Cheers to 2011!

The year 2010 went by so fast. I look back with gratitude. 2011 is here. I move forward with hope.

Twenty ten started with a bang for me. Literally. Something big happened to me last January 2010. It started bad but turned out good. It's confusing. And until now, I am not sure what to feel about it. Maybe that's why 2010 went by so fast because I was running away; faster than days, faster than time could hold me. Or maybe I wasn't really running.

So how did my 2010 went by in a flash? I lived.

What I'm trying to say is probably puzzling you now. Unfortunately, I couldn't explain further. I couldn't tell you the specifics. But I can tell you what I learned: ACCEPTANCE. We have to accept what life throws at us and we have to decide what to make out of it. Deal with it? Throw it away? Share it? We have to accept that this life is imperfect and we can't be happy all the time but that there are 24 hours in a day. 24 hours is such a long time to be sad, right? There's bound to be an hour (or even a minute) that happiness will eventually creep in. We have to believe that things will eventually turn out for the better. They always do. Actually, they have to.

I won't make my column long this new year because I know everyone is very much busy welcoming 2011. I just want to thank everyone who reads The Kablogs Journal. I would like to thank everyone who is a part of this endeavor. To the editorial staff (esp. to my EIC, Nebz Bandiez) and the Kablogs/PEBA people for their untiring effort in bringing TKJ to the online world, to every OFW who inspires us, and to my family and friends who believe in my writing capabilities. (I didn't know my uncles read my column/blogs, hahaha. I'll better watch out what I
write here next time, hehehe.). Thank you to the Lord Almighty.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

I'll see you in 2011. Cheers!

► Read Janelle's previous articles here.

I adore thee

It might be a cliche to say that my parents are my heroes. But they are. Despite having a long distance relationship for the longest time, they managed to stay together and I cannot stress enough the importance of my parents being together in my life. I have a complete family. But today, I am dedicating this column to two persons who were my heroes too, in more ways than I can ever tell you.

I grew up with my grandparents, the parents of my mother, in the humble province of La Union. My tatay and nanay, as I call them, were the ones who raised me. I was with them since I was 5 until I graduated high school. They are the people I adore the most.

My grandfather was a farmer during his younger years but I did not see him as a farmer. To me, he was the best cook. He cooked mean igado and dinuguan, dishes that make my mouth water up to now. I still savor the distinct taste of his viands, including the taste of the cup noodles he prepared for me in the morning before I go to school. When I was still too young to walk the empty streets of our barangay during dawn alone, he accompanied me despite the cold, despite him getting attacked with rayuma. He was a drinker and a smoker but he told us not to drink and smoke. Thus, I did not develop the said vices. I haven't gotten drunk in my entire 26 years of existence. I haven't even smoked a stick of cigarette. And I'm proud of this fact. My tatay gave up smoking when an aunt who lived with us became pregnant. He gave up more than 50 years of smoking packs of cigarettes one day and never looked back.

My grandmother, on the other hand, was a teacher. Every one in our place knows her. If she can run for barangay captain now, she'll win. That I'm sure of. She is a gracious, doting nanay who attended to my needs. She taught me all the things I need to know but the one thing that I treasured learning from her is the art of patience. In grade 4, I had a project in school - small baskets weaved from rolls of newspaper. I hated that project and I cursed the day I gave up on doing it. The night before the day of submission of the baskets, I managed to do four lousy baskets out of the 10 that was required. I went to bed saying "bahala na" in my head over and over until I fell asleep. And then I woke up in the middle of the night to a glow of candles in the corner of our room. My nanay was rolling the newspaper and weaving the baskets carefully and methodically as if she still has all the time in the world to do just that. And her baskets were beautiful and sturdy. She finished my project for me, or taught me how to do it properly. I couldn't muster the kakapalan ng mukha to pass her work as my own the next day. I asked for another day and did the baskets with great patience. They were not perfect but I like them just the way I did them.

They're the conservative kind of grandparents, people who dwell on the values of the past. They didn't raise me to be a Maria Clara but close enough (lol). And to me, that's not bad. In this changing world, where teenagers are too modern and too warped up in their sense of distorted reality, I am thankful of the way my gradparents raised me. Their values are old but they're the values this current world needs. My grandparents always act with dignity and respect. They're always conscious of their actions. They are kind yet guarded. They're private but loved by many. They are conservative yet understanding. They are old but they do not mind.

