Friday, March 29, 2013

WRITING LETTERS IN A JOURNAL


IT'S true, and it’s a shame, that most people don’t write letters anymore. They would rather express their feelings through text messaging, social media forums, blogs, or Facebook posts. Exchanges or interactions become faceless or impersonal or temporary. And very few, if none at all, had bothered to regard the power and longevity of written words.

Years ago, whenever there’s a chance to talk to their children, people were sometimes disappointed because they didn’t know how to communicate exactly what they wanted to. So they resort to letters. Some hand-written letters were often so beautifully composed and simply inspiring that people love to keep them in their personal files. Love letters, or friendly letters, or letters of a parent to his or her child, always carry sweet reminders of the feelings that had long been gone.

Friday, February 22, 2013

PINSAL FALLS

THIS blog about my trip to Pinsal Falls has long been overdue. My first and only visit to the tallest, if not the most beautiful waterfall in Ilocos, was way back in December 2011. Some of my snapshots of the place, now with a good number of likes and comments, had been in my Facebook’s Timeline photos for quite some time now. But with my recent trip to Cambugahay Falls in Lazi, Siquijor early this month and to Balite Falls in Amadeo, Cavite in April last year, I cannot help but compare these two falls with Pinsal Falls.

It’s an easy verdict for me: Pinsal Falls certainly stands above the two, not only because of its size but also because of its rocky landscape and the challenges it offers, a number of other interesting natural features of the area, and its accessibility (it’s approximately 30 minutes ride from the town proper).

Now, with the advent of summer, you might think of a perfect getaway for your barkada or family, and Pinsal Falls may be a good place to go. Having visited the place myself, I can assure you that a summer break to this place gives you some fun climbing, picnic, swimming, and exploring.

Monday, January 28, 2013

CONFESSIONS OF A BOOK NUT

To-be read books, all second-hand 

MY love affair with books did not start until I was 13. I was a first year student of a private school in the poblacion (Sta. Maria, Ilocos Sur), and it was my first time to see a real library. I was from the barrio and I could just count with my fingers the books that I had read, and suddenly I was in a place surrounded by an impressive collection of books, a wide variety of titles, stacked up neatly in series of shelves and glass cabinets.

I knew right then what I really wanted to do, and that was to read. Soon, I was in the library devouring fantastic stories, children’s fiction, anthologies, encyclopedias, adventures and history, to the point that I had been forgetting to review for exams and submit my school projects.

I become a compulsive reader. I would spend most of my vacant time in the library. There were just too many books to read. That started my most dearly cherished ambition to live in a big house with my own private library. I even had this secret wish to stay in prison surrounded by lots of books to read, just like the young lawyer in Anton Chekhov’s “The Bet,” who spent, because of a crazy bet, 15 years of solitary confinement reading books, from novels with a complicated love plot, sensational stories, to volumes on languages, philosophy, history, and religion, thus educating himself.  

Saturday, December 29, 2012

A “NEW NORMAL” HOLIDAY

Christmas Tree 2010

I DID not display any Christmas ornaments in my house this year, just like the last. And my kids were not asking me why. Only once did my nine-year-old daughter mention about putting up our old Christmas tree at its usual corner in the living room, but it was not a question of why I wasn’t doing it, but it was rather a reminder, or maybe a command, for me to obey.

It was just a week before December and Roseya thought I’ve easily forgotten what our family has loved doing at this time of the year. She missed the whole family tradition of preparing for Christmas, such as decorating the tree while playing Christmas CD’s—Paskong Pinoy and Jose Mari Chan’s Christmas album were all-time favorites. It was a wonderful time together as a family. She has been looking forward to setting up the little star or an angel on top of the tree, all decked out in its Christmas finery.

Monday, December 10, 2012

MY PEN PAL


PEN PALS maybe a strange term for the younger generations who have been living almost day to day with instant messaging, chat rooms, and social networking sites. To them, pen pals seem to come from a by-gone age. What do you need a pen for when you can reach your friends, old, new or potential friends, by just a click of the mouse?

As the term suggests, pen pals are two people, usually from different places, originally strangers, who regularly exchange friendly letters, mostly handwritten, and pictures with corny dedications at the back. The relationship would reach a major turning point when one would eventually travel across the distance to finally meet the other. They may fall for each other, that is, when physical attraction overpowers the emotional attraction they may have intimated on scented stationery. Or like with any friendship in life, they remain pen pals for only a short time. They would get to the point in their lives where they have too many things to take care of.

