At Universal Studios Singapore With Our Young Children

Oliver and I with our sleepy kids before entering Universal Studios Singapore.

I've read it in blogs and heard it from friends: Universal Studios Singapore is not as baby-friendly as Disneyland - so we went to the theme park with that mindset. We were going to make the most out of the situation - the basic plan was to hit the baby-friendly attractions while the kids were awake, and make a mad dash for the grown-up attractions while they took naps.  To put this plan into action, we needed a few essentials: 1) Universal Studios Express Passes - to allow us to breeze through queues; 2) Strollers - one for each kid, so they can nap on the go; 3) The Child Swap Program that allowed Narra to go twice on a ride she liked, without having to queue up twice; 4) the Baby Center, where I could wash, change, and feed the kids in air-conditioned comfort, and most importantly, 5) Helpful companions! My mum-in-law Mama Rubi, and sister Marion joined us on this trip to help us take turns in watching the kids.  The result: precious bonding time! (though we were all dead tired by day's end).

With Guijo, riding King Julien's Party-Go-Round, Madagascar.

I got to bond with our birthday boy, Guijo, on the few attractions fit for babies: King Julien's "Party-go-Round" in Madagascar; "Lights, Camera, Action" in New York; and in the land of Far, Far, Away - I got to take him on "Shrek's 4D Adventure" (we sat on stationary seats designated for mothers with lap babies) and the attraction he enjoyed the most: "Donkey Live!"  The interactive show was a hit with our kids. Guijo clapped as Donkey sang his short Happy Birthday song, and both Narra and Guijo danced along quite happily when the audience was asked to join the fun.  I liked the fact that that the theater was cool, and dark, and we were seated in benches, and this offered a welcome break from the intense heat outside.  Guijo also enjoyed the Baby Center for the same reasons. It was cool. And quiet. And he could walk around without us restraining him. And we adults, enjoyed the sofa to rest on. My sis gave Guijo an ice cream cone and he was delighted! It's a good thing the Baby Center had a sink and nice changing table, so I got to wash his sticky fingers and face, and change his clothes after.

My sis Marion, and Narra, entering Madagascar zone.

Narra, being taller than Guijo, could ride on more attractions. She was already tall enough for the junior roller coaster, "Enchanted Airways" and she was thrilled! We took advantage of the child swap program so she can ride on it twice, first with me, then with her Ninang Marion.  I had a great time riding the attractions on this trip. With Narra, I felt nervous/excited like a typical anxious/proud mama; with my sister, I felt nostalgic - and I reminisced about all the other rides we took together since our youth - from the Octopus ride at our school fair, to the caterpillar in Fiesta Carnival, to our first trips to Disneyland and Universal Studios decades ago.  I loved having my sister there, she always says the right things at the right time that makes me snap out of any negative modes I get into.  I say something to complain, she'll call my attention - and coax me back to my happy place - she's my guru! She's my ticket to a happy trip! I'm glad we had the chance to do some rides together, just us sisters.

Narra, greeting "Diane" the newly hatched Triceratops in Jurassic Park.

I was most scared with the ride I had with my Mom-in-law - we tried "The Mummy"  together, just the two of us, while Oliver and my sister waited outside with the kids.  The ride was in complete darkness at times, and rather jerky, and full of rapid twists - and I wasn't scared of the ride per se, but of my mum! What if she gets a neck sprain, or loses her eyeglasses, or God forbid, what if she faints! Oh dear! I invited her to join me on the ride so I felt responsible! I was soooo scared!!!  What will my sis-in-laws say??? But Mama won my respect that day. She went for the roller coasters and thrilling rides with enthusiasm and great energy, and emerged youthfully triumphant. She rode with Oliver on a roller coaster, and he looked scared! (and I could relate with him! riding with a senior citizen is peculiarly nerve wracking). She's one cool lola who knows how to have fun! 

"The Mummy" parading down Sesame Street in New York zone.

