Wanderlust and Getting a Passport

After going to Negros twice within a week a month ago almost, I realized I’d like to ride the plane again, again and again. Babaw ba? Okay, let me rephrase that, I realized I want to travel abroad, resources and the DFA permitting, embassies too if visas are required.

So on Monday I’ll go to the Department of Foreign Affairs to renew my lost (I threw it away, remember?) passport. Wish me luck. For sure I shall be writing about the experience if only to enlighten people with whom I share one or more similarities/predicaments.

Take your pick:

a) you had a passport and last used it in 1980, threw it away soon after when you thought you’d have no need for it

b) you are disabled and are uncertain as to whether the IDs you own will meet the requirements of DFA (two are required: I have one from SSS but my other IDs are not digitized or government issued – postal IDs don’t qualify, neither do barangay IDs)

c) you are disabled – will you be allowed to get in more quickly than the able-bodied? Will you fall in a line separate or same as the senior citizens?

d) etc.

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Then suppose, just suppose I succeed in getting a passport but

a) don’t have enough resources to travel

b) cannot be adequately accommodated in airlines and such- disabled people have special needs

I’ll still be happy a little because then I’ll have another valid ID to show whatever entity requires it for whatever transaction. Then no entity can deny giving me service because if I have a passport, government will have recognized my existence twice over (SSS and passport)  so that  it will no longer be a case of “Cogito ergo sum” or “Edo ergo sum” for me. Will that not be enough reason to rejoice?

Robinsons Savings Bank Katipunan

To say I am dismayed is an understatement.

A few minutes ago, I sent the maid to deposit a check. She came back and said she left it with the guard who didn’t let her in because there was no one around.

I called the bank’s two numbers: 4265604 and 9204018. The former rang forever, the latter gave a fax tone.

I persisted. Eventually 4265604 was answered. I asked if there wasn’t anyone around a few minutes ago. The voice said “opo ma’am.” I said “may lunch break kayo?” I thought that practice went away with the dinosaurs. He said “opo ma’am.” “Sarado kayo?” He said “hindi ma’am.” Ang guard lang at messenger nandito.

Then I asked “sabay-sabay nag lulunch ang mga tao?”

Hayyy. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t bother to hear him out and put the phone down. Ano ba yan?

I have a good mind to transfer to another bank.

(PS I had the maid go back to get the check. She came back to say that when she got there, there was no bank personnel around except for the guard and messenger pa rin. One of them knocked on a closed door and asked permission to get my check. A pregnant lady came out to deal with it. Hayy. What kind of service is that?)

From my inbox: Fr. Reuter’s last column piece

Fr. Reuter wrote his last column in The Philippine Star today, May 20,1009. For those who have not read it – read on . He ended with a beautiful prayer in the end.

AT 3 a.m. (by James B. Reuter) HOPING WE WILL BE ONE, FOREVER

I am in Our lady of Peace Hospital, on the Coastal Road, and it is really 3:00 A.M . The planes coming and going from the airport are roaring over my head. Everything is peaceful and quiet. Even the roaring planes add to the feeling of peace and quiet. I am ten days away from my 93rd birthday. God has been kinder to me than I deserve, giving me such a rich life, in such a beautiful country, among such gentle people. He has blessed me with so many kind, affectionate, generous loving friends. I found that the best time for me to write was 3:00 A.M. My mind is clearer, my heart is warmer, and I am overwhelmed with the goodness of the people God sends to me. In this column I have always tried to be positive – presenting the goodness of people, and the wisdom of God’s Providence as I saw it. I have tried to give …. to give the only thing I have to give … Myself. I have tried to share my thoughts, my feelings, the wonderful holiness that I see in the simple, gentle people that God sends to me. As soon as I came to the Philippines I realized that the Filipinos were the loveliest people in the world. It was a gift of God, a special blessing, that He sent me here. I have been thanked for giving my life to the Philippines. …. But whenever you give, you always get back more than you have given. Thank you * for your gift of friendship through these many long years * for reading “At 3:00 A.M..” from the time I started writing my column * for your reactions through letters and phone calls when you liked or did not like what I wrote * for sharing your stories which inspired me to write them so they could inspire others * for your love and concern *for your prayers which comfort me and which I need. I have tried to be a priest. A priest is a bridge …a bridge between God and man …. a channel of God’s love, peace and joy. What I have found in the Philippines is union ….union of hearts and minds …. It is marked by sharing …. The simple, gentle Filipino is willing to share all he has, with everyone. That is holiness … That is sanctity … That is being like God. In heaven we will all be one – united in heart and soul …. Loving each other. In this column written at 3:00 A.M. that was my only message …give…give yourself…. love. And when I presented this, I discovered what it meant, myself. Being strong, sometimes, means being able to let go. I know that now is the time to ” let go”. I have been up at 3:00 A.M. to write my column for many many years. It is now time for me to stay in bed until the sun comes up and the birds start to sing. This is not goodbye. Wherever I am, whatever I do, you are always in my heart and in my prayers. All of you. God bless! The song is ended … but the melody lingers on .. and on … and on. I love those who have read this column…And I hope that they love me. * * *

For those who are interested, here is my prayer that I would like to share with you.

Lord God, Look down upon us, this day, this hour. Regardless of what has gone before, or what will come after, give us the grace to consecrate this time entirely to You – all the actions of our body and soul. May all the thoughts that come to us be true May all the things to which our hearts go out be beautiful, with the beauty of God. May all the things we want be good. Give us the light to see Your Will, the grace to love it and the courage and strength to do it. We ask you this through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

Tutees

Yesterday, I saw the name of the wife of a former tutee on Facebook. So I sent her a message and asked that she add me because I wanted to see her baby’s pictures. I also asked how my tutee was as a husband and father and said I hoped he was a good one.

Wow, her reply made me so happy. She wrote “he’s the best!” And the baby whose pictures I wanted to see was 9 years old.  For her to write that of her husband 10 years later made me smile. As I read her message to my husband and son, I said “Raffy was always one of my favorites, along with Stevie.” Then my son started to mention other names: what about EJ, etc.?

I mulled over that question of his and decided, somehow, each person I tutored has a special niche in my life, in my heart. Perhaps, Raffy and Stevie stand out because they told me of their dreams and aspirations. Raffy, for example had this old yaya whom he’d visit in Cebu after she left them. He once hired a car just so he could do that. Raffy also came back years after he had graduated to bring his then girlfriend, now wife, to see me. And he brought McDonald’s sundaes for us and gave my son P20. He was then working already. How can I not love the boy?

Stevie is funny. He’d rather chat than study and I’d listen. He gave me pictures of himself and a girl he liked at that time. He also gave me his solo picture. I’d often tell him that it was a good thing I knew him well otherwise I’d be scared of him. He has the features of a contravida but is really nice deep down.

EJ – the son of the sister of a friend. Saw him grow up. Once he had surgery after he fell during basketball. When he came back, I saw him limp. Weeks later, he told me the steel thing had been removed. He then asked if I wanted to see it. I said yes and he proudly got it from his car. Once while he was in college, I invited him to lunch and so we ate in Bon Appetit and just chatted.

Some tutees refuse to acknowledge my existence. Perhaps they are embarrassed at having had to be tutored. But there are gems among them that make the experience less tiresome. Gems not because they are bright but because they are good people.

When my father died, a tutee relative came. And my sister said he looked for me. I was touched. Some tutees when they see me in the mall come to kiss me. Some even mistakenly call me “ma” or “tita” while I tutor them. Then they check themselves and say “teacher”.

One of my tutees is now a doctor. I remember the name but I don’t think he’ll remember me. He came maybe twice.

Oh and yes, there was this tutee, Joem, who wrote me a thank you note when the school year was over. Sadly, he transferred schools and never came back. And of course, there’s Marvin whom I tutored when he was in Grade 7 and first year high. Up till now, every Christmas without fail, he comes not necessarily to see us but to show he remembers us by bringing a gift for my son or the family to enjoy. It’s not the gift. It is the remembering.

