Window Views : Watching the Passing Scene

Ten confusing pop song titles

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 10:15:54 PST

THE CHINESE restaurant played American pop ballads non-stop tonight. While trying to eat masala-drenched mushroom rolls, I wished that Leon Lai's "爱你/不爱你" was playing instead of Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On". And that's because I'd rather not pay attention to lyrics I don't understand, than try to understand lyrics I'm forced to pay attention to. Like "My Heart Will Go On". Think about it: what on earth does that line really mean?

And so while trying to eat masala-drenched chicken, I dedicated the entire dinnertime mentally listing ten American pop songs with the most confusing titles. Broken hearts and endless dreams are what make pop so memorable, especially by such lyricists as Paul Williams, Alan & Marilyn Bergman, and Carole Bayer Sager in the 1970s and 1980s. "I Won't Last A Day Without You." "The Way We Were." "Nobody Does It Better". Story-telling at its lyrical, drama-queen best.

But sometimes, songs of broken hearts and endless dreams are narrated weirdly. Here are ten of those songs. I'm sure there are other songs worthy of greater discombobulation, but these are the ones that came out of my head while trying to eat masala-drenched jasmine rice. Masala in a Chinese restaurant. Confusing.

"My Heart Will Go On"—Celine Dion
And on and on and on and on. Lord knows where to. Woe betide those whose paths cross with this unstoppable heart.

"I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight"—Cutting Crew
It must have been about a vampire. He got killed before singing the song.

"Eaten Alive"—Diana Ross
It must have been about a vampire. She got digested before singing the song.

"Three Times A Lady"—The Commodores
Whether you're once, twice, or thrice a lady, you're still fake, lady.

"Muskrat Love"—America
A house is not a home unless there's puppy love, pussy willows, and rodent adoration.

"Killing Me Softly With His Song"—Roberta Flack
As opposed to killing her hardly.

"She Blinded Me With Science"—Thomas Dolby
I suppose that Mr. Dolby was fascinated with the seventies urban legend of a vengeful Imelda Marcos throwing muriatic acid on a famous singer's face.

"More Than A Woman"—The Bee Gees
The result of too much cosmetic surgery.

"Making Love Out of Nothing At All"—Air Supply
The person in question isn't at all interested, so why does he even bother doing it?

"Popsicle Toes"—Michael Franks
I refuse to think what happens to the foot when those toes melt.

So there. I now invite you to translate these titles into your native language. They might make better sense in the vernacular.

Better, at least, than Chinese masala.

As 2012 rolls in

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 07:18:44 PST

AFTER A year filled with political indecision and social dissatisfaction, 2012 promises changes in communications that can improve the way we live our own personal lives. For me, the past year has been one of personal change and adaptations. I acquired a new flat in Manila, changed jobs and brought my career back to fashion retail, relocated to Mumbai after four years in Kolkata, revisited the Bahá'í World Centre for the first time since I left it seven years ago, and lost some of the most beloved members of the Bahá'í Faith around the world. Some of the adjustments were not always fun, but they were required, and they helped me grow better each time.

I really look forward to 2012's innovations, and I wish every one of you a better beginning for the year!

Homecoming

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:48:25 PST

I JUST landed in Israel, my home when I served at the Bahá’í World Centre in Haifa in 2000-2004. I’m not familiar with the new Ben Gurion International Airport at Tel Aviv; it’s been modernized beyond my recognition. But I’m familiar with the sense of being here. In fact, the sense of being in this moment, right here, right now, is hitting me mightily today. It’s like the scent of earth after the rain: sweet, memorable, lingering. It feels like I never left the land at all.

I’m here for a few days to attend the wedding of Isra Ramirez to Nathan Liebman. Isra and I served together at the World Centre. When we met for a brief reunion in New Delhi in December last year, I promised that I’d attend her wedding anywhere it‘d happen.

And so here I am, in an exceptional place holding the holiest sites of my faith, and headed for an exceptional occasion. The moments ahead are going to be as treasured as the place itself.