One ride that proved to be quite cathartic, was the ultimate roller coaster: Battlestar Galactica.  Oliver and I left our napping kids with Mama and Marion at the Diner in Hollywood zone, and we speed walked to Sci-Fi City and rode Cylon, the blue coaster.  The ride had so many twists and turns at such exhilarating velocity that even my ponytail came undone, with the elastic flying off mid-ride.  Oliver and I were shouting our guts out - and boy, all that screaming felt good!  Everyone needs a good scream every now and then - it's just so liberating.  I felt shaken clean, inside out, with all the bad vibes dissipating in the air.  We were still high from Cylon when we rushed to "Transformers", and that ride left me spell-bound.  That was the one ride that made me feel like a little kid, fully absorbed in a make-believe world, and I truly believed as Optimus Prime looked me in the eye, that he was really talking to me, and me alone.  It was a violent, brutal ride - and I am really against war and violence in real life - but I have to admit, that ride, had a great story-line and worked some kind of magic.  I allowed myself, for a moment, to be someone else, to get into character.  The last time I remembered being gripped by a ride in the same way was with Dineyland's chilling "Pirates of the Caribbean", and dreamy "Peter Pan" ride over London in miniature some twenty years ago!  Universal Studios' action-packed Transformers' ride is one for the books. I loved it!

The Woodpeckers with Marion, me and Narra, Mama Rubi and Oliver, and
our celebrant, Guijo - fast asleep.

Ok, ok. So maybe we adults enjoyed Universal Studios Singapore more than our kids did, and the attractions I liked the most were truly not baby-friendly.  Just as well, our kids were asleep half of the time anyway. And we made sure that when they were awake, we took them to the few kid-friendly attractions there were, which they did enjoy! It was August 19th, Guijo's 1st Birthday, and we decided to celebrate his milestone by indulging the inner kid in each of us, and having one fun day at the theme park. 

Kid-Friendly Travel from Manila to Singapore

The Lego pit at NAIA-Terminal 1's Kiddie Traveler's Lounge.

Every little bit helps.  And I am one thankful mom.  Throughout our hectic trip from Manila to Singapore and back this last long weekend, I was all too glad to see a lot of helpful travel stuff created with kids in mind (and their frazzled parents too).  It's still a kind world out there, full of thoughtful people who are considerate enough to make life easier for those traveling with tiny ones.  It started with a pleasant surprise at the oldest airport terminal in Manila, good old NAIA Terminal 1.  We were walking towards our gate when we chanced upon the Kiddie Traveler's Lounge.

The entrance to the Kiddie Traveler's Lounge.

NAIA-1's kid's playroom is located near the phone booths, before the restrooms. It is a pleasantly cozy air-conditioned room with a colorful rubber floor, a Tiny Tikes playhouse, cartoons playing on tv, and a huge Lego pit.  There were also tiny tables and benches for the kids, and some recliners and sofas for their parents. The room was cheerfully decorated, and did a good job of keeping kids entertained.  Whoever is responsible for this play room has my gratitude :-D

Narra and Guijo with their freebies from Singapore Airlines

Then once on board our Singapore Airlines flight, Narra and Guijo received some freebies.  Narra got this cool Comic Book Making kit with stickers, crayons, coloring book and comic book panels featuring My Little Pony and Transformers.  Guijo got an age appropriate pair of soft building blocks which he loved throwing around.  For older kids, there were cool travel edition Activity Cards customized for Singapore Airlines by Hasbro, inspired by their famous games like Monopoly, Twister, Play Doh, and Pictureka.   The toys were very helpful indeed. Narra was glued to her seat the entire flight.

Upon landing at Changi Airport, I was happy to find a "strolley", a combination of a luggage trolley and infant carrier seat/stroller.  The seat itself is made by the cool brand for baby gear "Combi", and it is mounted on a specially designed cart with plenty of space for luggage underneath.  The wheels are your typical sturdy pushcart wheels, designed to carry a lot of weight.  I loved using this "strolley" and so did Guijo! I felt sad when it was time to leave the airport and that wonderful "strolley" behind!  Knowing such a thing existed really made me look forward to returning to Changi airport for our flight back to Manila.  It was the first thing I looked for when we checked in a few days later to fly home.

Guijo on his "strolley", Family Zone,  Changi airport.

So over at Changi Terminal 2, while waiting to board our flight, I used the "strollley" as a high chair as I fed Guijo his lunch.  There were food outlets conveniently located right next to the airport's Family Zone, where the kids can play while their parents grab a bite to eat nearby, close enough to keep an eye on them.  There was a huge playground with padded rubber flooring, and slides of varying heights for kids of all ages.  There was also a baby changing area, breast feeding rooms, and a lounge/playroom where parents can lie down for a bit (some parents were sleeping in the lounge when we took a peek).

The Family Zone, Changi Terminal 2, Singapore.

Right across the playground is "Kidzone", a fun store full of toys, books, and little knick knacks for tiny hands.  My sister Marion, the ever doting aunt, bought travel toys for Narra and Guijo from Kidzone.  We were so relaxed at the Family Zone that time flew by and we had to hurry up to our Boarding Gate to make the last call.  Narra didn't want to leave yet! Fortunately, there were planes right outside the window and I told her our plane would leave without us unless we run to catch it. 