Newspapers on Sundays

More often than not, I get the Inquirer and Philippine Star. And the first thing I check is if the magazines are present. Many a time, I have bought newspapers – either or both– that didn’t have their magazines along. And that peeves me. Because the first thing I read on Sundays are the columns of Margaux salcedo in the SIM magazine and Lydia Castillo’s in Star.

Why are newspapers sold incomplete sometimes? kainis. Like this a.m., I had the maid buy Inquirer. The newsboy didn’t have them so she went to Rustan’s. She came back, it had no magazine. I told her to ask for one that had a magazine. She came back and said “walang magazine ngayon.” I pointed out the front page to her that said “magazine.” She said they had checked all the Inquirer newspapers in Rustan’s, none had a magazine. I told her to return it.

So I haven’t read Inquirer today. Inis. Is Mercury still in retrograde?

Saturday – Mercury is (was?) in retrograde

Mercury’s being in retrograde – I had to write that because of some incidents with the maids but I’d rather not dwell on that. The fact though also manifest itself in some ways, not big time, in the rest of my day yesterday.

At 9 hied off to Dita Sandico Ong’s atelier in Wilson Street Greenhills. Was told by her sales rep in Rustan’s Shang that it was her birthday yesterday and everything in her store would be sold at 50 percent off, it being her 50th yesterday.

Was hoping to get a ninang 4 ensemble but of course, nothing fit me. Pity, no? Imagine 50% savings. As we were there na, thought of ordering my ninang 4 get-up. Called my nephew (had PM’ed his fiancee in Multiply but got no answer – maybe she didn’t see it) and he said any pastel color. I saw this blue blouse and loved it immediately. So I ordered one like it with 3/4 sleeves and a skirt. yes, I have decided to stop wearing pants as ninang and to opt for a skirt instead. That done and paid for we left the store for Greenhills. In the pm I got a call from my nephew – yellow sa ninang. Arrgh. I wanted to bite him. Yellow again? that it was so gave me no excuse to have the thing made by Dita. I already had a yellow ninang attire from a previous wedding. Arrgh. I wanted blue.  So I called the shop and asked to hold it. I explained the situation and they said they would hold the order and to just bring the swatch which they’d match. I think what I ordered was made of banana fiber. darn. anyway, I have a good mind to proceed with the blue blouse at the very least and to just wear my yellow ninang 3 attire. Whatever.

Flapjacks was where we chose to eat in Greenhills. I have this 20% off discount card for TGI Fridays, Fish and CO, Italiannis and Flapjacks. So Flapjacks. The resto inside was almost full but we did find a table. Our orders: ribeye omelette for me and lemon and garlic chicken for husband. My omelette was recommended by a waitress.

the wait was a tad too long so I asked for newspaper and observed the family in the table next to ours: a father, two sons and a daughter. The father was not old, the children ranged from maybe 8 to 12. The girl was cutely dressed – mango yellow chic but still a child. What fascinated me were their orders and interaction. really cute and typical of a dad, okay make that most dads. My father wouldn’t have fallen under the category. Why?

Girl ordered pancakes – and that was lunch time. Older son also ordered pancakes and that was lunch time. Only the younger boy ordered a meal set with veggies that remained untouched. And the father ordered a kid’s platter: spaghetti, chicken, hot dog and fries. Cool dad. And I heard him tell the waiter that his kids were laughing at his order. My comment on the orders: if a mother were with them, hotcakes for lunch would not have been allowed. But as I wrote, cool dad.

As their eating progressed, I saw dad get the hotcakes of the young girl as she couldn’t finish eating them. He also got the older son’s hotcakes and started to eat them, while giving his fries in exchange. And they talked a lot. Healthy exchange. Galing. Bow ako. Lucky kids to have such a cool dad. Where was mom? I never found out. Before long, they saw a family friend who came in to say hi. Lady was with her son and before long, her husband also arrived. I was very happy looking at them, happy that they were happy.

Now our food: the omelette reminded me of fajitas: meat with green and red pepper, and onions. Meat was very tender and generous. One didn’t have to scrounge for meat bits. Toast was buttered with real butter, not margarine. ANd hash brown was cooked just right. Husband’s chicken was yummy. Tender and flavorful. But the rice he said had an herb he didn’t like. Told him to just ask for plain rice next time. yes, there will certainly be a next time. Sarap eh. Flapjacks in Greenhills is where Pilita’s used to be. Front portion of Greenhills theater.

IN the pm we hied off to Power Plant: Free Comics day at Fully Booked. It was late so son said there was only one kind available. Like if I had asked for one myself I’d have gotten the same.

Had dinner at Ice Cream Bar. The review of the non-ice cream entrees there told me I should try it out. But I was disappointed. The adobo was so salty – so much toyo (soy sauce). I prefer my adobo cooked in just vinegar. Cream cheese slice, though, was huge and thick. And the bread and lettuce were all right. Chips – not potato but camote. Okay lang. It was the saltiness of the adobo that I didn’t like.

My son ordered penne with beef and mushroom. Cheese topping. Okay except that there seemed to be something lacking? More salt perhaps? Husband ordered chilli dog. He said it paled when compared with Ben Franks hot dog (does that still exist? Used to be in Makati). His order came with fries.

Dissatisfied with the main entrees had dessert, perhaps to sweeten the experience? Son ordered pinipig sundae and it was okay. Husband and I shared banana split. Good. The dish in which it came was a bit small though but it was very good. Ice Cream Bar is in Joya, has free wifi. Open till midnight or 1 a.m., depending on which day of the week.

Watched Angels and Demons. Dan Brown is better read than seen, that is his works are. Tom Hanks looked better here than in Da Vinci Code. There he looked old and tired. I liked Ewan MacGregor here. He looked better here than in Moulin Rouge. was it the hair?

I didn’t like the gore in A&D. And the trailers last night had a lot of gore- horror movies et al. galore. Ughh. I had a fan and used it for cover a lot. Uggh.

Mercury was in retrograde yesterday, and maybe since the 13th? So it has seemed…

OH yes, one bright spot of yesterday: saw Jericho Rosales and company. He isn’t as tall as he seems but is very good looking and normal. We were together in the elevator to R3 and saw him call one of his companions (his brother) to look at something in Maxiworks. I think he said “kamukha mo” pointing to some odd thing on the display. Carino brutal but they had a good laugh. If I’m not mistaken, he had his son with him. they also lined up for tickets to some movie.

Kris Bernal

A few minutes ago, in her afternoon soap, she came into the sala in a short yellow dress. She bent over to kiss the baby on the sofa, her back turned to the camera. Her underwear almost showed. Even if it didn’t, I found the scene offensive, careless, both on the part of Kris and the director.

Kris, my dear young lady, behave like a Filipina would. You looked so off. Don’t lean over, thereby raising your skirt and revealing what’s underneath. Bend your knees if you have to reach for something or to someone. Or don’t wear a skirt if a scene calls for you to do that. It looks awful.

To the director: Was that intentional on your part to have such a scene? It’s gross, even if nothing was seen. For heaven’s sake this is an afternoon soap. Or do you want it to come across or to approximate porn? IF you don’t/didn’t, why didn’t you retake the scene?

Slowly, slowly, GMA is losing me. yes, not the President. The station.

My Passport and I

Back in 1982 or a little later, I saw my passport which I last used in 1980. I was disabled by the time (1982) and thought I would no longer have use for it. So along with the other papers that I thought I should discard, I did the same with my passport. I thought then that I would have no need for it. (rereading the post showed me how repetitious I have grown – okay read “old”) I also threw away my driver’s license.

Okay, so I lacked foresight then because the past 12 months or so, I have been scrounging around for valid IDs given that banks ask for it when you are a new client. Darn, darn, darn. Darn too that years back, when COMELEC was issuing IDs, I didn’t get mine because anyway I had voted without any problem sans any COMELEC ID.

Then wanderlust struck. Now I want to try going abroad. So now I have to have a passport.

