Hello, folks. My name is Brad; I'm a retired English teacher who specialized in seniors and juniors at a Massachusetts high school. I love a good novel, a fine poem. My home for the past seven years has been in Cabanatuan City, which is centrally located on the island of Luzon in the Philippines. My "sigoth" Glenda and I, along with Glenda's daughter Krizza, live in a cozy outbuilding on the estate of Teresita Tecson, whose family asked me to come live with them four years ago. I've met many fine people here, made good friendships, helped out where I could, accepted help when it was offered. Started this blog a few months after coming to the Philippines, and have kept a double focus throughout these pages: one, to let you enter my personal life and the lives of Filipinos close to me; two, to offer overviews of current issues important to Filipinos, as well as the customs and heritage of a remarkable people. Cheers!

7.13.25

A Happy 70th

Have you noticed that while you are procrastinating over a change that needs to be made, fate, shod in steel-toed boots, will sometimes give you a hard kick in the butt in the direction of that change? Well, that happened to me a few days ago, only that hard kick was not in the butt but in the stomach. Yes, and, talkabouta bellyache! Could eat nothing for more than 24 hrs, then spent two days nibbling slowly at wheat bread, rice, and a couple of scrambled eggs. Searched around online and realized my symptoms were almost definitely not those of a stomach virus, almost certainly those of bacterial poisoning. Glenda has set us up with the neighborhood vendor of purified water, which delivers 10-liter sealed containers to our door now. No more tap water down this gullet.

Hence the delay in getting another post up.  Well, before this bout of misery and messiness, Glenda, Krizza, and I did enjoy a fine time at Teresita's 70th birthday party a week ago at a venue not far from the SM Mall in the southern part of the city. Was quick on the uptake

                                                             upon entering the ballroom; before Covid, I'd been

                                                             invited to the 80th birthday celebration of the

                                                             matriarch of a well-to-do family, and I recognized

                                                             what I now take to be the signature characteristics

                                                             of well moneyed Filipino b-day bashes: a dozen or 

                                                             more large, round tables with comfortable seating;

                                                             one buffet table with steaming chafing dishes and

                                                             another with artfully piled sweets; a stage with a

                                                             couch and tasteful floral and balloon decorations;

                                                             a good sound system; an emcee.

That's right, an emcee: in this case the guy in the technicolor dreamcoat you see next to Teresita, above. In the hour or so before we ate, he humorously conducted the festivities. First, younger attendees were enlisted for a couple of funny parlor games to entertain the old folks. Then a trivia game concerning Teresita's likes and dislikes came with prizes for those with correct answers. Close family members were called to the stage to sit on the couch with the birthday girl; both speaking into microphones, they would chat about some past event before each family member offered his/her best wishes before giving Teresita a big hug.

Eventually we all tucked into plates piled high. My favorite offering was a breaded fish

with a tangy white sauce; Glenda liked a thinly sliced pork with rich gravy. Lechon

was on offer: the pig's head was on display in the middle of the chafing dishes; the body,

sliced into bite-sized cubes, lay within the largest dish. Glenda chose rice to go with her

viands; I had the penne with tomato sauce. My tummy was much gladdened by this

tasty feast -- little aware of what awaited it in the coming days.

As dinner wound down, a ten or fifteen-minute video played with birthday greetings from family, friends, and former clients of Teresita in London, where Teresita had spent more than twenty years. A London grandson(?) sang a beautiful song at its end. And then the dance music came on! The birthday girl raced over to the table of her college boarders (she had graciously invited all of them) and pulled one onto the dance floor. A few minutes later, she pulled over another. Others danced; Glenda and I stuck to our seats.

Eventually thank yous were sung out by the family, and it was time to go. It had been a pleasure to see Teresita looking so happy and lively. A good night out!

7.1.25

Puddles Everywhere

Brad here. Now in the middle of a T-storm the fury of which is witnessed maybe twice a year in Massachusetts, my home state. We get storms this strong in the rainy season maybe twice a week. Will be fortunate if the power doesn't fail while I'm typing.

Krizza is back in school at the Jolly Hearts Academy (I've grown used to the saccharine name of the place), and her classes once again have on average half a dozen students. Which is kind of sad: I remember the amount of day-dreaming I could get done as a student in public school classes, and I'm guessing Krizza has little to no time for that. On the plus side, classrooms at the academy are air conditioned.

On Saturday, Teresita, matriarch of the family in whose compound Glenda, Krizza, and I live, will have a birthday bash at a venue that her family has rented downtown. She's turning 70, and she graciously invited the girls and me to come along. Lechon, in addition to other tasty treats!

I've been doing more cooking myself, by the way.  Yesterday I formed a butter and flour roue, threw in some diced onion, and after a while poured some milk into it. Waited for the milk to boil, and slowly added most of a bag of shredded cheddar to the concoction. Voila: a creamy, cheesy sauce. Layered potatoes I had sliced thinly in a greased pan, poured some sauce over it, layered more potatoes, then more sauce, and so on. Threw it into a preheated (175 degrees C) oven and let it bubble for an hour. To the lady I watched do this on YouTube: thank you!  It was delicious, went well with rotisserie chicken. And I think I gained some kitchen cred with Glenda and Krizza.