My sis Marion, with Narra and Guijo at the Playground in Changi Airport.

Back in Manila, upon disembarking, Narra saw NAIA Terminal 1 and excitedly commented: "Mama there's Lego here! I want to play!" She still hadn't forgotten the pre-departure Kiddie Traveler's Lounge from a few days back.   This made me smile.  When it comes to airports, Singapore is on top of the heap, with truly world class facilities - and Manila's sad, old NAIA Terminal 1 is a far cry from shiny Changi.  My children, however, see beyond the glitz and see things from a simpler, purer standpoint.  They have fun in a play room, whether it is in a small room, or a big space. 

So I am thankful. To the wonderful people in Changi and Manila, and all other places where people bother to create space for children to have fun. It's a big help, for them, and for parents like me. Every little bit helps in a big way.

Celebrating Our Children's First Birthdays and Why We Choose To Travel

Narra's First Birthday, Hong Kong, 2009.

There's something about taking a trip that cements a family together.  Of course, parents bond with their children every day - but in the act of traveling, I get that sense that a family gets to bond even more - in a special way beyond the usual.  I do know from experience, that the best moments of my life were spent in transit - on a plane, train, boat, and car - and I was confined in small spaces with the people I loved - and just outside our windows, the world was unfolding before our very eyes.  I yearn to travel, always, for as  long as I can, and for as much as I can.  So when Oliver suggested that instead of having a birthday bash he'd rather plan a trip for our children's first birthdays, I was in complete agreement!  For Narra's first birthday we took a trip to Hong Kong Disneyland in 2009.  And for Guijo's first birthday in a few days' time, we'll be off to Singapore to visit Universal Studios.  

Narra and I in Hong Kong Disneyland.

Before getting married, Oliver lived in Hong Kong as an expatriate, while I lived in Singapore finishing my doctorate at NUS.  Throughout our 5-year long-distance relationship, we frequently traveled to see each other, he visited me in Singapore, and I visited him in Hong Kong.  Re-visiting these countries with our children allows us to reconnect with the cities we once called home - giving us a chance to retrace our steps in our old haunts, and to see what new developments have taken place in our absence. It is a means of passing on to our children, what knowledge we have of a supposedly foreign place that has become familiar territory. We know the train system and the stops, and we claim some stations as "ours"- stations that hold special significance because they were closest to our doorsteps. 

Oliver and Narra, HK Train.

One thing I love about these kinds of trips is the increased physical contact among family members. As a mother, I have a built-in advantage over my husband when it comes to physical intimacy: my children were nurtured inside my womb, and outside through thousands of hours of breast feeding.  When we travel, I see Oliver enjoying prolonged contact with our kids, and I see them becoming attuned to each other's bodies, learning each other's gestural habits and choreographic quirks.  Sure, he sees his kids a lot, on regular days - but it is only when we travel, and we don't have our usual comforts, like our own vehicles and many helping hands, that we are forced to be even more mindful of our kids.  It is easy to have moments of ignoring family in the context of the every day grind - but on trips, when we are bursting with enthusiasm to show this and that, attention is heaped on our kids and on each other, more intensely, and there's an unending supply of observations, insights, analyses, reflections and recollections to share.  We do not run out of things to say, and our stories and conversations flow freely.

Oliver, with our sleeping baby, HK Disneyland.

It can be tiring and trying to travel with spouse, kids, and baby gear, and annoyance with one another is unavoidable, of course.  Indeed, traveling can be a stressful situation, a volatile one that has the capacity to erupt to epic proportions.  I've seen my fair share of irate travelers on the verge of a nervous breakdown in many airports and trains.  From my personal experience, however, I've seen how travel compresses time, and speeds up reconciliation. In my family (both the one I was born into, and the one Oliver and I established), travel time fights tend to be resolved faster because the common goal of making the most out of the trip supercedes individual gripes.  I've seen my loved ones making the conscious effort to shake off anger and annoyance because we were on a trip and they didn't want to ruin the moment.   

Narra enjoying her cake after blowing out her candle.

Each person has many versions of who they are depending on where they are and who they're with, and I think, traveling for leisure with family creates the space for us to be the best versions of ourselves.  We allow ourselves to be infused with child-like enthusiasm and excitement.  We go to theme parks with every intention of enjoying the moment.  We are cognizant of the fact that we are seizing the day, making the most out of the precious few years when our kids are still babies, knowing full well that we are making memories, that every snapshot is for posterity, with older versions of ourselves in the far-off future as our intended audience.  

