Free Play: Sunday at the Park in High Street

Yaya Gigi, teaching Narra the basics of "Piko".

On the first weekend of the year, we wanted to do something fun and active, without resorting to the usual pastime of shopping and eating out.  We decided to bring out of the house our new puppy, Jack (a Jack Russel terrier).  We put him in his carrier, and headed off to pet-friendly Bonifacio High Street. We headed to the recreational area on the south side.  Oliver and I first stumbled upon this park a couple of months ago, and we vowed to return with the kids... and now, with our new dog. I just love this park and all the good things it stands for.  It stands for a "breather" in a congested metropolis smothered in concrete.  It stands for "common good", over commercial interest - this park sits on prime property that costs millions!  (I believe this is an Ayala Land project. It surely bears their signature sophistication, intelligence, and commitment to improving the quality of life of the mall-going public).  And with play space designated for Pinoy folk games, this park stands out to me, as a symbol for bridging generations, and allowing children of the past to play with children of the present, so they may keep alive the games of old.  Coming here made me feel happy, reminding me of my very enjoyable Pinoy childhood.

At the Patintero lawn - though our kids are too young to play the game.

I had the great fortune of growing up with street games: piko, patintero, taguan, langit-lupa, luksong tinik,  habulan, "chinese garter", "doctor quack-quack" and agawan base among others.  This was right around the time computer games were just finding their way into our homes in the early 1980's. But even after Ataris and Nintendo Family Computers dominated the scene in terms of indoor entertainment, the frequent blackouts (or in Pinoy-speak: brown-outs) of the late 80's to early 90's left a lot of room for traditional games to flourish.  I remember playing with neighbors, classmates, and cousins... out on the streets, or at the school quadrangle or playground, or  even during family parties and outings.  I simply assumed that these games will self-perpetuate... that every generation will come to know them, naturally.  I am beginning to rethink this assumption.  I've been asking my students in the last few years if they knew some folk games - and I'd enumerate the ones I know.  To my surprise, my students knew only a minority - and not a majority (as I had hoped) of the games I grew up with.  I really couldn't blame them.  I myself, am forgetting the rules of the games I used to play with passion.  Which is why I loved coming to this park on High Street.  It forced me remember what I was beginning to forget.  I had to rely on Yaya Gigi and Yaya Jen to refresh my memory.  I had to ask for a tutorial on the mechanics of "piko".  Yaya Gigi picked up a stone from the ground, and started teaching Narra and I how to do it.   We reviewed the rules of Patintero, but the kids were too young to play it. Maybe in a few more years... For now, they're better off in the playground.

Narra and Guijo at the whimsical playground south of High Street.

And what a fun playground it is!  The usual swings, slides, monkey bars, and seesaw are there - with a twist - literally!  The design of the playground equipment incorporates a lot of curving lines, and swirls, and twists, creating a re-imagined, whimsical version of the standard equipment.  The swings, for instance, do not simply hang from bars, they hang from looping arches painted in fire truck red.  Next to the swing is a swirly slide, done in sunny yellow - it functions every bit like a typical slide, but does not have the usual straight ladder leading up.  The monkey bars are similarly provocative, and inviting. Narra and Guijo were content to monkey around the bars for nearly an hour, repeatedly climbing up and down until they've mastered the equipment.  

Narra, on her favorite twisty monkey bars.

So inviting was the playground that even the Yayas were obviously enjoying themselves.  I felt glad to see Yaya Gigi enjoying herself.   God knows she needs a break, after all the family troubles she's needed to address in recent months.  Seeing her relax, even just for a bit, seeing her like this - childlike and carefree, makes  me feel that playgrounds are necessary social spaces... they are not merely "nice-to-haves"... they are "need-to-do's".  This reminds me of an old family story of my aunt, my mother's youngest sibling, who was visiting Manila as a little girl from Bicol in the early 1970's.  My father drove her to the playground near Manila Zoo...and she called it "paradise".  It's not a great story, really, just an anecdote - but I remember it often because I pass by that playground regularly, and each time I see it, in it's current overused and grimy state, with the paint worn off on the old equipment, with the dusty ground where no grass grows, the overflowing trash cans and the sweet-sour stench of the sewers underneath - I remember my aunt, and how she once called this place "paradise".   Seeing Yaya Gigi made me think of the same word - "paradise".  To be free from all the cares in the world, to be having fun, and smiling from that place within our being where our inner child resides, isn't that heavenly?

Yaya Gigi, happily monkeying around too.

I had just started on my Cohen Program and I was strictly following my food prescription.  It's only been a few days into my new diet, and as I reduced my food intake, the toxins hoarded by my fat cells were being released, and I was getting headaches.  The walk at the park really helped clear my head. Seeing so many people jogging, healthy and fit folk, encouraged me to persist in pursuing my resolution to put my health on top of my list of priorities this year.  I want to feel as light and agile as my kids, as I used to be.  I tried swinging on the monkey bars for a bit and my body felt so foreign - so heavy and sluggish.  I felt old. And I don't want to feel old anymore. So weight loss is the first step, so I can return to a more active lifestyle, with sport and dance back in the picture.  I am so looking forward to having more fun and exercise this year... to feel light and free when I play with my kids, to no longer feel dead on my feet... to see paradise in a playground!

Guijo, a picture of pure exuberance as he floats mid-air.

