cobyisms.com

The year we had Fonzie

2013-05-25T11:22:00.002+08:00

I remember the time when Mike and I were choosing the breed of dog we were going to get. He was insisting that we get a chihuahua, but I insisted we get a a mini schnauzer. A few months later and we got our first dog: Fonzie.

He was a tiny pup when we got him; he could barely stand and was always peeing about. He made a mess of things: he almost ripped my laptop cord in half, pooped and pissed on the couch countless times, and he was always... aroused. There was a time when he positioned himself on the couch and prepared to drop the bomb, and because there was no tissue or piece of paper in sight, I dove to catch the warm package with my bare hands! It was horrific. He gave me a curious look after that. But we loved him. I loved him.

Unfortunately, the day came when his energy was too much for us to handle so we gave him away to a responsible person who can handle him more than we could. It was, of course, a deal we didn't really want, but we really had no choice. Much as we love Fonzie, we just couldn't afford to take care of him anymore. We're not heartless to throw him out the streets. One sad sunset, we bid him farewell.

While we have Pogo now, not a day goes by without me thinking about Fonzie. I'm very sure he's in a better home now. I heard that he's still energetic and he's making another family happy. But I do miss him. Terribly so. And even if he's no longer with us, I will always think of him as a part of my family.

My love for spoilers

2013-05-13T22:09:00.001+08:00

A spoiler has the opposite effect on me. My decision to see a film depends partly on it. I have a terrible need to know what will happen, who the characters are, and how the story will end. But I also understand why so many hate it: a spoiler ruins the emotional experience people get from seeing a scene or hearing a very important line firsthand. That is why I prefer to keep details of a film to myself and speak only when asked (or forced). But when asked, I give out a lot.

Beautiful Bohol

2013-05-10T21:00:00.000+08:00

The best trip we had for the first half of 2013 (and probably the best one we ever had since Mike and I got together four years ago ) was our three-day Bohol trip. The people were nice and while the air was ripe with the unmistakable scent of a province, it was surprisingly the most pleasant I've experienced. Of course, the trip was made more special by the fact that it was our first local trip by plane. Mike was like a child on his first plane ride: nervous, almost frightened. But he got over his fear on our trip back home.

Upon arriving at the airport, we were greeted by a group of people carrying signs bearing names, hotels, tours and activities visitors can get to enjoy while on the island. We were informed before leaving Manila that a van will pick us up to bring us to Darunday Manor.

Very nice place Darunday is. Comfortable beds, cozy rooms, free wi-fi, ethnic handiwork, hot and cold showers. What really pleased me was the friendly staff of the hotel. Even though we conversed with them in Filipino, they responded to us in English. It's one of the good places to stay on the island for budget travelers.

On our first and second day, we went to the Bohol Cultural Center in Tagbilaran for a cultural event where, aside from various performances and workshops, we were treated to various handicrafts and delicacies made in Bohol and its neighboring islands. It was a treat to the senses!

By the end of the first day, Mike and his boss went to have dinner by the river and watch the fireflies. Unfortunately, I had to stay at the hotel the entire night to finish some tasks for my other job. Though Mike took photos of the fireflies, they weren't enough to quench my desire to see them.

Before the second day ended, Mike, his boss and myself went to see the second oldest church in Bohol--Loboc Church. We took a tricycle to Island City Mall in Dao and took a jeep to Loboc. The old part of the church was converted into a museum while masses were held at the back. (See photos below)

We finished our little tour of the church a little before 4 in the afternoon and we wanted to see more of Bohol. We wanted to visit tarsiers. Unfortunately, we didn't hire a van or car and the buses that pass by the Tarsier Sanctuary were always full, and the only way to get there was by motorcycle. Two friends with motorcycles offered to bring us to the Sanctuary and back for a small fee. The thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle along the countryside without protection was frightening. And we also didn't know these men; they might have taken us somewhere we didn't want. But we really had to see the tarsiers so we finally and nervously accepted their offer. (I honestly thought of ways to defend myself and Mike should something bad happens) We were wrong to worry too much.