6.23.25

Midterm Election Violence

The graphic to the right was created by the 

ACLED (Armed Conflict Location and Event

Data) office of the national government. It

depicts occurrences of election-related violence

in the six weeks leading up to the midterm

elections. Pink circles represent armed conflicts

leading to one or more injuries, and red circles

to those involving one or more deaths. The 

cluster centering on Manila is not surprising,

given the density of the population there. North

of Manila the province with the one circle just

south of its center is my home province of Nueva

Ecija; funny, I heard nothing of the fracas there,

which seems to be at the position of Gapan City.

Neighboring Pangasinan Province had a 

number of armed conflicts, and I did not hear

or read of those. The autonomous Moslem

region of Mindanao had plenty of conflicts,

even a few firefights with multiple casualties, and I did read of those. Theirs is a society of powerful (and armed) clans; and elections in

which certain clans dominate, in terms of House seats/governerships/mayoralities gained, ensure that members of other clans will become disempowered, and in many cases lose a job.

You see, in the Philippines, despite the existence of a civil service commission, and despite the fact that people seeking jobs under elected leaders and appointed officials must pass an exam in their area of expertise, consanguinity with a politician and/or loyalty to a political cause or figure does carry real weight in the selection process. It's nothing like the "spoils system" of mid-nineteenth century America, but this edge that, say, a cousin or precinct organizer of an elected official has over a better qualified non-relative can make many people hot under the collar as elections grow near.

Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of Manuel Torres's death, and his daughter Glenda will leave me for two or three days to participate in the rites involved in such an anniversary up at the farmhouse in Rizal. I'll keep to our small home with the cats. Maybe I'll take a trike to a nearby resort for a morning swim on one of these days: afternoons are for the most part downpour-laden. I'm currently reading Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton, a Kiwi author now living in England who won the Booker Prize for a previous novel, and perhaps I'll finish it before Glenda returns.

6.12.25

Slouching Toward L.A.

The monsoon sputtered out before it arrived. Afternoons have been rainy, but for now we've evaded the windswept driving rain of the monsoon. After last weekend Glenda brought back with her Krizza and Francis, and, while our goal this week has been a swim at one of the better local resorts, that plan proved a wash-out each day. While the rain has not been monsoonish, it has been persistent. Nonetheless we have enjoyed some nice family time at the Bitas compound. Tomorrow morning Mama Bienbe arrives by bus for medical tests not available in Rizal with Glenda's sister Gio. Glenda and the children will take them to the testing site while I take a trike to WalterMart for my own weekend provisions and for some snacks they can take back to Rizal.

It is Thursday the 12th, Independence Day in the Philippines. On this day in 1898 Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo and the revolutionary government declared the independence of the islands after more than three centuries of Spanish rule. Aguinaldo's forces whipped the Spanish in pitched battles in the countryside surrounding Manila, but were unable to seize the city until American warships sank just about everything floating and belonging to Spain in Manila Harbor. Even then, the American forces made sure they had the upper hand in Manila -- and at the Treaty of Paris, ending the Spanish-American War, Spain ceded the Philippines to the U.S. for 20 million dollars. It was a major setback for true Filipino independence, and costly in terms of lives lost: in the ensuing Philippine-American War, about 16,000 Filipinos and 4,200 Americans lost their lives. An additional 200,000 to 250,000 Filipinos died from famine or disease directly related to the conflict. Over the next 50-odd years, the Americans granted Filipinos more and more say in the governance of the islands, but only in 1946 did the Philippines become a truly independent nation.

                                                                                    Congratulated here by Gen MacArthur,                                        

                                                                                    Manuel Roxas was elected president of

                                                                                    the Philippine Republic in 1946.

And so the American government got its taste of colonial power 120+ years ago. Currently over in the U.S., what seems to be happening is not so much the rebirth of a republic as the thuggish stifling of democratic norms. Undocumented men deported without due process to a notorious third-country prison. People taken off the streets by men in street clothes wearing masks. An American senator tackled to the floor for asking a question of the Homeland secretary. The American Fourth Estate in the process of being cowed and perhaps silenced. U.S. Marines patrolling the streets of L.A. A military parade through downtown D.C. on the president's birthday. In charge are not revolutionaries bent on freeing the American people from the dictates of an autocrat. This is quite the opposite.

Washington needed shaking up. Not in this direction, though.

Mama Bienbe after her tests; Gio better

prepared than Charm for a quick snap;

a disorganized prep for the trip to Rizal

(of course they forgot something!).

