I was reviewing my Flickr account when I came across this picture taken during a coverage I made on the Baguio Country Club’s Centennial:

I remembered how this greenskeeper at the Baguio Country Club kept going around in circles while combing the putting green with his low-tech tool to remove the dew that blanketed the manicured grass. I was amazed at his dedication. No wonder the BCC, despite being the oldest golf club in the Philippines, has one of the most beautiful courses in the country.

Later on however, I found out that many of BCC’s workers are paid about $8.00 a day, perfecting the playgrounds of the richest families and their friends in the country. But then again you see a lot this in RP: carpenters building mansions and world-class condominiums only to come home to poor uninhabitable shanties, waiters serving food that they can only taste in their dreams, rich children pampered by nannies whose own children grow up without their mothers' care.

It has been a year since my last post . Wow, that long huh? So I decided to disturb the inertia, hoping to keep going until an outside force (like a nasty negative comment) puts me to rest again.

Two things gave me the push. The first was a book which title unfortunately, I can’t read because it’s in Japanese (I apologize to the Japanese for my being illiterate in their language, despite having been in their country for almost two years). Showing you the book cover however, will give you more than words.

The second push I got from our fellow blogger Jagcon’s latest post, ‘It’s indeed a small world.’ It amazed me what new technology can do for us. It can actually open a window to our past, which happens to be the topic for my post - looking back.

Let me get back to the first stimulus, the Japanese book. When I saw the cover, it reminded me of an earlier post I made in this site, 'Spontaneity and Responsibility in the Arts.’ The cover picture and my pictures all showed Japanese children drawing on street pavement with chalk. There are differences of course, the greatest of which is that the cover photograph was taken in 1959 by Takeyoshi Tanuma, and my snapshots done in 2006 - a span of 47 years. That length of time is enough perhaps, to consider this form of street art a tradition. A bucket of half consumed Crayola Sidewalk Chalk left on top of our mailbox by neighborhood kids also indicates that the practice is institutionalized. It might be interesting to do an analysis of what children drew then and now, and why, but really….

“Make new friends, but keep the old. Those are silver, these are gold.�?

This can be said of our culture as well. As the world gets smaller and cultures blend, life gets more colorful and exciting. But if you don’t hold on to what you’ve got……

We attended a Natsumatsuri (Summer Festival) at the Osaka University of Foreign Studies where we were treated to a unique view of how the younger Japanese respond to cultural influences from without. Being a university dedicated to the understanding of outside cultures, the festival was a showcase of what the students have taken from the world outside Japan. It was a dazzling display, but we chose to focus.

These Philippine Studies majors sold what looked like…….

Yes, that’s what they were. The price? Just about the same as what our legislature would budget for this favorite congressional snack.

How would the Japanese cook turon? Deep-fried and with chopsticks, of course!

About five years ago, I was walking along an uncemented sidewalk at noon in Baguio City when I saw this little boy on a street corner. He was selling cigarettes and mint candies under the heat of the midday sun.

I caught him as he was counting half a day’s sales, not even enough to cover his little palm.

I keep telling my family and friends back home how amazed I was with Japan’s safe and clean streets. However, it’s difficult to describe just how.

This afternoon, I saw exactly what I meant. This baby romped alone in the street for at least 15 minutes before it occurred to me that I should get my camera.

Though I never once saw her mother the whole time, I'm sure the baby made it home safe.

Grandpa took his rest at midnight last night. He led a full life. I suddenly remembered when I had to take him to the hospital in baguio about two years ago. There was a typhoon ongoing, signal no. 3. I stayed with him overnight until he was discharged the next day. He was asking me to go home and rest that night, trying to assure me he was okay. He was probably embarrassed that I had to take care of him. Typical macho stuff. Grown men don't take care of each other. :-) But he could barely walk due to a swollen foot. He had a gout attack among other problems, and I couldn't just let the maid look after him. What if he needed to go to the restroom? That would embarrass him more. So I stayed. There were only four people in the house then, grandpa, the maid, hiromi - our exchange student guest, and myself.

Someday that would be me on the bed, and I would be asking somebody to 'go home and rest, I'll be okay."