Called up Teleserv. I asked if I could just apply for a new one (I don’t know how to lie) because anyway my “lost” passport was used by me 29 years ago when files weren’t yet computerized. No, I was told, I’d still have to apply for a renewal. And because I had “lost” my passport, I needed to submit all the requirements for a new passport PLUS an affidavit of loss. I wanted to bite my elbow.

An affidavit of loss is not that much of a hassle considering that notary publics aren’t too hard to find. In the province where I come from, they charge only P150 for such an affidavit. In a building beside where I reside is a notary public who charges thrice as much. So of course you know where I’m getting one.

Then this morning I googled on getting an NBI clearance in QC after being told for the nth time that I absolutely needed one by 7371000.  The first on the list was this. The blogger recounted how horrendously long the lines were and how tedious the wait was. Arrgh. Then I read the second entry. This one was an answer to a question posted in yahoo. And the one who answered didn’t seem unduly stressed. She even gave the number (9263903) of the NBI in QC Hall which I promptly called. After just one ring (how’s that for efficiency), a human voice answered. Yes, Virginia, a human being, not a machine. Great. And the voice was very pleasant, not gruff, not impatient. (did it help that it’s early in the morning, around 8:30?) He gave me directions to the NBI in City Hall – corner near PLDT or across or something (my memory is bad) and said the guard would not let me line up with the rest any longer, given my condition. But based on the first post I read, how could the guard see me kaya behind throngs of people? The second entry on the other hand said to go really early as people start lining up at 6 a.m. I am not sure I have the energy and patience to do either these days, it being so hot. What to do?

(IN Manila City Hall, I recall how the lady there said, when told that the lolo someone was getting a birth certificate for was bedridden, that the City Registrar could send someone to the abode of the sick person. Wonder if the NBI has a similar service. Or is it possible for me to get a clearance from a satellite office, like in Megamall?)

After sensing the trials I’ll have to go through to get a passport, I almost feel like giving up even before I have truly begun. Because after getting all the documents, I’ll have to line up at the DFA again. Arrgh. Because Teleserv doesn’t accept applications for renewed but lost passports. Arrgh.

Someone told me before that there’s a special line for the disabled, though. So for now, I’ll take C’s advice: inhale, exhale.

(PS If I’m not too lucky, I might have to go back to the NBI 5 days after applying to get my clearance. But then again sometimes life is kind…)

(PPS Suppose I get my passport and funds don’t allow for me to go abroad, will I throw my passport away again? No way. After all the hassle… plus then I will have had two IDs to prove to all and sundry that it’s not just a matter of Cogito ergo sum. I will actually have hard, solid and valid proof of my existence.)

(PPS Will I apply for a renewal of my “lost” driver’s license too, to test government? I recall years back how a blind man was able to apply for a driver’s license or renew one without any problems. He was featured on TV.)

Odds and Ends for the nth time

Last week, I had ex-maid get the following from NSO in East Avenue: my son’s birth certificate, my own birth certificate and my marriage contract. I specified in the authorization letter that the first two should be corrected versions.

This morning, as stipulated by NSO, maid went back to get the documents. My birth certificate wasn’t the corrected version. Weird considering that a few months ago, I had been able to get the corrected version. So she had to go back to NSO — her fault partly because I had explicitly told her to check if my birth certificate and that of my son’s would be the corrected versions. She checked my son’s daw, not mine. Corrected version, she said, will be released on the 28th or ten days later. Hay. Sayang ang transpo fare. Darn, darn darn.

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Now to something light. Was in Power Plant because a book husband ordered from Fully Booked had arrived and they called to tell him so. While at Banana Leaf, we saw Katya Santos with her shemale alalay who had a heavily padded bra on, but was evidently male (I heard him speak), and one or two more female companions. Later on in R1 I saw Heart Evangelista with a mestiza friend. They were eating ice cream. Heart was very pretty in a green top and shorts.

Finally, on P1 again, saw a familiar looking man. I said in a whisper, “Ay si Dennis Valdez”. Husband asked “Sino ba siya?” I said “asawa ni Tessa Prie…” when suddenly I saw TPrieto Valdez herself with her little girl. I smiled and she smiled back. How nice of her.

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Brought back some Nature’s Valley bars for son from Health & Beyond on P1 near the exit/entrance depending on your point of view. He reminded me that had I bought them in Rustan’s they’d have cost me around half of what I had paid in H&B. Arrgh.

Sandy’s Pizza 721 8329

Yesterday, on our way home from Shang, saw balloons surrounding the entrance of a door in one of the buildings along Katipunan Drive almost near Santolan. I looked and saw it was Sandy’s Pizza. yes, the Sandy’s Pizza thing that was formerly in Arellano Street San Juan only.

This a.m., after mass, I thought we should go there for lunch. We arrived before 12 only to be told that they’d start serving at 1. Son asked for a flyer instead.

At around 2:30, called to order but asked that it be delivered at 6:30, just in time for son to arrive from badminton. By 5:30 the pizza was here. Actually the order taker said it would take an hour to deliver to Katipunan.

We got the sampler: 18-inch pizza with 4 flavors, our choice. We asked for all meat, 4 cheese, Filipino chorizo and garlic and tuyo. And we weren’t disappointed.

Sandy’s pizza has a thin crust, cheese was generous in the 4-cheese slices. Perhaps they could add some more of the chorizo in the chorizo slices, tuyo in the tuyo slices and meat in the meat slices? Just a thought. But taste wise it is very good.

Eastwood Mall the third time around

Suddenly at 7 past tonight, son said he wanted to watch Star Trek. After checking out the cinema schedules we decided on Eastwood Mall, 10 pm screening.

Coming from Katipunan, son pointed out the first U turn slot where one then drives not into the Citibank portion of Eastwood but somewhere less imposing looking. Saves a lot of time doing that actually.

But what’s with Eastwood Mall? As we drove to the entrance to the parking lot, we were confused. The entrance was on the left side, the exit on the right. To further prove the confused mindset of the planners, the person issuing gate passes was on the right side. Ergo, the security guard had to walk to the girl, get our gate pass and give it to us. Another thing: though there was a ticket booth, the girl was outside the ticket booth. Like I told my son, parang kasuy. Yung seed nasa labas. Corny ba? Two sleepless nights have that effect on my poor brain I guess. Oh and before I go into our experience inside the mall, here’s another striking matter re the parking area.

As we were about to drive out, husband and son noticed smoke. They were alarmed but the guards appeared lackadaisical. Husband opened the window because son said to smell the smoke. It was insecticide.

Why does EM fumigate when there are so many people driving out or walking to their cars. And pity the security guards and the ticket lady.

And guess what? The fumigation may not be very effective despite the heavy volume of smoke because while we were watching Star Trek, son noticed a cockroach scaling the wall beside him. Ughhh.

The mall: we got to EM just before 9 and as the movie was set to start at 10, we had a few minutes to shop. Son got shirts in Giordano. They have this promo where one gets the first shirt at P699 and the second at P499. They have nice designs and colors these days. Earlier, we dropped by Nautica but the cheapest (it was on sale, 30% off) was priced at P1200.

We also went to Me & You where I got my sister two pillow cases. Okay, I actually wanted to buy just 1 but it comes as a set: one pillow has the label BEAUTY, the other, BEAST. My brother-in-law might take offense, I thought. Son said “akin na lang.” The BEAST one that is.

The popcorn is sold near the ticket booth of the cinemas so it’s not too near Cinemas 5 and 6. It tastes very, very good, a notch higher than the usual popcorn. We got the cheese flavor.

Star TreK: as I expected, I was bored. Kept glancing at my watch. I prefer “normal” movies kasi.

One bright spot in EM is the elevator lady who knows the locations of the stores and has a ready smile for everyone.

It’s sabad-sabad time….

Oh okay, so you’re not Ilonggo. I’m just trying to be funny. Sabad in Ilonggo means gamu which means irksome, annoying. So sabad-sabad time translates to gamu-gamo time. Corny?