For now, I can't do much exercise just yet, not while I'm on a very restrictive eating plan.  I'll have to be happy with slow walks in the park, and engage in recreational activities that do not gravitate towards food. So far, so good, it seems we can work out newer patterns of leisure.  And with parks like the one south of High Street, with the landscaped paths, artful trash bins, and engagingly designed spaces, we can while away the weekend engaged in free play.  One weekend down, 50 more to go in 2013...may all the weekends to come be as lovely as this.

I Hope All Dogs Go To Heaven

Kira outside our home in  Lipa, Batangas. 2009.

Only now, do I allow myself to grieve.  Monday it was, when we were told the incomprehensible news that our dog, Kira, just died.  We just went to the grocery. She was barking as usual. She ate her dog food as she normally does.  When we were gone, she too, left - for good. She took a nap, and didn't wake up.  There wasn't even time to say good-bye, and thank you, and sorry.  And I did not grieve then.  I had a job interview the next day, and had to prepare my teaching-demo.  I realize now, how good I am at blocking off emotions, and focusing on what I need to get done.  I proceeded with my day as though nothing had happened.  But today, I release what I blocked off yesterday, and as I write this, I feel not only Kira's loss, but all those other dogs I've lost in my life.  In some ways, the heart learns with practice, like all other muscles of the body, it has memory, and it toughens up over time.  It becomes strong and resilient - but not numb.  The pain is still felt.  I know the drill. I will cry and mourn, and it will pass.  I will add her to the list of souls to look for in the after life.

Kira and I, both pregnant. Lipa, 2009.

When I told Narra the news, she asked: "Is it the mama dog that died?".  She sees our dogs as a reflection of our family configuration: there's a papa dog, mama dog, and baby dogs.  "Yes"..."the Mama died".  And I felt it in my gut.  Kira was my canine counterpart. I was pregnant when Oliver got her as a mate for his German Shepherd.  Soon, she was pregnant too.  After I gave birth, she too gave birth to 6 pups.  We were both first time moms.  When Kira came, she was this beautiful creature, agile and strong, and so smart! She was trained to follow commands, not just to sit and shake hands, but also to jump up the fence, and to patrol it! She'd strut on our wall, a vision of poise, confidence, and balance.  Oh how we admired her! She reeked of youth and energy.  After she gave birth though, her body sagged, and breast feeding her brood seemed to take its toll.  I commiserated with her then, and saw in her, a bit  of myself and what I was going through.  I remember this moment, I sat on the steps outside the house, and just looked into her eyes, and told her "hang in there, Kira, it will all be fine", she was resting, her loose tummy collapsing to the floor as she lay on her side.  

Kira, patrolling our fence, on command. 2009.

Dogs giving birth.  They seem to be a recurring fixture in my life line.  SANDY.  In Spain in 2001, my sister Marion, picked a stray dog and made her family, we called her Sandy (after the scruffy dog in Annie).  She turned out to be pregnant - and that was a headache - we looked for a new home for her and her pups, and found a Filipina friend with a farm in Denmark! The day before the road trip to her new home, she gave birth! To 4 puppies. But apparently 3 more puppies were left in her tummy. She was slowly dying from the complication.  We ran to the vet, she was operated on, our savings from teaching English all summer disappeared in a flash. Dog and puppies, and all our belongings were packed in the car, and we began our road trip from Spain, through France, and Germany, to the the north of Denmark! Aalborg it was, where our friends Cynthia and Erik agreed to take in Sandy and her puppies.  I was bottle feeding the puppies on the road, while hand-feeding Sandy who was recovering from her operation.  One puppy died in my hands, he was the runt in the pack and simply didn't want to open its mouth to feed.  I couldn't offer life to a creature who didn't want to live. We buried it on the side of the road somewhere in France - or Germany. When we arrived in Denmark, I had to leave her there - the dog for whom I felt so much love.  She was barking hysterically when I turned around and walked away.  We had a long road trip back to Spain - and I saw the rest of Germany, Austria, Italy, and France through teary eyes. 

Kira's pups, 1-day old. 2009.

COLLETTE. Christmas day, 2010. She was pregnant, and had just given birth to two puppies.  We couldn't find a vet anywhere, it being Christmas eve.  Collette, our smart and bubbly poodle, had given birth before and she was an excellent mother. She'd lick her pups and feed them.  But something was wrong.  This time, she didn't even lift her head. She didn't open her eyes. I tried to coax her to fight to live.  By midnight, she was gone. She left us her Christmas orphans, and we tried to keep them warm and desperately tried to get them to feed.  They didn't make it through the night.  It was a very sad Christmas.  My parents are still caring lovingly for Collete's kin that's left with us.

I can only imagine how Oliver feels about losing Kira.  He has his own life stories of great connections with his canine companions, stories that are only his to tell.  I talk to Oliver about everything - almost, but death and loss always leaves me tongue tied.  I never quite know what to say to him, or how, or whether I should even bring it up. So I keep quiet. Because it seems the right thing to do when one has no words of comfort to offer anyway.  There's a void. A gap. A hole. An emptiness. There's an empty spot where she used to sit. There's death. She's not just a dog, she's family, and she's gone.  

Kira, I am sorry I was unable to say a proper good-bye.  If I had the chance, I'd say sorry I neglected you. I'd say thank you for spending time with us. I'd say I love you for being the inspiring and beautiful specimen you are. I'd say, I will miss you, and always remember you, like all our other dogs, wonderful creatures all, who came into our lives and made us better people.  You were a very good dog, and deserve, in every way, to be in heaven.  So, I guess this is it. Good-bye.