“Now all adults can know exactly how they and their parents and grandparents looked as children – a knowledge not available to anyone before the invention of cameras, not even to that tiny minority among whom it was customary to commission paintings of their children.�?
- Susan Sontag, On Photography

From one movie with an Arthurian theme, I remember this thought, “ you cease to exist the moment nobody thinks about you anymore.�? A terrible paraphrase no doubt, but I’m sure you get the point.

I was looking online through some not too old photographs when I came across the above image. It was taken by Hiromi Iwasaki, then a student at the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, who came to live with us for a year in Baguio in 2004, to study at UP.

During her summer break, she went home to Hanyu City. Showing some interest in photography then, I lent her one of my cameras and encouraged her to take pictures of her family so we could get to know them even just through photographs. Upon her return to Baguio she shared with us her pictures. This particular frame caught my attention because of its unusual composition.

For the past few days, I’ve had with me an unlikely mix sharing my bed.

The first was Susan Sontag’s On Photography, and the others, three issues of a strange Japanese photographic magazine named Out of Photographers.

Sontag’s On Photography is a classic and needs no introduction, that is, if you consider yourself among the photographic cognoscenti. If you’re less than a cognoscenti though, then I must warn you (ahem) that On Photography is no picture book. It does not even contain photographs at all, except the author’s wonderfully rendered backcover portrait by no less than Annie Leibovitz.

No, I wouldn’t be attempting to do a book review of Sontag’s slim volume for that is beyond my writing competence. Just to give you an idea though,: Adams, Herschel, Cartier-Bresson, Brandt, Strand, Talbot, Weston, Steiglitz, McCullin, Capa, Brady, Lange, are just a few of a long list of names dropped in the book. The small collection of essays is bursting with erudition. Imagine reading views from the heaviest weights in photographic history and mixing in Sontag’s own intelligent discourse and analyses. The tome exhibits the author’s genius for having produced a whole book on photography with nothing but words, and still garner endless praises from a majority of its highly visual readers.

Pia: Sasamahan mo ba ako?
Ako: Saan?
Pia: Iinterbiyuhin daw ako ni Neriza-sensei para sa community newspaper.
Ako: (Tonong tinatamad) E ano naman gagawin ko roon? Saan ba yon?
Pia: Sa may gotohan daw sa Shinsaibashi.
Ako: GOTOHAN!!?? (katchiiinnnnggggg!!!!!)

If there is something that could bring out the pinoy in me, it is a steaming bowl of goto straight from the gigantic kaldero. Busy as I was with all my imaginary itinerary for the day, I decided to set them all aside.

Goto aside, the Shinsaibashi/Namba/Nipponbashi area in Osaka matches the pinoy taste. It is a first world version of Tutuban, Raon and Mabini mixed together in a blender at low speed. This is one zone where you can feel Japan’s pulse beat. More like Cubao than Ayala Center. It is the average pinoy’s neck of the woods, where one would feel at home.

So we're off to Mabini, este, Minami (South in Japanese, also the specific location of the gotohan) where the goto waited.

Flashback January 16, 2006. Destination: Kobe City, Kansai Region. My first unaccompanied train ride since I arrived in Japan on September 2005. A slow learner’s pace by anyone’s standard. Travelling via Kansai’s local train systems is an absolute thrill to the novice, like myself. For beginners though, it could be a bewilderment.

My wife and I on a train to Kyoto. Photo taken by my son, Erigo.

If one’s only experience riding trains is the LRT or the MRT of Metro Manila, Kansai’s train systems can be considered an expert’s course. The Kansai folks are indeed experts having lived all their lives riding trains. Ask them for advice on how to get to a particular place, they’ll first ask what time you need to arrive at your final destination. A few minutes on the internet, and they’ll provide you with a detailed route plan containing loading points, station changes, train classes and types, and arrival and departure times for each train you need to take. They will not quote fare costs though, since train fare never seems to be an issue to the Japanese, but is initially discouraging to the uninitiated pinoy.

My family and I went to Hiroshima in January 2006. Immediately after our 4-day trip I wanted to post an entry, but I found myself unable to tell my story. It was just too long. Too many details, too much emotions. Hiroshima continues to haunt me.

Eighty year old Ojii-san (Lolo) Kimura, our host, contemplates the Atomic Dome. It is the only ruin left standing after the restoration. Ojii-san lost a brother-in-law to the bombing sixty years ago. Could he still remember?