I’m just trying to find mirth in the fact that the annoying insects are on the loose. arrgh. and my son who plays badminton is not here to practice his skill in the sport the way he did last night. He swatted them and enjoyed himself and I didn’t have to contend with their crawling behind my neck.

Oops, do I hear the animal welfare people get mad? sorry but really, they are such pests. The gamu-gamu, I mean.

Customs Duties on Books – My Experience

When I visited the site  and post of Manuel Quezon III on the customs duties on books, I read paragraphs on taxes on books ordered online and shipped to the Philippines. Following is my experience last November. This is basically a repost done after I realized that unkown to me I shouldn’t have been taxed for my book purchases. The post:

Last week, the registry notice of my order from Amazon arrived. Per Amazon, estimated date of arrival should have been 7 November. It came a few days late, I think on the 12th. Not bad.

Unlike in the past when the registry notice had the info that I should pay P35 upon claiming, this time it said “Pay P____. Being the proverbial optimist, I thought, uhmmm, maybe I won’t have to pay anything.

Then lo and behold, when my son was at the post office this pm, he called, “Mama, may babayaran. P1400.” Deja vu. I think I wrote a post some time ago about how a scholar of Mama who’s now a nurse in the States and doing very well sent a package of various items I didn’t ask for and was alarmed, just as I was, that the Philippine post office charged me over a thousand pesos for claiming the same. She had paid duties on it from her end. Now this, for 3 books. Not because I’m bragging but strictly for info’s sake, here are some details:

Book A – $32.97

Book B – $16.47

Book C – $10.20

_________________

Subtotal: $59.64

S & H    : $31.96

Order

Total    : $91.60

Fine, such was what I paid Amazon using my credit card.

Now to the post office’s charges:

Customs Duty                    Tariff Heading: $49.01

$91.60 (Dutiable value) x 49.35 (exchange rate)

Php 4,520 (dutiable value in peso) x 5% (Rate of duty)

Php226 (Total Customs Duty)

Expanded Value Added Tax

Php 4520 (dutiable value in peso)

Php226 (Customs Duty)

Php250 (Import Processing Fee)

Php250 (Customs Documentary Stamp)

Php15 (BIR Documentary Stamp)

Total Taxable Cost Php5261 x 12% (Evat rate)

Total Payable VAT Php631

Summary:

Customs Duty      Php226

EVat                     Php631

Import ProcessingPhp 250

Customs Stamp   Php250

BIR Doc Stamps   Php15

TOTAL:               Php1372

Any comments? Luckily my son had enough money but was left with zilch after. The man behind him couldn’t get his package because he was asked to pay P1700 and he didn’t have enough. How inconvenient.

Is it not possible for the Post Office to indicate duties in the registry notice to prevent surprises, unhappy and big surprises? Maybe shocks would be a more apt word.

Moral of the story: When you go to claim a parcel at the post office, do bring lots of cash. The computation I presented above should give you an idea how much. Note that rate of duty for books is 5%. For DVDs it’s 10%, I was told. Be warned.

Have been trying to get into the website of e-2door so I can compare which would have been cheaper: getting the books direct from Amazon or through e-2door. Unfortunately, its system must be down. Promise I’ll get round to that as soon as their site works.

PS: Lest you think any money went to the PO personnel, I don’t think so. He gave an OR plus a flyer entitled “THe Bureau of Customs Postal Service”, a primer on the most frequently asked questions and answers from the Tariff and Customs Code and National Internal Revenue Code.

The Bureau of Customs website is www.customs.gov.ph

Note: I paid my credit card an equivalent of P4467.24 for the $91.60 transaction with Amazon. So this plus P1372 gives P5839.24

&&&&&&&&&&

Finally, e-2door worked. Here’s a summary of the payments I would have made had I gone e-2door instead of direct from amazon:
Item    Unit Price    Shipping and Handling    Tax and Duty    Total Price    Peso Equivalent
Book A    $16.47    $12.64                           $6.75                 $35.86    Php1803.64
Book B    $32.97    $15.28                           $11.19               $59.44    Php2989.74
Book C    $10.20    $11.63                           $5.07                $26.90    Php1352.92
TOTAL                                                                                  $122.20    Php6146.29
So while I spent P1372 + P4467.24 = Php5839.24, the transaction would have set me off by Php6146.29 via e-2door, for a difference of Php307.05.

If government had charged me P35 like it did a few months ago for a book that cost less than $50, amazon direct would be the way to go. But for beyond $50 purchases, it would be worth considering e-2door given the convenience of having the parcel brought to your doorstep and no shocking duties to pay. At least from the very start, you would know how much you’d need to shell out.

If you are interested in e-2door, go to this site For most packages they can deliver within 2 weeks, but once I experienced a delay. Back in May 2008, I ordered a book from Amazon that cost $19.50. Shipping and handling cost $9.98 for a total of $29.48. For that purchase I only paid P35 in the post office. Oh well, lesson learned.

But imagine if government abided by the Florence agreement, then how much would I have saved going either way? Sigh.

Unang Hirit in spurts

The past days I’ve been watching UH for short spells, like 30 minutes max. And I saw Sunshine Dizon hosting. And she’s good, very pleasant, nice smile, very articulate. (I just didn’t like it when she played along about the missing Jennyln M – see some posts back).

welcome to the hosting world, Sunshine. And you look good!

So what’s keeping me busy these days?Fated to Love You on mysoju.com. I’m nearing the home stretch now, Episod 20. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a good enough TV drama to watch next. FTLY is so like Coffee Prince. Very engaging, very light. If only real life were so.

855-8888

Those 7 numbers – do they look familiar? Yes, PAL’s hotline where one can get through in the daytime through Divine Providence or great grace. Otherwise, my sister advised, call at midnight.

last night, another sister and I were talking and she was asking me to book her online. I asked whether she wanted regular seats or business class. She said to check out business class.

I did, except that there was business class restricted and business class unrestricted. And the price difference was P600 and there was no explanation how they differed. So I promised her I’d call to ask. That was 10:30. I called and failed to get a humanoid to speak to me.

Midnight I still couldn’t sleep. (You know why, C). At 12:30, i turned on my IPOD (on top of a dock) and sang along with the songs sung by my son. Still couldn’t sleep so I decided to test my sister’s theory: call 855-8888 at midnight. After dialing, I heard the usual recordings but kept the phone perched on my ear, the side I was lying down on. I must have dozed off because at 1:07 (I checked) I was suddenly awakened by 3 consecutive “hello”s from a humanoid’s voice. At first I was wondering where the hellos were coming from. Then I saw the phone under my ear and awakened to ask the pertinent question: what’s the difference between restricted and unrestricted business class? She said “international ba?” I said “domestic.” She said initially, “pareho rin yan may no show fine.” So I persisted, “ano ang difference?” She had a very enlightening answer:
“ang presyo.” I said “presyo lang? So okay na ang restricted?” She said “okay na yon.” I thanked her and tried to go back to dreamland except that I couldn’t.

You know why, C.

Jennyln Mercado and all the hype about her being “missing”

I am amused. Showbiz is abuzz that Jennyln Mercado of GMA 7 is missing. We saw her in Fish and Co Shangrila over lunch yesterday as I mentioned earlier. Aha, now they’re saying she has a new telenovela coming, the remake of the Koreanovela “Stairway to Heaven”. Media hype to drum up interest on the girl and the telenovela. What a way of doing things. Ano ba yan? How bizarre. How silly. GMA, I’m disappointed.

And even Sunshine Dizon is joining the fray, quoting a rumor about how Jennyln just drove off the last time they saw her. She clarified that she’s merely quoting someone and isn’t sure. Corny. Hay showbiz.

That’s why I admire those movie stars who refuse to use any ruse for the sake of publicity. How must Jennyln feel? Is she laughing or disgusted? I am close to feeling the latter myself.

