BUDAPEST: NIGHT CAP

It is quite humiliating to admit that I could not remember the drink I was suppose to open this second blog of mine with. It wasn’t the strong local drink Palinka liquer. Adding too much drama can sometimes spoil the fun. Utterly embarrassing! Although, I do have a valid reason why I dont' remember... I didn't have sleep last night as my airport shuttle picked me up at 3AM and Nadia and I just chatted the whole night. I am riding this KLM plane and the engine is just unbearable...

Voila! My memory fails me not! In wintertime, Hungarians drink hot red wine in the streets. I suppose it is a local tradition but I have seen the same thing in Prague when I went to visit the touristy place. After having dinner at Fahsion street with my father and ‘Tito’ Lito, my classmates and I (Jessica, Jamie, Mia, Kenn and King) walked back to our apartment on that chilling night. It was then when we all agreed to sample the delicacy. Hot wine tasted like it didn’t have that much alcohol. I am not sure if this is because the spirit left the beverage while boiling it or it is not really wine at all. I am not certain about it. What I do remember was that it was hot, sweet and somewhat sour. All in all, it was delightful.

Walking late night in Budapest is not a hair-raising experience compared to Manila. In fact there was an instance when I had to walk by myself at 3AM coming from a birthday party. When I was a couple of blocks away from my home, I suddenly heard the unannounced rushing screech of roller blades that scared me to the bones. And then the words “Filipino Idol” was trumpeted by Mexican-sounding voice which true enough was my boisterous Mexican friend Angel. What a coincidence!

No matter how I rejoice by the fact that I have never experienced discrimination or any untoward incident, I still have to mention that just like any other place, violence does exist in Hungary. The controversial statement “Roma/Gipsy Crime” is not a myth because I have heard of alarming stories about it. Of course tension rises because it has a racial factor involved here. Nevertheless, whoever does the crime, it should be plainly treated and penalize as such. This means that one has to always be of sound mind when walking at night or even talking to the homeless or anyone suspicious. To insert a quick boasting, I aced my report on the Roma/Gipsy situation in Hungary for my Hungarian Culture presentation in class.

Ooops, let’s go back to drinks… According to one of our outspoken classmates, Thomas van ____________, a well-mannered Dutchman, he enthusiastically informed our crowed that Hungary ranked one of the highest in alcohol consumption. This is the only amusing and sometimes unnerving sight during late nights, that is, when you see a drunk walking zigzag along the pathway or enters the tram with a foul smell and loud mouth. One could only ignore or walk away. Unfortunately, once I stupidly did something other than the two. I responded to a babbling baboon, este, drunk old lady in the bus. Worse I replied to her in French saying that I don’t speak Hungarian. For some strange reason she replied to me in Spanish! Either, I sounded Spanish when I spoke French, looked Mexican or Spanish or she saw Daniel the Mexican wonder boy and associated him to me thus speaking Espagnol! It was incredibly frightful when held my arm and breathed on my neck a phrase in Magyar. Lesson learned. Never again.

BUDAPEST: LIVING IN THE ENCHANTED CITY

BLOG: GENESIS

It was a leap of faith for me to leave my business and ministry in order to journey to a forbidding place in Eastern Europe. Forbidding because it has earned a reputation as a socialist country for more than five decades. But of course, Mexicans still wear their sombrero everyday and Filipinos live in nipa huts on the beach, while the Russians are seen feeding their pet white bear in the backyard. On the contrary, Budapest was an enchanting city and a treasure to behold once you set foot on it.

This is my life in Budapest, a half-year life experience compressed only into a shameful series of blog entries. A life of uncertainty, adventure, frustration, humor, drama, pain and love. Yes, love. Isn’t it wonderful how it conquers all? And this is where I will start and end with, love.

I proudly wore my T-shirt as I stood at great length in front of a Dutch immigration officer. It said, “A Rich Man’s Joke is Always Funny.” After being scrutinized like a terrorist they finally let me walk in. I am still not certain why the delay but what I am certain of is that I made the lady security laugh so hard after reading the print on my shirt.

A rich man can buy laughter and probably love too. Maybe not true love, as we know it, but still love on its shallow definition. Love fills the air of Budapest. Across the street, along the Danube River and even on tram stations, you will see the passionate public display of intimacy that even makes the French squint (I know this for a fact). Years of restrained freedom has fashioned how Hungarians display their love for each other at present. Intense, no holds barred and truly “hungary” for each other.

