my Brother, the LAWYER

Yehey!!! The wait has ended ... The results are final and absolute! My brother, Salvador "Buddy" Escalante has passed the BAR! He is No. 661 on the list! He is a lawyer!

the countdown

everything boils down to time. how much time do you have for this? how much time do you have for that? time is an inevitable part of the equation at any stage of life - or death.

in a few weeks, my mom will finally leave switzerland. it will be the fulfilment of my dream to stand alone, be independent. be away from parental guidance. be myself. my mom has never been strict with me. she's not very hard on me at all. and with her leaving, i will miss every little fight we had, the endless conversations that are picked up in the morning in case sleep got in the way. i feel scared. but i know it's part of growing up.

i won't have my sounding board so close at hand. i won't have my kakulitan. no one will understand me the way she does. she's the only one that laughs at all my jokes. we have the same sense of humour. i feel sad. now, i have to contend with time differences. i hope that i will be able to make it. i get terribly homesick. i hope that i can manage the time that i will be away from my family. tita minda will be left with me but it won't be the same as having a full house. even with just christopher, my youngest brother, here it's enough to make the house as raucous. now, i have to contend with silence and a limited space where tita and i can see each other's every move. i have to get a new phone line. i have to apply for cable. i have to do everything. it wouldn't be such a burden if everything was done in english. but there's also a language barrier. i still haven't improved my french!

but time ... time winds down at the most crucial of moments. it seems to tick faster at the time you want more of it. and it seems to prolong every second when you want it to be quicker. time. the invaluable part of the equation.

***

MY BROTHER'S LAW BAR EXAM .... waiting ...

A certain degree of callousness

Moving around has many implications. One is the welcoming hellos but the more painful one is the many goodbyes.

Saying goodbye requires a certain degree of callousness of heart that enables a person to just be able to strike up a friendship without weeping at parting. It allows a person to go on to the next part of the journey invariably intact.

Goodbyes have the tendency to break the heart and wet the eyes as it wells ups with tears with the thought of imminent separation or departure.

A certain degree of callousness is required when you leave the people you love. Just enough to dull the pain or to keep one from suffering from breaking apart or being apart.

Just how much callous must one envelop his or her heart with so that contact will be cherished but removal won't be searing?

Just a certain degree, enough to let go when the time comes to say goodbye.

First snow fall in Geneva.

Pain – a catalyst of change

How much pain can we endure before we say “enough is enough?” How much suffering must one withstand before saying “No”? How much pain must one go through before doing something about it?

It’s an epiphany of sorts for me to finally realize that with enough pain and suffering, we are forced to change. If we bask in the pain, we either turn numb or become insensitive. We lose sight of the lesson behind the pain. Pain is not necessarily a bad thing.

I am no masochist or a big fan of inflicting pain on myself. I am also not a sadist to want to wish or give pain to others. But pain, at the most unexpected of moments from the most unexpected of people come like a thief in the night - the surprise of it makes it even more hurtful. But it happens.

I believe that everything happens for a reason and even pain is sometimes a tool or a catalyst of change. It speeds up decisions that we were too afraid to make. It puts things in perspective. Just like being burned at touching a stove, we are less likely to do the same things which wrought pain upon us. It gives us parameters. It helps us make a better life.

At the turn of this year, a new year is promised at dawn. It’s a time for change. Looking back at the years I have spent here, looking back at the pain I’ve felt all these years, if I never felt them, I would have never moved on.

Perhaps, if my boss didn’t make me feel like shit, I would have never found my new job. Perhaps, if I wasn’t hurt early on in life, I wouldn’t have been as strong as I am now. But that’s also because of God’s help. He is always a factor. But pain, if isolated in its purpose is analyzed, could’ve been the saving grace of many lives.

A happy person is usually a contented person. Not willing to move. Unwilling to change. I don’t think pain is a good thing. I think the absence of it is great but the reality of life is full of pain. One must face it. And for me, a good way of looking at pain is its potency and its potential for change.

Memories

New poem, inspired by my bubble keeper's recent musical composition. Thanks BK!