6.3.25

The Big Wet Returns

Afternoon rains happen nearly every day now; sometimes they are accompanied by impressive lightning and thunder. It's early in the season for this much rain to occur, and the Ventusky weather graphics indicate that the southwest monsoon may play a role in central Luzon's weather as early as next week. Well, the last rainy season was weaker than most -- we were sodden at times, to be sure, but it just didn't seem to have the punch of the rainy seasons I've experienced since coming here. This time around Mother Nature may want to even the score.

(weatherspark.com)       

The graph above contains the average rainfall amounts for Cabanatuan City. Altogether 77.3 inches fall in a year here; eastern and central Massachusetts, where I spent most of my life, receives on average 42 inches. In a normal year, more than half of that 77 inches falls on Cab City in the months of July, August, and September: yes, the amount of rain my friends in Massachusetts experience in a year falls in my fair Philippine city over these three months. In May, in June, we Cabanatuanites, we Nueva Ecijos, replenish our stock of umbrellas, unclog any clogged drains, and keep an eye to the sky.

Krizza and Francis are staying mainly with grandma Bienbe at the farm until they return to school June 30. Glenda will stay with me weekdays and take the car to visit with the children on weekends. If I can find some deet on our next shopping trip, I'll join her once or twice. Given the weather these days, mornings are the time for running errands, afternoons the time for reading, playing online word games, napping, and continuing a desultory study of Tagalog. Evenings, generally, Glenda fixes up a fine dinner (pork sinigang tonight) and we see what movies Netflix and Amazon have to offer.

5.27.25

Sari-Sari

The Tagalog word means "sundry" in English -- and opening a sari-sari store is a popular way for a Filipino family to earn a living or supplement its income. The Bureau of Internal Revenue used to collect a fee of P500 each year from owners, but that fee was waived by Congress a year and a half ago, and now sari-sari owners need only purchase a barangay business permit yearly at small cost to themselves. They can keep whatever hours they want and sell everything that is legal to sell.

Teresita, seen at the top here, owner of the property on which Glenda, Krizza and I live, has just opened her own sari-sari facing the main street and just a few steps from our little house (talk about a convenience store!). Her son Don-Don and his friend Francisco walled off part of the boarding students' common area, installed a grilled window with an opening for transactions, and built shelves to line the walls of the enclosed place. Teresita has distinguished her sari-sari from others in the neighborhood by providing fine rice which she keeps in a large bin -- and she spends much of her day chatting with customers. Grandsons Ritz and Ten-jong seem to be charged with the duty of buying wholesale and lugging the product to market. About 50 meters away Gemma's sari-sari (bottom left), upon whose roof rests the branches of a fine mango tree, specializes in vices with its wide variety of cigarettes, its booze, and its lottery and numbers games. Mangos too. At lower right not much of a walk away a family specializes in selling vegetables. You may just be able to see the row of pots they station front and center, which contain cooked dishes from the kitchen at the back of the establishment. Good place to go if one is in need of some quick home-cooked!

Glenda and I shop in a supermarket once a week -- usually the WalterMart a couple of kms. down the Maharlika -- but we are also pretty regular customers at the sari-saris in the neighborhood, the three above and two others within easy walking distance. They are not just places for convenient shopping, but also gathering spots to shoot the breeze -- and I'll go so far as to say mechanisms of neighborhood cohesion.

Yesterday afternoon, Glenda and I packed her two children and three family friends -- Clara Mae, her son Frinz, and Don-Don's daughter Donaiza -- into the back seats of the Vios and sped down the Vergara Highway to D'Pavillion in San Leonardo, two towns south of Cabanatuan. It was my third visit to this place, a catacomb of large cabanas on wharfs raised above a pond, where the food is good and the helpings large. Shrimp sinigang, calamari, beef kare-kare, pork sisig, a whole glazed chicken, a jumbo plate of fried rice and vegetables. We passed these plates back and forth and made our own dishes. Coke for the kids, a "tower" of martinis for the adults.

In this restaurant a band plays every night on a platform in the center of the walkways, and the singer visits individual tables to ask for requests. I suggested an Elvis Presley song, and, after calling out directions to the band from our table, and the man sang one of the King's few slow and maudlin songs, to my disappointment. He was a good singer and a cheerful entertainer, however, and I slipped him some bills before he left for other tables. Altogether a nice night out.

5.19.25

Hot Dog Days

A favorite breakfast at street stands for Filipinos is "dogsilog," or a hot dog with rice and a fried egg (I'm a "longsilog" kind of guy myself: just switch the hot dog with two longganisas). Hot dog slices are commonly put in spaghetti along with the sweet Filipino spaghetti sauce (which is not for me: I keep jars of Ragu in the pantry). And hot dogs are what I rely on for protein, unless I'm feeling ambitious, when Glenda is away -- as she was this past weekend when she traveled to Rizal to drive her mother to her mother's cousin's funeral and burial. Luckily, there were still plenty of Glenda's pickled red onions in a jar in the fridge -- those chopped up with yellow mustard on two dogs in rolls constitute one fine meal, let me tell you. She arrived a half hour ago; I'll put up with beef kaldereta or mechado, pork or chicken adobo, pork sisig, fish or shrimp sinigang, chicken tinola, etc., till her next trip to Rizal.