Airtel, off the air

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:48:58 PST

AFTER MY recent agitations with Airtel remained unheeded, I decided to write one of their CEOs with hopes for a resolution. A quick look-up at LinkedIn made this task easy. Here’s what I wrote him (I deliberately struck off references to the individual):

Dear (Sir),
I am Paul Ancheta, and I have been using Airtel's palette of products and services for the past five years. I would like to address issues with Airtel that have changed my perception of the company.
Specifically . . . I had been using Airtel in Mumbai, and decided to retain my attachment to the company when I moved to Kolkata, where customer and backend services proved to be even more remarkable than Mumbai's. In particular, Mr. Suvojit Seal, ARC Park Street store manager, has repeatedly shown exceptional skills in speedily resolving my various issues and concerns. He is perhaps the best operations head that I have met in any industry in India.
With such experience, I decided to use Airtel when I moved back to Mumbai last June. The decision turned out to be unrewarded. I realized that my "favored status" in Kolkata would not be recognized in Mumbai, and that I had to return to such "rules" as having to wait for weeks before my subscription to three different numbers would be activated. It was frustrating to see that all the efforts in building a loyal relationship with Airtel would crash when I moved from one city to the other.
The bitter "icing on the cake" came in the past two weeks, when I requested for international roaming service. I request you to take time to read my narration of this unfortunate experience on http://blog.paulancheta.com/2011/09/airtel-fails.html.
This morning, when I repeatedly requested 121 for a deactivation of the IR service, I was told that the service has never been activated at all. With confusion and frustration, I have decided to end my relationship with Airtel.
Perhaps this message to you can merit some favorable attention internally. Thank you for your time.
Paul Ancheta
paul@paulancheta.com

He never replied. I saw this, not as dismissal, but as silent acquiescence. I have since unsubscribed from Airtel with a lesson for detachment that I intend to use with my new service provider, Vodafone.

Focal point: Lincoln Mayorga, “The Walk to Chatham Corners”

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 11:11:43 PDT

RASPUTIN MUSIC is one of the many delights that I discovered in San Francisco early this month. This five-storey, almost rundown store carries rare CDs, LPs, and DVDs at unbelievable prices--a source of joy for those still cringing at the extinction of the traditional record shop. I saw and immediately purchased a four-dollar, second-hand CD of West of Oz, Lincoln Mayorga's 1981 collaboration with Amanda McBroom (she wrote the Bette Midler classic "The Rose"). It's extremely rare to find a Mayorga or McBroom CD these days, so this one's a treasure.

Here's the full track of "The Walk to Chatham Corners", the album's highlight. It shows Mr. Mayorga's classical and jazz background in its usual sparkling quality.

High school reunion in San Francisco

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:49:51 PST

WHEN PHILIP Belarmino messaged me on Labor Day (5 September) about changing the evening’s dinner venue, I realized the adeptness of my high school batch mates in organizing such gatherings in the Bay Area. Bong (now Bhoc) Chavez and Mel Favila had advised Philip about the closure of Intramuros restaurant in San Francisco that night, so the venue shifted to Kuya’s in San Bruno.

The “UPIS’82 North California” chapter, as we call Philip and the rest, is clearly used to visitors, and their hospitality is remarkable. Doy Ver traveled through heavy traffic (it was the end of a busy Labor Day weekend). Edith Fortez-Kawai footed the full dinner bill. Philip picked me up and bestowed a tee shirt and fridge magnets upon me. What a lovely way to be welcomed to their community.

The men—and lady—all looked healthy and well. Bong seems to me the unassuming “big daddy” of the group: his erstwhile house was apparently the hub of previous gatherings. He is also the first in the group to have relocated to northern California. He is as soft-spoken and easy to laugh as I remember him back in high school.

On Facebook, Mel is mischievous with his posts and looks massive in photos. In person, he is surprisingly restrained, laughing a lot but joking a little. He is also a buff-looking hunk of a guy, a pleasant result of years of weight training. He looks a lot younger than what I expected. This man is a picture of contentment. I am happy to see how happy he seems to be.

I kept teasing Philip that night about being an elitist snob in high school. He sang with the exclusive UP Cherubim, and he led with the CMT officer corps. And if that was not enough, he was an honor graduate. He is still as pleasantly articulate as the “little boy” I used to walk with in the corridors of grade school. While my chats with him that night were brief, I am glad to have personally reconnected with him after all these years.

You know you are talking to a civil servant with Doy: he carries himself with dignity and endearment. Our beloved consul has come a long way, from representing our high school on basketball courts to representing our country on diplomatic courts. The hair has gone grayer since I last saw him in 2005, and this has given his handsome face a striking character that befits his stature.

I never imagined Leven Puno to be tall. In fact, he seems to be the tallest in the group. And he also looks the youngest—probably the reward of being a single man in his forties. He is funny and he is chatty. I enjoyed seeing the humorous interactions between Leven and the rest, especially Mel. A tall, handsome, and funny nurse. His patients are lucky.

And then there is the rose amongst the thorns, Edith. My, what a rose. She is incredibly lovely and incredibly poised. It may have been the result of so many years of being a flight attendant, but Edith seems to have a natural flair for elegance. Everything about her is smart and cool: her hair, the scarf around her neck, her sporty humor. I relished looking at and listening to her that evening.