I SEE YOU EVERYWHERE
BUT YOU ARE GONE

HOW CAN I SAY I LOVE YOU
WHEN YOU'VE LEFT ME BEHIND

I'M LEFT WITH NOTHING BUT MEMORIES

MEMORIES

MEMORIES PAST, MEMORIES OF OLD
GOOD MEMORIES WITHOUT A FUTURE

HOW CAN I MOVE ON?

YOU LEFT SO SUDDENLY,
I ONLY HAVE THE WIND TO HEAR
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

WHY DID YOU GO,
WHAT DID I DO?
IT WAS TOO SOON,
YOU TOOK MY HEART WITH YOU.

Anger seeps from my veins

It flows through every capillary

I AM IMMOBILIZED WITH WRATH

Red from unCertainty

Ex-Files

It was a late night out ... The usual Friday gimmick with friends. Before it an empowering and enlightening SFC teaching by Des at Tito Oca's house.

Aimee dropped me off near Manor so I can go to Café Bizarre. Saw Christa, Faryal, Aries, Jazu and Haider. We left the café after an hour or so. They had been there for quite a while. Christa needed to move her car before we all went to Le Phare.

It was a leisure walk among friends.

Then ...

I walked into Le Phare. There were no seats nearby. We saw our friend Salim and said our hellos. Then we walked on ... stop ... she was there. My dreaded ex. The ex I had been avoiding and hoping not to meet. But Geneva is small. But I didn't know she'd be back from England doing her masters. But she was. Stop. "Hi. How are you?" she said. I said, "I'm ok." Cut. I grabbed some seats and grabbed Christa, "My ex is there." "Where?" she said, "give me some indication, 12 o'clock, 6 o'clock". "There," I said, "in the corner, 12 o'clock". I don't know the exact words that followed but as my friends knew, they started comforting me. Christa hugged me and kept close all night making sure to keep me company. Same with Jazu, Aries and Faryal.

I felt so weak in the knees. I felt like vomiting. I felt sick. I didn't know she still had that effect on me. I was thrown back in a time warp ... dry mouth ... uncertainty ... fear.

We kept a civil hi, didn't talk to each other except to say goodbye. She wished me a good night. I just smiled.

When I got home, I cried my eyes out, slept at 5 a.m. and turned the events round and round ... why didn't I wish her Happy Rosh Hoshana. Afterall, it was their new year. But I was stymied.

I prayed and I cried. I had just asked Des how to let go. Then came this. An unexpected meeting with my ex.

Good thing I was surrounded by friends and I was at my top form. I looked pretty Jazu said. At least, I had something to show. But I didn't need to care. It was a long time ago. A year and a half to be exact.

I have always been on good terms wit my exes. I don't know why we ended like this.

Certainly unexpected

I had the most wonderful birthday anyone could ever wish for. I turned 26 today (Sept. 8) and I spent my eve with the family and friends I have here in Geneva. I thought they would never be able to pull it off. After all, I was always on top of things. I had bionic ears and hardly anything could ever pass me without being noticed. But they were so good. Under the leadership of my mom, Aries and Jazu, they pulled off what I thought was unimaginable. From the KIS group, Roland, Ate Mercy, Kuya Ramil, and Diane were there on that eve of Sept. 8. Faryal and new friend, Christa, was also part of the surprise. Nikki, my oldest friend here, was also part of the scheme. Tito Roque, Ate Virgie, Ate Julie, Tita Minda, pitched in. Haritz made their appearance. Christopher went home on time.

My heart could have exploded from the adrenalin the surprise produced. It was certainly unexpected. I am so blessed to have good friends.

On my birthday proper, Faryal, Melissa, Christa and Jamie made it even more special. Taking me out on the town, in our dressed-to-kill wear, we danced ourselves out at Pickwicks where Melissa threw out her knee. Faryal was ever cool and Christa ever so friendly.

It was a very blessed 26th birthday. I went to Mass twice. I am crying from sheer happiness. I never expected it all. Thank you God for all the blessings and friends and family that think of me so dear. I am really happy. I still can't sleep from all these happiness.

Thank you all.

Au revoir mon frère

At exactly 9.25 a.m. my brother will board a KLM flight bound for Manila. The litany of goodbyes will begin shortly before it. Gallons of tears would have fallen and the familiar goodbye will be said stabbing our hearts like it did when at the age of one he was also sent home to the Philippines.