Taking a stroll on an elevated walkway, Central HK.

So we choose to make time to travel, and we pounce on the opportunity to do so when milestones such as our children's first birthdays merit some sort of celebration. We find in traveling, a profoundly meaningful way to celebrate  our children, and our family. It is a form of history-building, a nuclear family's intimate micro-history, and the pictures we take will be saved in our archives. Travel memorabilia will go into our trunk of happiness which I envision to be a repository of feel-good artifacts to give ourselves and our children a lifetime supply of hope, joy, and gratitude.

It's your turn Guijo. Dalawang tulog na lang anak, at lilipad na tayo. Singapore, here we come!

Our 4th Wedding Anniversary and Fond Remembrances of Loved Ones Lost

Our marriage rites, with Monsignor Aguilar (now deceased) in the foreground.

The date was 08-08-08. Oliver and I got married, and it was an incredibly happy day. Now, years later, on our fourth anniversary, I look back on that day with a deeper understanding and better appreciation of what a happy time that truly was.  They were all still there, then. Before God took them back.  Some beloved ones who celebrated our milestone with us. When I look back at photographs, their faces grab my attention.  It's funny how we see things differently as time passes. Right after the wedding, I was looking at superficial things in pictures: dresses and decor, and which angles were most flattering.  Today, as heavy rains descend upon us with no pause - and half of my city is submerged in water - as flash floods rage and some friends and family seek refuge elsewhere after having evacuated from their homes - I revisit my wedding album with a keen sense of the uncertainty of life.  And I use the photos, and the act of looking through them, as a springboard for jumping through time and space and taking a mind trip. My wedding album is my boarding pass to this magical destination in my brain - where I am in an eternal celebration - where the dead still live - and we are all forever young, and beautiful, and happy.

Monsignor Pablo Aguilar, one of three priests who con-celebrated our wedding mass, was so strong he took the strenuous 10-hour land trip from Bicol to Manila the day before our wedding - then incredibly - made the same trip back the day after. Who knew he was then afflicted with leukemia? Less than three months later, he was gone.  It was the 31st of October when he died. I remember because I had just come back from the cemetery to visit Oliver's father's grave when we discovered I was bleeding and may be having a miscarriage. I followed doctor's orders and stayed in bed praying that I wouldn't lose my baby.  And for that reason, I was unable to say a proper good-bye and pay my respects. I was unable to make the trip to attend his final milestone, while he was able to make the trip to take part in ours. Oliver and I owe him a debt we can no longer repay - unless, perhaps through prayer.  God did listen to my pleas, and my threatened miscarriage was addressed in time - and we were blessed with our daughter Narra. Shortly after she was born, however, we received devastating news.

Oliver and I, with Owen, at our wedding reception.

Owen Carsi Cruz, Oliver's brother, announced to the family that he was diagnosed with lung cancer in its advanced stages in June, 2009. Narra was just a month old then.  Slowly, as the months passed, the disease took its toll on his body and he started to shrink before our eyes. I look back at our wedding pictures and I see him the way I want to remember him - tall and handsome, proud and strong, vibrant and active. He put up a valiant effort to fight the disease, doing everything possible to find a cure. His efforts prolonged his life another two years, but we lost him in September, 2011. By then, I had given birth to our second child Guijo, who unfortunately contracted an infection and was confined in the same hospital where Owen was being treated - for the last time.  They left the hospital on the same day. Guijo went home to us, to start his life. Owen went home to God, to end his life on earth.  We were just recovering from Owen's loss when death claimed another of our kin.

With pretty Tita Boots, at the reception dinner.

Ma. Raquel Socorro, Oliver's aunt, was just at home, cleaning up as usual, when she felt funny. She was rushed to the hospital and didn't make it through the night. Just like that. She wasn't even sick with any disease. Tita Boots, as we lovingly called her, was a vivacious lady, fun-loving and sociable. I can almost hear her high pitched voice and her infectious laugh.  At our wedding, she was strikingly slim and pretty...which is her usual look.  There was never a hint of ill health in her outward appearance. We  buried her in October, 2011 - a week before Guijo's baptism.  And at that baptism, we had an honored guest. My Lolo Inte, my mother's uncle and our family's patriarch. He was then already in an advanced stage of colon cancer, and was in pain. But he made the effort to travel from Bicol to Manila to attend the affair. He was amazing like that. He'd make the effort, make the trip, to be there for family. Lolo Inte has been a big part of our wedding from the very start.