The good reason Americans had for bombing Hiroshima was that it saved over a million lives by not having to invade Japan to end the war. Killing 200,000 to save a million lives? Japan at the time was already negotiating the terms of surrender. Most of the victims were women and children. Sacrificial lambs.

Before

After

Spontaneity is thought to be a positive trait, specially in the arts. We Filipinos are said to possess a spontaneous personality and it manifests itself in our art. We have talented painters, musicians, dancers and actors. Unfortunately, this spontaneity also shows itself in the other things that we do. Some of us piss on walls that have ‘BAWAL ANG UMIHI DITO’ signs. Some of us spit just about anywhere we please. Some of us don’t even think where we throw our cigarette butts and candy wrappers. Some of us drive the way we feel – never mind the rules.

This morning I looked out our window and spent not a few minutes observing Japanese spontaneous behavior.

Street Artists

Street Art

Street Artists' Mother

I showed Elynia Mabanglo BarangayAmerika.com and she liked the concept. “Kaya lang bakit Barangay Amerika tapos lahat naman ng nakasulat e Ingles?�? aniya.

Oo nga naman.

Nang imungkahi at ipatupad ang ideyang sistemang bilingual sa edukasyon, sabi nila’y nagkaroon tayo ng henerasyon ng mga mamamayang mapurol sa ingles—at mahina din sa pilipino. Madaling intindihin kung medyo diskaril ang ating ingles, tutal hindi naman ito ang tinubuang wika. Ngunit walang dahilan kung pati ang ating pilipino ay pagewang-gewang tulad ng Kennon road sa Baguio at tulad din ng sulating ito.

Ipagpaumanhin ang pagiging TH, ngunit nalihis na ako sa aking nais isulat. Sana’y patawarin kung babalik ako sa pagsusulat sa ingles, sadyang hindi ko pa gamay ang pagsusulat ng mahaba-haba sa ating lingua franca. Nakakahiya talaga. Ngunit pagsusumikapan kung makapagsulat sa ating wika sa mga susunod pang mga kwento. Promise.

The other day was surreal, but it turned out to be one of the best days I’ve had in Japan. Again, breakfast set the tone for the day’s unfolding. Our guest would be leaving for home (Philippines, although she’s a permanent resident of Hawaii) and over breakfast she worried over her heavy baggage and the predicament of having to carry them all the way to Tokyo where her flight originated.

My wife thinks I make a mean pancake. This morning, I demonstrated all my pancake making skills to serve breakfast to a guest, a poet laureate named Ruth Elynia Mabanglo. For pinoys, or at least for my family, breakfast is the time to discuss the most meaningful events that have recently happened, and a lively breakfast chat sets the tone for another eventful day.

Friends. That was the topic that emerged this morning. My wife was sharing how she feared having friends who smiled when face to face, but clutched a dagger behind their backs. She then tried, in vain, to recall the words used by Francisco Balagtas to describe such friends.

To my right suddenly flowed the words:

At kung ang isalubong sa‘yong pagdating
ay masayang mukha’t may pakitang giliw
pakaingata’t baka kaaway na lihim
siyang isaisip na kakabakahin.

Hawig yan doon sa ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.’

“Hmmm...she’s good,�? I said to myself.

I think that was Jorge, eyni! He asked about it when he was still in da Pinas and was preparing for his expected looong hours of free time in Japan. But he must be pretty busy by now, what with his new DSLR and new found "barkada" of student and retirees, that he hasn't posted here nor updated his BarangayAmerika blog for some time. :P

Keep on shooting!
Jim Cosme

I saw this on the Fil-Am_Fotogs list. The Jim Cosme gentle persuasion technique. But I plead guilty. It has been sometime since my last post. Many things have happened since then, that my experiences have become hopelessly entangled like the cables behind my computer desk (and I bet yours too).
This situation effectively prevents chronological posting. So allow me to post my first entry for the year with the most lucid recollection.
As Jim was probably typing the message above a few hours ago, I was on our balcony frantically trying to record what I correctly thought would be a brief event. It was snowing heavily. If it happened last night instead of early this morning, it would have been a repeat of the record December 22, 2005 snowfall that kept most people indoors.

After being in Japan for over 3 months, I’m beginning to feel at home. It’s winter and getting colder. But Baguio is just as cold in December. And so, I often manage to forget that I ever left home. But, as the song goes, there is always something there to remind me.