The trip along Bohol's countryside on a motorbike was an adventure. It was almost liberating, really, as you ride past nipa huts, farms and hills, without the police stopping us for not wearing helmets. It was fun! The trip back from the Sanctuary was great as well. When we returned to Loboc, I wished they would take us back all the way to Tagbilaran, but that would've cost us more. The tarsiers, by the way, were adorable. Made me want to joke out loud if they never get tired of drinking coffee. (They're also known for their wide eyes if you haven't seen one)

I guess any trip to Bohol would never be complete without seeing the Chocolate Hills. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to visit--we had to go back for a dinner with the event organizers. (Mike and I decided not to go to that dinner eventually)

On our final morning in Bohol, while we were packing our bags, Mike and I promised to go back and see those that we weren't able to see, the places we weren't able to visit, the food we weren't able to taste. We wished we had more time. So we promised we'll come back and see more of this beautiful island. It's a waste, a travesty even, not to experience everything that the wonderful island of Bohol can offer.

Can't put all the photos. They're too many for one blog post.

Freelancing 'til when?

2013-04-24T12:50:00.001+08:00

When I was in my third year of college, I began working as a freelance writer for an Australian website. I wrote hundreds of articles. I did this until I finished my studies and it has helped me pay for projects and allowed me to spend a little more on food. I only stopped from doing freelance work when I began my shortlived career as an account associate at TeamAsia. Then I went back to doing freelance work and it has brought me to places I've never been, meet very important people and allowed me to buy things I never thought I could afford. More importantly, it gave me complete control over my time.

A corporate slave can only wish for what I can do in my spare time (which is a lot mind you). I can do what I want--sleep late, wake up late, meet friends for lunch or dinner, watch a movie in the afternoon--provided that I finish my tasks early. Right now, I am handling two online jobs, I still write for the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, a few PR projects and I host every now and then, but I still have time to manage the house, walk the dog and go to lunch with friends.

But when you've been doing freelance work for a long time, especially if it's mostly online, it tends to make you want to stop every now and then. There are days when I feel that I'm getting tired of what I'm doing and wish to take a day off and I've done that. I went on leave for a day without actually going on leave. I just made sure that my superiors can reach me whenever they have questions about my work (I haven't done that in a long time).

Also, there's a thought that never seems to stop bugging me: stability. Obviously, I can't do freelance work forever. The money is really good, but only when there are projects. There are days when I think of working for a bigger events firm like Eventscape or maybe go full-time at NCCA. Or finally working for a magazine. The money may not be as good as what I'm earning now, but there is stability there, experience and professional growth eventually. Besides, what purpose will my degree serve if I do not work full-time for a company?

Hold on. I did not study to become a corporate slave, did I? A degree is a privilege not given to everybody, but does that mean we have to do what society expects us, college graduates, to do and slave twenty to thirty years for a couple of companies? Nothing's wrong with doing freelance because a freelance job is still a job and it does not mean we should only give a fraction of what we are capable of to finish it. My work still gets criticized, we still get feedback (sometimes too much) and we learn from them. I'm not very different from my contemporaries in the corporate world.

But the nagging thought of stability is still there and after giving it much thought, I realized that it all boils down to lifestyle. It's the only thing that's keeping me from leaving my freelance posts. So the questions now is: when will I be ready to give up the lifestyle I have grown to enjoy and go back to the corporate world? Something I'll have to answer soon.

Mr. Stache

2013-01-29T19:54:00.001+08:00

Not everyone can carry a mustache. Certainly not me. And I'm not sure many Filipino men in Manila would want to wear a mustache lest they risk looking like Senator Sotto who has a very nasty reputation by the way. Guess it takes guts to wear one. But here's a video about a man who finally decided to wear his inner mustache on the outside, and boy did his life change afterwards. Watch out for the ending--it's pretty funny!

Labels

2013-01-27T04:12:00.001+08:00

I've had this thought for hours, and aside from the things I have to do at work, this one has kept me up the entire night. I think it's about time I throw the question to others. It's nothing important, mind you. Here it is:

The term "boyfriend" will sound too young when we get older, and the term "partner," though politically correct, will sound too cold. Same-sex marriage isn't permitted in the Philippines yet so he can't call you "husband," really. So what should you call each other?