We parted ways after a midnight round of coffee, gossip, and promises to meet again, whether in the United States or in India. Seeing high school friends is always delightful; this particular gathering in northern California will remain unforgettable.

Related Story: High school reunion in Toronto

The hills are alive in San Francisco

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:49:59 PST

THE MOST delightful surprise about San Francisco is how such a compact city (49 square miles) of hills and waterfronts can accommodate endless diversities in seamless manner. For example, on the last day of my weeklong stay, I dined in a quaint neighborhood called Little Italy, at the open-air Pinocchio on Columbus Avenue. Later, as I walked past cafés and gift shops with lovely little windows, I turned abruptly right on the corner and realized that I had just entered Chinatown.

It seems to me that everything that San Francisco offers is a glimpse of what the future world order could look like: a unified community of remarkable diversity. The ethnicities were unmistakable on my first day. A Southeast Asian immigration officer screened me upon arrival at the San Francisco International Airport. The cab driver that took me to the Pickwick Hotel was Chinese. At the hotel, the entire front desk and maintenance teams were Filipinos. I had lunch at an all-American diner served by a charming attendant from El Salvador. Dinner that evening was at the Japanese restaurant next door with a Korean crew.

I learned later that the ratio of residents to tourists is 1:2. If you think that’s astounding, get this: there are as much foreign tourists as there are American visitors. This makes every segment an equal third of San Francisco’s population at any given time. That’s something every trade and tourism ministry around the world aspires to attract!

Image via Wikipedia

Then there are the artists. On my last day, I spoke to the architects and designers who rehabilitated the historic Ferry Building Marketplace and the Westfield San Francisco Centre landmarks. Both renovations reflect the city’s desire and achievement in blending its diverse culture, history, and ethnicities. As I stared at the newly restored, 101-foot-diameter glass dome above the Westfield and walked past organic and locally grown produce inside the Ferry Building, I understood why these two spectacular projects are landmarks in the city and career milestones for the architects.

I also managed to run to the awesome San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) before it closed for the day. Jackson Pollock! Frida Kahlo! Ansel Adams! There are over 7,000 works from legendary sculptors, painters, photographers, and designers who have shaped my generation’s understanding of art. To view their works is to grasp the rebelliousness and inventiveness of our present age.

In Union Square, young musicians played their strings while muscle-shirted hunks danced to portable loudspeakers a few blocks away. One day, there was even a classical pianist with his piano on the pavement in front of the H&M clothing store. These sights remind me of Barcelona’s Las Ramblas. Could it be the Hispanic link that allows public art to be so free and compelling?

On the downside, it was unnerving to see the unemployed begging for lunch fares, and the homeless sleeping in the city streets at night. Even more unsettling is how decently they are dressed. I had seen some of them in branded sneakers or leather shoes, and donned in blazers and windbreakers. San Francisco remains the only city in eastern United States that funds the homeless. While shopping at the Levi’s flagship store one day, my sisters and I spoke to a salesman who admitted being embarrassed by such support, as it institutionalizes their existence.

For all the dodgy sights—not to mention expense tabs, as I realized that San Francisco is costly—there’s righteousness in claiming responsibility over the marginalized members of society. There’s no pretense in having struggling street artists and a well-funded art institution coexist within each other’s shadows. There’s tolerance with the famous/infamous San Francisco gay community, possibly the largest in the world. There’s correctness in keeping those hills and waterfronts clean and unspoiled. And there’s vision in allowing those Little Italys and Little Indias to coexist with the Chinatowns and Japantowns of the world.

These are values that make the greatest of cities. And these are thrills that must have wowed other visitors like me who left their hearts in San Francisco.

Airtel fails

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 23:50:37 PST

AFTER A mortifying experience last week with one of India’s largest mobile telephone companies, I have decided that Airtel is no longer capable of commitment and transformation.

The most loyal customers demand—and deserve—a higher desire: commitment, which Airtel has shown me is unable to provide.

When I requested for international mobile roaming (IR) service on the eve of my departure for the United States last 31 August, Airtel’s 121 hotline advised me that it was impossible to do so as my new SIM card was barely three months old. (I had to acquire a new card when I returned to Mumbai in June.) It was inconceivable to travel without connectivity, so I pleaded for the roaming service on two counts: that the card was shy of one week to meet the qualifying grade, and that I had been a loyal user of their various products—from landline to data card—for the past five years. After 45 minutes of pleading and heated debate, the 121 agent finally gave me an option: pay an advance fee of Rs5,000 (USD100) for the roaming service. I managed to find an Airtel Relationship Centre on the way to the airport that night and proceeded with the payment. I also requested my former relationship manager in Kolkata, the ever-effective Suvojit Seal, to help facilitate the activation process.