Lolo Inte at our Pamamanhikan dinner, when Oliver's family met ours.

Atty. Vicente De Lima, our "Lolo Inte", honored us by being a role-player at our pamamanhikan (the process of the groom's family meeting with the bride's family to formally discuss the forthcoming marriage).  It was May, 2008 - three months before our wedding. I was still based in Singapore then, and had to fly in for the affair. My Lolo Inte had to travel from Bicol so he could play the role of respected elder, and formally receive Oliver's family into ours.  Lolo Inte provided a precious line of continuity. He was there too, thirty years before, when my father formally presented himself to my mother's family, to ask for her hand in marriage. A man of incredibly sharp memory, Lolo Inte had many stories. Oliver and I made a family tree as part of our wedding invitation, and he gave me a century's worth of details, the names of my ancestors who lived on for as long as he remembered them.

Lolo Inte, giving us wise counsel at our pre-wedding  pamamanhikan.

Lolo Inte died last week and he is in my mind.  And I remember an image of him on my wedding day, one that was not caught on camera, but will forever be replayed in my mind.  I was walking down the aisle, bathed in sunlight, and I saw him turn his head, and seeing me enter, he made the effort to slowly stand up - and I felt so honored. Here was this big, proud man, our respected elder and patriarch, standing for me because I was a bride.  Lolo Inte respected the institution of marriage and valued the sacred ritual that made it possible for previously unrelated families to become related.  I loved Oliver long before we got married - but it was on that day, 08-08-08, that we became family - that Atty. De Lima became Oliver's Lolo Inte, that Owen became my brother, and Tita Boots my aunt.  This is the kind of miracle performed by priests like Monsignor Aguilar, who transform strangers into family in the marriage rites they solemnize.  

So this anniversary is a celebration of family ties, and we remember that wonderful, happy day that enabled such bonds to be formed. Since that day four years ago, we have lost loved ones, but also brought into this world, two beautiful children.  I hope to spend many more August 8's in my life, and I plan to sit down, and show my children photographs, and tell them stories about the people who were there that day. I will make sure those loved ones who've passed away, will live on, in our minds, and hearts, and be remembered the way they were caught in photographs: strong, healthy, and smiling from the gut, in sincere happiness for Oliver and I, on the day we became one.

A Model Death: How Atty. Vicente De Lima Died With Excellence

Uncle Vicboy, the youngest son, sharing to us his father's last words.

He lived large. He died well. And the little town he loved gave him a grand goodbye fit for heroes.  He was, after all, a proud son of Iriga, and a true local hero whose presence would be sorely missed.  Atty. Vicente Bagaporo De Lima, my grand-uncle "Lolo Inte", had a kind of death that inspires. He always endeavored to be a model citizen in life - and he stayed true to this ethos to his final days.  A role model as a dying man, he was. We could all wish a death like his. Not that there is anything grand about colon cancer. But it is how he seized the opportunity offered by his disease that I find instructive.  As the disease weakened him day by day, he took the chance to do beautiful things: he made amends,  he said his goodbyes, and left instructions. All these, he did with excellence.

Lolo Inte's widow, Lola Norma, with their eldest daughter, Auntie Leila.
In their living room.

"Patawad" (forgive me). This was the word most uttered by Lolo Inte in his final days. In his speech for his father, my Uncle Vicboy relayed how he asked his father "How are you?" and he replied "These are the happiest days of my life".  When Uncle Vicboy asked what caused so much happiness, Lolo Inte gave the most surprising response: it is happy times because it is the time for forgiveness.  Like other men of power, Lolo Inte was bullish.  He was not the type who tread softly, and he was no fence sitter either. He would take a strong stand, speak his mind, and exert great influence on matters big and small. People like these, who do not play safe, are bound to constantly clash with those of a differing view. And this is what makes him awe-inspiring.  He was ever the gentleman. A strong fighter who played fair and won the respect of friends and foes alike.  A big man with such a strong will shines with a blinding light and casts a huge shadow. Anyone who lived too close to him may have suffered from the intensity he radiated, for it mustn't be easy being too close to a raging fire.  His final act, of asking for forgiveness from anyone he may have hurt - of acknowledging his shortcomings - is disconcertingly poignant.  It is such a humble gesture for a big man who lived loud.  I knew Lolo Inte to be a man of brilliant intelligence and sharp wit - but his final words, seals the deal - he is truly a wise man.    

The driveway leading to the house, lined with funeral wreaths.

