PINAY NEW YORKER

I had a long day today that left me exhausted as I trudged home on the express bus (Alan had gone ahead to take his Mom to a doctor’s appointment) and by the time I sat down for dinner after frying some flounder fillet, and putting together a side of siomai, I had a throbbing headache.  (The naproxen sodium hasn’t quite kicked in.. but I’m counting on it to relieve me soon..)

I sit back and log on, seeing a forwarded message from my cousin Ate Lian.  It was another cousin’s first person entry of her experience with Typhoon Ondoy — something I had seen previously on Facebook.  Reality hits me and I forget about the headache (momentarily) and I want to share this entry with you to give you a glimpse of what took place from someone who was actually there.  Read on..

29 September 2009

As you have probably seen or heard, Typhoon Ketsana (“Ondoy”) hit the Philippines last Saturday, September 26. The eastern towns in Metro Manila were the worst hit areas.

We were one of them.

You can search news online on the floods that left hundreds of thousands of Filipinos devastated. Here is my personal account of what happened around me in the last 96 hours.

Saturday, 26 September

9:30 a.m. Our helper woke me up frantically. She said that there was already flooding in our streets. It had been raining since 8 p.m. the night before. I was not surprised that it was flooding. I have experienced many floods in my childhood. To me, flooding was a chance to make paper boats and make them sail right from our porch.

My dad was not home. I called to tell him that he should wait out the rain because he cannot bring in our car home anymore. I also learned that our driver went to pick up my mom at the airport early in the morning. It was just me, my sister and our helper.

10:30 a.m. The water rose dramatically, flooding our whole front yard. At this point, we knew it was serious. The last time it flooded this bad was almost a decade ago – our house was filled with 6” deep flood water.

It was not long until the water entered the house. I shut the power supply off in our house immediately.

We started hauling everything we could to our bedrooms – 3 steps up from our living room. Files. Appliances. Couches. Tables. Everything three women could possibly carry, wading in murky flood water.

12:30 p.m. My parents are still not home. Mobile phone signals were weakening. We could hardly contact our parents. My sister and I started to pray the rosary while our helper was sitting by the steps, delegating herself as the official flood watcher.

1:30 p.m. It was only 2” until the flood water rises to the level of the two bedrooms. Two inches until all our efforts to move our belongings would be futile. We continued to pray.

After four rounds of rosary, the rain started to weaken. The water never reached the bedrooms.

5:30 p.m. I hear someone yelling from downstairs – “We’re home!” It was my parents. Thank God.

My mom stayed at a friend’s condo a couple of miles away from our village. Our driver had to leave the van with her since he had to go to attend to his already submerged house. My dad left his car at another friend’s house and got a ride home in his friend’s much higher SUV, only to find out that cars could not pass the roads anymore. My dad braved the cold, waist deep water, trying to keep his balance as passing trucks made the already raging flood unbearable to wade in. He saw a couple of guys pushing a cart – trying to make little business out of the calamity by pushing “passengers” to land. They were asking for Php 20 ($0.50) for each ride. My dad got in, paid a little extra so he would be “pushed” to the condo where my mom was staying. He and my mom drove the van, parking it a few blocks from our village, and once again, dove into the flood water and walked home.

It was hard to sleep that night – no electricity, mosquitoes all around, the stench of the flood water, news on the radio about people in nearby villages on their roofs hoping to be rescued, the uncertainty of the lives of friends and family who we could not contact that frightful day.

Sunday, 27 September

The flood had already receded. There was no more water inside the house, but our garage was still submerged. We had to sweep out as much mud and debris that the flood left inside before it could harden. It was not an easy mop job. We had to hose out the mud out of the wood and tile floors. We were lucky to have running water. Cleaning Day 1.

Monday, 28 September

Cleaning Day 2. We started to realize the damage of Typhoon Ketsana to our home. For me to use the word “damage” is an exaggeration. Soaked furniture, damaged piano, muddy floors, destroyed photographs – nothing compared to people who have lost their homes and loved ones. Children swept away by river currents. Corpses hanging from fences, washed under bridges, buried in landslides. I am blessed.