Apparently, Mr. Seal’s intervention worked, as I received an SMS indicating IR activation shortly before boarding my flight. The euphoria proved to be short-lived, though. Several hours later, upon landing in transit in Hong Kong, I received an SMS announcing deactivation of roaming.

Confused, and without an international phone service at the Hong Kong airport, I managed to e-mail my sister based in Switzerland to SMS Mr. Seal about the situation. I also tweeted and sent a Facebook message to Airtel. What followed was one of the most incredible experiences that I have had to endure. On landing in the United States, I bought an expensive US prepaid SIM card to stay connected. I kept awake at two o’clock in the morning of 2 September to accommodate a service phone call from an India-based company. I struggled in vain to talk to a senior officer and understand why I had to wait for another day for the activation to finally take place. Ultimately, the same phone conversation disconnected itself halfway through.

I sent angry tweets, Facebook messages, and emails to Airtel about this unresolved situation. Airtel’s responses were mechanical, to say the very least. In disgust, and eventually in distress, I decided not to pursue a resolution.

Imagine the wicked irony at the base of all this: a telephonic service that does not allow conversation.

On 5 September, Airtel finally activated the IR service—five full, unrewarding days after my initial request. To add insult to injury, Airtel deactivated the GPRS facility, so I could call, but I could not use my smartphone. Worst, I have not received a formal apology despite all the written and oral conversations, leading me to think that the company may have deemed the aggravations petty.

Airtel has failed to realize that in today’s astoundingly changing and competitive landscape, meeting customer satisfaction is no longer enough; in fact, it is merely expected. The most loyal customers demand—and deserve—a higher desire: commitment, which Airtel has shown me is unable to provide.

I have spent five years and hundreds of thousands of rupees as a loyal customer to this phone company. Airtel fails, and my evangelism for them ends.

Drums rolling for a rolling stone

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 09:35:24 PDT

WE'VE ALL heard about Mick Jagger's enormous ego, so it's fascinating to read the following story by Keith Richards about Mr. Jagger's brush with Charlie Watts, legendary Rolling Stones drummer, in October 1984.

I had taken Mick out for a drink in Amsterdam, so at 5 in the morning, he came back to my room. He's drunk by now, Mick drunk is a sight to behold. Charlie was fast asleep. Is that my drummer? Why don't you get your arse down here? Charlie got dressed in a Savile Row suit, tie, shoes, shaved, came down, grabbed him and went boom! Don't ever call me "your drummer" again. You're my fucking singer.

You can beat your own drum, but never beat the drummer lest he beats the drum out of you!

Focal point: Barbra Streisand, “So Many Stars”

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 09:25:12 PST

FROM BARBRA Streisand's upcoming What Matters Most : Barbra Streisand Sings the Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman CD comes the stunningly gorgeous "So Many Stars". The bossa nova classic was originally covered in 1968 by Sérgio Mendes & Brasil '66; I remember it from its resurgent popularity on Manila's jazz fusion radio stations during the late seventies and early eighties.
On her recording, Miss Streisand once again demonstrates her remarkable ability to make a song intimate yet soaring. Even more uncanny is how, at 69 years old, she's able to navigate the scale without sounding flat and losing her very attractive vibrato. I've not heard a lot of harps on Miss Streisand's recent recordings, so it's a pleasure to hear them here (along with the rest of William Ross' orchestral strings) and capture the dreamy yearning that Miss Streisand invests this song with.

Here's the full track of "So Many Stars". I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

You'll never know

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 09:10:31 PDT

IF YOU think those black veils are frightening, watch out for this:

Related story: Veiled shots

Like father, like son

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 10:55:21 PDT

FOR KENNETH Bray and his son Chris, coming full circle means attending NASA's final Space Shuttle launch together to "bookend" the first launch they watched 30 years ago. The incident also gave them an opportunity to replicate a picture taken of them in 1981; see both pictures above. Mr. Bray talks more about it on Universe Today. It's an awesome achievement.

How global data is stored

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 21:58:24 PDT

THE WHOLE wide world's electronic data is not floating on a digital cloud. According to a well-designed infographic from Mozy, the majority of data centers are clumped in individual cities in the United States, and on physical drives. That's quite alarming and disconcerting, especially in an era rife with terrorism and technological sabotage!

Globus comes to Kolkata

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 22:24:49 PDT

GLOBUS STORES, India's premier fashion specialty store, opened its 31st branch last week at Axis Mall in Kolkata. It's also the brand's debut in eastern India, and the first I've opened for Globus since joining the group in June.

We celebrated our entry into India's cultural capital with bright shouts of color on product, in shop fixtures, and in visual merchandising. The show windows grandly proclaimed Fashion for a Changing Kolkata in reference to the city's recent, historic change of government. Inside, red arches complemented the variegated palette of Western and Indian clothing for young men and women.