It is the same situation now. It is for his future that he has been sent home. It is because he will have a better life there. And we will be watching him in pain as he leaves. We hope he will study well and find his dream – whatever it may be. We hope in the company of his elder brothers, he will become a better gentleman.

Our family has been apart more times than the common parting. It is not just weeks of vacation but of years of separation that plague our lives. It is for our own good. It is Gorby’s turn to go home for his future. He makes the trip alone, literally and figuratively, but knowing him, he would have made many friends on this flight home. He is called “congressman” here.

He is just that – a congenial young man, full of ideas with a bright future ahead. Exceptional and unique in his own right.

As the tears flow from its cask, a new leaf will be turned.

I will find my brother - a man - on our next meeting.

I will miss him. We will all miss him.

Au revoir mon frère. May God always be with you as you start a new chapter in your life. I love you. See you soon.

Imminent death

What would you do if you knew you were dying? What would you do if someone close to you is ill and you don't know if s/he will die? Would you talk to him or her even in their sleep? Would you give up all hope? Would you just sit there for death to claim him or her?

Isabel Allende's Paula speaks of such an experience. At the bedside of her daughter suffering from an illness that put her in a coma, Isable writes her autobiography, the story of her life and Paula's life and traces back their lineage so that Paula will remember when she wakes up.

I haven't finished the book but my colleague said Paula dies.

What happens to the book? How could a mother feel when her daughter dies?

Culmination of disappointment ...

Or blessing?

I received my answer last Friday. The Cantonal Office will not give my return visa unless my boss or personnel gives me a certification that I will have a new contract when I come back. "IN THEORY" is a word often used in the UN, so in theory, I am going to have a contract when I come back from vacation but nobody wants to sign the paper saying that I will have it. I don't get the logic. How hard is it to sign a piece of paper that says I worked from this and that period and will work again from this period to that period. It sounds elementary to me. ILO did it for me, I don't understand why the UN is so uptight. UNCTAD does it. So, what gives?

That same day, that Friday when a friend of mine from Milan was about to come for a visit, the long-awaited feared answer reached my ears. I remained numb or maybe I was just too jaded. Then later that Friday afternoon, from out of the blue, a colleague of mine from the ILO calls to ask would I come back if they would offer me a fixed-term contract. I said, "Of course!" That is my long-term goal after all. I cried from excitement and from a sheer overwhelming feeling. God was there. Then came the worry. What shall I tell UN who's expecting me back and my colleagues who I have come to appreciate? I didn't know how I could possibly smile when I met Joy. Good thing Nikki was with me to absorb some of my worry. In the end, the three of us shared a wonderful meal at Al-Ameer. The worry dissipated until Monday came.

Joy left on Monday morning. I was going to tell my supervisor about ILO's offer. I had to give ILO an answer. Work was piling up. I had a hangover from my coffee. Didn't sleep a wink. A bad aftertaste of Jazu's outburst. But it would soon come to an end.

Joy left, I felt sad. I told my supervisor, she wasn't pleased. She spoke to the personnel assistant which will try to extend my contract. I feel like I'm in a tug of war. My hangover was almost gone but left me breathless. My eyes were falling at every word. Jazu's outburst seemed like a distant memory.

Monday came to a close. Another workday completed. I have until the weekend to give an answer to ILO. I am pondering whether my not being able to go home at this time is a blessing. I have savings at least. I will probably go to Milan without a visa and spend my holiday with Joy. What am I supposed to learn from this experience?

A rollercoaster of yeses and nos. Of would'ves and could'ves. But now, the answers slowly come: No to Philippines, Yes to Vacation, No to Certification, Probably No to ILO, Yes to Prayers, No to bitterness ...

I am tempted to be very bitter. To wallow in the self-pity of my not being able to leave Switzerland. My household sister being stopped at the border because she didn't have papers. I felt like that.

I felt like a nobody, a nobody that no one wants to guarantee with a piece of paper that says I am working again with the UN, ILO or wherever.

Maybe there is something I am not seeing. Am I to feel the whole range of emotions that an OFW must feel? Is this a test ... is there a silver lining to this storm?

Perhaps ... it is a blessing in disguise.