Coming from the Philippines where the public transport system is as complicated (or oversimplified) as the chop suey dish, I was threatened by the idea of riding the tram or worse, the Metro. I drove almost all my adult life and taking the public has always been daunting. Because of this, I would brave the winter chills while walking several miles in order to reach at my destination. No Hungarian in his right mind would be seen walking on the sidewalk during this time of the year. None but this Filipino nutcase (who would pass for a Mexican-Indian and perhaps Chinese). And those that I chance upon would walk like a galloping horse! Too fast, too furious. It is quite unbelievable how at one point, even an old woman went past me as I was struggling to keep the pace. Yes, Hungarians do walk fast during wintertime.

On my next blog entry, I will introduce you to a drink that was truly new to me. The drink itself is not new but how it is served is quite unique! Till next time!

OH THE PLACES YOU'LL GO

"Oh, The Places You'll Go!" is the title of the book written by Dr. Suess that was given to me by my friend, Chiko Lara. At age 30, it was interesting that a children's book can catapult me into reaching for the stars. The book is actually about the reader. It talks about the road towards achieving your dreams. How incredible it can be. How fulfilling it will be. How it will complete you as a human being... a spiritual being.

The book will stretch your imagination and convince you that it's not over yet. Today is an opportunity that you shouldn't waste. But as the story progresses it also shows a picture of reality. That in life, yes, there are failures. There is a moment to sulk and absorb all the pain and misery. That there is a waiting moment. And the waiting moment can go on and on and on. But this pause is also a time to gather your thoughts and search within yourself. To understand who you are, what dreams to run after and how you will reach them.

Sorry mate but this blog is not really about that book. The reason why I write this is to share about the start of my journey. It is about why I am reaching for the stars.

As a young man I had this belief that I will go places. That I will meet people in high places, travel everywhere and make a huge impact to society. It was prophesied to me anyway. And since I was naive and a simpleton, I easily believed it as true. I had no reservations. Until I reached my "waiting moment". To put it simply, it is where all my dreams were shattered. I was a 30 year old bum living with my parents. Did I mention single? (Are you now picturing Ted Mosby from How I Met your Mother?) In a different angle, I was a hopeless prince with two slaves (OK more like two maids... and I'm not talking about my parents). Oh boy, I have reached another dead end. Will my life only revolve around my dad? Will I forever hide behind my father's shadow? (More on this next time.)

When the skies begin to clear up and things look brighter, I now see a crossroad instead of a dead end. This time committing suicide is no longer an option. (Isn't that what people think of when they reach the end of their ropes?) Others would just go insane. I choose neither. I choose.... ice cream. Yup, that smooth vanilla flavored cheap ice cream on top of a brittle cone from Mini Stop. Cheap and delicious. And after finishing my comfort food I decide to help revive a 50 year old orphanage and turn it into a streetkids center. And then I join Philippine Idol and think of nothing but victory! And then I establish a preschool that is out of this world. A creative school. And then I decide to sing and shout in the streets and campaign for a Presidential candidate (who won by the way). And then very recently... I decide to go back to school (and live in Europe for a year). Yes, the decisions I've made after a storm. The dreams I have fulfilled because I stubbornly believed that I will go places. Because it was prophesied. Because it shall happen.

I am not sure how to end this blog. As much as I want to keep it short, I couldn't. Thank you for that one person who is still reluctantly finishing this blog. Either you are a speed-reader or an obsessive compulsive. I salute you either way. I guess I have to end by saying that there are many small courages acts I have done in my life. But the ones that really made an impact in my life and to other people are the bold steps I have done - bordering insanity. You know that crazy decision that gave you sleepless nights or made your body shake uncontrollably and your mind soar to great heights... That is a clear sign that you are fulfilling your destiny. When I felt like I was having fever during my interview with this French lady in ESSCA School of Business, I knew at that point I was making history. I wonder how Noynoy Aquino felt when there was a clamor for him to run for President... Oh The Places You'll Go!

OPERATION: WHALE SHARK

Butanding or Whale Shark is not at all a predator. It doesn't have the infamous razor-sharp teeth of his cousin, the great white shark. It is, however, a giant. It is believed that Jonah (the Bible character) was swallowed by this mammoth. In the province of Bicol, in Donsol-Sorsogon, one can spot at least a dozen whale sharks on its peak season.