Mother’s day 2009

It was maybe 20 minutes past midnight and I was watching Fated to Love You on mysoju.com when son suddenly came to me and said “happy mother’s day” with a kiss. He then said “Sorry late. I just noticed the time.” His proper-ness evoked memories of how when he was maybe 7 years old, we were in Max’s Roces Avenue because an older sister treated us. There were signs everywhere that read “happy mother’s day” and so I’d tell him, “greet me na.” He’d naughtily tease, “happy day.” Those were the days. But I’m glad he’s growing to be more thoughtful. Could that be the effect of his girl classmates? Hmmm…

This morning heard mass at Pentecost. As we lined up for communion, one of the ladies in white approached us and said “gusto niyo pasubuan na lang siya sa lay minister?” Duh… Para akong ewan na she had to ask my husband and not me. I said no. So we went up the altar. Then perhaps my husband didn’t hear my warning to just go back to our seat through the same center aisle or through the farthest side of the church because he  chose to go back through the aisle nearest the center aisle and as I feared, by the last pew, the wheelchair couldn’t fit/go through. Darn. Months back, those on the pew moved it so I could go through but today, they didn’t budge. So husband and I went back to the front and wheeled through the farthest side of the church on the right.

Just before the final blessing, the priest said for moms to go up front for a special blessing. Husband asked if I wanted, I said no. Because going back would be a problem again. I am self-effacing. I don’t want unnecessary attention. I don’t want calling attention to myself but that can prove inevitable because I am in a wheelchair. The issue is compounded if I go back through the center aisle and is aggravated when I go through an aisle, cannot fit, and have to go back front to find another aisle. So when a lady in brown motioned for me to go to the altar for a blessing, though she meant well, I told her the problem. Later, as the priest proceeded with the recessional, she told me to get a special blessing. I said, No thanks.

SO now it must be told. I often hesitate to hear mass in our parish for that very reason. They move around the pews so much (for the sake of art?) and one never knows whether the aisle is wide enough to accommodate the wheelchair. It’s like the airlines here in the Philippines. Tube or no tube? That is the questsion. Arrgh.

After mass we went to Shangrila and to Fish and Co for lunch. By then it wasn’t half past 11 yet so there were tables to choose from. Lousy, my discount card couldn’t be use. One of the exclusions is Mother’s Day. And they had no special treat for mothers. Buti pa nung Chinese new year they had tikoy shaped like a fish. Buti pa ang Rustan’s in Katipunan, when I came home, the maid handed me a recipe magazine from Rustan’s where I asked her to buy a few things. Buti pa ang Marks and Spencer. As I waited while my husband was looking at some undershirts, one of the sales clerks handed me a long-stemmed rose. Such are the Tantocos’ establishments, I guess. Thoughtful, offering a special touch. They certainly make the world a happier place to be in.

Also got a Whitman’s sampler (pecan thing) from my soon to be wedding inaanak (sana ba mag dilang anghel ako, C?) and cocido, a whole potful from the mom of my son’s friend. All by way of greeting me Happy Mother’s Day. They too make life sunnier as did the rest who greeted me, in whatever form, Happy Mother’s Day.

So to every mother out there reading this, Happy Mother’s Day.

Oh yes, saw some tulips in Holland Tulips in Shang. Their prices varied. The least expensive was a combination yellow and red orange at P235 each. They also had pure whites, pure yellows, pure pinks. I’d have wanted to buy at least one but the guy selling was not paying attention when I asked how to keep them fresh.

Jennlyn Mercado on Mother’s day, 10 May 2009

I wanted to shout while watching Showbiz Central. As i was checking my yahoo inbox, I overheard them making a to-do that jennyln was “missing”. They even wished everything’s all right with her because she hasn’t been showing up in SOP, the presscon of her concert etc.

Hay naku, I should have taken her picture. She was in Fish and Co Shangrila during lunch today. Son saw her and pointed her out to me. She was in a violet collared t-shirt. She was with a man whom son said might be her PA. She sat near the cashier’s counter.

Is media really just exaggerating or don’t they really know where she is? Hello???

PS I was a bit sad she wasn’t with her child. I would have been if I were in her shoes. Sure, the child is but a baby but still, on a day celebrating her motherhood, shouldn’t they have been together? Or am I just too, too mushy?

Her eyes looked a bit tired/sunken. Like she hadn’t slept well. Tired? Or was that makeup?

Prudential Education Plans

This afternoon I got the check for my son’s enrollment from Prudential Plans in Galleria. Business as usual. Hooray for Prudential!

Encounters with the illegally recruited by Cynthia Patag

Inquirer
First Posted 12:53:00 08/14/2007

Filed Under: Crime, Law & Justice

GAVE UP ON PATRIOTIC ACTIVISM years ago—weary and wary. Stopped hearing Mass, too. Found the Catholic Church’s anti-contraception, anti-divorce stance extremely oppressive.

I arrived in Iloilo in September 2005. A neighbor’s maid, Elena, was ecstatic, gushed she landed a good-paying job in Kuwait through Mother’s Way Overseas Manpower Specialist Corp. I gave her a pair of Reeboks and several pairs of socks thinking she would need them, walking around huge international airports, to begin with. Four days before her departure, she mentioned she wasn’t sure—she might be leaving to work as a domestic helper (DH) in Lebanon instead. I asked her to show me her work contract with the POEA-registered employment agency. “Wala, ’day” (None, girl).”

The next day, along with Elena, my mom and I went straight to the employment agency that had promised her “a good-paying DH job in Kuwait or Lebanon.” It was a hole-in-the-wall on the second floor of a decrepit building in the seedy section of downtown. There was a sign on the ground floor: “This way.” The arrow pointed to the street. Uh-oh.

To every question I asked, the manager had but one arrogant stock answer: “We’re not forcing anybody to leave for work abroad.” Elena’s demeanor was defiant — toward me. Futile, I realized. “Let’s go, Momi!” “What about Elena?” my mom asked. “I believe she can find her way home without riding in an air-conditioned, chauffer-driven car,” I fumed. Ay, bahala na siya—galit pa ’ata sa akin! (Let her take charge – seems she’s even mad at me!)

Nov. 5, 2005: On the morning of her departure by ship—third-class-bring-your-own- baon (food) is how DHs are sent to Manila, I was told—I ran to her employer’s home to make a final plea to her: “Don’t go, Momi has a friend who owns an employment agency who’ll give you a job abroad, you don’t know what the hell you’re getting into!”

This time Elena’s manner was unmistakably suplada (haughty). Retorted she did sign a contract, after all—guaranteeing to pay the employment agency P60,000 if she backed out of the overseas job while in Manila for “training.” I was stunned. “How much, what amount, will your anonymous future employer somewhere in the Middle East be paying you?” I sputtered. “P8,000 a month,” Her Haughtiness bragged. Susme (Oh, Christ…). “Do you know how much Perla (mom’s maid) is getting paid?!” I was incredulous, shocked, sickened.

She wanted to flee

Elena’s imperious silence said it all. “Pakialamera ka kuno (Says you’re a meddler) ,” another maid told me months later. Heard Elena had landed a job as a DH in Kuwait. Around six months later, I received a text message from her, a cheery greeting in Kinaray-a English. Relieved, I responded in kind, in Ilonggo. A week later, she wanted to know if she could find another employer. What’s written in your contract? I responded. (I toured the Middle East twice as a singer with the Fiesta Filipina Cultural Group, did a solo one-week lucrative stint at the Kuwait Hilton, refused an extension of my contract.)

Ominous silence from Elena. After three days, she spoke of her dire despair. “Husto ka gid, ’dhay!” (You were right!) she cried. The wife of her employer mercilessly beat her up every day; she had not received a cent for six months of slave labor. Her text messages accelerated with her despair. She wanted to flee.

And I had the flu. The night before, I sang the finale, “Iloilo ang Banwa Ko” (Iloilo’s My Land) in a musicale culminating the Heritage-Iloilo event. Had one rehearsal, received a copy of the lyrics and a cassette copy of the melody just a day before the performance. How could I possibly memorize the lyrics of a song in one day when I don’t understand Hiligaynon? All the other Ilonggo celebrities had backed out of the pro bono project. Couldn’t—Iloilo’s my hometown. Pulled it off, but the stress exhausted me immensely.