I heard shuffling outside the front door and something being dropped in the mailbox. It’s just a bill.

I’ve always been thankful for technology. To remedy the drudgery of washing dishes, we decided to purchase a dishwasher online. Of course, the website was in Japanese so a friend helped us to make the order. When the machine was delivered, the technician even performed the required installation. Soon after he started, he announced that the machine was ready for use and he cheerfully left. Now to get some dishes done.

Breakfast is the meal that we all look forward too. As I ate my cereals I decided to check on the nutritional information.

From my first few days in Japan, I've gotten the impression that the Japanese are extremely appreciative of nature. Perhaps because they've lost so much of it in their quest for affluence? Or is it part of their religious beliefs? I'm not a scholar so I don't have ready answers.
All I know is they have literally thousands of festivals, and many of those are dedicated to valuing their environment. They know exactly the best times during the year to admire nature: the sakura festival in spring, the rising of the sun at dawn of the first day of the year, the trek to Minoh Falls in autumn to witness the burst of colors of the forest. And they would all be there, all at the same time.

Yesterday, my family and I went on my first trip to Kyoto. And yes, everybody and their grandmothers were there. There was barely enough elbow room. It reminded me of the EDSA revolution in 1986, only the atmosphere now was more festive. I was starting to get disappointed. But looking all around me, I saw the admiring smiles and the excited speech of the Japanese. The Oooohs and the Aaaaahs. I guessed I just wasn't getting it, until we approached this bridge.

I received this email from one of my wife's students:

Hello,

Nice to meet you.
I am Aki, who is one of Pia's students at Osaka-gaidai.
I am sorry for the sudden email.
Right now, I am working on thesis and my theme is Anting-anting.
I heard from Pia-sense that your father have had anting-anting and only he
was able to survive at Second World War.
I would like to know the detail story of his anting-anting and where does that
anting-anting belong to right now.
And would you mind if I mention what I will hear from you on my thesis?
I look foward to hearing from you.

ingat kayo,

Aki

This was my reply:

Hello Aki,

Pleased to meet you. There are four people I know in my family who are reputed to possess
'anting-anting.'

They are/were:

1. My great-grandfather (who we call 'Amamang Tinong'). He was my
mother's grandfather on her mother's side of the family.
2. My grandfather (Lolo Felino). He was my mother's father.
3. My grand-uncle (Tiyo Tibo). He was my mother's uncle on her mother's

Had dinner last night at an Italian Restaurant named "Dolce Moscato." It was really amusing as I ate the "antipasto" (appetizers) with chopsticks. There was raw tuna and salmon among the appetizers. I wondered if those were really Italian. Our Japanese companions said they were. Hmmmm.... But I'm not complaining about the food because it was really great.

The menu was in Japanese although the food was, of course, Italian. Thank God for the Japanese students who came with us. I don't know how we could have managed ordering the food. If it weren't for them, we would have probably ordered through the prices, which were the only symbols we understood.

The young chef, specially generous that night, gave us extra orders of antipasto and a tuna dish on the house. Was it because of the two pretty Japanese coeds we had with us last night? One of our companions, Hiroko-san, is an "albeito" (part-time) employee of the restaurant.

Albeito is a favorite activity among Japanese students. And boy do they work! I once timed two waitresses clear a table at a sushi restaurant. Forty-five seconds is all it took to clear and clean the cluttered table. Mistakes in order-taking or delays in serving will certainly lead to an extended apology session.

After two and half months in Minoh City, this is the only japanese I can speak with reasonable confidence. Not bad by my standards, considering I've been living with an Ilongga for ages and have not learned a complete sentence in Hiligaynon.

'Language is Habit,' according to the japanese language book I've started to read. I guess I just have to get into the habit of picking up the book, which I only do an hour before I leave for my weekly language tutorials. I hate Fridays. My volunteer tutors at Konnichiwa Nihonggo probably do too. They're among the nicest people I know. I wonder what they did in their previous lives to deserve me as their student.

But then again, my language is visual...not verbal. After saying that a thousand times, I'm starting to believe myself.

Sooner or later I'd have to learn the language if I intend to make sense of this stupor I am in, or if I want to order my coke without ice.