By the time you receive this note, I will already be in sunny Singapore, where there are no typhoons, no earthquakes and no threats of invasion from China. I'm going to miss Taipei, which is like Manila, with warm, simple people but with a more frantic work pace.
Singapore is a bigger, world-class city in which people are cautious about most things they do. In a way, it should be easier to adapt to than Taipei, because it has a broader English-speaking and Catholic population. I may have told you before that many Singaporean Catholics are fervent. The daily noon mass at the main cathedral is usually packed. The center, located right behind the university's tennis courts, draws many people to recollections. Perhaps the main language of the place has made its people more open to Western ideas and beliefs.
But Singapore is still an unfamiliar place in which I will have to find a niche and look for ways to bring people closer to the Church.
Thank you for your prayers, because, as I may have told you, I've been admitted into the Anglo-American Literature ph. d. program at the Nat'l Univ. of Singapore. I can start anytime I wish. I haven't decided, though, whether to start right away or to defer doing so for a year so I can first save some money.
November 1999
The local seismology center says we still have daily aftershocks more than one month after the first killer earthquake, but these are too small to be felt.
I am offering up prayers and work today for Grandma and the rest of our departed relatives. Being part of the communion of saints, they are also helping us from where they are.
Early last month, I was fortunate to have been invited to a media tour of the head offices and maintenance facilities of Alstom and Siemens ("Eurotrain") in Europe. It was cold - 10 degrees in Paris and six in Berlin. The Paris leg of the tour was so packed with interviews and train rides that I got to see the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel only while riding a car. Hours before we left, I sneaked a visit to the Louvre - for 45 minutes. I saw the Mona Lisa, Delacroix's Raft of the Medusa, Michelangelo's Captive Emerging from Marble. I went to St. Philip's church near the Champs Elysees after lunch one day and saw several parishioners of different ages praying the rosary.
Our hosts in Berlin were more considerate and I found the city cleaner and more green, its buildings brighter than in Paris. They have biking lanes on sidewalks. We climbed to the glass top of the Reichstag at night and saw the Brandenburg gate with spotlights, the city's huge gardens covered in darkness and a couple of lasers flashing at us. The Germans are very punctual - I was left behind at a hotel one morning after I came back a few minutes later than the appointed time. I saw a couple of beggars at a McD shop, but they were well-dressed, old women.
I intend to move to Singapore by the end of the year. But a lot depends on my landing a job there - I'm still applying through the Internet.
September 1999
Yes, we read about Cherry Hills. It's really unfortunate. But there are some things that we just have to accept - and perhaps learn from.
Panalo na ba 'yung SMB? The people here are also a bit crazy about basketball. The last time Pinoys played against their national team, though, it ended up in a brawl and had a part in straining diplomatic relations--both teams played rough.
I'm working long hours to do research even if I'm supposed to turn in only one article a day�am trying to cut down on work. I'm getting to know some Pinoys who want to grow spiritually -and could help us.
PAL is threatening to suspend all flights between Manila and Taipei because of disagreement with CAL and EVA over traffic rights. PAL is inviting CAL and EVA reps to negotiations and merienda on Monday.
Here's an inspiring quote: "It is a very good prayer simply to present one's needs to Our Lord, place them before the eyes of His goodness, and leave it to him to act as He sees fit, convinced that He will answer us according to our needs." �St. Francis de Sales
Finally, the power is back, so I can send you a short message.
Our apartment building, like almost all buildings in Tapei, is still standing. I haven't slept well, though, because we're having tremors here at a rate of about one per ten minutes. It's crazy. It wasn't like this in Manila in 1990.
I woke up early Tuesday morning and saw my bedroom (the walls, the ceiling, the bed) shaking. It was like that for over one minute. After praying, I immediately thought of the Turkey quake and how the building could collapse. The power was down. It was drizzling outside. I didn't leave the room because I felt safer on the lower deck of my double-deck bed. I am staying on the third floor of a six-storey building.
After a few minutes, the room shook again. And then I found out from the radio about the toppling of a motel building one block away from our newspaper office. The death toll all over the island is now 1,800 and rising.
Such an experience shows how fleeting life is. We're so lucky to be alive.
August 1999
I hope everything has returned to normal there after the twister blew through the downtown area. By now the city must be rid of some very hot air.