                                                                                                    Tinolang Manok (Chicken Tinola)

These are dog days, and they are hot. The high temp forecast reads 35 or 36 degrees for the next five days -- that's 95 to 97 in fahrenheit-speak. We have entered a dry period, too -- no rain or t-storms for a few days, and none in the forecast. Well, it won't be long before the rain comes daily and school starts up again.

I watch the Youtube American news and American talking heads with . . . foreboding? alarm? dread? Let's just say I'm getting used to the fantods (thanks for that word, Huckleberry Finn). 

5.11.25

Bunso Gets Married

The weather has been plenty hot: this is, after all, the height of summer in the Philippines. Late afternoon thunderstorms have begun to range over the central plain of Luzon, however, as often happens in the few weeks before the rainy season begins. There had been a forecast of an unusual day of rain on Saturday the 10th, and we were hoping the forecasters were wrong; it was the day of Angelo and Princess's wedding! As it turned out, the forecasters were wrong: skies were bright and sunny well into the afternoon. And it was pretty darned hot!

Angelo is the "bunso," or                                                                                                                         youngest of the Torreses, and he is not the biological brother of                                                                                                                           the six sisters: parentless at a very young age, he was adopted                                                                                                                       by Bienbe and Mario. You see them all together here for the first                                                                                                                          time in years, after Mario's funeral.

Amy, the eldest, (third from the right) is working in Saudi Arabia and could not make it to Angelo's wedding, so unfortunately there was not another reunion in happier times. 

Glenda took this photo as Princess Pimentel arrived at the church. She joined us on

our trip to the mountains (Angelo could not as he was working), and during that

time she struck me as being a quiet (perhaps shy at being with so many future in-laws)

but humorous young woman. The Catholic church where the wedding took place sat

in the teeming center of Rizal; driving the Toyota Vios, Glenda found it without much

difficulty. The wedding was to start at 10am and it was 10:03 when we arrived. Many

Torreses were still back at the farm finishing breakfast and dressing -- all of this was

fine, as we were on Filipino time, and a lag of a half hour or an hour was expected. I

was a wedding ninong (there were six or seven ninongs and six or seven ninangs), so a lay official ushered me and others into an anteroom where I signed four documents and, as the others were doing, handed over two purple bills, or P200. When I returned to our pew, Glenda showed surprise at the 200 the nin(o)(a)ngs were paying. "We already gave the church P3500 for the service!"     

Oh well. The rest of the Torreses arrived about a half hour late, and a few minutes after that the ceremony got under way.  I liked the ceremony. Young members of both families had roles to play and they played them well, a good friend of the bride sang a sweet song, and the bride and groom themselves knew their cues and spoke in unwavering voices. Powerful arcing fans high on the walls of the nave made the place bearable; still, I had my handkerchief out for most of our time there. There was a near-emergency when ninongs and ninangs, having been called to the front, stood between the sacristy and the young couple in order to be addressed by the priest. I could not understand most of the priest's words, so I turned my eyes to the bride and groom, and something I saw nearly made me lunge for Princess. No, it was okay, Angelo had seen and was holding her steady. In her heavy wedding gown with a veil over her face, and in this heat, Princess had nearly fainted. The priest quickly registered the situation and produced from the sacristy a glass phial with a liquid in it. He removed the glass stopper and held the phial under the bride's nose for about a minute. Whatever it was, it had the desired effect; Princess's eyes were clear and she was smiling embarrassedly. And the ceremony went on.

Finally, the groom placed the ring, lifted the veil, and kissed the bride. A homily with bride and groom kneeling before the altar. Some picture-taking. And it was over. My thought: it's about time! I liked the priest, but he was a long-winded fellow, and the service lasted an hour and a half or more. Glenda drove to the reception so that we could deliver our gift to the newly married couple; we had agreed that with that errand completed, Glenda would drive me back to Cab City and then return to the reception. Another two or three hours in this hot, muggy air was not for me, and I was thankful for the understanding shown me by folks. Elderly, overweight foreign dude excused. They piled a plate for me and sent me on my way.     

And what is there left for me to do here but dump a few pics?

5.1.25

Birdsong and Butterflies

Glenda was a little anxious about the steepness of the resort's driveway. "Go, go, go, go, go!" I chortled next to her, and she revved straight up the incline. Pointing upward at a 30 or 35-degree angle, we stopped at a wall, and with my left hand I yanked back on the parking brake forcefully. Resort staff hefted large rocks from the side of the driveway and placed them against our rear tires. Mama Bienbe, the children, and Glenda and I got out of the car and greeted Torreses coming up behind us in tricycles, on motorcycles. The air was fresh and cool. We'd arrived at the Sevilla Paradise Resort.