I enjoyed working with the shirts and dresses to create the displays, and loved training the visual merchandising team from Mumbai and Uttar Pradesh. They were a youthful, focused bunch of men (and one lady). I hope you can tell from the photos how much fun came with opening the store!

People who meet Barbra . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 22:25:07 PDT

. . . ARE THE luckiest people in the whole wide world. Here's one heartwarming story of a New Yorker who got to meet and greet THE Barbra Streisand in person. He also answered HER questions, hummed HER song to her, and posed next to her for a photograph which he will probably insure for ten million dollars. Oh, he also made Miss Streisand laugh at his jokes. I would've frozen speechless in the presence of such a legend.

It's great to read about the larger-than-life Miss Streisand--famous for being Garbo-esque in her public appearances and for media's portrayal as a tempestuous ice queen--in such a down-to-earth, real-life form.

Reduce, reuse, recycle

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 20:31:10 PDT

HOLLYWOOD DIRECTOR Michael Bay shows us how to practice waste management.

Focal point: Barbra Streisand, “That Face”

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 11:12:34 PDT

BARBRA STREISAND has released two tracks from her upcoming album What Matters Most : Barbra Streisand Sings the Lyrics of Alan and Marilyn Bergman. The songs, "The Windmills of Your Mind" and "That Face", are available for download when placing a pre-order for the CD on Miss Streisand's website.

I've been listening to both tracks for days now, but it's "That Face" that's been playing on loop. It's brassy, bumpy, and happy. The song was originally recorded by Fred Astaire, and Miss Streisand sings it with elegant sophistication that evokes a dancing Astaire. She sounds very mature on this track, her voice deepened with age (she's now 69!) and burnished with the glow that comes with nearly 50 years of singing brightly. The usual sighs, trills, and bellows that dramatize the best performances of her younger years are still here. They're fun to hear.

On "That Face", Miss Streisand reminds us that she's an actress who sings, a rare treasure gifted with impeccable delivery and unmatchable voice.

Turning 46

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 20:46:27 PDT

TODAY IS my birthday, and I’m turning 46. It’s a fabulous age: you know you’re old enough to know better, but young enough to still learn more. I'm thinking how quickly I got to this age, since I seem to have just been celebrating my 45th birthday recently. Now I understand why the first 30 or 35 years of your life seem to be the longest and slowest--you spend all that time building up a cache of dreams, hopes, triumphs, regrets, fears, and tears. Turning 46, I’m glad to look into that cache that's now filled with experiences and wisdom, and even gladder to know that I've reached this age pretty fast and pretty well!

Related Stories: Turning 41 | Turning 42 | Turning 43 | Turning 45

Back in Bombay

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 21:52:32 PDT

AFTER FOUR years in Kolkata, I returned to Mumbai last Thursday to begin a new role in the city, relieved after months of stressful decisions that culminated in this very moment. I am thrilled to be back to here. I’ll certainly miss Kolkata’s glorious food, fashionable winters, long drives to the suburban but dilapidated airport, and laidback attitudes of the cultured Bengalis. Mumbai has none of those: it’s India’s first truly cosmopolitan, 20th-century city, where every recipe has been tempered to suit a gazillion tastes, every road choked with motorists and pedestrians from all over India rushing to reach their destinations, and every minute filled with threats of time leaving you behind.

Yet, Mumbai is the city that gave me the very first welcome to Incredible India. This is where I’ve forged my earliest friendships and experienced the most lasting impressions. And because home is how you've made it and not why, Mumbai has become more home to me than any other place in this sensational, spectacular land.

Time to rock this city again.

Filipinos show Indians the way we sell

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 21 May 2011 05:15:58 PDT

TWO FILIPINO executives in retail and consumer packaged goods recently visited India, and may have supercharged the increasingly favorable impression that Indians have on the way Filipinos work.

Donnie Tantoco, president of the Rustan's Supercenters chain of value stores in the Philippines, was one of three international keynote speakers at the prestigious Retail Leadership Summit in Mumbai last Thursday, where he gave an exciting view of retailing in the Philippines to an audience that included India’s retail CEOs and MDs. He also sat on a panel with such luminaries as Shoppers Stop's BS Nagesh and Future Group's Kishore Biyani; the scion of the Rustia-Tantoco family spoke about his family’s engagements with the Rustan’s stores. His keynote speech was one of the best applauded; my colleagues and friends in the audience approached me later with nothing but raving feedback on his talk. I believe this is the first time that a Filipino retail leader has been invited by the Retailers Association of India to their summits. I'm glad that Mr. Tantoco showed yet another thrilling aspect of how the Filipino thinks, acts, and works.