“I’ve spoken with a lawyer regarding your plight, he advised me to contact Migrante. The Philippines is a Third World country that relies on revenues from 10 million OFWs to stay afloat. Do you honestly believe the government will rescue one hapless DH from San Enrique, Passi, from an abusive employer in oil-rich Kuwait? This entire sordid mess is of your own creation!” Ay, santissima (In all that’s holy)!

Days later, I was told Elena had come home. “Sa Manila na si Elena, ma-abot na siya diri buwas!” (Elena’s in Manila already, she’s arriving here tomorrow!), her aunt Bebeng excitedly informed me later.

June 24, 2006: Elena clung to me like a child, a malnourished child. I called the OWWA-ILO chief to report her case. When he arrived at my cottage that same afternoon with two aides to document her case, I was on the phone with the POEA-ILO head regarding an E-World Resource Centers, Inc. “Many E-World enrollees have been asking about E-World. Its CEO/owner Norman Gibbs was arrested last March 31, 2006 in Davao by a joint operative of POEA-Davao and the CIDG, while conducting a ‘Passport to Teaching’ seminar, charged with illegal recruitment.

On April 3, Gibbs and his seven employees were released from jail, granted temporary liberty by a RTC-Davao judge, after paying P25,000 each.” Ha? But there’s no bail for illegal recruitment! “It takes three witnesses to file for illegal recruitment. Not one victim in Davao would sign the affidavit, just like in Iloilo. Baw, daw kagton mo ang imo siko” (You feel like biting your own elbow)! she exclaimed, exasperated. Uh-oh.

Arrested in Kuwait

Completely clueless about Gibbs’ recent arrest and subsequent incarceration in Davao, on April 10, 2006, I called up Norman Gibbs a.k.a. Norman Peter Gibbs or Norman Peter Gibbs Jr. or Norman Gibbs Jr.—whatever. (He has two passports, nasa Pilipinas on a tourist visa.) “Stop giving E-World enrollees false hope,” I implored. I personally knew of one girl who’s taken the EW assessment exam (P5,000) five times (P1,500 for repeaters), yet was enrolled in EW’s teacher training program. Nobody flunks. After six months of English proficiency computer lab (three hours a week, P5,000 a month), many still hadn’t left the introductory Test Mountain!

Present cost of enrollment: $650 for special education (K-12), $840, cost of “preparation resources” (teaching preparation materials) : pabay-i na lang. (Just let it be.) Cost of exam prep materials: uh, same.

In their desperate pursuit of the American Dream—the bottom line in every Gibbs “seminar”—my kasimanwa (countrymen) were sinking deeper in debt. It took an EW teacher training weekend, April 7, 2006 to be exact, for me to realize this alarming truth. The convention hall was packed with hopeful participants from all over Western Visayas—including remote barrios where there was no electricity!

Gibbs never mentioned the enormous cost of “resources” an EW/ABCTE program entailed during his nationwide recruitment “seminars” inundated with Bible scriptures. So fast, this Christian fundraising pro made it all sound so easy. I was stunned when Gibbs went berserk, direct to a vicious ad hominem. Pause. “What’s that?” he asked. “An illogical fallacy,” I answered. Pause. “What’s a logical fallacy?” (It’s what stopped your violent diatribe against me, you obnoxious jerk!) “A false argument attacking the character of the person instead of answering the points the person is trying to make,” I calmly explained. “I can’t play God, Norman.” “My-father-is-a-pastor,” he screamed savagely. Told him I didn’t want to go there.

Other DHs, other stories

“Don’t you think they weren’t already deep in debt before E-World?” Gibbs smirked diabolically. Inaykopo! (Oh, mother!) Who is this man? “Don’t tell me how to run my business, ok? I never want to hear from you again, ok?” Gibbs was totally hysterical, his voice an ear-piercing castrato. I was pathetically naïve. My timing couldn’t have been worse—or was it? Because that’s when I started googling this uncouth, sanctimonious hypocrite. Strange. “Norman Gibbs” showed up only in websites he himself had set up. There was one computer software luminary named Norman Gibbs and the guy’s dead! E, kung ako nasa Google (Even I am in Google) when I hadn’t placed one punctuation mark in there myself!

Elena related that she was arrested by a Kuwaiti policeman; transferred from one jail to another. Was she sexually abused? Indi kuno (No, she says). Once in their employers’ home, all the DHs were commanded to stand next to each other in one straight line, hands behind them —that’s how it was every day. This time, her abuser’s family was present in full force. Elena received a strong kick on one side of her pelvis, causing her to fall on the ground. Pero nasanay na daw, mabait naman ang asawa (She says she got used to it, the husband was kind anyway.)

The Kuwaiti brood ransacked all the belongings of the DHs; a brother of her abuser dragged Elena inside a room, poised to hit her with a golf club when — Stop! The Sri Lankan maid’s cell phone Elena used to send text messages was found. Upon reading my English text message, her employer decided she wasn’t worth the potential trouble, gave her back her passport, sent her to the Kuwait airport, paid for her ticket back to Manila.

She was called ‘animal’

At the OWWA office, she met other DHs who had worked in the Middle East. One claimed she had been a sex slave—sold by a Pakistani to 10 different men who sodomized her every day for a month; another had a broken leg, a broken elbow, one was in a daze, pasa-pasa (black and blue), etc. I phoned ILAC (Iloilo Legal Assistance Center), Migrante-ILO and Gabriela-ILO. Broke, with no contract, Elena needed all the help she could get. All agreed to help. All she wanted was her six months’ pay (P48,000). “Dimalas (unlucky) si Elena.”

Perla blabbed she knew of one DH who got her job in the ME through Mother’s Way, “Ok man, nagapadala siya sang kwarta sa pamilya niya diri kada bulan.” (She’s okay, sends money to her family here every month.) Unfathomable, this prevalent, unshakable belief in fate.

The night before the POEA hearing, Elena arrived in my home with one piece of paper. Declared all the other papers were unimportant, mysteriously forgot the Arabic word for “animal”— “Hayawaan!” (Arabic term for “animals”)- her name for six months in Kuwait. She had found work in a pancitan (noodle joint) was recently promoted from wrapping pancit to collecting pancit payment in the morning. Having worked abroad was a big plus. She wrapped pancit only in the afternoon.

Elena sauntered into my bedroom uninvited, announced it looked “nice.” While I was photocopying that one piece of paper, she strutted back and forth barefoot, wearing a stretch pink top and low-hip jeans. “Ang iba indi nag-surbibe kay man weak sila (Others didn’t survive because they were weak). I’m strong,” she proudly proclaimed. Is she saying the thousands of OFWs na namatay, pinatay, nagpakamatay, nabaliw—kasalanan pa nila (who died, were killed, killed themselves, went insane – and it’s their fault) because they were “weak”? Our “modern-day heroes” who ended up as modern-day slaves? Within two weeks, the old Elena was back; she hadn’t learned a thing.

Her grievous sin

Strong? Didn’t need anybody’s help, then, I told her. In the Bible, pride is a grievous sin. Early the next morning, I rang up ILAC, Gabriela, Migrante, to apologize for the bother since Elena was unworthy of their support. Told them why. Pabay-i (Let it be). Only Bebeng accompanied her to the hearing; the owner of Mother’s Way from Manila was present. Elena did not receive a cent.

Truth is, I filed a charge of swindling (estafa) against Gibbs and four incorporators of EWRC, Inc. and E-World Staffing Services. (Gibbs and his cohorts have layers of “companies,” several websites.) Mag-isa lang kasi ako noon (I was all by my lonesome then).

NBI-ILO (phone number: (033) 335-1731) chief lawyer Mario Sison assigned special agent Ronjun Hosillos to conduct an investigation of EWRC, Inc.