On the day of our exploration, the waves were unusually bigger thus making this species more withdrawn. Our spotter saw one only after 15 minutes from where we took off. Unfortunately when we were about to dive in, it quickly went into the deep. Our next encounter happened after more than two hours of grueling search.

I thought we were in for a bad luck. I really had a serious talk with God. In that two-hour wait, I repented, promised to go to church, promised to limit my TV marathons and promised to read my Bible, only to see a Butanding. God said (with thunder and lightning): 'Believe me, you will not only see one, but two'. Hmm, I thought, a mother and child? I must be asking too much. I also remember Him telling me not to mention it to anyone. But like that leper (or was it a blind man) who was healed by Jesus, he goes to everyone trumpeting what had transpired. I have no idea why I am divulging it now. I guess it was incredible how God speaks. But I know that some of you may be raising their eyebrows now.

OK so quite obviously, we did see a Butanding. Two in fact. But it wasn't a mother and child. Nor did it spring out acting like a dolphin while waving its tale. I was asking for too much. The first one swam in front of us but it was too quick for us to swim with it. Besides, all the other boats would make a run for it and give their clients a glimpse of the gentle giant. As for our second encounter, we were able to jump in the water and see a glimpse of it. Wow, my nieces and sisters saw the big fish while I was too busy making sure everyone is OK. When I dipped my head in the water, I saw NOTHING!

I am not really a water guy. In fact, I'm a terrible swimmer. But ever since grade 7 I have wanted to scuba dive and swim with a whale. I was able to do this now (only that I was wearing a life vest). This is my small courageous act.

FLYING LESSONS

The book that I bought in Malaysia entitled "Flying Lessons" by Steingberg offers 50 chapters of ways to develop the character of a child. In each chapter he narrates a powerful story related to the topic and then followed by a suggested activity with your child in discovering his/her potentials and inclinations.

My Small Courageous Act: To develop a four-week seminar summarizing the book which I could facilitate with our ward in Children's Garden.


For an overview of the book:
http://books.google.com/books?id=zobMU8dwoG0C&printsec=frontcover&dq=FLYING+LESSONS+steinberg&source=bl&ots=CAdHLzqryz&sig=2KEWzmkLoXXlo5Mk81rXrL_YrxQ&hl=en&ei=WfrzS8i8DtPBrAef64GzDQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CBIQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false

A BETTER PHILIPPINES

What is the worst thing that could happen to you on the day of your flight especially if you are the one who organized the vacation way ahead of the scheduled trip? Yes, that's right, for the airline to tell you that you cannot board the plane unless you renew your passport! It was April Fool's Day and I thought, "Haha! Good one!" only that the lady at the counter didn't break the silence by saying "You're in Candid Camera!" She was still straight faced. I went pale. I'm doomed. I will have to take a bus from Clark to Manila carrying my oversized backpack and carry-on for my Mac. I am more worried about looking stupid rather than actually missing my flight. To make the long story short I was able to go to Borneo. All 19 of us. Thanks to my well connected pops.

Kota (which means city) Kinabalu is a place in Sabah. Malaysia (but still believed by many to be rightfully owned by the Philippines) is like being in Cagayan de Oro except that the cars are on the wrong side of the road, the roads are well cemented and skyscrapers mushroomed here and there. In other words, better! The locals are very accommodating but not unreasonable to the point of discriminating against their fellows (just like in the Philippines). A good number of people trace their roots in Mindanao, Zamboanga to be exact. So it is almost like being in the Philippines. But better.

When I say better, I mean better roads, better housing, better insurance coverage and definitely more peaceful. Malaysia is an open city and you are free to practice your religion provided that it will not violate any laws (quite obviously). So Muslims, Christians, Buddhists and others live in harmony. So... yes, it's definitely better. With a new administration under "Kuya" Noynoy (isn't that fitting since we call his mom, Tita Cory?) I am very optimistic that we will also have a better Philippines this year. It only takes a small courage to help a Presidential candidate win in this election. But collectively, what appeared to be a losing candidate had at least 5million lead from his rival.

Am I done helping Kuya Noy now that we have won the election? I guess not. I will be actively helping this administration with my passionate friends in Pinoy Power.