When I left for Manila and then to Saudi Arabia, they could have easily told me to stay with them because they're old and sickly and it's just the two of them living together in our house in the province. They could have appealed and made me feel guilty for sort of abandoning them by leaving but they did not do that. They told me to go and reach for my dreams, to do everything I can to be the woman I want to be. They understood that now that I'm old enough, I have a life of my own and carving a place of my own in this world, even if it means being away from them, is what matters most. The thing though is, wherever I may go, my place will always be with them. They did not just raise me. They raised me to be a good person.

It's a special moment for me when some people say that they want their kids to grow up like me. I just smile and beam because I know that my grandparents will be proud to hear that. They raised me well enough for others to see that I'm the kind of person they want their children to grow up to be. I'm not saying I'm perfect but I'm proud to say that I'm living this life with the good values my grandparents have instilled in me. You can't get that kind inspiration and teachings nowadays. Their acts of sacrifice and selflessness have made me a good person and that is why, they will always be in my heart. No wait, make that, in every pore and essence of my being.

See, I don't need heroes. I already have them.

► Read Janelle's previous articles here.

The Kindness of Strangers (My Saudi Edition)

[This is rather a long piece for my column because I missed last issue.]

Last month, a couple of books arrived for me from The Lonely Planet. One of them which highly piqued my interest is titled "The Kindness of Strangers" and I just finished reading the stories that truly depict the goodness of men and women all over the world. While there are people who do evil, there are more who do good, who are kind to their fellow, and are beautiful persons in and out. I would like to share you some snippets of the kindness I've experienced here in Saudi Arabia. As you know, this country is notorious in its reputation of being abusive and harsh. But sometimes, a man or a woman goes out of his/her way to help. Just because.

**********

One night, he stayed behind and told me about things I shouldn’t hear coming from someone like him. I just nodded when needed. I’m still in a daze. I’m having a conversation with someone like him! Wow!

I saw him often. I remembered counting days when I don’t see him. He usually returns when I’m expecting him to. He always acknowledged my presence when he sees me traipsing on the entrance. Even if I’m groggy in the morning, I would stand right up when I see him and he would bolt out his seat to salute me. When that nights were longer than days in the desert, I would catch him often during my idle hours in the hospital. He reminded me how many minutes more til we say goodbye. He asked me how my day was and I usually always go with “fine” and then he’ll tell me about his day. Whether it was busy or not.

No, we're not romantically linked. He was the Saudi security guard in the door where I usually wait for my sundo when I was new in the workplace. He disappeared one day and I've never seen him since. I've met strangers like him who befriends me but when I don't show interest, they all go away immediately. He was the only one who stayed to make me feel welcome.

Only he lingered.

*****

I’ve seen her once when my companion dragged me into her house to look at things we might like. This lady looked at me, smiled, and held my cheeks with her warm hands and said “Ahhh, beautiful! Very pretty.” She repeated that several times during our conversation, even reiterating it when my companion seems engrossed talking about some other things. I’ve never heard someone say that out loud. A stranger just gave me the confidence I never had.

I asked her about her leaving and she says she can no longer stay in this place. She gave me an advice, “After two years or so… leave. Go somewhere else. Explore. I spent eight years here. It’s time for me to go home.” When she speaks, she always holds my gaze and never lets go until I turn away. I felt her sincerity even if I’m not looking at her.

My jaw dropped when she gave me a discount on the little reading sofa I’ve been eyeing. She gave it to me at less than half of its price. I thanked her, feeling a little guilty of robbing her of a few more bucks from the original price but she is that kind and generous and warm-hearted. Surprisingly, I was the only one who got that huge of a discount. My questioning eyes landed on her brimming, glowing face. She just smiled.

Before we left, she gave me a kiss on my cheek. I told her I’m really glad I met her. I felt a tug in my heart because I might never see her again. Her home is in Egypt. When I was at the door, I looked back. She’s still standing on her living room below the chandeliers all aglow. Her eyes gazed at my face and she said, “You are beautiful like my daughter. You remind me so much of her.”

And she too lingers. For a moment in my eyes but for a long time in my heart.

I still use the reading sofa until now.

******

She was standing next to me when I asked the salesperson how long the sale will last.

The guy behind the counter looked at me, shook his head, and mumbled something without really meeting my eyes. He went on wrapping my purchase. I looked at him desperately. What’s wrong with answering my question? Is it such a bad thing?

I repeated what I asked but he just looked around looking for his companion on the store. What is wrong with this guy?! He said something out loud. Again, I was left confused. Then I felt her presence beside me. She was holding the pair of shoes I was eyeing a while back. She set it on the counter. She must have understood what was going on with me and the salesperson because she shook her head and asked me “What is it you’re asking?” I repeated my question to her.