Best answer gets a prize. A kick in the ass goes to the one who will answer with "mine."

Pogo the Chihuahua

2013-01-23T21:15:00.001+08:00

If you don't like dogs, then you shouldn't be reading this blog post. If you do, meet my dog Pogo.

Skyfall (Cover by Eli Lieb)

2013-01-06T11:02:00.001+08:00

I liked Skyfall so much that I had to watch it twice. Smart and riveting, I think it's one of the best Bond movies yet. And I think Adele's Skyfall is icing on the cake. I like it, but this cover by Eli Lieb is just delicious. Enjoy!

My very first outfit post

2012-12-18T00:23:00.002+08:00

Over a cup of coffee, a fashion blogger friend of mine suggested that I start posting photos of my outfits since I dress well enough. (It was a mighty compliment, I tell you.) She reasoned that the kind of clothes I wear is something an average guy can use, too. So here I am, posting my first outfit post (two photos only, sorry) for you average Juans.

Button down shirt from TopMan, slim fit jeans from Penshoppe (the only pair I can wear from that brand), a good watch (never dress up without one), and a pair of Toms (a favorite of mine).

I'm not a fan of wearing too much accessories for guys and I can never take a man who dresses like a child seriously. I always believe that as you grow older, your personal style should mature as well. So my suggestion is to opt for the classic clean look--it never goes out of style.

And gentlemen, never sacrifice comfort for style. You don't have to wear a coat or a jacket when it's 35 degrees celsius outside just to look good. Not only will you sweat a bucketful, you'll look ridiculous as well. Women have more leeway to wear whatever just because, so save yourself the embarrassment.

Fourth anniversary dinner

2012-12-10T22:23:00.001+08:00

My boyfriend and I have been together for four colorful years. So colorful in fact that I think we have used every crayon in our box, the light happy ones, and the dark ones as well, to paint the canvass that we both share. Despite the issues we've had in the past (and a few more we still have today), I think we have grown better and stronger as a couple. Speaking for myself, I have become more patient, understanding and wiser when it comes to matters that concern not only the relationship, but also my partner, because how I live my life also affects how my partner lives his, no matter how small that influence or my decisions may be.

In the eyes of some people like us, four years may seem like a short time. But to most people, especially straight people, well, let's just continue to surprise them. I'm happy. Very happy.

I'm not an Erwan Heussaff and I'm not well-versed in the language of chefs, but I daresay I can cook. I have made several good dishes for various occasions and recreated a few dishes from a few high-end restaurants with success. So I'm pretty confident that I would be able to prepare a wonderful dish to celebrate our fourth anniversary with my partner.

Here is how I prepared my simple creamy salmon pasta for tonight's special occasion.

• Boil water (make sure it's as salty as seawater) and cook pasta as per packet instructions.

• While the pasta is cooking, sauté crushed garlic on a skillet until golden brown then add slices of salmon (I used canned salmon and I like adding the liquid to make the sauce better) and 300 grams of all-purpose cream. A dash of pepper. Remove salmon from the sauce.

• As soon as the pasta is cooked, toss the pasta to the skillet and mix with the sauce. You don't have to drain the water from the pasta. I don't get why many Filipinos like to drain their pasta dry after cooking. It's so wrong.

• Transfer to a bowl, place the salmon on top of the pasta, and serve with toasted bread.

Very easy to do. It'll only take you 20 minutes to prepare the dish. So tell me, why go to a fancy restaurant if you can prepare a dish like this yourself?

Let's talk about gay men with abs

2012-11-23T00:21:00.001+08:00

Over a cup of coffee, a friend of mine told me what his best friend told him: there is a ranking for gay men that is based purely on their looks. Basically, the "Top 25" is composed of gay men who look the same: properly groomed, fit clothing, big chest, strong arms, and a six-pack. (Apparently a flat tummy is not enough anymore) And those who look otherwise, and by that I mean a regular man with no bulging muscles--a man who, in the eyes of men who subscribe to this ridiculous ranking, look unremarkable--belong to the "Bottom 25." I almost spilled my coffee when I heard this.