On another note, Del Monte Pacific has opened a new production facility for packaged food and drinks in Hosur, Tamil Nadu in southern India. The facility was opened in the presence of Joselito Campos, MD of Del Monte Pacific, last November. As we all know, Del Monte Pacific is owned by NutriAsia Pacific, which belongs to the NutriAsia Group of the Campos family.Del Monte canned fruits and drinks have been imported in India for a few years now. The Hosur facility will make the products much more accessible and affordable to the Indian market. Hopefully, this localization doe not affect the unique signature Del Monte taste that Filipinos all over the world have grown up to.

As 2011 rolls in

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 07 May 2011 05:56:31 PDT

MY THOUGHTS center on two messages that the Universal House of Justice (the supreme governing body of the global Bahá'í community) has released in the past week to the Bahá'ís of the world. The letters provide lucid guidance on achieving spiritual goals, and they come so richly to me at a time when I crave deeper relevance in my daily way of life.

The first letter, released on 28 December 2010, teaches us once again that “(P)rogress is achieved through the dialectic of crisis and victory, and setbacks are inevitable” and that such temporary setbacks “can be adjusted over time, if dealt with patiently.” At the same time, it strikes home a sharp reminder for everyone to exert even greater effort to ensure that self-interest does not becloud judgment, as we go our ways in a material world that increasingly ‘rewards dishonesty, that encourages corruption, and that treats truth as a negotiable commodity.”

The second letter, released yesterday, reminds us where to get that extra dose of medicine in our lives. It quotes the words of Bahá'u'lláh, Prophet-Founder of the Bahá'í Faith: “I am the Sun of Wisdom and the Ocean of Knowledge. I cheer the faint and revive the dead. I am the guiding Light that illumineth the way. I am the royal Falcon on the arm of the Almighty. I unfold the drooping wings of every broken bird and start it on its flight.”

The Universal House of Justice
1 January 2011
To the Baha’is of the World
Dearly loved Friends,
For the past five days, the Continental Counsellors have been gathered in conference in the Holy Land, engaged in earnest deliberation at once insightful and clear visioned, well grounded and confident, on the progress of the Divine Plan. The joy and wonder of this gathering, now entering its closing moments, has come from the vivid retelling of your numerous exploits, deeds which secured the astonishing attainment of the goal of the Five Year Plan one year early. It is hard to express in words how much love for you has been shown in these few, fleeting days. We praise God that He has raised up a community so accomplished and render thanks to Him for releasing your marvellous potentialities. You it is who, whether in collective endeavours or individual efforts, are presenting the verities of the Faith and assisting souls to recognize the Blessed Beauty. You it is who, in your tens of thousands, are serving as tutors of study circles wherever receptivity is kindled. You it is who, without thought of self, are providing spiritual education to the child and kindly fellowship to the junior youth. You it is who, through visits to homes and invitations to yours, are forging ties of spiritual kinship that foster a sense of community. You it is who, when called to serve on the institutions and agencies of the Cause, are accompanying others and rejoicing in their achievements. And it is all of us, whatever our share in this undertaking, who labour and long, strive and supplicate for the transformation of humanity, envisioned by Baha’u’llah, to be hastened.
A new five-year horizon now beckons, rich with portent. The features of the Plan that will begin this Ridván are set out in a letter we addressed to the Counsellors Conference at its opening session and which was transmitted to National Spiritual Assemblies the same day. We hope that you will be able to give it thoughtful study, alongside the message we addressed to you at Ridván 2010, at gatherings of all kinds – whether at the national, regional, or cluster level, in local communities, in neighbourhoods and villages, or in the home. We are certain that, through the consultations about the Plan in which you participate, your understanding will deepen and. conscious of the spiritual forces that support you, you will resolve to make this global enterprise a personal concern and become as occupied with the well-being of the human family as you are with that of your dearest kin. It brings us great joy that so many souls throughout the Baha’i community are ready to thus distinguish themselves. But what gratifies us beyond this is the certain knowledge that victories will be won in the next five years by youth and adults, men and women, who may at present be wholly unaware of Baha’u’llah’s coming, much less acquainted with the “society~building power” of His Faith. For you possess a potent instrument for spiritually empowering the masses of humanity to take charge of their own destiny, an instrument tempered in the crucible of experience. You know well, and have heard clearly, the call of Baha’u’llah: “I am the Sun of Wisdom and the Ocean of Knowledge. I cheer the faint and revive the dead. I am the guiding Light that illumineth the way. I am the royal Falcon on the arm of the Almighty. I unfold the drooping wings of every broken bird and start it on its flight.”
Our abiding prayers are with each of you.
The Universal House of Justice

I hope these messages influence the way you lead your lives as 2011 rolls in.