Tuesday, 29 September

We finally hear from our driver, whose house was located in the hardest hit area. His house was completely submerged in water on Saturday. He had to dive underwater to push open the doors, only to discover their belongings floating near the ceiling. His neighbors tried to save each other. There is still no running water to this day in their area, and to make matters even worse, there was an oil spill in the next town that added to the already murky flood water stagnant in the neighborhood.

I AM BLESSED.

My story and the pictures I took are incomparable to the images you see in the news. This is merely the tip of the iceberg of what was the biggest storm to hit the country in four decades.

The Philippines needs your help. Any amount is greatly appreciated. I hope you can find it in your hearts to reach out to the needy amidst the ongoing recession.

ABS-CBN Foundation Toll Free Number: 1-800-527-2820
Ayala Foundation
American Red Cross*
*Please specify that your donation is for the typhoon victims in the Philippines.

Click this link for images.  I ask you to please share this blog entry with your friends and family.

Thank you very much. God bless you.

Mia S. de Guzman
miasdeguzman@gmail.com
+63922-853-7132

As I wrote in an earlier post, I’m thankful that my Mom and Dad and the rest of my siblings were spared from the catastrophe.  One of my bestfriends, Fe, told me they had waist deep water in Justinville Subdivision in Bacoor, but the water had subsided by dawn. 

I spoke with Mom and she was fine.  They had a power outage for a couple of hours but had kept abreast of developments through a radio.  They had ankle deep water only because the flow of the water downhill was too strong that we had some overflow even if we were on top of the hill.  (I cannot even bear to think about how those who lived at the bottom of the slope and closer to the stream fared — this was where the squatter shanties were situated as well.) 

My Dad was trapped on the second floor of his home along Gen. Kalentong Street on the San Juan end — the area is used to flooding so they were more or less bracing for the rising waters, but the whole first floor was flooded and it took a while for the waters to recede.  I had called my siblings and had asked them to look at how Dad was doing.  They brought him some food and caught them cleaning up already.

So I was rather surprised to receive a text message around midnight New York time asking me to call him as it was an emergency.  Naturally, I called.  I was surprised to get the request after my siblings had assured me he was well — and I was rather relieved yet at the same time a little upset that he was calling me to tell me they had to have their electricals repaired due to water damage.

I took a deep breath and told him I thought something had happened to him, and was rather distraught at his seeming panic in the midst of all the chaos going on elsewhere.  I told him we ought to be thankful he still has a roof over his head unlike others whose homes were washed away.  While life is almost normal for some of the more fortunate ones, there are those still immersed in trying to cope with all the tragedy that has befallen so many around them.

Dad’s electricity had already been restored.  He wasn’t in the dark.  The repair of the shop was far from the emergency his text message had relayed to me.  Thankfully, I didn’t get a panic attack.  Still, I got worried.  Seeing the helpless and the old wading in the water — watching the destruction wrought by Ondoy on so many of our kababayans, I got worried.

This has been a very sobering experience for many — I know it has been for me.  In the midst of the anger, the pain, and the sense of loss, we have once more been reminded about how blessed we are.  And I am watching in awe as our kababayans have once more stepped up to the plate, showing us the bayanihan spirit is alive and well.  For all the faults of good old Juan de la Cruz, he has that sense of brotherhood in his heart which no storm, no Ondoy, can ever wipe out. 

I see the mud-drenched survivors walking towards the rescue vehicles, I feel like my worries are much too small compared to the burden these people carry.  The voice from above has spoken again.  And again I say, I hear You.

I’ve been thinking of our kababayans as Alan and I sat through several news reports from ABS-CBN’s internet subscription, and like most people who have seen the coverage, were just dumbstruck by how bad Storm Ondoy hit Manila.  Our prayers and thoughts are with family and friends.  As for me, I got confirmation early on that my Mom and siblings in San Juan were okay, and that the waters had subsided where Dad was.  I  am thankful that they were not displaced by this natural disaster where many were not as fortunate.

So for now there is the cleaning up as the authorities continue to work on rescuing those who are trapped on their rooftops, and rendering aid to those who are now cleaning up after the floodwaters had subsided.  There is still much to be done — let’s just hope we don’t get hit by another typhoon in the midst of it all.

I haven’t been visiting here too often of late — mostly because beading has taken much of my time.  Yet here I am a second time today which seems to show I’ve picked up from where I left off.