I just came back from a seminar organized by Opus Dei in Macau. We stayed in the farthest of the territory's three islands, Coloane, and so, were away from the casinos and gang wars. At any time of the day, we could hear waves splash against the sandy shore, creating a natural soundtrack to our classes. God speaks most clearly to the heart in such occasions (hope you read John Henry Newman).
There was unusually good weather in Macau. The sun gave the old, cheese-colored buildings a sheen that made them appear like they're melting. The heat, though, would sink into the brain and leave one soaked in sweat --especially after climbing countless flights of stairs to get to places that matter there -- Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church, the ruins of St. Paul's, Macau museum, the university, the nearest swimming pool. It was another case of good as being arduous.
During the excursion day, I was able to go into Zhuhai, China for the first time. I applied for a visa two years ago, but was turned down because they are very strict about admitting foreign journalists, especially from enemy territory. This time, I wrote down on the application form that I'm a businessman. Zhuhai looks a lot like Taipei (the roads are wider than Macau's and the buildings are modern). A roadside refreshment stand chain was named "Taiwan Refrigerator." Most families who were at a theme park in the city, though, had only one child each.
Though Chinese military planes supposedly entered Taiwan airspace twice recently, most people here are unconcerned about the possible outbreak of war across the strait. They would rather queue for Hello Kitty doll giveaways at McDonald's shops -- it's crazy how they form lines that snake around several blocks close to a typical McD shop and deprive the truly hungry of a quick, clean lunch.
I caught the tail end of summer here: the temperature was above 30 degrees C and the sun out most of the time during the past three weeks. There were showers on a few afternoons though. I could have ruminated on St. Thomas Aquinas at 20 degrees C in Baguio. Instead, I was home (shuttling from one study center to another) typing the thesis of a lifetime. I�ve submitted the final draft; taken the Mandarin proficiency exam (I spent four hours translating two paragraphs about Tang dynasty legends.); and am awaiting word from the critic of the thesis.
I�ve renewed vital links with my culture--that is, I can again speak Filipino as often as I want. Iba talaga ang magsalita sa sariling wika, parang paglanghap ng nakasanayang hangin (kahit anuman �yon). The latest catchwords here are �Hataw na!� (�Go for it!�) and �Ako pa!� (�I�m the least likely one to ....�)
I can stroll down the streets of Loyola Heights or UP Village without watching my every step, because unlike in Taipei, there is hardly any dogpooh on the streets here. What
Manila has quite a lot of, sad to say, are street children with outstretched palms who have become fixtures at intersections as traffic lights are. It is evident that many are in want, but they compensate by having a cheery disposition. Indeed, the strengths and weaknesses of different cultures are never the same, and God has parceled out to each its share of goodness. Aside from human warmth, the Philippines has good buys. For instance, I had a twenty-minute haircut yesterday for the equivalent of NT$35.
May 1994
My teacher is pleased with the revisions, but, as you know, is suggesting a restructuring of some data, an activity that will take a few days to carry out. After that, the thesis will go to another teacher who is likely to suggest some more changes. Add to that the Mandarin proficiency exam, and all of next week is filled. Hence, I will not be able to attend the ongoing annual course in Baguio--unless everything gets settled by next week. I�ve told this to Robert. I hope the defense could be scheduled by the second week of June--please pray for this.
Summer here is seething with activity. Two work camps, one in Negros, another in Lipa are going on. Lauan, Kapuluan, and maybe one or two more study centers will admit nonmember residents in the coming school year (Kapuluan is taking in six). The opening of the preparations for the World Youth Day�95 last Saturday attracted over a thousand youths and wannabe-youths. It was charged with youthful energy: singing, footstomping, and, for many, disco dancing. Imagine our praying three Glory Be�s with a drum roll in the background. There was sharing of edifying experiences of faith, much praying, and a celebration of the holy eucharist. Cardinal Sin was the main celebrant. In his homily, he revealed that he takes a stroll in his garden every morning, looks at the trees, and recites �God�s Grandeur� (by Hopkins?). He was in his characteristic good humor {�Pray for the bishops, especially for me, since my name is �Sin.�) and punctuated his homily with outbursts of �Mabuhay ang youth of the Philippines!� to rounds of applause. He also said that Filipinos will show their best for the pope, because �noone is too poor so as not to be able to give.�
November 1993
I've been here six months and three days and think I've fitted myself in this adopted society (as far as a transient who has been here for a little over six months can). As you already know, I can tell stories very slowly using very basic Mandarin. Lately, I've been moving about the house without a sweater on at 14 degrees, although I'm afraid I can't do the same outside in the steady Taipei draft. I've made some friends, two of whom travel abut an hour (considered long by Taipei standards) just to tutor me in Mandarin. I'm earning enough through teaching English on Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays (eight hours in all). As always, God has been very good, the latest show of which is my acquiring resident status early this week. From the way things are going, it seems I'll be here for some time.