Patawad. It means many things related to making amends: forgiveness, sorry, pardon, indulgence. It also means immunity, and absolution - very appropriate words for something as final as death. But there is an earlier meaning, for the root word tawad, which today is understood as "bargain" and "discount". An old dictionary from 1915 lists the following alternate words for tawad: turing, utos, bilin, or in English: bidding.  His final act is to ask for forgiveness, as it is to ask those he leaves behind to forgive one another for any future conflicts after he is gone. Lolo Inte was the patriarch - a unifying force that glued a huge family together.  He was leader and chief, arbiter and judge, warrior and protector, sage and shaman. Yes, shaman.  He, to me, was the link to ancestors, and authoritative interpreter of the wishes of the dead. He gave them voice, and reminded the living to honor their legacy. He was rooted to the family's land, cultivating not only trees and vegetation, but also memories and dreams.  Tawad means bilin (bidding), and he made sure to leave instructions - both the serious kind (like his will, which shall be read to the family next week), and the "fun" kind - like funeral details which he planned the way a bride plans for her wedding.

A student string ensemble from a nearby school, during the wake.

It almost seems irreverent to say this, but I believe Lolo Inte found the "fun" in funeral.  He picked which photograph of his would be blown-up for the banner; he decided the placement of his coffin in his large living room; he picked the color and kind of flowers to use. He arranged for his wife's ride to the church and cemetery, aboard a brand new car he picked out himself.  He even talked to the caterer, deciding on the menu, and placement of buffet tables.  There were nearly a dozen tents with dressed tables and chairs set up on his huge front lawn for visitors... and even a couple more tents to the side for "performers" - a choir, dance troupe, and several bands - an orchestra - a brass band - string ensemble - various groups performing at different times throughout the 5 days of vigil leading up to his funeral.  It is one of the grandest affairs his house has ever hosted. No less than President Noynoy Aquino came to pay his respects. A Philippine flag flew proudly from Lolo Inte's flag pole.  A red carpet was rolled out, from driveway to his living room, making for a stately path lined with funeral wreaths from so many political figures of diverse leanings (including Joma Sison).  The funeral wreaths were later transfered to the cemetery, all three trucks of them, and they were arranged on the path to Lolo Inte's final resting place - it looked peculiarly festive.  "The happiest days of my life" was what he said to Uncle Vicboy, when asked how he was in his final hours. What a beautiful thing to say. My achievement-oriented Lolo Inte succeeded in living large and dying well.  

It was such a beautiful affair I felt sorry to leave early to catch the last flight to Manila so Oliver and I could return to our kids. I had to head from the church to the airport, without joining the funeral at the cemetery.

I am sorry I was unable to bring you to your huling hantungan Lolo Inte. Patawad.

Honoring My Mentor: Prof. Reynaldo Ileto's Tanglaw ng Lahi Award

L-R: Dr. Mercedes Planta; Dr. Trina Tinio; Prof. Rey Ileto;
Dr. Nikki Briones-Carsi Cruz and husband Oliver.

Most people have teachers. A lucky few have mentors.  In this regard I am luckier than most. I found a mentor in Reynaldo C. Ileto.  And last Thursday, July 19th, he was honored by his alma mater, Ateneo de Manila University, with the Gawad Tanglaw ng Lahi Award, for his scholarly contributions to furthering scholarship in the Philippines and beyond!  He received his award at the 2012 Special Academic Convocation held on campus at the Lee Irwin Theater, and it was, for me, a memorable affair.  I went to the event thinking the afternoon was going to inspire me in terms of my career life - I went home taking an important lesson about parenthood.  I did not expect to learn something important about being a mother from my academic mentor.  But that's what happened.

Prof. Rey's photo, with fellow awardees, along Katipunan.

Prof. Rey began his acceptance speech by sharing a most unexpected piece of personal trivia: that he failed the entrance exam to enter Ateneo Grade School when he was a little boy.  It was through his mother's earnest pleadings and display of unwavering faith in her son that a compassionate headmaster decided to give the young Ileto a chance.  That gamble made by a kind-hearted Jesuit more than fifty years ago paid off.  Now, Ileto comes home to his alma mater triumphant, after a distinguished career here and abroad, as one of the country's most influential historians of all time.   This awardee, with his face on banners posted all over the campus was once deemed "not good enough" because he failed his first entrance exam. 

On campus, Prof. Rey's banners.