She talked with the salesperson and the salesperson answered her. She turned back to me and told me what he said. I nodded and thanked her. While doing so, I fell under the spell of her lined eyes: deep and dark like an Arabian night in the desert… with a little sparkle shining like a lone star in the black vast sky.

With the unasked for help she extended to me, I’m guessing she’s beautiful inside and out.

**********

Strangers are everywhere and kindness abounds. We are alike in more ways than we are different.

May you be kind today.

XOXO your desert dweller,
Janelle

► Read Janelle's previous articles here.

Lingering

There are so many possible topics for this month's column.

I'd love to write about the PEBA but this issue is the PEBA primer so I'm sure the articles above are more than adequate to initiate you into what's PEBA and why you should join. (You should! No doubts about it!)

I'd love to talk about my family for this month's theme but I'm sure my parents and siblings will panic at the sight of their name or photo in here. They're shy like that. (They freaked out when they saw their photos in the Pink Tarha!). And what can I really say about my family aside from them being made of pure awesomeness?

I'd love to talk about the pambansang wika. Just because August is the Buwan ng Wika. But I cannot think of anything that will interest you, aside from assuring you that I am still using the Filipino language in my day-to-day conversations, despite being in a foreign land. I haven't learned a single sentence of Arabic for the love of my mother tongue (or maybe because it's difficult?)

And then there's my birthday. Okay, okay, so I know you're not really interested in my birthday or anything that has got to do with my age. You don't care about yours anyway, right? Well, I do. I care about turning darn 26 this month, this year.

I am past the quarter-life crisis mark at 25. So at 26, I am here... at the quarter life crisis. Last week, I lay on my bed after I woke up thinking of what I will do with my life (wow, profound!). I rarely reflect, mind you, so this is a rare moment. I am currently at a point in my life where I consider myself to be in the middle of a crossroad. I'm sure it is a crossroad but I cannot see the roads. Not yet. It's as if I am not going anywhere. I spent the time thinking of the different aspects of my life and saw that I am lingering. This is a place where I do not want to move just yet. I just want to linger. And float. And stay in between.

I am not sure where my train of thought is taking me, or you. I just thought that every once in a while, we reach a point in our lives when we just want to be still, take a moment to reflect, and move on another day. I would like this August, or the days leading to my 26th birthday, to be that point in my life.

Thank you, Lord, for the chance to reflect, to pray, to live, to wake up to a glorious sun.

► Read Janelle's previous articles here.

Dancing In The Rain

Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain

For some reason, I love rainy days in the Philippines. Maybe because I grew up in the province and the rainy season there ushers in fresh-scented mornings, green rice fields, and merry dancing in the rain.

When I was studying and working in Manila, I still love rainy days. Even if it means flooded streets (UST is a water war zone during typhoon months... good thing I was not wearing a white uniform), double morning and afternoon rush on the roads, and the loss of the art of commuting, rainy days usher in a different kind of solace and comfort in my life. For some reason, moments created on rainy days are what I remember the most. Like a stumble on a puddle that led me to know a friend in our neighborhood, a parade that made my high schoolmates and I walk in our wet uniform (white, gah!) for a kilometer, an overloaded jeep that let me sit closely with my crush, a sulong sa baha with my college best friends, a life-changing conversation over hot lattes on one cold August night, a deadline that needed to be met despite typhoon Milenyo... Oh, rain!

The first ever sign of rain I saw in Riyadh, KSA

As you well know, we rarely get rain here in Saudi Arabia. I was already living and working for half a year in the desert when I first experienced rain. It was refreshing, to say the least. I heaved a sigh of relief from the thought that it gets pretty normal here too, even if it takes a little while. Okay, maybe a long while. But then again, in this place, when it rains, it literally pours... on the streets. Riyadh roads get flooded with a mere 5-minute drizzle. Drizzle, yes.

I like the rain. It is gentle and furious at the same time. It hurts but it soothes. It brings me joy and nostalgia. The rain also taught me patience and perseverance. Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass... it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.

When was the last time you danced in the rain?

***

Amid a gloomy weather, a joyous nation begins a new era. Our 15th president has been inaugurated. I honestly hope that the government of President Noynoy Aquino will be different from former president Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo's government (I love saying the "former" before the former president's name!). I sincerely hope that President Aquino, with all his plans for the Philippines, will not forget the Overseas Filipino Workers.

Mr. President, we're just here.

PS. I do not rant or rave about politics anywhere in my online homes (and I rarely do in person) but allow me to say the above words because it's a darn new president. We haven't had one for nine years... or maybe longer.