Feeling OFW (the saga continues)

I don’t remember who told me to call the Swiss mission but it sure was good advice. I called but didn’t get an answer so I asked my mom to phone them. Fortunately, she got a hold of the person concerned, Ms. G.

I had given up all hope of going home but made a bargain with God. I promised him that if he would let me go home without any trouble or damage to my work, I would give up a certain part of my life. This was also a test whether God existed. I believe in Him that’s why I made the bargain.

So, the Swiss mission said that there was another possibility. For my chief to sign the letter stating that I would be getting a new contract when I come back. This was the original letter that I requested which my boss didn’t want to sign because in her words and quoting her boss “if personnel won’t do it, then you shouldn’t do it”.

It was a very safe answer which removed all responsibility from her hands. It left me disappointed but I was so numb that I hardly reacted.

My mom got an answer and asks me to call the Swiss mission. I call them. They tell me to make personnel call them. Personnel calls them. I call personnel to follow up. Personnel says that the chief can sign but that personnel will not give any attestation. The personnel assistant comes up to the chief’s office whilst me in it. We talk. "I better not get sacked for this," she says. I say, "it's only a formality." The chief drafts the letter but has to call the Swiss mission first. She talks to the Swiss mission. She faxes the letter. I get a call from the chief. Call the Swiss mission on Monday she says.

I wait.

Feeling OFW (part 2)

As if working for my family was not enough responsibility and a source of heartache, my working abroad has been plagued by visa restrictions. I just spoke to my boss and she said that personnel would not issue a certificate allowing me to obtain a return visa from the cantonal (municipal) administration here.
I took the news with a smiling face. I did not know how else to react to such grave news. I feel quite jaded now.

I have been in Geneva for a year and a half without going home. I know it’s not as long as 25 years or even as short as some people’s five years, but it is grave for me whose longest time out is usually eight months and then going back home to recharge.

I still feel calm now and no tears have fallen. I think I’ve cried it out in the previous days and my sleepless nights were premonitions of my imminent disappointment.
I can bitch all I want now but I think it will be a waste of my time and energy.
It is difficult when people depend on you and you are not free to make decisions that only suit your happiness. My family’s finances are hinged on my working abroad. Some of my friends are working abroad too but they like what they are doing. I might be a little impatient but I do like what I’m doing here, I just want to be able to go home. And even that I am not granted.

If I leave for my vacation, there is no guarantee that I can come back. Not even my mom’s diplomatic status can help me because I am independent of her in the eyes of Swiss laws.

What do I do?

Anger Management

Do you ever find yourself just blowing up at anything that triggers your anger? It's a cumulation of angst and anger and then that one little thing breaks the camel's back.

I succumbed to that. I feel so sorry and feel like I've sunk to the lowest depths.

My brother's friends come over at 10:30 p.m. It's late by Geneva standards. It would have been alright if they had called first or rang the bell respectfully and didn't scream at my brother from the other end. All that I heard as my brother came to the speaker phone.

So, I decided not to take it lying down this time. I had been quite angry with this "friend" for a while now. He was very rude and I had just been keeping it civil. But I had enough. I waited for them at the door and greeted them with a resounding "why did you scream at the speaker phone?" He adamantly denied it but I felt myself rising at the sound of his voice and his rude way of talking. I walked away.

Then my brother makes an excuse for my behavior saying that I had had a row with my mother and that I was taking it out on them. I felt like I've been sold out by my brother. It wasn't entirely untrue that I had had some discussion with my mother but it certainly wasn't the cause of my newfound anger. It was because my brother's friend had been so rude.

So, I butt in saying that I wasn't angry at my mother but at them for screaming at the speaker phone. The friend reasoned out which made me even angrier. I told him to not answer back. He said, "Why shouldn't I, if I'm in the right?" At this point I was on the verge of crying from anger and he decided to walk off. Good thing.

But it left me feeling bad that I had stooped so low as to go down to his level of rudeness. I was out of place to accuse him that maybe my younger brother had acquired that same rude behavior from him. He was my main suspect. He denied spending time with my brother. Then shortly, walked into the elevator.

As they left and as I heard their voices downstairs from our open windows, I felt a surge of guilt at my behavior. I should have known better to be calmer and to get my point across without seething anger.