Beading.. jewelry making.. call it what you will.  It’s a new hobby.  I’ve been surfing the net for price comparison, trying to find the best bargains but not buying anything.  (Did you know that party store Oriental Trading actually sells quite a selection and at very good prices?  They’re practically wholesale, though, and I don’t know how the shipping costs go, but on base price, they are pretty competitive.)  I’ve also looked around for ideas I can use to be able to produce something from what I already have.  After scouring the boxes and bags in the attic and around my bedroom, I now have a treasure trove of materials to work with without raiding a bead store.  I actually find it doubly fulfilling to be able to work with materials I already had and produce something even better.

It’s a rather interesting phase in my life — challenging, eventful, and just plain busy.  Work has been light, though.  (I’m contradicting myself, I know.. “Busy” after all, is relative.) 

The other day, I sat across the table from my boss at the Cosi branch on 42nd street by Bryant Park.  It was supposed to be for coffee, but we each had our diet coke.  Although most people would think that she has five million reasons not to be upset that she is out of work, I know the woman enough to see that it has been a painful past few weeks for her.  It’s a stark illustration of how money just isn’t everything.  But she’ll be fine.  She’s doing better than most everyone expected, and as I told her, it’s time she took a breather and just enjoyed her children, and just lay back and take it easy. 

One thing I love about my boss is that though everyone thinks she’s the grand diva and that she’s a tough cookie — and she’s both — there’s a side of her that I’ve been privileged to see, and which, during these times, I cherish the most.  She genuinely asks about how Angelo is, what’s happening in my life..  We laugh about things we never discussed but knew together — talk about the people we know are kontrabidas, and we go back to how we had it so good — she has always been generous with the praise, the raise, and acknowledgment.  I know it was through her personal negotiation that I still have a job. 

So we whom she left behind ride out the quiet storm as we hear the unspoken thoughts of those who wonder why we’re still where we are.  (Sorry to say we’re not getting the boot anytime soon.)  There are those who have stopped talking to us, treating us as if we were no longer there.  Yet I’d rather dwell on those generous souls who have reached out to us, concerned and wishing us well. 

In the meantime, I have my stash of beads.  I would sit surrounded by little containers and organizers.. clutching the two tools I work with.  I would try to figure out what to do with which bead or chain.  The other night, I was dismantling old or unused accessories that had been given to me but which I had not found any use for.  Soon they will be reborn as new pieces.  I found a broken cross pendant — the cross will have to go, but it’s bail can still be used.  (Love that old, worn weathered look!)

I had stared and held them in my hands trying to get the inspiration.  And inspiration aplenty came from two friends from elementary and high school who have been into it waaaay longer than I have.  I have to say, it was through their artistry that I got drawn into this.

First there was Tweetie de Leon-Gonzalez’s ICE CRYSTALS and then there was Rina Calica-Ward’s NOSTALGEMS.  Both sites will inspire you and leave you in awe.  True works of art!  One modern, the other vintage. 

ICE CRYSTALS’s Facebook page says it’s “Fun, fashionable jewelry for the snazzy, fabulous lot with refined taste and sophistication. ICE CRYSTALS is a treasury of style pieces that work for every age, occasion, lifestyle and reason.”  Tweetie handmakes the pieces which are sold in select department stores in Manila, and with some even finding their way into Paul Smith’s stores.  (Wow!)

NOSTALGEM has it’s own Facebook page  and introduces itself as: “Heirloom-style jewellery reminiscent of little treasures unearthed from your grandmother’s jewellery box.  From simple dome pendants to intricate and eye-stopping chunky charm necklaces.  You can even create your own charm treasures with our jewellery kits.”  Treasures indeed.. (Rina, where do you find these gems?)  Charms galore.. they add a different style element to what would otherwise be ordinary pieces.

I have been very proud of these two ladies whose paths have crossed mine in my younger years.  Technology has enabled us to reconnect.  It is their work that has inspired me to tinker away here in my little corner in the big apple.  I cannot wait to browse some antique shops for Nostalgem-like findings.  Tweetie’s works continue to inspire me as I try to pull together my pieces.  These ladies deserve a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek for making me a proud Filipina, a proud Paulinian (where I met them at two different points in time) and just a plain old proud girlfriend.