Last October 31, I rode in one of three cars in a convoy to a mountain peak called Tien Ching Gang with a coresident in the center, ten children (our students on Wednesdays and Saturdays), and ten adults (some of the parents). It turned out to be a big family excursion and the second activity to which we invited parents to be with their children ( a rarity in workaholic Taiwan). On our way up the tortuous roads, we saw throngs of Chinese in jogging pants, multicolored t-shirts, a few of them waving club banners, others holding dogs on a leash; a few foreigners sauntering, chatting, and taking in the Taipei pollution-free, cool air of Yan Ming Shan, the name of that mountain chain. It seemed almost all of Taipei had relocated there for a day. Looking out the car window, I saw Taipei streaming up and down the zigzag roads on a pilgimage to nature, which to many is the closest thing to the supernatural. Outside the car, I was immediately reminded that I really am in a foreign place: strong chilly winds threatened to knock me down. It was thrilling, because it was novel, and unbearable, like taking a stroll inside a giant, defrosted Westinghouse freezer. Ayow!--as the Chinese are wont to exclaim. The mountain peak was more calm, like a garden with manicured lawns, dotted with rivulets. It teemed with Taipei holiday tourists. It had also a ski slope, but, since it was only October, had no snow. Too bad. After almost endless picturetaking against the rolling scenery, we divided the group into smaller units for a nature scavenger hunt, the object of which was to collect things whose English names correspond to the 26 letters of the English alphabet. And what happened next was almost incredible. I couldn't hold back chuckles as I saw the very respectable middle-aged parents, a couple of architects, an anthropologist, a couple of college professors, scour garbage cans and grassfields with their children and bring such oddities as ash from a Buddhist shrine, dried cow dung, a rotten egg, a twig broken to form the letter "x," and, my favorite, a mother made to represent "Q" with the label "Queen of the house." The winners were awarded with NT$1000 (counterfeit), perhaps the children's first lesson on the fleetingness of material goods. The day before the excursion, I made the older children watch "Brother Sun and Sister Moon," and, as was inevitable, they couln't help but be moved: the counterfeit money came from one of them. Although not Christian, they are beginning to think as if they were so. Once, I was telling the younger children not to call each other names, because none of them--in fact, noone--is perfect. Then all of a sudden, one of them corrected me, saying, "...except God." The same kid later told me during a discussion of the parable of the talents that he eats a lot, because he thinks God has given him as a talent "a big appetite."
I've been very, very busy and have been trying to match that with prayer. I'm learning to let go--that is, not to worry too much, something very difficult to do. I'm learning to do so in a few big ways. Last October 30, for instance, I was all set to leave the next day for Manila. I had booked myself into a PAL flight, had taken a leave from school for a week, and was already planning some things to do before going to the retreat. Early in the morning, however, I was informed that my application for the alien residence certificate would take another week to process. There was nothing I could do, but accept the facts. My new Chinese teacher has summed up the state of affairs here as being (pronounced cha bu dwo, meaning "more or less"). To a great extent, she is right not only about Taipei life but also about life anywhere on this planet. We're here to make the most of what we can, that is all. This is not say that fatalism is good, but that certain aspects of reality just cannot be accounted for no matter what we do. The latter is a kind of heightened sense of realism. For Christians, this realism is tied up inevitably with the spiritual. As St. Teresa has said, "God alone suffices." As far as my experiences here show, she is right.
We've been praying and trying to foster apostolate here and everywhere. As you may know, we have two Chinese and a Japanese in a St. Raphael study circle, two Malaysians and a Taiwanese as residents, five university students in the adult English club, and the ten children for the junior one.