An angry person loses much credibility unless it's righteous anger. Mine was nowhere near righteous. It was just plain old boiling blood anger. And I am sorry for having let myself be poisoned by it.

Tomorrow night, hopefully, we will make amends as my mother had to call a meeting so that we could all clear the air. I hope it goes well. I don't ever want to have a repeat of tonight's Mount Vesuvius eruption. It's definitely not a pretty sight.

Responsibilities

Responsibilities

The saying goes “To whom much is given, much is expected”. As people discover you can do many things, they expect more from you, extracting every bit of your talent. Some people rise to the challenge, others prefer to keep their talents hidden and far far away from prying eyes who might someday want to exploit them.

I have some talents, or so my mother says. I am constantly getting myself unintentionally involved in this and that project by happenstance. I don’t usually complain when I like what I’m doing.

Recently, I was invited to help out in a farewell project for our long-time parish priest. I didn’t know how I could be of help but I suspected I would be doing the computer stuff and much to my un-surprise, I did.

The people are pleased with what I’ve done with the layout of pictures and texts. I find it quite simple. Of course, to them it probably looks difficult. But it really isn’t. I feel like a newbie in front of techie greats or the proven tech-savvy.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of building their expectations and then letting them down. In my younger years, I was very self-confident. I always knew the extent of what I can and can’t do. I put my foot down for things I knew were not my expertise. I was adamant in saying NO.

As I entered linguistics in college, I thought this must be easy sailing. I had always excelled in school so I thought, piece of cake. When I got my first almost-failing grade, I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. I didn’t know what to do. I eventually got the hang of the subject but I decided to shift to journalism. There I was initially getting good marks, acing the homework, then all of a sudden, I got a failing mark on one of my articles. I was utterly crushed. I remember being randomly asked, “How are you?” by a classmate of mine and I broke down right there and then at the walk between the College of Social Science and Philosophy and the Faculty Center. She must have thought me mad. But it was the start of the incessant self-doubt and decreasing self-confidence. I didn’t know what I was really good at. I seemed to get good grades by sheer effort. I wasn’t as smart as everybody portrayed me to be. I felt like a cheater letting them think it.

But I guess at some point, God must have put something there in my head. I did know what I was doing. I got by even if I had no idea how to go about what I was supposed to do. It all worked out. It always worked out. But I was always afraid. I woke up late in the mornings. I became complacent. I lost my edge.

Now, I am here at a job that expects only excellence because it is simple enough. You have to be in on time so no late nights or sleep-ins. But despite my rigid schedule now, I still feel doubtful about my other responsibilities. As I complete each task, each activity, if I come out slightly triumphant, I am expected to do it again, even better next time.

All this thinking began because I did a good layout for the church and I was praised for it. I wonder how I would feel if my boss at work actually praised me. I would probably cry.

"What a waste"

Not a lot of people have openly expressed disappointment about what I'm doing right now. It's not to say they don't like it, they just think it's a waste of my talents. It's the first time I actually heard it out loud. She said "what a waste" when I told her I worked in the English typing pool at the UN. As if it wasn't bad enough that I've been feeling frustrated the past few days because I know that I could really be doing something more suited to my skills. But I have no choice at the moment. I haven't had proper time to look for other jobs and I can't afford to take time off so I can look for one. It's one thing chained to another thing and it becomes a vicious cycle of cannots.

I just hope I can get out of this rut soon. I look at where my batchmates are right now and I compare myself, which I shouldn't do. Everyone is different and we make different choices. Right now, I still don't know what I want to do in life. Five years ago, I was so sure. I planned to finish my master's degree and I was going to be some big shot somewhere. Well, I didn't know exactly where but I was going to be.

I'm at the UN now with a clerical job. Some people would say it's a real blessing. It is of course and the pay is not bad. But there is still something missing. As I go through the tedious task of encoding corrections after corrections from the translators, I am inclined to think - can I do better? Shouldn't I be doing something more?

I guess I compensate with all the extracurricular activities that I do. But it still doesn't feel right. Maybe I'm just complaining. But I really hope that something will come of my life soon. Something I can truly say I love to do. Something I can do for the rest of my life.

When in Milan, do as the Milanons do???