Listening to his speech, I felt a wave of inspiration running through me.  I am being taught an important lesson and I am listening with my mind, body and spirit. And the lesson is this: a mother must always believe in her child's greatness, no matter what external exams, tests, or other mechanisms accepted by society declares that her child doesn't measure up. A mother must be the source of unshakable faith, the fiercely loyal supporter who is forever in her child's corner. I had to be reminded not to pay heed to the dictates of convention at the expense of personal conviction. Mrs. Ileto did not privilege "official facts" over what she intuitively knew to be true.  In her heart, and in her gut, she knew her son was far more than what his exam results implied. And now, her intuition is proven right, isn't it?  Unwittingly, with his anecdote about his mother, Prof. Rey has empowered me as a mother. I am ready. If Narra and Guijo "fail" at anything at all when I release them to the world, if at any point society declares them "failures" in any way whatsoever, I am ready to be that kind of mother who will see only their greatness, who will stubbornly refuse to be disappointed. I will be a firm believer in their unique genius. 

Prof. Rey delivering his acceptance speech.

Ileto's speech was riveting from start to finish. It sounded deceptively simple. But with Prof. Rey, things are rarely simple. Seemingly innocent anecdotes are loaded with multiple meanings.  I found his sharing about his mother's refusal to give up on her son a fitting metaphor for Ileto's scholarship. Just as his mother refused to give up on him when he failed to meet official standards - so too did Ileto refuse to dismiss the "pobres y ignorantes" of Philippine history.  He paid attention to what the masses had to say, by listening to their songs, and reading into their words - and these things he studied - the pasyon they chanted with fervor, the awits that shaped their dreams, the literary wellspring of knowledge once deemed inadmissible as "official history".  It was this "history from below" that became the offspring for whom Prof. Rey made his plea.  Like his mother before him, he must have felt in his gut, that those who "fail" exams shouldn't be dismissed so easily.   The thing is, what the masses had to say were always in the archives, but they were systematically overlooked, until Ileto came along and taught us a way to better appreciate their meaning.

A video-documentary on Prof. Rey's contributions.

Throughout my doctoral studies done under his supervision, he would often encourage me to tease out what I can from a single word, or from an event - he believed the scholar could be rewarded with knowledge if he exerted effort in wringing out substance, squeezing out every bit of learning he can get from the sources and subjects he scrutinizes.  This too, was his attitude with the students he took under his wing.  Unlike some teachers who dismiss students with poor language skills - Prof. Rey persevered in reading and editing awkwardly constructed drafts that contained brilliant ideas nonetheless.  He took the time to sincerely try to figure out what his students were trying to say, and he painstakingly mentored us to develop our own ideas. And if any of us simply regurgitated theory, or tried to rehash the usual, no matter how eloquently written and elegantly presented, he would return our work to us with the directive to try to write something that adds value and actually has something to say that allows us new ways of seeing things.  

L-R: Liani (exchange student from National University of Singapore);
Me and my husband, Oliver; and Prof. Rey Ileto, at the reception dinner,
Singson Auditorium, Ateneo Grade School

Just as Mrs. Ileto refused to give up on her son, so too have I felt that Prof. Rey refused to give up on me.  When I failed to submit my thesis on time; when I failed to write anything at all for 2 whole years because of marriage, pregnancy, and childbirth - throughout my dark thesis-writing years - he was my light, and source of hope. Tanglaw ng Lahi. How befitting it is that he received this award. Tanglaw means a light in the dark, an illumination, a torch!  And Lahi means breed or race, but also family and lineage. And I trace my intellectual lineage to him.  As I said at the start of this post. I am luckier than most.

Congratulations Prof. Rey!

Related Post:
Receiving my Wang Gung Wu Prize
http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2011/10/receiving-my-wang-gungwu-prize-and.html

Getting My Baby's Philippine Passport: So Fast, So Easy!

Thirty minutes. That's all it took from the time we entered the gates of the Department of Foreign Affairs, to the time we exited with our receipt.  A week later, the delivery guy from LBC was at our door, with my baby's passport.  It was a pleasantly uncomplicated process. Efficient, straightforward, convenient, and very baby-friendly.  I give the DFA props for its vastly improved passport application process which took 3 simple steps!  The experience was made even more pleasant by the quality of customer care given by the personnel. As a mother with an active infant, I appreciate how considerate and helpful and attentive the DFA staff were to me. Maraming salamat sa serbisyong may malasakit! 

Step 1: Submission of Documents.