I'm a regular guy. I don't have a six-pack, I don't have big arms and chest. In fact, I recently had my weight checked and I found out that I'm a pound over my ideal body weight. But what I can be proud of is that I can dress well. I'm a fan of button downs and polos that do not cling tightly to my entire upper body like a chameleon to a branch.

Despite my liking for comfortable collared shirts and casual long sleeves, it seems, from the requirements of this ranking, I am unremarkable still. In fact, all my friends, my good gay friends who are all doing so well in their chosen field, are also unremarkable because, like me, they do not have the body of a Greek god.

When I went to a bar in Malate to meet a friend at midnight (who forgot to meet me, unfortunately), I met an Indian-American man who just came from the States and he told me I was different from the rest of the men at the bar that night--a bar that was full of abs and testosterone. I indulged myself a little and asked what he meant by "different" and this was what he said: "You're the only guy here who can talk and make sense." That came from someone who owned several businesses in the States.

Me, a regular guy with no six-pack, can talk and make sense. Isn't that sexier? Isn't that more attractive? Isn't it more remarkable to be able to hold a conversation than maintain a group of abdominal muscles that have become society's basis of a "real" man? What is a real man anyway? If I were single, I wouldn't want to date a man who spends more time at the gym than living life. I would rather spend time with a man who I can talk with. But I have already met that man and we have been together for almost four years. Completely unremarkable.

It makes me wonder, where do we, regular gay men, belong? Where do we put ourselves in this world of abs and toned arms and bulging chests? Does being regular nowadays truly make us undesirable? And are we left to mingle with fellow unremarkably regular gay men too because some men with abs think that men with abs should only meet (or fuck) other men with abs?

Men with abs. Pfft. Where's the variety in that?

Random thoughts: Sotto and Dracula

2012-11-08T11:07:00.001+08:00

#1: We're so accustomed to seeing and hearing the protagonist's struggle against their enemies that the outcome of almost every story conceivable can easily be predicted at the start of the film or the first chapter of a book. But what if we tell the story from the perspective of the villain? Or the arrogant, monologue-obsessed, power-hungry bully? Or from the perspective of Senator Sotto? Wouldn't that make for an interesting story?

Note: I am not suggesting that the senator is the villain or the arrogant, monologue-obsessed, power-hungry bully mentioned in this blog. Clearly Senator Sotto is neither the hero nor the villain in this blog entry, but it would make for an amusing story if told from his point of view, wouldn't you think so?

#2: November 8, 2012. Today is Bram Stoker's 165th birthday. If he were alive, I think he'd be very disappointed to see his gothic novel Dracula completely bastardized by the glittering halls of Hollywood to appeal to countless screaming ovaries and lady-balls.

Something to think about. Cup of tea, anyone?

Never Ending

2012-10-10T20:21:00.000+08:00

Never Ending
By Jacob Clavano (2009)

Everlasting light through long times I seek,
For all men say life without love does naught,
Distances stared I had not but been meek,
Silent, resigned, thou never strayed in thought.

At last thou enticed a glimpse, priceless jewel,
Like fierce summer sun on pale faded jeans,
Thou have taken me softly and uncruel,
Like moon rays caught in flowing evening breeze.

Like brilliant stars tonight, alive, aflame,
The blankness, my void, it fills unceasing,
At last, fair being, though not without name,
Spoke truer words than songs of morning.

My hand in yours along the shores alight,
For love has found the everlasting light.