Check their sites out!

Colored Wooden Bead bracelet with antiqued copper tone chain links and heart locket

I’ve been experimenting a lot on beadwork and jewelry making — and I’ve enjoyed wearing them the past couple of days.  No, they aren’t for sale.  I haven’t quite mustered the confidence to sell them.  I’ve given away a piece or two — but always with the caveat that if anything breaks, I will repair them.

Here’s a favorite bracelet I had put together some weeks back.  I’ve had the beads for 3 years or so now, but I got the chain during my last trip to Manila.  (How can you beat the price of P60.00 pr approximately $1.20  for 5 yards of this chain?)  I didn’t have the luxury to shop then so I took only this and another, keeping in mind the beads I already had stashed away.   When I bought the beads in Wellmanson’s in Divisoria in 2006, they cost P20.00 for 20 grams, and there were approximately 20 beads.  I am not sure if they are still selling for the same price but I saw them on the shelves when I visited this May.   The lobster clasp and the heart locket with its own lobster clasp, I bought from a bead store here on Avenue of the Americas (a.k.a. Sixth Avenue).

Braided suede bracelet extender with toggle clasp

I created a bracelet extender (which is what I call it only for want of a better term really) which is made of braided suede straps, slightly longer than the regular 7.5″-8″ inch bracelet length, to enable me to loop it around whatever bracelet I am hoping to extend.  When worn by itself, I knot the middle and attach a charm to weigh the braided strap down. 

Combining  the two bracelets make for an interesting combination of texture and color.  Because of the lightweight material, a charm is a good means to give the bracelet an anchor so that it falls nicely on the wrist.  A favorite pendant attached to a bail will also do.   

Combined Wooden Bead bracelet with heart locket and braided suede bracelet extender looped on one end and attached with its toggle clasp around the other end

I’ve been getting off a corner or two before or after my usual stop on Sixth Avenue the past couple of days no thanks to Fashion Week which ends today.  We had to go past and I ended up a block away, and amidst the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour, I saw a homeless man with a sign declaring him as one and he was asking for food or clothes.  I was about to cross the street to my building but I doubled back and looked for a breakfast cart and found one a block further down.

I wasn’t sure I had enough cash in my purse, but all it took was a couple of seconds for me to realize that with all that I worry and complain about — what I felt I carried on my shoulders was nothing compared to this man.  His face was severely deformed, and he was deaf to boot.  I have always had a thing for not giving money.  I’d go out of my way to buy a homeless person food, but I have never given money.

I walked to the food cart and got two bagels and a large coffee.  I walked back and was disappointed to find him gone.  It had started drizzling and I guess he had gone to look for a spot where he could stay dry.  The clouds have been a threatening grey all morning.  I looked around and even went into the nearest subway station.. I crossed the street but figured the security men of the two new buildings on opposite corners would not allow him to take a spot along their sidewalk.  I crossed anyway and walked to the other subway entrance and tried to see if he was anywhere downstairs.  I walked to the other side taking me full circle but there was no sight of him.

My heart sank.  Just as I was trying to look across 42nd street to my guy’s perch, a cleanly dressed older man was hitting me up for a quarter.  I offered him the brown bag I was carrying, telling him I had bought the breakfast for someone but he had disappeared, and he actually refused the offer saying he never takes food from people (!… but he will take my quarter or any loose change.. ) 

Then I looked around to see several other people walking around Bryant Park, straggling to the coffee kiosk at the corner, trying to get ready for the onslaught of the rain.  I took one last look across 42nd street where I saw my guy originally but he was nowhere to be seen.  I tried to survey the men walking around, afraid my offer of breakfast would be rebuffed again, but this time, the older man I approached just looked at me and accepted my offer quietly.  Mission accomplished.

There are times when the simplest of things which usually go unnoticed make such a profound impact on our day.  I know this one did it for me.  I can’t help but look up and just say “I hear You…”

I’ve been thinking of posting but have been unable to the last few days for one reason or another.  There were nights when I didn’t even open my laptop as was customary at the end of the day.  Then those days that I did, I ended up browsing for other things — not having the inclination to pay the blog a visit.  I’ve been busy.