STEP 1: Submission of documents. Applicants with special needs (such as mothers with infants, senior citizens, handicapped, and pregnant women) are directed to take a courtesy lane which has a shorter queue.  I just needed to bring Guijo's official NSO-issued Birth Certificate and a photocopy of my passport. Then I had to fill up a form. These documents were reviewed by an official, and when he saw that everything was in order, he instructed me to go to the cashier. This step took 10 minutes (5 minutes for me to fill up the form, which was a challenge because Guijo kept grabbing my pen). I had to wait 3 minutes for my turn to approach the submission counter; and another 2 minutes to transact at the window.

Step 2: Payment of Processing Fee at the cashier counters.

STEP 2: Payment at the Cashier.  I paid Php 1200 for expedited passport processing.  There were several counters processing payments, and the queue moved quite quickly.  A guard monitored and organized the queues, directing people to switch lanes when necessary to get the line moving more equitably.  The guard, seeing I had a baby, motioned for me to move to a shorter line.  The cashier behind the window made funny faces to distract Guijo while I reached for my wallet to get my cash. I liked the personal touch - from the guard and the cashier. It took all of 5 minutes to get this step done! Then I was handed a number, and I sat down in the waiting area, to wait for our turn to have Guijo's photo taken.

Step 3: Encoding and Picture-taking.

STEP 3: Encoding and Picture-Taking. I was amazed at how many stations there were, with computers and mounted cameras, for encoding personal data and taking of photographs. To be sure, there were many applicants waiting for their turn; but there seemed to be a commensurate number of DFA staff to handle the volume. I liked the set-up.  It was nothing fancy.  There were tables, with computers, then there were standing partitions - usual office paneling - on which were mounted digital cameras.  Then there were some office chairs, but more of monobloc plastic chairs for the passport applicants to sit on. As I said, nothing fancy. We're still a third world country after all. What's important is that the job gets done expediently and in relative comfort - away from the heat and the rain, and without the inconvenience of long queues. The process ran like clockwork. The numbers flew by - "ding", "ding", "ding" went the t.v. monitor on which the counters being freed up were being flashed. It took only 5 minutes of waiting time before it was our turn to find station number 41, which took me a while to find, all the way to the back.  There must have been a hundred stations there - it was a lot! 

The encoding and photo capturing station.

So finally, we found our counter. The officer assisting us expertly handled the situation. He asked me to get Guijo to stand on a chair across the camera. He then started clicking on his stapler to catch Guijo's attention, and as Guijo stared at the clicking stapler, and followed it with his eyes, snap! his picture was taken!  The officer had one hand on the stapler, and another on the mouse to control the camera. He did a little balancing act, leaning across his desk to get the stapler close to the camera so Guijo's face would would face forward.  We got the shot in one try. It was quick and Guijo didn't fuss! It took 5 minutes - and that included the long walk to find the station at the far end of the room. The actual picture taking took no more than a minute.  I was shown all the details that were encoded, and I was asked to verify - to check that the spelling, and birth date, and the photo taken were all fine.  I was done! I could pick up the passport in a week's time, or have it delivered to my house. On my way out of DFA, I passed by the LBC Delivery counter and paid the delivery fee, and scribbled my address on the delivery envelope. This step was done in 2 minutes. Then I took the escalator down, walked out the door, and headed to the gate to meet up with Narra and Yaya Jen and Yaya Vanna who waited for us at McDonald's across the street. I checked my watch. 30 minutes.  That's all it took. 

Passport delivery service by LBC.

A week later, the LBC delivery guy came with Guijo's passport as promised. With its arrival my passport application process could be declared a resounding success at last!  My faith in this country's ability to do things right is strengthened all the more. I am so happy that I did not encounter any fixers, or unnecessary red tape, or other forms of bureaucratic nonsense.  All I encountered were committed and efficient civil servants doing their job right, and with an added friendly touch.    

Guijo, happy to receive his passport (so it seems). 

Some Info:

-Passport applications are handled at the new Office of Consular Affairs of the DFA (DFA-OCA) located along Macapagal, behind S&R and across McDonald's. Parking is available both at S&R and McDonald's.

-Applicants must schedule an appointment by calling 737-1000 to get a date and time slot. Mothers applying for their babies NEED NOT MAKE AN APPOINTMENT. A father or mother (or official guardian) can bring an infant to the DFA-OCA any day and time to access the courtesy lane. Note: if you use the courtesy lane, you pay the special expedited fee of Php 1200 for your passport automatically. The cheaper regular rate of Php 900 is no longer an option available given that you "expedited" the process by taking the courtesy lane.

-www.dfa.gov.ph has relevant info on requirements, and downloadable forms too - I should have filled up my form at home, instead of on site, where Guijo kept pulling my pen.