Tip of the iceberg: Contrary to Gibbs’s claim that E-World Resource Centers, Inc., is a career service development company which will train enrollees to become highly qualified teachers in the United States of America, Securities and Exchange Commission records of E-World Resource Centers, Inc.’s articles of incorporation revealed that “the purpose of this corporation is to engage in, operate, conduct and maintain the business of manufacturing, importing, exporting, buying, selling or otherwise dealing in, at wholesale, such goods as, communication equipment, personal computers … ”

Check the agency

See www.liveandearnintheusa. A US-based company located in the Empire State Building, New York City? Pilipinas lang ang ginagatasan (Only the Philippines is being milked); the NYC office does not exist!

How’d I get into this? Because of Corazon Lopez-Kabayao, international classical concert pianist. Her relentless daughter, Sicilienne, worked for EW (P1,000 commission per registrant).

On Jan. 2, I received a text message from EW saying the Iloilo office had closed; please direct all “correspondences” to Manila at (02) 914-3000, thank you.

In Region VI alone, NBI-ILO estimates at least 800 E-World registrants. Some have spent way over P200,000, taken five exams, lost their pensions, sold property, borrowed way beyond their capacity to pay. EW offers loans to registrants, too.

I moved back to Manila in June to prepare for a career change in a place where PE (physical education) is golf. Don’t need the distraction, cruel speculation, harrowing burden of court hearings in Iloilo against a bloated, blasphemous, low-grade Kano (American) and his accomplices—awash in hundreds of millions in blood money. Gibbs had bragged that EW maintained the services of a battery of high-powered lawyers in EW Manila, Cebu, Cagayan De Oro. For its defense team, EW hired an Oxales law firm. I don’t even have a lawyer.

In denial

Why? Most victims are still in denial. Undeserving. Kill the bearer of bad news! Why, when even the few Ilonggo victims who are no longer in denial still refuse to sign any affidavit attesting to this unconscionable fraud. Reason? Kahuluya! (It’s shameful!)

EW is nationwide. Inutang na nga ang pambayad, niloko pa. Binababoy sa sariling bayan (Paid with borrowed money, fooled on top of it. Humiliated in their own country) No! Why set myself up as a target of brutal pillory? Is it the painful memory of withered farm folks in EW-ILO forever seared in my psyche? Social justice na naman? Dios ko, pagod na ako! ) (Social justice again? God, I’m tired)

My sis called from California: “Back-out. You can’t carry the weight of the Philippines on your shoulders.” She’s right; I can’t. Could’ve filed swindling/estafa charge a year ago; backed-out in disgust. What a revelation! Lubog na sa utang, mayabang pa! Pabay-i. (Mired in debt as it is, still arrogant! Let it be.)

Heard an unwed Elena’s seven months pregnant. “Lahat daw ng malas nasa kanya (Says she got all the bad luck),” sighed a resigned Bebeng. Pabay-i.

From my Inbox: On Book Importations and Philippine Customs

In the last few months, the importation of books into the Philippines has virtually stopped. (To those of you who frequent bookstores, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.) The reason why is explained in this article by Robin Hemley, a University of Iowa creative writing professor currently on a fellowship in the Philippines.

If you have no time to read the article, the essence is that because the Bureau of Customs has decided to impose duties on the importation of books into the Philippines.

This, despite the 1950 Florence Agreement on the Importation of Educational, Scientific and Cultural Materials (which you can see here), which the Philippines ratified in 1979. The preamble of the agreement states: “Considering that the free exchange of ideas and knowledge and, in general, the widest possible dissemination of the diverse forms of self-expression used by civilizations are vitally important both for intellectual progress and international understanding, and consequently for the maintenance of world peace…”, an indisputable proposition.

Here’s an excerpt from Robin Hemley’s article (i shortened it a bit. better if you can read the whole thing.) -

…Over coffee one afternoon, a book-industry professional (whom I can’t
identify) told me that for the past two months virtually no imported books had entered the country, in part because of the success of one book, Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. The book, an international best seller, had apparently attracted the attention of customs officials. When an examiner named Rene Agulan opened a shipment of books, he demanded that duty be paid on it.

The importer of Twilight made a mistake and paid the duty requested. A mistake because such duty flies in the face of the Florence Agreement, a U.N. treaty that was signed by the Philippines in 1952, guaranteeing the free flow of “educational, scientific, and cultural materials” between countries and declaring that imported books should be duty-free. Mr. Agulan told the importer that because the books were not educational( i.e., textbooks) they were subject to duty. Perhaps they aren’t educational, I might have argued, but aren’t they “cultural”?
No matter. With this one success under their belt, customs curtailed all air shipments of books entering the country. Weeks went by as booksellers tried to get their books out of storage and started intense negotiations with various government officials.

What doubly frustrated booksellers and importers was that the explanations they received from various officials made no sense. It was clear that, for whatever reason—perhaps the 30-billion-peso ($625 million) shortfall in projected customs revenue—customs would go through the motions of having a reasonable argument while in fact having none at all.

Customs Undersecretary Espele Sales explained the government’s position to a group of frustrated booksellers and importers in an Orwellian PowerPoint presentation, at which she reinterpreted the Florence Agreement as well as Philippine law RA 8047, providing for “the tax and duty-free importation of books or raw materials to be used in book publishing.” For lack of a comma after the word “books,” the undersecretary argued that only books “used in book publishing” (her underlining) were tax-exempt.

“What kind of book is that?” one publisher asked me afterward. “A book used in book publishing.” And she laughed ruefully.

I thought about it. Maybe I should start writing a few. Harry the Cultural and Educational Potter and His Fondness for Baskerville Type.

Likewise, with the Florence Agreement, she argued that only educational books could be considered protected by the U.N. treaty. Customs would henceforth be the arbiter of what was and wasn’t educational.

“For 50 years, everyone has misinterpreted the treaty and now you alone have interpreted it correctly?” she was asked.

“Yes,” she told the stunned booksellers.

Throughout February and March, bookstores seemed on the verge of getting their books released—all their documents were in order, but the rules kept changing. Now they were told that all books would be taxed: 1 percent for educational books and 5 percent for noneducational books. A nightmare scenario for the distributors; they imagined each shipment being held for months as an examiner sorted through the books. Obviously, most would simply pay the higher tax to avoid the hassle.

Distributors told me they weren’t “capitulating” but merely paying under protest. After all, customs was violating an international treaty that had been abided by for over 50 years. Meanwhile, booksellers had to pay enormous storage fees. Those couldn’t be waived, they were told, because the storage facilities were privately owned (by customs officials, a bookstore owner suggested ruefully). One bookstore had to pay $4,000 on a $10,000 shipment.

The day after the first shipment of books was released, an internal memo circulated in customs congratulating themselves for finally levying a duty on books, though no mention was made of their pride in breaking an international treaty…

Please forward this or disseminate this in any way you can. In the name of
reading.

Say it isn’t true, say this is an over-reaction and I’ll be happy. Say that this is a misinterpretation, that government made a mistake. That it isn’t trying to create a Philippines of morons and dunces which will eventuate if we are deprived of books. There are few enough people who read. Books are expensive as they are. And now THIS. (Italics mine)

Death and Cremation

Death having happened so recently to the family, allow me to write about it. I’ll try not to be sad because as the priest who said mass Thursday night for my father said, “don’t ask God for a  long life. Ask him for a happy life.” He made so many valid points and they were consoling ones. So did the priest who delivered the homily at the funeral mass of my father. Anway to the mundane elements of death.

*******

The coffin was too high for me to see my father so I asked my sister, do you have a mirror. She scrounged around in her bag for one, opened the Denman foldable brush and tried to position it that I might see Papa. Not successful. I told her never mind. I thought that was it.

Then she came back, carrying a very huge mirror with a wooden frame. It looked even bigger because my sister is small. SO it gave me a fairly good view of Papa and the papa I saw in the coffin wasn’t the Papa I knew. He looked so young, younger than I’d ever seen him. His hair was pomaded and he had orange lipstick. I said “basi indi na siya?” My sister said “siya na a.” Oh okay but the sight didn’t make me tearful because it wasn’t the Papa I knew in there.