► Read Janelle's previous articles here.

Top 10 Things I Miss About School

1. Friends

I will never survive 14 years of education without the people I’ve met in school. Imagine the headaches migraines that might have besieged me if I haven’t meet the people who made my stay in the learning institutions fun (and who helped me in my projects). I am still in contact with classmates from grade one. And thank you, Facebook, for reuniting me with classmates I hate and like and both.

2. Teachers

I don’t have a category for Most Favorite teachers. To me, they just come and go. Some might have left bigger impacts in my life but generally, I’m thankful for every teacher (yeah, even the crazy professors) I’ve met in school. They have taught me to the best of their abilities and I know all the hardships they encounter on a daily basis because of students like me. I miss having someone teach me just about everything I need to know. In real life, I have to figure out everything on my own. My sister has just graduated Education in college. Good luck to her.

3. Lunch and snack breaks

I have spent hours counting hours just so I can hear the bell ring. In between daydreams and winks, I wish for the time I’ll troop to the canteen, eat lunch, and share stories with my friends. From grade school to high school, I think I never really made a serious effort to bring baon. I eat whatever is in the canteen and my fave is a runny giniling. In college, the friends and I had a hard time deciding where to eat. “Kahit saan” seemed popular.

4. Allowance

We’re of the middle-class family and an increase in allowance comes with age, not with honor ribbons I take home. Well, at least there’s always allowance while schooling. I can always go to my mama and ask for more if I run out. Now that I’m already working, I can’t ask for allowance anymore. Sigh. Why do we need to graduate school again?

5. Commuting

Here in Saudi Arabia, I’m always driven around by my father, or my friends’ fathers, or taxi drivers. I miss the art of commuting in jeepneys, mini buses, and the LRT. I miss the hustle and bustle of a morning rush, which never failed to give me the boost I needed to go to school. And though it’s really stressful to commute, especially considering the traffic in Manila, at least I get to have the freedom to go anywhere without thinking if the ibang lahi driver is trust-worthy enough or if the taxi car is not smelly.

6. Subjects

In elementary and high school, subjects are pretty generic. I love English and Social Studies the best. I almost always have a hard time with Home Economics. I’m such an undomesticated diva. Lol. Math was okay but I’m not an expert thus Journalism was my course in college. We had lots of interesting subjects like Photo Journalism, Literary Criticism, World Literature, Broadcast Journalism... I just miss having subjects that I’m really interested with and am passionate about. How’s Journalism in Saudi Arabia doing? Don’t ask!

7. Field Trips

My school in the province doesn’t do field trips but we had one bonggang-bonggang field trip in the defunct Expo Filipino and Paskuhan Village. It was one grand field trip, one that was not repeated. Haha. The most memorable field trip I had in college was to the Muntinlupa Bilibid prison. We were at the medium security compound where my group interviewed a rapist. Uhuh. I think most students were there to catch a glimpse of their once famous inmate, Robin Padilla. Now I can catch a glimpse of him, even stare, in Wowowee.

8. School events

In CKC*, we have the most interesting events like the Students’ Day, Rambak Familia, and the mass every first Friday of the month. I seriously like singing during the mass, even if I’m not a Himig member. What we don’t have (during my time) was the JS Prom. Seriously. What we had was an overnight affair called “Senior’s Camp.” It was memorable too, yannow. In UST, we had Paskuhan. Obviously, we attended because of the fireworks.

9. School groups

I was a member of the school paper. *cough, cough*. Most of my friend were members of Himig, the school choir. We also had the theatre group, the dance group, the sports group, so on and so forth. These extracurricular activities make going to school worthwhile too. And outside the school groups, come the cliques. The nerdy bunch, the campus beauties, the dudes... I guess you all know where I’m at... the smart club. Echos! :P

10. Learning

Okay, I’m a nerd like that so sue me! Seriously, learning has always been fun inside the four walls of the classroom. Your senses are wide awake to absorb everything and there are a lot of familiar people who can help immediately. In a way, while we’re getting ready for the real world, we’re also being protected from it.

Being in school has taught me a lot of things and though I now know that they never taught me every single thing on the ‘real life’, at least education prepared me for it. I value my education and I hope the youth of today also value it like their lives depend on it. Actually, lives really depend on it. I have to thank my parents and grandparents for giving me the best education. Also, to my schools... Christ the King College in La Union and the University of Santo Tomas in Manila, I hope you’re proud of what I’ve become because of you.

► Read Janelle's previous column articles.

Have a merry feastival!