I was paying for the two nights in an onsite house which slept 15, and

at the greeting pavilion, which had a sari-sari store, I handed over twelve

blue bills and one yellow bill: P12,500. Sleeping 15 folks for less than $60

a night? Seemed like a good deal to me, back when I was using Google

Maps, Facebook, and Youtube to find a place for us in the mountains of

the Sierra Madre. The videos for Sevilla presented a place that seemed

somewhat commercialized for my taste, and there were bucolic cabins

with a pool just up the road from Sevilla, but a cabin there could sleep

only twelve, and would cost considerably more than what Sevilla was

offering. 

With our belongings, and food for six meals which various Torreses had bought and prepared, we trudged up a number of steps to an area where we could wait while resort staff cleaned the house we would stay in. There, next to Spongebob Squarepants and one of the 

                                                                          smaller pools, Glenda pointed out for me mulberry bushes and the weavings of silkworms

                                                                          around the crotches at the base of each bush. She brought me to the base of one of three

                                                                          avocado trees on the property, and we looked up at the fruit which, though shaped like

                                                                          avocados, were at this time the size of small plums.

                                                                          Glenda's a farm girl, and she knows her agriculture. While we walked about the upper level

                                                                          of the resort, several of her relatives went back down to the driveway, and as G and I sat on  

                                                                          a bench to admire a view of Luzon's central plain far below, I noticed a line of young Torreses

                                                                          making their way up the steps in parade formation. Balloons were deposited next to us, and

                                                                          Glenda's nephew JM made glitter confetti explode from a tube. Ah, and then a chocolate

                                                                          cake with mocha icing was placed on the table before us as the crew sang the birthday song.

                                                                          Sixty-seven candles would surely have been too many for me; I was grateful they had

                                                                          provided just one for me to puff out.

                                                                          That was good cake. With the mocha taste still in my mouth, we trooped into our home for                                                                                the next 48-odd hours. On the first level, where Glenda and I would sleep on mattresses, we found a spacious living room, a kitchen with a stove, a dining room too small for us, and a bathroom. Up above, one bedroom with a double bed for Glenda's mom and perhaps Novi's little ones, and a very large loft with many mattresses. We had brought sheets, blankets, and pillows, and we set about unpacking and making beds. What food the Torreses brought with them! A bucket of shrimp, pompanos, tilapia, a huge hunk of pork, kilos of longganisa. close to a hundred eggs, a variety of vegetables.  Of course, a very large sack of rice. We ate well indeed in the covered court at the front of our house. Drank well too: I'd asked Glenda to stop at a liquor store before we started ascending the mountain.

The mountain is Mt. Labi, over whose lower shoulder Rt. 16 winds its way before eventually dropping to the coastal plain and the town of Baler. On that shoulder the resort sat. From the largest of the swimming pools we had a view of Labi's summit; from the same pool one could view in the opposite direction Luzon's central plain and, just discernible at the horizon, the silhouette of Mt. Aryat, an extinct volcano close to 100 kms. across the plain.

Mount Labi has an elevation of 1,628 meters, or 5,340 feet. I judged the summit to be no more than 2,000 feet above us, which meant the resort likely perched more than 3,000 feet above the plain. The pools were all fed by a mountain spring and the water was malamig! -- very cold. We learned that it took no more than five or ten minutes to get used to it, though, and we spent a good deal of time in the water during the stay. With regard to fauna, the resort was teeming with butterflies, most of them white but some with colorful patterns. Friday morning before most of the others were up I went for a dip and found in the water a butterfly on its back struggling. It was almost as large as my outstretched hand, which I used to flip the creature onto the walkway right-side-up. It spent about a half hour in the sun, occasionally flapping its wings. Then it was on its way. There were birds aplenty, but alas none of the more exotic fauna of the Sierra Madre mentioned two postings ago. Unless -- upon our arrival, and at about the time Glenda was examining the mulberry bushes, we both saw in the distance, maybe 400 or 500 yards away in the direction of the mountain's summit, a very large dark bird gliding downward until it was hidden by trees. The gliding action made me think "buteo," and I'm still wondering whether Glenda and I had caught a glimpse of the famous Philippine eagle.

No hiking! No spelunking! No river splashing! Were we lazy? Well, yeah. Understand most of us (exclude Bienbe and me) had busy lives, and this was a chance to relax.  . . . But what should receive the most blame for our eschewal of offsite activities can be seen in the photo above. No, I do not refer to the trip's munchkins, Joy-Joy and Ethan; I refer to the machine you can see above Joy-Joy's right shoulder. It's a karaoke machine, and a good one. When the owner/manager of the resort, Abed, learned that it was my birthday, he gave us the machine and the songbooks for the duration of our stay, waiving the rental fee. Now, the Torreses are more enthusiastic than the average Filipino when it comes to karaoke -- and that is saying something. So we sang, and we sang a good deal. Yes, even I sang (let's see, four solos and two duets)! In all my years in the Philippines I begged off singing when a microphone was going around, realizing I had little talent when it came to singing. The gin helped me to change my mind on the second night, and I unloaded on Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall," scoring a 90! Wasn't microphone-shy for the rest of that evening.