2012-09-30T14:33:00.001+08:00

Pogo's day out @ Town Center

Interpretations

2012-09-23T23:09:00.003+08:00

In the Mood For Love - Yumeji's Theme by Shigeru Umebayashi

Two young women walk down a cobblestone street with trench coats, bright scarves and colorful paper bags. They seem like they are having a wonderful conversation. They pass through the town streets, looking at stalls of ripe fruit and Persian cloth. It is a cloudy afternoon. They go to a cafe, sit, and order their favorite coffee. Cars pass by swiftly. From the other side of the road, a boy quickly looks from left to right and takes his first step into crossing the narrow street. He gets to the other side and sees one of the women. He feels a sudden burst inside his chest. He could not breathe, he could not speak. Everything around him begins to slow. His entire world dawns upon the clear vision of a face he has never seen before. He sees her beautiful brown hair, her luscious red lips, her almond-shaped eyes, and her perfect teeth. It was a vision. Pristine. Wonderful. Everything around him becomes a blur. The only clear image is that of the woman in front of him. He could hear her laughter – it is music to his ears. She moves a bit, unintentionally showing her perfect white legs and thighs. The wind caresses her fresh face and lifts her brown locks slightly, revealing her perfect neck. Her bosom is round and full, though hidden beneath from him and from the rest of the world. Her delicate fingers gently touch the length of her tall brown cup. Steam rises from the drink as she gently lifts it to her supple lips. The white foam touches her lips. The boy breathes heavily. His own temperature rising. He stiffens. He looks at her with intent, thirst, and desire. She turns to him as if to answer his call and she gives a nod, her smile present. Her eyes are bright and inviting as day slowly gives way to night.

*Interpretations is piece I wrote during my freshman year in college for our creative writing class. We were asked by our professor to listen to the song and write what we imagine to have happened. It was one of my favorite activities back then. Thank you, Prof. John Paul Abellera!

Call Me Maybe / Payphone Mashup

2012-09-14T11:43:00.004+08:00

I saw this yesterday on YouTube and I immediately fell in love with their mashup of the popular songs. It's a couple of months old so forgive me for coming across this video just now. But for those who have not seen it yet, you're in for a treat! Please take note that they used a real payphone in the song and video.

That simple carbonara

2012-09-11T20:58:00.001+08:00

Surely with all the photos of food you've seen on Instagram (assuming you have one) you'd probably say, "not another food post!" on this one. But wait, hear me out. I don't always post photos of food on my blog. I don't take photos of every great dish I eat. I tweet it maybe, but not always with a photo. I'm posting a photo of this dish because it blew me away. Never thought a dish made in 15 minutes at home would taste so much better than the expensive ones restaurants serve.

Carbonara Pasta

I've been following Erwan's blog for quite some time because it's one of the great, no-nonsense blogs on the internet these days. Erwan prepares delicious and healthy meals and he posts videos of how he prepares them for the benefit of his readers. But even though I drool over the delicious meals he prepares, I never really tried to do any one of the dishes he did. Until today.

I tried preparing Erwan's simple carbonara recipe and I think I was able to do it very well. It's unbelievably simple and it's very delicious. Eggs, cheese, olive oil, a slice of turkey and bacon. It's the perfect dinner for tonight, and the perfect dish to serve my guests tomorrow for lunch.

I thought why put the recipe here when you can just go directly to the source. There are a lot of great recipes there. Enjoy!

Random thought for today

2012-09-11T20:18:00.004+08:00

I feel bad for some of the foreign celebrities who come to the Philippines. Before they could even sit down in their hotel rooms, they're dragged into countless television shows and mall tours to say "mahal ko kayo" to fans that barely know them. And after a harrowing day of fan-kissing, hand-waiving, autograph-signing, picture-taking, interviews that ask the perennial question "what do you love about the Philippines?", they leave without really discovering and experiencing what our country really has to offer.

Missed opportunities

2012-09-09T22:44:00.000+08:00

I double-checked my resume and made sure that all the details were correct, that everything was current. I attached it onto an email I drafted minutes earlier. As I typed the first few letters of the email address of the recipient, my laptop immediately filled out the rest. This was not the first time I sent my application letter to this email address. Then I clicked on Send.

Eight months ago I received an email from one of the country's leading men's style magazine inviting me to their office in Manila for a job interview. If I remember it correctly, I was ecstatic and jumping all around the apartment because 1) I wanted to become a full-time writer and 2) I was hoping to start this career in the magazine industry. I replied immediately and after a few emails, I finally had my interview schedule. But there was a conflict in our schedule because of an annual event in Manila so my interview was moved a week later.