But of course of this Monday morning, I cannot help but be drawn to what has become a habit of speaking out loud here on my corner of the web.  I thought I’d start by giving an update on what I’ve been up to lately.

The little tyke has started kindergarten which is a new phase for us all — Mom, Dad and Angelo.  While he had started Pre-K in the same school he’s in right now, I can see the big difference in terms of the whole set up — from school supplies to the almost all new wardrobe no thanks to the fact that he’s taller this year.  It’s also remarkable how he’s b een so excited about school — seeing old friends and meeting new ones.  I listen to him talk and I watch the animated expression on his face and I feel like wanting to freeze the moment and just replay it over and over.

I have also found a new hobby as Alan noticed.  I’ve been collecting small packets of beads from the trips home and from the trips to the theme parks (where they let you fill a bag with your choice of beads or stones for a flat fee, for as long as you can close the bag) tha past couple of years  but I have not seriously gotten into beading.  Crafty me, I’ve managed to string together an ID necklace (to hang the ID on) and repaired some pearl necklace and bracelet clasps that had gotten damaged.  I also made it a point to save bracelets or necklaces that had gotten damaged one way or another thinking I can probably repair it or find some use for it at a later time.

When I left Manila in 2000, it was also the time when Swarovski crystal bracelets were very popular and were being worn in groups, layered on the wrist to create a beautiful rainbow of colors.  I left with at least 10 of those bracelets which I have to this day.  They have not lost their sparkle, thanks to periodic soaking in soapy liquid.  My sister, sister-in-law and friends have likewise gifted me various accessories handmade from the Philippines through the years.   Everytime I manage a trip to Divisoria, I go to a favorite native aisle along Ilaya where I have picked up cow bone and wood beads.  The last time I was there in June, I also made it a point to visit Wellmanson, known for its distinctive supply of notions and other craft supplies.  I picked up a pair of plyers there which I am glad I did as they cost twice as uch here in New York.

I always go to buy a “banig” of sewing needles, some sewing thread, crochet hooks, perhaps some garter.  Since I’m very handy with the needle and thread, I try to do my sewing repairs at home instead of paying someone else to do it.  While these supplies are available here, they are much more expensive and available in smaller quantities unless you are going to a sewing supply store specifically. 

So through the years, I’ve managed to get bits and pieces which I haven’t really had the chance to work with until now.  It helped that I had always bought beads to bag in a specific color scheme — so it’s not like I have a hodge podge of different rainbow colored beads.  I have a good handful of blue beads in various shapes and sizes which can make for a good bracelet or two, and perhaps a choker if I chose to make one. 

I have received tons of inspiration from two friends who have their own handmade jewelry line (more on this later) — and which was also the reason why I spent an inordinate amount of time browsing the accessories at the department store sales over the Labor Day weekend.  No, it was not to purchase, but it was to look for ideas on how to group items together or how to do a progression of beads for necklaces, bracelets and earrings.  I examined bead wiring up close and hope to achieve the same clean worksmanship eventually — through practice and more studying.

I’ve visited several bead related sites online through the previous weeks where I learned more about the differente types of tools and implements.  I spent many lunch hours at beadage.net learning the basics and getting ideas.  One of the articles that really made an impression on me and gave me great ideas about possible projects was a piece on “Recycling Beads: Creating  something new from something old” which helped me to create my first completed (well, almost!) project which was a charm bracelet.

So I’ve been busy crafting — and getting ready, too, to start knitting my first scarves for this year’s winter as fall starts creeping upon us.  Busy bee, I am.

Sometimes ,the biggest lessons of life are learned or revealed to us in the simplest of ways.  After a busy weekend,  we found ourselves in a family restaurant of no special distinction.  It was already past 8pm.  We were promptly seated and had ordered our food when two families occupied the tables to each of our side.  We were in the middle, and they had a view of each other across from us.