I was in Italy again during the Holy Week vacation. The last time I was there, I was in Rome. I loved it then and I still love Italy now. I love the people, I love the culture, I love the sun! and P.S. I love the shopping!!!

We left on Maundy Thursday at about 9 p.m. because Jazu was still working overtime. We were going to travel through the Mont Blanc tunnel with Tito Roque. There was a little nervousness at the border because my Schengen visa was about to expire but I needed to get out of Switzerland. Even if just for a while.

So, we found ourselves over the mountain (and through the woods???) and spent our first day in Italy in Como, the beautiful lakeside city where the famous George Clooney owns a mansion and WHERE the golden couple of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are supposed to wed. We didn't go to Bellagio but we did take a small tour through the monuments in Como. We even went up on the FUNICOLARE, the cable car that brings you on top of the Como hills that overlook Lake Como and the surrounding commune.



Being on top of the Como hills is breathtaking and looking down on the commune below made for a few fashion photo ops [will probably upload pics to my photoblog].






When we got down, we rested a bit and went to Milan via the interregional train. And voila! Forty-five minutes later we were in Milan Centrale and making our way to the Duomo where the Pinoy movie "Milan" had Piolo Pascual and Claudine Barretto feeding the pigeons.




Saturday was market day and the "mercato" for clothes were packed with tourists and local people buying the bargain wares ranging from the latest fashion trends to matching leather goods, etc.

Since Saturday was the only day to buy, I spent the whole afternoon in the mercato. Rain couldn't stop my shopping spree. Jazu had gone on to Rome to be with her friend Princess.

Sunday was a holy day. It was the "Pasko ng Pagkabuhay" (Easter Sunday) and Tito Roque and family including my godchild RR (Roque Robert) and of course, me, went to Caravaggio where the water fountain is said to be miraculous.




That same night, I was Geneva-bound. It was the longest four hours of my life. Traveling in facing seats with strangers can be a bit uncomfortable especially if your seatmate's boyfriend's foot was touching your pants! And it had a certain odor to it. A little respect for your travel companions pls! The lady in front of me was also anxious and tried to smile but just couldn't. I was praying for the couple to get off at any stop now, thank God they got off in Lausanne. I had 30 minutes of peace with the silent lady in front of me.

All in all, the trip was fabulouso! I can't wait to go back to Milan to visit Joy, our newfound friend who is just "dying" to see us. :) Hope you'll read this Joy! Mwah Bella!



(Photos by Jazu and Me)

I'm Moving!

Hello everyone. I changed my URL address to http://thewandererstales.blogspot.com . See you there.

“Bayaran”

When I took up journalism ethics in college, we tackled envelopmental journalism. It’s the type of journalism that “pays” journalists so they will write stories favoring a certain entity, be it a person, a company, etc.

I thought, it’s easy to give back the envelop, it’s easy to decline. It’s easy to stand on that moral high ground with the thought: ME? I WILL NEVER DO THAT. Boy, was I wrong! I had my first taste of this last Sunday. I was covering a church event. It was the anniversary of one of the Catholic Church groups here in Switzerland and they had a national conference to celebrate it.

The lady said she had something for me earlier on. She said thank you for my earlier coverage of a meeting that took place in Geneva. I was only doing my job. I covered it. I didn’t really pay attention as to what that that “something” was. But I had a feeling it would be money.

She dragged me around the conference venue and had me interview every big honcho there was. She was apologizing and prodding me at the same time. At the end of the conference, she came up to me with a folded amount of money. It was only one bill but it was big enough. I refused many times. She said, “No, no, it’s yours.” I couldn’t say outright, “It’s unethical. I’m only doing my job.” I could definitely not say “Hindi ako bayaran” (I am not paid). It would be rude. I didn’t know how to get out of it without hurting her. So, I accepted with every bad feeling in my heart and decided I would give it to charity. I will not use it for any personal gain.

She was a nice lady just thinking of my welfare. But it’s not right. Every journalist will face this dilemma in his or her life. It is a real temptation when the amount gets bigger and bigger and come Christmas time, you’re overflowing with gifts. It’s even more difficult when you are in dire need of money. I hope that journalists everywhere will continue to report faithfully, true “uncoloured” events, without money or without any gifts, because it is our job to report the truth and only that. It’s something we can be proud of.