And now Glenda and I are ensconced once again in our little house within Teresita Tecson's compound in Cabanatuan City. The queasiness of the stomach bug is gone, it feels good not to feel badly, and I'm hunched over the keyboard listening to Baroque guitar. Will post a few more pics of the trip tomorrow.

P I C    D u M p

4.29.25

Messy Ailment

Hope you won't mind waiting another two or three days for the next substantive posting, about my birthday outing to the mountains with many Torreses. It's a bit embarrassing, but another stomach bug clipped me (after I had returned home). Following the trip, Krizza left for Manila to stay with Bong and Jennylyn until Angelo's wedding, thankfully leaving just Glenda to look after me and put up with my groaning and dashes to the bathroom. Right now just lack the stamina to stay at this machine and work my brain for any length of time.

I'm coming down with these gastrointestinal maladies twice a year or so since moving here: inflammation, fever, cramping. In the States, I had one every three years or so. The tap water is fine to drink, Filipinos assure me, and the vast majority of Filipinos drink it. But many affluent Filipinos in Cabanatuan buy their drinking water specially filtered at so-called "waterstations." It is time for me to check out one of these places.

4.20.25

Sophie

Phoebe, our big sleek calico, outsizes and outweighs her sister, the tabby Sophie -- and to her credit, Phoebe has never bullied around her sister, indeed often has shown deference to her sister at the feeding bowl. As I noted in the last posting, they both have access to the outdoors and are fond of the hunt, yet Phoebe is the one who seems more comfortable staying outside for long stretches of time; we take in stride nights at bedtime when Phoebe is not in our rooms, closing the gate and locking the outside door. She would return next day for food and a long snooze. Once she was gone for two days but turned up at our doorstep on the third morning, dirty-pawed and ravenous.

Sophie never stayed outside for more than a few hours -- and now she has been missing for more than a week. Our third day without her, I made a poster that included a photo of Sophie with the help of Word, printed seven copies, and brought them with tape to every sari-sari in the neighborhood, asking the mom-and-pop owners if I could post one where customers would notice it. No one turned me down, and most had sympathetic words for me. Alas, no one has called the number on the poster.

In much happier news, Krizza formally graduated seventh grade at a ceremony in the SM Mall a few days back. The ceremony went on and on: all grades of the Jolly Hearts Academy were included, and each student stood on the stage with the school's principal and the school's founder posing for a photo with each student before awarding a diploma. Special awards for everyone, pre-kindergarten through 12th grade. Francis and I sneaked off to buy popcorn; when we returned I could see that Krizza's moment was still an hour or so away, so I made off for the SM department store, where I got fitted for much-needed footwear (black Chuckie Taylor's) and chose a new pair of reading glasses (I keep two pairs and one pair broke some time ago). Returned in good time to see Krizza mount the stage and accept her diploma, then played the stalwart when Glenda let me know we were staying put until the end of the ceremony. Ah, well. Eventually the graduating seniors sang in chorus their class song, something by Kate Perry, and the announcer intoned that the academy's graduation ceremony was completed.

It's become hot on Luzon's central plain, folks, afternoon temps currently between 95 and 100 F --

and we expect it to remain so for about another two months, when overcast skies and the rains will

pull those temps down. Most students do not have air conditioning in their schools, and the school

year (July to March) was arranged to forestall cases of heatstroke in the classroom -- indeed, there

will be stretches of days in the coming weeks when daytime temps exceed 100 degrees. It should be 

a good deal cooler in the Sierra Madre, to which I'll repair with plenty of Torreses and friends on

Thursday for a 3-day stay. There will be swimming and hiking, fun and games. I'll turn 67 up there,

so there will be some celebrating, too. Will bring along that tale of the man of La Mancha by

Cervantes, in case this old guy gets tuckered out, what with all the activity -- probably the most

famous work of world literature that I never got around to. Bought it at the National Bookstore a

few days ago.

Ten-Jong will feed Phoebe while we're away -- and will keep an eye out for Sophie.

Update 4:30 AM 4.22: Sophie is back! She and Phoebe were just now crying at the door! She's skinny and hungry. Where has she been?! Ten days on her own!

4.11.25

Critters

Where I lived in central Massachusetts for several years before jumping the Pacific, it wouldn't be unusual for me to see a deer or two, or a rafter of turkeys on somebody's front lawn, on any given day. Once one of my classes was interrupted when students rushed to the windows to watch a female moose clop down the faculty parking lot. Coyotes, bobcats, even bears were a part of my world. Now, on the central plain of Luzon there is very little in the way of sizeable wildlife. Turkeys you can find, but only as poultry. Pythons are said to inhabit some of the larger rice fields, but I haven't seen any. A Filipino friend sent me a picture of him holding up a three-foot monitor lizard by the tail, captured by him at a resort on the outskirts of town -- but I haven't seen a lizard in the flesh anywhere near that size, so they must be few and far between.