Today, however, there is an Internet version of the same thing. It still has its original meaning of remote friends in different parts of the world who write to each other through e-mails or private messages on social networking sites. The “pen” now means the electronically written communication. There are also pen pal sites for many single males or females to meet their “pals” online and later set up dates for themselves.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

DAYBREAK


DURING a brief vacation in my hometown in Ilocos early this month, I forced myself to wake up before light just to see the familiar panorama of dawn in the barrio. Though I was sluggish after an eight-hour trip from Manila a day before, I braved the chilly air to watch the yellow strands of light above the mountain range to the east. I observed the breaking sun as if I had not seen it in so many years.

It’s easy to fall in love with the dawn. I always do. I would have my eyes transfixed to the radiating pink and faintly golden plumage of daybreak, like a beauteous lady smiling enticingly at you, or with rosy arms outstretched for a motherly embrace, dispelling any restlessness and grogginess of your tired soul.

It’s the kind of affection you miss so much, but sleepless nights and hectic obligations make you forget about her though. But the moment you try to reach her by the path of the night, you look east again and you’d find her as before.

There’s always this solemnity of her presence, when only the light moves, slowly from gray of a withering night to streaks of orange, and yellow and shaft of silver breaking from the clouds. And I can only have such lingering moment when I was in our old place in Nanguneg. Unlike in my house in a subdivision in Bulacan, where my view of the east is blocked by row of houses on elevated ground across the street, our house in the barrio would give me a clear view of that Homeric “rosy-fingered dawn.” 

Monday, November 5, 2012

5 BEST MEMOIRS THAT I’VE READ

I ENJOY reading books and read a lot. When I have this craving for reading, I succumb to whatever book that is available, so that qualifies me as a bookworm. My choice of books is eclectic, so I read everything that piques my interest.

I have my preferences, though, as an order of priority whenever I have given so many choices at one time: historical novels, award-winning books, and books that are made into outstanding movies.

But lately, reading narrative non-fictions, or first-person accounts that read almost like a novel, is an added delight. I’m always thrilled by personal truths written not only by famous writers, thinkers, and celebrities, but also by ordinary persons who examine themselves as they navigate through life, or ones written by those who can honestly talk about themselves in a purposeful way. And I am equally amazed by those who mythicize themselves, unraveling their exploits or histories as only they know them, and by those who start as a total no-gooder, but ends up as a total expert.

I am referring to memoir, which is different from an autobiography, though both words are sometimes used interchangeably. Unlike autobiography that is laden with dates and facts of the author’s entire life, a memoir does not delve too much into life details. It only provides a record not so much bound with timelines but of a random set of events that occurred and influenced a person’s life.

According to some authors, a memoir is a self-written account of selected events and phases in life that stands out in the memories of a person. It is a true story with a real-life plot, characters, setting, a couple of sub-plots, focusing on the part of the writer’s past that has universal appeal. It should be interesting in itself, as a novel might be.

The best memoirs, for me, should contain witty, interesting short stories and feelings or events that I can relate to in my own life. It should follow a story line or compile several anecdotes, such documents of honest thoughts, with a related theme, touching a subject that is either transformational or inspirational. It should have some kind of emotional impact that an ordinary reader like me should care. And finally, the writing has to be good.

There are five captivating and awesome memoirs I have read over the past few years. I picked up these memoirs because I believe they have permanently changed somehow the way I think about certain things, and gave me the idea that all lives worth living are interesting to read.

My list here was arranged in the order when I read them.

1.      Out of Africa by Isak Denisen

      When I first got hold of the book, I thought it was a novel, which is the basis of the Oscar Award winning movie of the same title   starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford. But  the book is actually   a memoir written by a Danish baroness (real name: Karen von Blixen) who took over the management of a coffee plantation on her own in Kenya after she and her unfaithful husband divorced. It’s a vivid snapshot of her life in Africa, or rather a lyrical expression  of her love to the wonderful people and nature that touched her life there. But more than that, I was touched by her relationship (though she did not clearly define in the book the nature of such romance) with Denys Finch Hatton, the British farmer and hunter whom she met in the country. The pair had a tender affair, but not that of a “permanent partnership” that Blixen would have loved to happen. Hatton would use Blixen’s farm as his home base. And they would fly over her farm and some parts of Africa using Hatton’s biplane. The relationship ended when Hatton died in a plane crash. I feel for Blixen in her anguish and infinite longing, for the loss of a person she adored so much like a soul mate, and the loss of the coffee farm due to low yields. The book is a slow read; for it’s also an account on the charm, the majesty, the beauty of the vast continent, and the culture of the tribes therein; but it’s definitely a worthwhile read. 