Five years in India

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 07 May 2011 08:24:34 PDT

FIVE YEARS ago today, I arrived in India to work with a startup hypermarket retailer. As I had never lived here before, the first three months were exploratory but greatly intolerable. Chaotic infrastructure, inefficiency of public services, and often fetid climate made me want to seek less confining places to live outside India. It didn’t help that there were no Filipinos I knew in Mumbai, where I first stayed (except for high school batch mate Gil Amilbangsa in Pune, and he had to leave a few months later). Worst, the Baha’i center was 20 miles by car from where I lived.

But the instinct of fellowship never disappears, even for those experiencing a different culture for the first time. I met people from all religions and walks of life—what other country, after all, offers such diversity?—and a lot of them have remained remarkable friends. It is easy to love the Indians of the mainland: completely at home, without any pretense to show off, they’re charming, curious, intellectual. They share stories, endlessly. In fact, they’re in their finest element when telling stories, with massive finger, hand, and head gestures punctuating their credible narrations. Best of all, they laugh at my mundane jokes. At least the ones I befriended, anyway.

Inevitably, there would be moments of isolation, but I have used these solitary moments to explore and understand the astonishing wealth of Indian spirituality and culture. As I lived longer in India, I began to find poetry in the slopes of auto-rickshaws and the shapes of roti and parantha breads. I’m now drawn to the garish colors of its festivals despite the garishness of their colors, and to the harsh sounds of its crowded cities despite the harshness of their sounds. Such moments and places offer the chance to reflect against the material world, particularly in an India that has moved so far ahead of the incredible India that I first knew in 2005. I’m a more compassionate person today than I’ve ever been, and this is the best gift from living five years in India.

Filipino Christmas in Kolkata

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 07 May 2011 08:26:21 PDT

THE FILIPINOS of Kolkata got together today at Roger and Lori Calvo's warm, spacious residence in south Kolkata to celebrate Christmas togetherness. As expected, there’s the exchange of gifts and tons of food. The first to go was sisig, a much-beloved Filipino delicacy consisting of chopped pig head—sounds detestable but truly delectable. I packed two full plates of leftover pansit (Filipino-styled rice noodles) and pork afritada for dinner back home.

The most fun moments included a riotous men-versus-ladies dance competition, and I have no clue who finally won because everyone was just laughing their hearts out. I watched the teenaged offspring of Filipino-Indian interracial marriages rap and do the hip-hop, and I realized that mixing Bollywood with Pinoy-styled Hollywood is actually a great combination. (A Filipino with Bengali descent, by the way, looks so beautifully exotic!)

This is yet another of several Filipino get-together events in Kolkata. All of them are organized and implemented through text messages, and and today's event once again shows the ubiquitous power of text messaging amongst Filipinos.

High school reunion in Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 07 May 2011 08:33:14 PDT

GEORGE DEL Rosario and Lois Kimwell-Mijares organized a last-minute dinner gathering of high school batch mates in Toronto, and when I asked for it to be postponed due to tangled schedules, Lois didn’t seem to be too sure about reorganizing it. On hindsight, I don’t blame her: it’s not easy for those living outside central Toronto to travel downtown. While public transportation is accessible, it gets confusing if you’re not familiar with the city streets and the subway stops. If you do have a car, there are car-parking issues and confusing one-way street directions. Most of all, it’s always a challenge to organize last-minute gatherings of friends living all over a big city.

Well, the dinner did happen at the Masa Japanese restaurant in downtown Toronto, and it was fun. We were loud, but so what? We seemed to be the only diners in Masa that night anyway. Besides, what’s a high school reunion without the hilariously embarrassing anecdotes?

George didn’t change at all. Still boyish and fair, he seemed to be the youngest in the group. I quickly forgot how tall he was even in high school; he loomed over the rest of us that evening. He remembered how, in trying to apply a lesson in syllabication during Grade Six, we pronounced a Tagalog curse with five different accents. It’s funny just thinking how funny we thought it was back then.

Lois looks just like she did when we last saw each other in 2005. Either Canada’s weather suits her well or she’s splurging on age-defying cosmetics. I think neither: she just seems stress-free! She’s married to a Mijares, so we both decided that we’re cousins. (Mama is a Mijares.)

Bing Flores provided the laughs that night with his stories. “They call me September here”, he said, in reference to his real name Augusto. I still called him “Bing Bing”, his nickname in grade school. When I pointed at his lack of middle-aged tummy, he pointed to his gray hair. I’ll take his gray hair anytime over my big fat belly. This guy’s just hilarious.