May 1993
I have just accompanied a Filipino friend to his dentist in downtown Taipei, that's my second time to be in the same clinic this week, since I accompanied another friend earlier. Their going there just a few days apart, is, I guess, coincidental. The food here is neither too sweet nor too salty: the kind one finds in a Marco Polo menu. Sometimes the food is exotic: fish rolled to look like squid, black jello that tastes like cough syrup. The squeamish could try Burger King, Kentucky, or a karaoke bar. On the way to the dentist, I was seated beside two rather chubby children who may be in their equivalent of Grade Three. They sipped chocolate milk through straws and later exchanged what sounded like insults. Like most Chinese children (You may be old enough to recall the roly-poly kid in an old Marca Pina ad.), they looked cute. On the way home, I stood on the bus and was reminded of a typical FilTransit bus ride. As I eat more Chinese food and move around with more Chinese people, I feel myself becoming more part of the city (not in the Kafkaesque sense).
I hope to finish writing my graduate thesis on Flannery O'Connor's concept of the Displaced Person sometime this month (I'm sorry if this line has become a cliche.). In the meantime, I have become the focus of my own study: I am a displaced person: a Filipino in Taiwan, Chinese-looking but unable to speak Chinese, spending the end of summer watching rain fall on the neighbors' tiled roofs. I have a feeling similar to that of boat people at the refugee processing center in Bataan. Fortunately, I know well five of the seven other residents in my house here, and they have been, well, very much as a family should be. They have brought me around: to the school where I will study, the post office where I will later buy stamps for this letter, the Chiang Kaishek Memorial hall, a massive structure straight out of The Last Emperor that is about 70 meters high with stairs of about sixty steps on each of its four sides and with carved wooden doors about two storeys high which are the secular equivalent of those of Chartres cathedral. This family, six Filipinos and one Spaniard, have given me four sets of Mandarin tapes and four Learn-Mandarin books, for which I can spare at most two hours everyday. These coresidents are making it very easy for me to shed the displaced-person feeling.
I will attend the fourth quarter of school which will begin on June 1. I'm looking forward to it as much as I did the first schoolday of my first year of teaching, and I expect to be almost as jittery on the first class day. The Chinese characters, after all, look the same: complicated; like pancit noodles carelessly thrown about in a bowl by a nasty kid with a dab hand. The Chinese sounds are also complicated; a few of their consonants, for instance, sound the same. Last Friday, I heard mass at the Holy Family church, our parish church, and only then did I experience a great longing to attend a Latin mass, which I've attended. I was impressed, however, with the piety of the parishioners. Everyone of the ten at the 5:30 p.m. mass was using a missal and was responding audibly. They showed also a great reverence for the Holy Eucharist and greeted the other participants with a bow.
Taipei is a big Binondo with stores on almost every road and almost all of whose marquees bear Chinese characters. A big part of the city looks like Makati with high-rise buildings, plush shops (Dior, Lauren, Armani, etc.), and harried businessmen in coats and ties. Some other parts are like Quiapo with small stalls, open-air carinderias, underpasses, and an occasional beggar (the only one I've seen so far is American-looking, strums a guitar, and croons some folk songs). Still others, such as where I live, are like Sampaloc with narrow one-way lanes as streets and rows and rows of apartment buildings albeit elegant-looking and four- to eight-storeys high. Taipei has two parks that are like Luneta: one is the memorial to Chiang Kaishek and the other to Sun Yat-sen. Each has a museum at its center done in traditional Chinese architectural style (simple, with curving roofs, in bright primary colors, and with awesome proportions), manicured gardens, and soldiers on guard.