2.      One L by Scott Turow

This is a journal-like narrative by Scott Turow, telling his experience as a first-year student at Harvard Law School where freshmen are dubbed One Ls. I first heard about this book when it was recommended by one of our speakers during our orientation as first year law students in a premier university. But I was only able to read it when I  was already in third year, or after I got kicked out and transferred to another school. Still, it was not a totally waste of time. I came to understand where I failed or what I lacked in my freshman year. I realized that first year in law school is the most critical in the life of a lawyer. Early on, you have to survive the terrors, depressions, hazing, compulsive work (e.g. reading up to 20 cases for a two-hour long recitation in class!), and very intimidating professors. One memorable account in the book is one that deals with the Socratic method of lecturing, where there were no clear answers. It was a familiar experience in my first school to be grilled with questions by the professor using that method. I suffered anxiety over a single exam that may determine my future in law school. The book narrates not only about law school but about being human in an intense, often grueling, situation. It is a must-read for first-year law students and law school applicants, or by anyone who has ever contemplated going to law school. 
                                                          
3.      I Know the Caged Bird Sing by Maya Angelou

       I didn’t hear about Maya Angelou until she recited her poem “On the Pulse of Morning” at the inauguration of US President Bill Clinton in 1993. So when I read her memoir more than 15 years later, I was amazed at the kind of life    she had endured and how she overcame her inferiority complex, trauma and racism, to become what she is now, a self-possessed, dignified young woman, and a multi-awarded poet and author, and playwright. I have read    fictions and stories about the origin of slavery of Negroes in America, the courage of black men and women, proud and strong under oppressive circumstances, and issues of rape, molestation, lynching and racism in their quest for independence and personal dignity. I read them from Alex Haley’s Roots, Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon and Beloved, Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, Alice Walker’s The Color Purple, and Richard Wright’s Native Son to name a few. And Angelou’s memoir covers topics common to these stories, particularly the era following the civil rights movements. I was no longer shocked and saddened by them. But it was a new experience reading this autobiographical story, written in the perspective of a young girl, as a three-year old then up to her early teens in a small, rural community during the 1930s. I admire her strength, her candor, poignancy and grace, all told in her powerful language, vivid scenery and emotions. It is a good book but not recommended for young readers.  
    
4.      Red Azalea by Anchee Min

My love for historical fiction leads me to Katherine, a novel about a Chinese girl and a seductive American teacher,  and aroused my curiosity of what was life in Mao’s China during the Cultural Revolution, and to Anchee Min, the author of  the book. And this has inspired me to pick up Red Azalea, her honest and frightening account under the shadow of Mao. It is her own story of inner strength and courage as she grew up in the rigid context of Communism, and living up with ideology and gender issues, sex, suicide, humiliation and political subterfuge. The drama unfolds like the convoluted plot of a telenovela. As a child, she was taught to be a good communist and was sent to a labor camp to work in the rice fields. Consistent with Communist dogma against any type of individualism or expression of emotions, communal laborers like her were forbidden to speak, dress, read, write, or love as she pleased. She entered, however, into a secret love affair with her female supervisor at the labor camp. Later on, she was selected to be trained as an actress for the film version of one of Madame Mao’s political operas. But Mao died before the film was completed, and Madame Mao was sentenced to death. It was then that Min realized that she was just a victim to the craziness of the culture like anyone else in her country, and that life might be better elsewhere. With the help of a friend, she left China for America. It is an interesting book.


5.      Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt


      I have so little knowledge about the book or its author when   I picked it up in a bookstore. Without the gilded seal bearing “Winner of the Pulitzer Prize” on its cover, I wouldn’t have taken a second look, and wouldn’t have the chance to experience glorifying this gem of a book. This is an honest narration of a young Irish-American boy, crushed under the oppressive conditions of impoverished childhood, heartbreaking struggles with his father’s alcoholism, and his mother’s attempts to keep the family intact, the death of three of his siblings, and the casual cruelty of relatives and neighbors, but narrated by him with eloquence and remarkable forgiveness, and in astounding humor and compassion. That’s a big wow for me. The story happened in the Depression-era in New York and the war years in Ireland, where the family moved after they left America. The story, seen through the eyes of the author’s younger self, makes you laugh and cry with his heartbreaks and near-starvation, and keeps you rooting for his family’s survival. It highlights abject poverty and unemployment, those devastating conditions faced by millions around the world, but as a whole, it tells a story of hope and triumph rather than one of misery. Deserving of my five stars.

Just to round up my top ten, I must also confess an appreciation for the following autobiographical books: From Barrio to Senado by Juan M. Flavier, Nothing Is Impossible by Christopher Reeve, The Measure of a Man by Sidney Poitier, America is in My Heart by Carlos Bulosan, and Born on the Fourth of July by Ron Kovic.

I would love to write one of my own someday. I will definitely make one if only to help me make sense of my life, confront the truth, and provide myself new perspectives in life. But for now I just enjoy finding pieces of myself in other people’s lives revealed through their well-written memoirs.