It was the editor-in-chief who emailed me a week later. He wanted to interview me in Makati. I clearly remember meeting him in a cafe and I was sweating terribly because I was nervous. There I was, as wet as a dog inside an air-conditioned cafe, and he wore dark long sleeves, cool and dry. It was kind of embarrassing at first, but I decided not to pay attention to that bead of sweat running down my back and answer all his questions the best I could. I wasn't the only one he was going to meet; there were others, too. A few days later, he called, and I declined his offer.

During that time I thought I made the right decision to decline his offer and focus on my final semester. My thesis was halfway through, class projects were piling up, and the theater production I was part of was going to be shown to the students in a month or so. I decided to forgo the opportunity to be a part of an industry I dreamed of because my studies were more important, especially when I was finally graduating from college.

And I did graduate. A few weeks later I found myself working for an IT Solutions company based in Alabang as a copywriter and executive assistant. At first I was enjoying it because I wrote white papers and other technical things. But I wasn't happy. Barely a month into the job I resigned to become an account associate for a marketing communications agency.

I enjoyed this job more than the first. It was fast-paced and exciting. There was so much to do. Actually, too much. But while I was learning how to create good decks (presentations) and those damned cost estimates, I began to miss writing. I was the last to join the team in my batch of newbies, and I was the first to leave. The truth is I could have handle the stress of the job, but my heart wasn't there. My heart was somewhere else. Imagine working for a good company, working from 9 in the morning to 12 midnight (which was never enough to get the job right), getting 17,000.00 pesos a month, but without commission, without passion. I was immediately disheartened and demotivated. I quit after 2 months and my reason was I no longer had the desire to continue because of a system that barely worked.

Immediately after I resigned from the company, I started working at home. This time I wrote everyday. The pay is good. Really good. Let's just say that my pay is worth more than my previous supervisor's pay. But even if I wrote everyday, I still can't get my mind of the industry I wanted to be part of.

I still work at home. Writing. Drafting. But an opportunity presented itself and I immediately thought of that missed chance to work for the magazine.

I double-checked my resume and made sure that all the details were correct, that everything was current. I attached it onto an email I drafted minutes earlier. It wasn't a very long email. It didn't have the usual formality of a cover letter. As I typed the first few letters of the email address of the recipient, my laptop immediately filled out the rest. Send.

I remember my mom telling me over a telephone call that I don't have the luxury of job-hopping and that I should focus on one job once I get it. I completely agree with her. But I think I won't be able to focus and I'll easily give up if my heart is not there with me. To hell with fancy positions and big paychecks. If my heart isn't there, then what's the point?

But isn't that what our 20s are for? Isn't it supposed to be the time of our lives when we begin to look for what we really want to be part of? Another stage in our quest to discover who we are and what we want to become. I'm not even 25 and I think it's okay for me to look for it. While I'm still young I will permit myself to make mistakes, to float freely, to discover new things, until I finally reach my goal and become part of an industry that I once turned down to finish college. Not that I'm ungrateful for finishing my education. That's another post entirely.

A book and a bowl of grapes

2012-09-02T18:35:00.001+08:00

Enjoying my book with a bowl of fresh grapes. I like to think that books are the grapes that make up our wine, which in turn becomes the stuff of discourse, wouldn't you?

Tempest

2012-07-30T15:34:00.004+08:00

Rain pours heavily outside the warmth of my room. The wind howls its anger through the cracks. Leaves scatter and trunks bend towards the lake to the east. The storm has come.

I hear nothing but the sound of cold water on earth, wood, steel and stone. It muffles the slightest whisper. I see not the tall structures of steel and glass on the horizon. The rain shrouds everything even the brightest light from afar. I feel not but the cold and bitter anger the world has held for our sins. But in the deafening cold silence, our filth washes away.

The Tempest - Ivan Aivazovsky, 1899

Lucky I am for in this chilly hour I am tucked between warm sheets, comfortable and safe. But where do others go to escape the downpour? Where do they go to find solace? Where do stray cats and dogs hide to escape Mother Nature's wrath? Where do birds go that once gracefully flew in our skies? Where do they hide?

I think of the things I have done. The things I will do. But what am I compared to a greater number that wrestles against the tempest to keep their homes and more importantly their lives? I think about them now and I worry.