Papa had wanted to be cremated because he said he didn’t want worms to eat him up. But eldest sister decreed otherwise and we are largely a conciliatory family so let her be.

Months back, a friend and I were talking and she said she too wants to be cremated. Why? She said she didn’t want people to say “Kung kelan pa namatay at nag makeup.” Yes, my friend is very much like me in that sense. We don’t use makeup unless there’s a seriously formal affair to go to. Once, our batch had a dinner in Kaya. Kaya isn’t exactly a formal place and from across the room, I saw she had make-up on. I teased her via text and she texted back that before she left the house, her daughters were using her face as a canvas for trying makeup on. So it will be cremation for her and for me too.

L’Fisher Bacolod take 2

I love this hotel. Except for its elevator which doors close so quickly.

Everyone smiles and is friendly – bellhops, front desk, waiters, housekeeping. And the room is really tops- make that rooms 212 and 214 — for the disabled. The bathrooms really cater to our needs – wide and roomy so one can maneuver.

Thank you, L’Fisher for a most comfortable stay.

My Last?/Latest Trip to Bacolod

Came back from Negros Monday, first thing in the morning. The following morning around 6:47, while I was replying to a nephew’s comment on a picture taken during our visit to Bacolod I got a text message from another Manila-based sister saying that Pepsi, the caretaker of Papa, had called to say Papa had passed away. I found that unbelievable at first, having seen him only two days previously. True he wasn’t looking well, but I didn’t think the end would come so quickly. But maybe I did have an inkling because as we passed by our house on our way to the airport from the hotel, I said “Babye, Papa.” Sigh. I saw a light was on because as was his habit, a light is always left on in the hallway at night. And it was around 5:15 a.m. when we passed by, too early for the light to have been turned off. Sigh.

Got Cebu Pacific tickets again because couldn’t get through to PAL’s online reservations. I didn’t have the energy to go to a PAL ticket office. Wanted to fly out that same day or even Wednesday, but didn’t want to stress myself. So I booked online in CP only for my credit card to be declined twice. Apparently, I had put in the wrong 3-digit security code because when I finally got through to their phoned-in reservations, the same card was honored. Reserved seats 2D and 2E because son wasn’t coming with us — classes till late Thursday pm, class again early Saturday morning. I didn’t push it. Papa would understand.

When husband presented our e-ticket to CP at the NAIA 3, we were given our boarding passes and seats 3 E and 3F. So I think paying extra for seat selections is a no brainer (see previous post on CP). Husband was puzzling over how we’d manage because neither of the two seats was an aisle seat. I said not to worry. My brother-in-law’s seat was 3C, we could just exchange. Except that I’d be seated beside a stranger.

As we waited for the plane, we had time enough for lunch, though the CP man charged to take care of me  cautioned I should be ready to go to predeparture by 1 or earlier. Our flight was at — later, there’s a story behind that too. Flying CP is one colorful experience, challenging, exasperating. To lunch first.

Most of the restos’ tables were taken but we suddenly found seats in front of Delifrance. I had chicken sandwich in a croissant bun, husband had sandwich too. Seafood special. Bro-in-law had pasta. Good food actually.

Now for the flight time. Brace yourself.

Early Thursday a.m., another brother-in-law texted. He wrote that Wednesday, 300 CP passengers were stranded in Cebu. I was aghast. But I thought I shouldn’t stress myself. If I couldn’t fly as scheduled, I wasn’t flying. Maybe, not meant. Bro-in-law2 also told me to better call as to what time our plane was actually leaving just to be sure and to avoid waiting too long at the airport. I called.

Our plane was scheduled to leave at 1345. But the humanoid who took my call said the flight was scheduled to leave at 1330. I wasn’t sure I was hearing right. Fifteen minutes EARLIER? Whoa. Wow. I asked, just curious (maybe slighly peeved) why I hadn’t been informed. He said “it’s just 15 minutes and besides, you’re supposed to be at the airport 2 hours before.” I didn’t argue.

Left the house at 1020 a.m. and was scared. Traffic was heavy in C5 but kept praying to Papa to let us get to the airport on time. (Meanwhile, got a forwarded text from brother-in-law 1. CP had texted him re the earlier departure. He had received the text the night before)We did, around 11:35. Not bad, huh. It was raining. Bro-in-law1 texted to say he was in EDSA, traffic. Got his confirmation code and told him we’d check in for him. As we were about to check in he came.

At 1:30, no announcements appeared forthcoming from CP about the Bacolod flight’s departure. Neither at 1:45 or 2:00 pm. If I could walk, I’d have gone to the counter to ask. Husband was asleep beside me. BRo-in-law was reading his newspaper. why are men so patient? After a while, I couldn’t stand it and nudged my husband to ask. He did and was told shortly, we’d leave. And shortly we were told to line up. Except that while it is de rigueur for those in wheelchairs and kids in strollers to  board the plane first, this didn’t happen. We were among the last to board. Okay, as wheelchair was wheeled in so I could be transferred to my seat, this young, college age man in an Ateneo jacket, sitting on the front row (1D) stood up and offered his seat. I could have hugged him in gratitude. Found that so sweet of him but wasn’t able to get his name. Prayed for him instead. Seat next to him was empty. Later, a rich-looking man raised an eyebrow, wondering why my husband was on his seat. I don’t know why he understood without seeing my wheelchair but he smiled and nodded his head as if to say it was all right. Very nice and kind of him.

Snacks for sale, souvenirs for sale, went the cabin crew. But I wasn’t interested this time. Oh yes, the steward Anton was nice. He looked so like Nino in a previous flight. Are they brothers?

Flight was a bit bumpy, air pockets galore. Clouds obscured our view of land. But we landed in the Bacolod-Silay airport safely. As soon as we had disembarked through the tube, the rains poured, the skies turned really dark. Papa had held back the rains, we were sure.

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Our return trip. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to fly out from Bacolod. CLoudy skies and rains. i was worried. I was down to my last pieces of clothing. Best friend who saw us off said “you could always buy.” I wasn’t too sure they’d have my size, I said. When we got to the airport, I was almost sure we’d be turned away but we weren’t. Same ticket girl who’d given away our seats in the previous flight out of Bacolod was in the counter. I can almost imagine her thinking “I don’t think this is my lucky day. Them again?” when she saw my husband. Oh well.

While waiting for the plane, saw that the airport had massage and manicure/pedicure services available. When I checked out who owned the place, I saw it was “The Blade”. Hmm, my cousin’s. Perhaps had circumstances been happier, I’d have gotten a manicure. But I wasn’t exactly in the mood for one. Then saw my new nephew-in-law and my niece. And they brought sunshine with them, no, not literally, but figuratively. Because the skies remained dark, the rains kept falling. They were going to fly PAL, we CP. And they were teasing that they might leave ahead of us despite our departure’s being scheduled earlier (days back, brother-in-law2 also teased he might see us in the airport the day after our scheduled flight). They didn’t. We left as scheduled.

Hooray. Nephew-in-law said once you’re inside the plane, PAL and CP are the same. Except that PAL offers free drinks, I think. Niece recalled how once a relative of her friend suddenly had a coughing fit while flying on CP and needed water. Flight attendant said “sorry sir, may bayad.” hayyyyyyyyy.

So where is CP wanting?

- personnel training

- logistics

- etc.

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Flight – a few air pockets but we arrived to sunny skies in Manila. No tube though. So four CP personnel carried me down the stairs. Pilot and co-pilot left before I did as more helping hands were needed. There was just 1 initially. I was grousing – they said there were no tubes available, I thought I had seen some. Isn’t it possible for CP to coordinate with the airports when there’s a disabled passenger to allow tube arrivals/departures? Oh well. As best friend said, never mind. At least we arrived safely. And she’s right. And at least it wasn’t raining. Because what if it were?