The family seating to our left was an elderly couple who looked like any older Caucasian couple.  Mom looked someone who would be your favorite school teacher or even principal.  Dad looked like some officer in a big corporation.  They had two children with them who were both African Americans, and not the light skinned ones, but very dark and unmistakenly adopted.  These family set ups no longer surprise me in a country which flaunts their adopted children to show people that “family” still matters to many.  I have admired the Caucasian families who have adopted Asian children — but this couple deserves twice the recognition for reaching out to the less fortunate and needy children within their own shores — and there are a lot of them who need caring and loving homes.   (Lesson 1)

The family on the other side was your All-American Caucasian family.  Mom was lugging a baby, with her was a daughter probably around 8 years old, another son around 10, and a teenage boy.  I could hear Dad but couldn’t see him.  We were in a hotel with a restaurant where children eat free, and none of them ordered any food for the adults, but the children had their fill.  The adults picked on the food of the children, sometimes even going to the buffet table themselves.

The little girl was seated with her back to us and the older couple with the two young African American children, but she turned around and stared.  My own son was curious about the noisier and animated bigger family and was starting to look and stare, but I pride myself in having trained him to listen when I tell him it’s not polite to do that, and he would obey even with just a simple look from me.  Apparently, not everyone is so inclined.  I didn’t notice until the mother with the two African American children noticed that the little girl from the all-Caucasian family was staring at them because she very obviously eyed them all as she went to and from the buffet table.  Even I eventually noticed it — and I could hear the Caucasian mother telling her African-American children not to mind her.  I could see she was irritated but she held up very well, probably because she was used to this kind of bigotry even in this country that prides itself with the maxim that everyone is created equal.  (Lesson 2)

The all-Caucasian family eventually stood up, not asking for the check, even if there was a charge for adults eating from the children’s buffet.  I guess they figured that as kids are supposed to eat free, if none of them ordered from the menu, then they will not be charged.  (Even as they themselves went to the buffet and ate..)  Maybe they don’t know that the premise of the  ”kids eat free” bit is that it is presumed that there were adults ordering food.  We didn’t stay long enough to see if the restaurant staff noticed.  We stood up after the Caucasian family did.  It’s another way to view how “Ignorance (can be) bliss.”  Or at least pretending to be ignorant, that is. (Lesson 3)

It was sad to see how the young girl eyed the mixed family with such a strong sense of unease.  I pity her for seeing differences in color instead of seeing people for who and what they truly are.  I felt proud, though, that I know my son is growing up to be more broadminded than her — and that he will see the differences as something that does not make one better than the other – but something that makes each of us unique.

Angelo still has his moments — but I’ve always boasted to friends how we never had to give up dining in good restaurants even when he was younger, because he had always been well-behaved for the most part.  He’s done his share of staring, but he listens when I call his attention to it.  He doesn’t quite see the differences in color maybe because he himself is of a different color and to him that’s just “normal” or “ordinary”.  And that’s how I’d like to keep it..

You know it’s US Open  (Tennis, that is) season again when you start seeing the advertising splattered al around you — but most New Yorkers already treat this major sports event as  one of our regular seasonal events here in this part of the US. 

I was lugging my camera as usual  before heading up to the office when I saw Bryant Park  buzzing with activity on the Great Lawn.  I searched for my favorite flower patches but was turned away at the far end of the park to detour to the outer walk, and I asked the kindly gentleman who was directing public traffic away what all the activity was about, and he told me they were constructing tennis courts.  Nope, it wasn’t Fashion Week.  (Too early..)

So here’s the buzz:  DirectTV and ESPN will be sponsoring the US OPEN EXPERIENCE featuring: ” …Venus and Serena Williams; former pros – turned TV commentators the Jensen brothers; the World’s current No. 1 Men’s doubles team the Bryan brothers (Bob and Mike) ; and James Blake. ”

I guess I’m putting some sunscreen on tomorrow and wearing comfy clothing.  Weather forecast for NY is a hot 90-something.  Looks like the sun will be smiling (and even glaring) at the big apple, and this is definitely one event worth checking out.

Pre-Production: THE US OPEN Experience happening Wednesday, Aug. 26
The view from 41 storeys above Bryant Park
Click on the picture to go to my Flickr set of photos of the Park

1.  Getting works of art specifically made for me by my little tyke

2.  Hearing him call me “Mama..”

3.  Getting an e-mail from Nikky

4.  Friends and family who are always there to support you

5. Nine years of wedded bliss with the one who still makes me laugh and sends my heart a-flutter when I look at him and whose hug feels even warmer and tighter as the years go by.