Dr. Eva Pacaba-Buenafe came in an hour later; we ordered more plates of sushi on her behalf, which was a lame excuse for us to eat more sushi while waiting for her. The loquacious doctor provided us leads on where the other doctors in the batch presently were. I never remembered her as this effusive in high school. She used to ignore me back then, and when I reminded her about this, she gave me a perfectly valid reason: I was loud in high school!

A few other batch mates couldn’t make it that night. Ting Maramag-Espina had a previous engagement. Nancy Almazan and Randy Ibay were unreachable. Eva offered to drop us home; driving along, they all agreed to get together once again during Christmas.

On a chilly night in Toronto, it warmed the heart to be 16 (or 13) once again.

Up and down Toronto

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Ancheta) — Sat, 07 May 2011 08:34:53 PDT

FIRST, THERE'S that lake next to Toronto. Viewed from the 23rd floor of the Westin Harbour Castle Hotel where I checked in during my last week in Toronto, Lake Ontario looks like a sea, not a lake. It’s vast. It’s dotted with yachts and ferryboats. It’s blue. Lakes are supposed to be green, but this one’s blue. I’m told it’s not even the largest of Toronto’s bodies of water. Lakes in the Philippines suddenly look like ponds.

Then there’s the skyline. Downtown Toronto’s is pierced with skyscrapers in bronze and glass; on repeated viewings, they begin to look generic. The iconic, 1,815-foot CN Tower stands next to the rotund Rogers Centre; together, they look like a space ship with a really long antenna. I was actually surprised at the lameness of the collective architectural design. Given the city’s proximity to New York City, I expected a lot more adventure in the way the buildings were designed.

Several walks in downtown Toronto revealed to me the city’s many different faces. Literally. The city is unmistakably cosmopolitan. Apparently, half of Toronto's 1.3 million population was born outside of Canada, as a recent survey reported. These immigrants have set up shops that give endless supply of food and grocery needs to the ethnic communities. On my first day, we lunched at an authentic Filipino restaurant; on my last, we munched on shawarmas and kebabs at a Middle Eastern joint. There’s a Little Italy and a Little Korea. I wouldn’t be surprised if a new Bollywood release is showing in Gerrard Street with its rows of South Asian cafés and grocery stores.

From my hotel, I took the underground PATH pedestrian network to see The Bay department store at Queen Street. This was a mistake. The walk looked like ten kilometers. There wasn’t much to see in this highly vaunted walkway except generic-looking shops and lots of benches. There are crowds ambling about in business suits—I realized later that lunch hour is the wrong time to use PATH, which links buildings around the Financial and Entertainment Districts. The streets outside would probably be more picturesque, but I was too confused with the exits to even think about going out to the street.

One thing nice about PATH, though, is that the entrances and exits are seamlessly connected. I didn’t even notice entering The Bay until I saw fabulous-looking Christmas decorations being set up. I met the store’s amiable visual merchandising head, who allowed me to take pictures of his team at work.

The Bay is one of the oldest department stores in the world, operating as the main brand of Hudson’s Bay Company, North America’s oldest company. Its Queen Street branch includes The Room, a shop carrying such high-end brands as Chanel, Balmain, and Ungaro. The walls of this section are undulating see-through screens that allow shoppers to see and be seen. The shop manager allowed me to take pictures, telling me that everyone had been taking photos the whole day anyway!

Outside, at the fashionable Queen Street West, upscale boutiques stand next to quaint shops with basements. Most of what I saw was expensive; there were shirts selling for one hundred US dollars apiece! There’s a shop with ethnic crafts; when I saw how expensive their Rajasthan string puppets were, I knew I must open an Indian crafts store one day.

Along Spadina Avenue off Queen Street West, I found an oasis of tranquility and inspiration at a low heritage building simply called 401 Richmond Street West. The facility houses a number of design studios and learning institutions. I wanted to check the garden café just outside the building, but walked instead into a small bookstore called BUILT. The shop carries mostly art and architectural titles. Since the prices forbade me from even thinking of buying the latest Pantone color guide, I lapped into the marvelous presentation of books and trinkets. That was gratifying enough.

As I walked west past Chinatown, the views became rougher. Glass façade gave way to bricks. I stopped by a gorgeous menswear store called Gotstyle in hopes of getting a good bargain, as the neighborhood looked down-market. Well, I should have known from the leather club chairs and dress forms that it is an expensive store.

The next day, I was up at the CN Tower with my siblings. Toronto’s panoramas spread out before (and under) us; I didn’t realize how much trees existed in the city until now. I closed my eyes to savor the moment of being 1,000 feet above the city. I thought about how expensive its shops may be, but with the way it has embraced and celebrated cultural diversities, Toronto's delights are priceless.

I was absolutely on high.