had a grand time. No one else complained.  All they care about is that they got to drive their own ATVs. I saw a lot of butterflies on the way, too, and I don’t think anyone who zips through life for the sake of speed sees all the lovely details. I did.

So I finally did the helmet-and-wheels combo, but I did not forget to take in the sights, the lush and lovely Bohol countryside, its mud and manure, but also the birds, butterflies and dragonflies, the children who waved at us, unaware of the threshold I was crossing, and the grandmother who flashed me a smile of solidarity.


I'm thankful that the helmet, ATV and I had a life-giving experience.  It made me remember Tito Benny and his wonderful laugh.

Bohol Files 1: The Ananyana

D and I took our four boys on our first ever summer trip together.  At first I explored bringing them to Misibis Bay but the cost was so prohibitive and went against my goal of showing them how to travel simply. We checked out several resorts, but in the end we went for this little 12-room resort on Panglao Island, The Ananyana. We loved it.

I love that it isn't a concrete structure, but a series of huts that blend with nature. It's simple and nicely done.  The resort is over a decade old and could do with some sprucing up, but the rooms are still clean and comfortable.

D and I took a regular room. We put our boys in a family room.  The upstairs area of their room could use renovating. Though I appreciate the capiz doors and windows, there were holes in them that were taped over. They ought to repair that or change the finishing.  Our room had plain white walls which gave the room a welcome brightness.  Our boys, who like to read, could have used some of that.  We asked for better reading lamps for them instead, which the staff readily provided.

I don't know about you but I like to be able to fully close the bathroom door.  Our bathroom had swing type little doors that belong more to a bar in a Western; it didn't give much privacy.  The kids had a large floor to ceiling curtain as their bathroom door, which gave some coverage but still not enough privacy.  That would probably be the one thing I would change.  It would also be nice if all resorts started using earth-friendly soaps, shampoos, cleaners, etc.  This one uses Safeguard.  On the upside, I discovered that Safeguard removes mud stains! Whoa! Still, I doubt it's good for earth, foliage or sea. Other than that, we were all more than comfortable and enjoyed the simplicity and charm of the place.

I loved the hammocks.  The minute I saw them I knew I came to the right place. There are 5 of them in all.  Even the kids enjoyed them.  They spent a lot of time reading and swaying in the breeze. Sarap!! No beach trip is complete without the requisite "duyan" and I love Ananyana for making sure they had it.

The service is good. We got to know our waiters Coro and Danny and one of the boat men, Eric, and the very helpful manager, Ruela. We joked that they might have thrown a party after we left because we had so many requests. They made every effort to grant them. I asked for my meals without rice, but with a salad instead. We asked for fresh juices without sugar. The menu could use more good salads with lots more greens,  because you start to look for variety if you're staying in a lot and for more than 3 days (we stayed 5 nights). We love the place anyway! And we loved it even more when we discovered there were no TV sets in the rooms. YES!! They have a small one near the dive shop with dvds to rent and the kids enjoyed Yogi Bear one afternoon. But that was it. 

One of the reasons we chose the resort is its proximity to the beach.  Though the water is very, very shallow for a long stretch,  you can rent the resort boat to bring you to deeper waters for better swimming and great snorkeling. We booked tours through the resort and they were well organized and priced very well. 

The kids want to go back and D. and I wouldn't mind it either. It's harder and harder to find little places that are simple, clean, comfortable, nice and well run. The Ananyana is one such place.  If you're thinking of visiting Bohol, make sure you check it out.