Growing up in the Philippines, and in a barrio bound by the mountains and sea at that, I've been immersed in a lot of Filipino gatherings. Fiestas are like a monthly thing in our rural area. Every barangay has their own and I immensely enjoyed them. When I was in my teenage years (not-so-long ago *cough*), I saw the proliferation of fiestas in the Philippine provinces. Every province has their own product that they are proud of and most festivals highlight them. Bananas (Negros Occidental), kesong puti (Laguna), bangus (Dagupan, Pangasinan), bawang (Ilocos Sur), banig (Cebu)... the list goes on and on. I wonder what's next?

Wait, what's the difference between fiestas and festivals? I know there are many descriptions in the dictionary or wikipedia... don't suggest me lmgtfy, I know. But in simpler, Tagalog slang, I just understand it like this: fiestas are smaller gatherings for smaller places (municipalities and cities) while festivals are bigger, larger celebration for bigger places (provinces and regions). Haha! In any way, they're a lot of fun, food, fun! If I were to attend all the fiestas and festivals in the Philippines, my calendar would be so hectic I'll probably spend every waking day in different parts of the archipelago. Well, bring it on!

Here's a list of festivals I will probably make karir in attending when I have the chance:

JANUARY: Sinulog/Ati-Atihan (Cebu) and Dinagyang (Iloilo City)
FEBRUARY: Panagbenga (Baguio City)
I can't believe I only saw this festival once in my entire 16 years of living in La Union, the gateway to the Cordilleras. Such a loser. :P
MARCH: Sandugo (Bohol)
APRIL: Moriones (Marinduque) and Pista'y Dayat (Pangasinan)
MAY: Viva! Vigan (Ilocos Sur) and Pahiyas (Lucban, Quezon)
JUNE: Parada ng Lechon (Batangas, who could blame me?! Hehe!) and Pintados (Tacloban, Leyte)
JULY: Tinalak (Koronadal, South Cotabato)
AUGUST: Kadayawan (Davao City)
SEPTEMBER: Tuna Festival (General Santos) and Penafrancia (Camarines Sur)
OCTOBER: Maskara (Bacolod) and Lanzones Festival (Camiguin)
NOVEMBER: Kalimudan (Sultan Kudarat) and Higantes (Rizal)
DECEMBER: Giant Lantern (Pampanga)

I can't wait to be there when these celebrations happen! (WISH) Have you been to any of the festivals above? Share me your experiences! Better yet, if you wrote about them in your blog, leave me the link and I'll read fervently.

In another note, fiestas don't only happen within places. They also happen within neighborhoods and families. When? When a balikbayan relative/neighbor comes home for vacation! And there's one nationwide fiesta happening this May! Nope, it's not the 2010 elections. It's the days after the election. Be ready for the chaos this pyesta will bring!

Anyway, enjoy our second issue everyone. Feast on our own version of fiesta!

XOXO from the sun country (now experiencing a dose of rain every now and then),
Janelle

PS. Just to show you how we Filipino expats interact with other nationalities here in Saudi Arabia, here's a photo of an event I recently attended together with my friends. The parade of Indian saree colors reminded me of how colorful our festivals can get (so are theirs). Also, it just shows that Filipinas look good in sarees. Hehe.

Won't you agree? Spot me! :)

This is the first time

Hi, I'm Sundrenched and I'm now a part of the Kablogs Journal. Of course, in true Pink Tarha fashion, I will not be the serious, grumpy editor around (although I doubt it if there will be one among us). I'm gonna color this online magazine until it becomes pink, light, and fab... until my EIC whacks me for being too kikay. Lol.

Since we're talking about beginnings, fresh start, first times... I'll tell you my "OFW" life's favorite first times...

1. First time to land in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was prepared but still clueless as hell. Especially at the Saudi immigration. Darn that line.

2. First time to wear the abaya and the tarha (veil). I kept on tripping on my black dress. My veil kept on sliding off my hair. It still happens all the time. Yep, even a year and a half later.

3. First time to see a muttawa (religious police). I've memorized their look ever since.

4. First time to eat a Saudi shawarma. Isa pa nga please? And I have been having seconds since the first time I fell in love with the street food.

5. First time to write a column. I am being my talkative self, going nowhere.

How's your first time abroad? How's your first culture shock? How's your first neighbor in the new land? How's your first relationship? How's your first ... ?! What am I saying?

What I'm saying is, this is THE KABLOGS JOURNAL's first time. So please be gentle to us. We're still ironing out every kinks and getting into the [work]flow. Other than that, ignore my ramblings and enjoy this maiden issue.

XOXO from the sun country,
Janelle