About an hour's drive to the east of Cabanatuan the Sierra Madre stand, a prickly spine following Luzon's eastern shore. A handful of its summits rise above 6,000 feet, and not many people live in these mountains. But wild boars do live there, and a shy, fruit-eating reptile that grows to six feet (Varanus bitatawa). Huge flying foxes and the largest eagle in the world live in these mountains, and there are occasional sightings of the tamaraw, a pygmy buffalo indigenous to the island of Mindoro. The mountains are also home to many species of wild orchids, as well as the oddly grounded dipterocarp tree!

Murat Gūngör                                                                 Rappler                                                                                                     Le Bete Royaume

I write of this interesting fauna and flora because after years of merely driving over these mountains in order to reach the coast, I'm finally going to spend some time in them! Three days and two nights, to be exact. I've reserved a bunkhouse at the Sevilla Paradise Camp well up in the mountains. It sleeps 15 and comes with a kitchen, so many Torreses and friends will be joining Glenda, me, Krizza, and Francis. The trip will be about two weeks from now, and the posting after next I'll devote to our experiences in a mountain rain forest.

Regarding critters at home, Sophie and Phoebe still need rabies shots; must stop procrastinating on that. Those critters have a habit of bringing indoors critters they have captured in the compound and beyond. And both of these cats bring their captives inside alive and kicking, before releasing them in the relatively close quarters of our living room and chasing them down here. Yup. About two months ago I threw paper towels over a small bat before Phoebe could tear it limb from limb. Walked into the dark compound with it, and it flew from my hands. Three weeks ago, while Glenda's sister Gio and Gio's partner Charm were staying with us, there was sudden commotion when Phoebe brought in a small black bird with interesting teal stripes on its wings. The bird got away from the cat and skittered across the floor; then Gio went to grab it as Charm held off the cat. Gio brought it back to Rizal in a cardboard box, and it now lives in a cage at the farmhouse. Finally, just three evenings ago, Sophie burst through our cat hole; I was intent on something on the computer screen and didn't look over to see what was up with the orange tabby. Then I felt something hit up against my bare right foot, and I looked to my left to confirm my sense that the cat was over there. More movement against my right foot. Looking down, I saw a lizard at least six inches long cowering there. It seemed traumatized but was not physically harmed, and under Sophie's watchful eye I reached for a hand towel and tossed it over the poor guy. Secured it mainly by the tail with the body hanging out, and the tail did not snap off. This fact, and the loose flesh at its gizzard, suggested to me that I was holding a juvenile monitor lizard. Well, whatever it was, I carried it outside the compound, after showing it to Teresita at the clothesline, and brought it to a small field at the end of our block, where I released it.

Wildlife on Luzon's central plain tends to be small, but it seems abundant enough to keep a tabby and a calico entertained.

3.30.25

Wedding Plans for Angelo; Midterms on the Way

When a Filipino guy has six adult sisters, there is little for him to worry about regarding the planning and financing of his wedding. Unlike in America, the groom's family is expected to plan and pay for weddings here, and for Angelo's sisters the weekend that just ended was a stressful time. Much was accomplished regarding plans and invitations, though, and P30,000 was raised (yes, of course Glenda and I threw in). Angelo and Princess will be married May 10. 

The midterm elections will be held two days after the wedding on May 12. Twelve of the Senate's 24 seats, 317 congressional seats, and thousands of local posts are being contested. Yesterday, while Glenda and Krizza were at the family convocation in Rizal, I woke from an afternoon snooze to the noises of a large crowd of people in the street outside; I pulled on my pants and went out on the doorstep to see what the hubbub was about, and there I met up with Teresita and her orphaned grandson Edward, age 2. They were sitting on the doorstep's stone ledge, which doubles as a kind of bench, watching two or three hundred people, some with banners, surge away from us toward the Maharlika Highway. I'd just missed the procession of a mayoral candidate, which, Teresita informed me, was heading for Freedom Park -- a pretty, grassy area with towering acacia trees, encompassing several blocks in the center of the city -- to partake in an assembly. Teresita went on, in a critical tone, to compare elections in the West to those in the Philippines. "So much noise and arguing, and -- and violence here to choose politicians," she said, then went on to describe the orderliness of elections in the UK, where most people "just mail in their vote!" I told her that American elections were becoming more and more opprobrious, and political violence on a pretty large scale had already taken place in the U.S.

She smiled in a dismissive way, and I realized that political gun violence and assassinations were what she had referred to -- and yes, in that contest the Philippines has the U.S. beat, at least for now. Last August, as candidates were registering their candidacy, two vice mayoral candidates (for different cities) were shot dead. Stop points on roadways have police checking motorists for guns, which are not allowed outside of houses for three months surrounding elections; that edict gunmen have successfully evaded in the past, and, one guesses, will in the future, too.