In times when the world seems to pour all its tears on us, should we do nothing but weep with it? But not for long. From the pages of a book I read, I have found a line that is most apt in times of fear:

"You will only see the rainbow when you have learned to love the rain."

Rain pours heavily outside the warmth of my room and the wind howls its anger through the cracks. But we should never let our hearts be troubled for long. There is always hope.

Manong Driver

2012-06-05T22:03:00.001+08:00

It was a humid afternoon when I took a cab home. Like many others in the city, the cab didn't look too clean and comfortable to ride on. And like many others in the city, I didn't mind because I was used to it and I wanted to go home already.

From the client's office, we took to the back streets--the many little arteries that support life in this dirty city--and within moments we were already along the expressway to the suburbs. The ride was uneventful until the cab driver embarrassingly told me that he did not know the way to Alabang.

Initially I didn't know how to react. I didn't know what to say. The person driving this dirty white box on four wheels didn't know what exit to take on the expressway. It took me about two seconds to respond to his statement. Told him which exit to take, the directions he needed to get me home.

I was tempted to ask why he didn't know the way, but first I asked him why he took me as a passenger.

"It's my job," he said. "It's my job to take passengers to where they need to go."

I'm not one to strike a conversation with a complete stranger, but his answer made me want to ask more; to understand why he didn't say no like the many cab drivers in the city; to get to know the man behind the wheel better.

Unfortunately I didn't get his name, but I called him Manong.

Like many others in the city, Manong began as an overseas Filipino worker. He was an OFW and he worked as a family driver for a wealthy family in Saudi Arabia for 10 long years. It was a difficult decade for him because he rarely got to see his family. He gets to see them in the Philippines when there was a break from work or when he could afford the trip. Usually Manong would be with his family in Rizal for 2 weeks. Sometimes he'd stay for a month. And every time Manong left, it was the most terrible thing for him. But he knew then that leaving was necessary to feed his family, which was thousands of miles away, and bring his children to school.

But everything didn't go as well as he hoped. Like many others before him, Manong was cast out and jobless. Seeing that staying in a foreign place whilst jobless hardly made any sense, he decided to go back home with what little money he had saved almost two years ago. He was the only breadwinner and his eldest child was a Mass Communication student in her third year in UP Los Banos. Manong also had his other children to worry about.

Unfortunately, the vicious system commonly accepts the young, the new graduates, the idealistic, people like me, to work from the wee hours of the morning until late at night. Manong was already old, and even if he had experienced working abroad and a pretty decent English, too, he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance against the younger, thirstier, hungrier generation. But he sends his resume to companies regularly hoping he'd get a break.

When I asked him why he didn't hesitate to take me to Alabang, he said that it's his job to take me to where I want to go.

"I can't be choosy. These are difficult times and if I choose the people I take, I might lose an opportunity to earn something or learn something from those I didn't take," he said. "Besides, I'm doing this for my daughter in college. I want her to finish her studies."

Manong's daughter is currently a scholar at UPLB. Although she's doing extremely well in her academics and she's not paying a single centavo for her studies, it's the rent and daily allowance that she's asking from her father every week. Most of us have been through this and we know how difficult it is to budget our money and pay the rent when we're living away from our family. Manong still has a year to support his daughter. Another year before he sees her on stage with her diploma. And he will gladly drive his cab any time, anywhere just to see that beautiful day.

When we've reached our destination, I thanked him and gave him an extra 100 pesos. I gave him that much for three reasons:

1) For taking me to Alabang though if he didn't know the way;
2) For being a good father to his family and an honest person to me;
3) For the journey home.

It's not every day I get to meet people like Manong who is both honest and hardworking. We're all hardworking, I believe, but not all of us are as honest. And sometimes when we do get to meet someone who's honest enough to admit that he does not know the way, but has worked hard enough to get us there, he deserves a pat on the back and a tip to make him realize there are people who care and appreciate him for his efforts.

Free stuff in the morning from Samsung

2012-06-05T09:07:00.000+08:00

Our dogs being groomed by Urban Doggies

2012-06-03T16:38:00.000+08:00

Beautiful lamps in Cafe Mary Grace

2012-05-30T14:53:00.000+08:00