Taipei is not at all as I had thought: it is not a dirty place with cranky people moving about at a breakneck pace. Its main roads, it is true, tend to be heavily congested during rush hours, but since most of its cars use premium gas and are regularly tuned up, pollution levels are at worst comparable to that on a busy Makati street, but never like that on EDSA. One of its major roads, eight-laned Ren-ai, is like a garden with streets running through it: it has a tree-lined island for every two lanes, and the islands are wide enough for the branches of the tall trees to provide ample shade for joggers and promenaders. On the streets are a great variety of cars (BMWs, Jaguars, Japanese cars). The most popular means of transport here, however, due largely to the fact that there is little traffic and parking space around, is the motorcycle. There are dozens of them at intersections and on the terracotta-tiled sidewalks. The buses ply fixed routes, and most charge NT$ 10 per ride (NT$1=P1). All the taxi cabs look newly Turtle-waxed (Their flagdown rate is NT$35). Taipei drivers, by the way, are as "law-abiding" as the drivers in Manila. Hence, it is customary on many hourly news broadcasts to report the latest car accidents in the city. Also, pedestrians are advised to look to the left, right, and all around whenever they cross a busy street. That's because speed freaks among motorists dart wherever and whenever they want. That is definitely one thing that makes me feel like I never really left home.
Taipei, on the whole, is better planned compared to Manila. Taipei is smaller though, and everything here seems cramped: the lanes are narrow, the ceilings of many establishments are low, the stores are like warehouses with stacks and stacks of merchandise. One advantage of Taipei's smallness, however, is that most key places in the city are accessible. Ten minutes on foot from the house is the Mandarin Training Center, my school; five more minutes on foot from MTC is the Holy Family Church; thirty minutes away by bus is the downtown area; forty-five minutes away also by bus is the airport. One really gets to save a lot of time, money, and calories here.
Taipei is also very developed. It has a pay phone and a mail dropbox on every street corner. Its bookstores offer a wide array of titles at relatively cheap prices (We have Norton Anthologies and many novels, including one by Ms. O'Connor, at the house.) . Taipei's only English-language radio station, ICRT, features American Top Forty, Dick Clark's flashback programs, spotlights on landmark rock albums and interviews with artists, besides programs on classical music, poetry (Walt Whitman was featured last Saturday.), and discussions on current issues such as the effects of Street Fighter on children. Its movies, exemplified by the Golden Horse winner Banana Paradise which we watched last Saturday night, offer humor that is not any better than that of Tito, Vic, and Joey movies, but have good photography and serious messages (sometimes nationalistic propaganda though) hidden in convoluted plots. But the only real blotch on the pristine, modern Taipei landscape today is the digging in progress right in front of our apartment building . Practically all of our lane has been excavated for the laying of drain pipes. Now that it has been raining for the past four days (They say it either rains or is cloudy here most of the time), the lane is very muddy. Fortunately, we leave our muddy shoes at the entrance and wear slippers inside the house.
The Taiwanese I've met so far are friendly and open to foreigners, especially those who look like overseas Chinese. On the plane, alighting from the bus, and registering at the MTC, I 've been greeted by some locals in Mandarin. I hope to exchange banter with them in their language in three months. On the PAL A300, I met a businessman, Mr. James Chiu, from Hsin Chu, a city to the south of Taipei, who has a garments factory in Cubao. He said he shuttles from Taipei to Manila fortnightly and promptly showed me the stamps on his passport as proof. He was so concerned about my getting to Taipei safely that he gave me NT$ coins and accompanied me from the hangar to the immigration office. He gave me a calling card and said he has a son who might study in a college in Manila next year. Last Saturday, I met an engineering student from Mr. Chiu's city, Alex, who is eager to learn English with my help. A typical Taiwanese student, he studies until midnight everyday and so, doesn't find the time to watch English-language TV programs or read English-language magazines, except GQ. He says he wants to be baptized as a Catholic, and Fr. Ong, our chaplain, says Alex may join a work camp in Pampanga. Please pray for Alex's conversion.
The Taiwanese tend to take everything seriously. Top high school students, for instance, attend tutorials to get higher marks in school. Now that they are looking for more trade and educational opportunities abroad, they take seriously the task of understanding other cultures, especially that of the West. Eddie, a college student who comes to the house, for example, is taking up a course in Western Civilization. Their seriousness at this task, especially in appreciating the roots of Western civilization, coupled with grace, may yet bring Eddie and the rest of his people into the Christian fold. Their language may seem an impenetrable barrier, but from another light, it is the same language that has insulated them from pernicious modern ideas from the West. In the final analysis, only the Word can conquer the Mandarin word. And I am doing my bit as the Word's frogman in the first battle, that with the four Mandarin tones.
I haven't suffered any indigestion or a re-relapse of chicken pox, so I must be fine. Please continue praying that I do some good before studying Mandarin kills me.