                                                                                  The tail end of yesterday's procession.

3.21.25

Prom Night

My one prom night happened in my senior year at Cohasset High School (1976). In the Philippines, there is a prom night for 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th graders. Krizza attends the 7th grade prom of the Jolly Hearts Academy tonight, and Glenda and Krizza are squabbling now as Glenda helps her young student with her makeup. Later, Krizza will don a rented gown. It's a hoop gown, but Glenda will "install" the hoop only after she and Krizza arrive at the hotel where the prom will take place: while wearing the hoop, Krizza would simply not fit into the car. Prom-goers in the lower grades do not have dates. Rather, they are paired by staff with a student of the opposite sex for the performance of a cotillion, a formal dance which they have been practicing in school. After this performance, I'm guessing the boys clump with the boys and the girls with the girls for dinner; they are, after all, 7th graders! Parents are invited and Glenda will attend; I'll stay at home with the cats, make myself a big bowl of mac and cheese (never did go in for such affairs: attended senior prom to please my parents and a girlfriend only). Charged the battery for the camera Glenda will take with her, and I'll add some pics before posting this tomorrow.

What else has been going on? We enjoy the new oven. Used the rotisserie to create a juicy whole chicken, and other tasty dishes have come out of that box. Haven't gotten around to sweets yet, but we will. We have been buying other things: let's see, a printer for the computer; a table for pc and printer; a hand-vacuum for the car and mattresses . . . .  In other, much more dire news, deaths from rabies reached a new high in the Philippines in 2024: 246 Filipinos met painful deaths, caused more often than not by family pets. And so I called in the pet carrier I had loaned out to Mariel -- we'll bring Phoebe and Sophie to the vets next week for vaccinations. They both spend time outdoors now, and though they mainly keep to the compound, both have been spotted in the outer environs (strays, I'll add, occasionally find their way into the compound). 

Rodrigo Duterte refused to attend sessions of his trial in a courtroom of the International Criminal Court, but acceded to using teleconferencing to observe the sessions and respond to prosecutors and his own attorneys. Philippine media is awash with his dour expression on a television screen. Sara Duterte is also using teleconferencing from the Hague to fulfill as many vice-presidential responsibilities as she can.

Thanks to friendly breezes out of the northeast, temperatures remain comfortable. We are on the cusp of Philippine summer (April till the rains start near the end of June), and scorchers lie ahead of us, we know.

                                                                                                                  A serene queen. And Glenda did get her into the car, hoop skirt and all!

3.12.25

Duterte Arrested and Flown to the Hague!

Arriving from Hong Kong after a short visit there, Rodrigo Duterte found himself suddenly surrounded by armed security personnel at Aquino Airport in Manila. The security force arrested him and eventually put him on a plane to Amsterdam, with an ultimate destination of the Hague and Scheveningen Prison, where he'll await trial. When one considers the facts that this man was the last president of the country, and that his daughter is the current vice president, one realizes what a big deal this is.

In a briefing close to midnight, President Marcos said, "Interpol asked for help, and we obliged because we have commitments to Interpol which we have to fulfill. If we don't do that, they will not -- they will no longer help us with other cases involving Filipinos fugitives abroad." The International Criminal Court had indicted Duterte after a lengthy investigation into his involvement in the extrajudicial killings of people involved in the illegal drug trade during his tenure as president. We'll never know how many lives were snuffed out: various authorities place the number killed by sanctioned police and vigilantes at anywhere from 12,000 to 30,000. The worst of the slaughter took place in Metro Manila, but killings took place across the islands, and Nueva Ecija, with 156 drug suspects shot down, was no exception. Police shot and killed three young men and a woman one night in a "buy and bust" operation on a dark road between rice fields, not far from where I live. It was on the route to the house of my girlfriend at the time; for quite a while I tensed up whenever I drove around that corner.

There is a great deal of consternation and debate among Filipinos over the sudden arrest and deportation of Duterte. "How can a president kidnap his predecessor, one whose daughter is his own vice president, and hand him over to an international court?" "Well, how can any Philippine president encourage the streetside executions of people selling some shabu?" (Shabu is the slang term here for crystal methamphetamine.) And so on. As I've noted in a previous posting or two, a rupture occurred in the former alliance between the Marcoses and the Dutertes when the current administration was still young; many see the removal of the Duterte patriarch as a Marcos stratagem designed to strengthen his own family's political power. If there is some truth in this belief, I like to think Ferdinand Marcos, Jr. also has feelings for the mothers, fathers, and children of the thousands who met an unusually violent "justice."

Vice president Sara Duterte has flown to the Hague to help prepare her father's defense.

Politics in Duterte arrest? Marcos says ‘gov’t doing its job’

Heatmap of Drug-Related Violence - Violence, Human Rights, and Democracy in the Philippines

Click "14" in the blue box above for earlier entries!