GRAND father

due to popular demand (by mishi), am putting out my post on my grandpa as mentioned in an earlier post...

My grandpa/ kongkong died last October 2000. Even in his death, he managed to help me.
At that time, I was going through a break-up and really a path of hatred towards my ex which was admittedly unhealthy. My ex visited his wake and paid his respects and somehow because of that I (partly) forgave him and realized he wasn't so bad if he could do that. I knew he liked my kongkong and I was happy that even though we didn't work out, he still recognized that my kongkong was a good man. My kongkong gave me a sense of closure with that relationship.

Kong (as we sometimes fondly call him) was extraordinary. Up to now, after 8 years, I still feel a twinge of sadness when I remember him.

He was a short man, I think he was almost the same height as my ama. The reason was when he was young, he carried a bilao (native basket) on his head laden with filipino delicacies, selling on the streets. His parents died young and as the eldest, he was responsible for his siblings. Together with his brothers, they left their younger siblings with aunts and found ways to make money. How he was able to go from that to building a successful paint company I will never understand. It's those rags-to-riches story that one simply wonders in awe how one person can rise so high above where he used to be.
I remember my ama said that when he first started out, my kongkong used to have a lot of small things going on at the same time. Little rackets to make money. Then he decided to sell everything and to start this paint company. It was a big risk because if it didn't work out, he would be left with nothing. He had guts. More than that, (as Edison said, genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration), Kong knew the value of hard work.
When he was just building Globesco, Kong was an all-in-one person. The delivery boy, the stock man, the big boss, everything. Such that when a businessman went to his office and saw him sweeping, the visitor asked for his boss and Kong simply nodded. He put away his broom and went behind the office desk and proceeded to conduct the meeting!
Kong was inspiring and humble. I always refer to that story whenever my boyfriend, who is an entrepreneur himself, faces challenges.

When Kong died, the funeral home was filled to the brim with flowers. People from all over the Philippines and Asia sent their condolences. It turns out he had helped so many people and asked for so little back. A lot had to do with business and lending money.

Kong wasn't perfect of course. He was human like everyone else. As a father, I know he had his favorites and funnily enough, one of them was my mom who he felt brought him good luck because just before she was born, he ran into a relative and got himself a job (by volunteering to search for wood).

As his grandchildren, there wasn't anything we wouldn't do for him -- to the point that we all donned red T-shirts with his caricature emblazoned in the front and danced choreographed steps to 80's hit, Blame it on the Rain, during his 70th birthday (whoever has the tape, burn it please!). I remember my boy cousins had to massage his bare back with chinese-smelling balm. Of course, as the patriarch, he also had his sons-in-law accompany him to hong kong trips just to play mahjong all day long in his apartment. He knew how to milk his role!
Kong will always represent love and safety. He used to tell me that if ever my mom treated me bad, I could just run to him and he would spank my mom. Of course, I never did that but as a rebellious child, it was nice to hear that there was a higher person than my parents.

My one regret is that my would-be husband will never get to meet him and know how inspiring he was. My one fear is that my would-be children will only stare at his portrait blankly and go through the motions of ha-po-pi without knowing how great a man he was.

I'm scared because now, my memories of him are not as clear. I still remember he liked Carl's Jr so much that he used to order my boy cousins to buy it for him when they opened in Virra Mall. I still remember he loved that old navy blue Benz with plate number PBA that even though it was sooo old and he already had a newer Benz and a BMW and a Volvo, he still insisted on using it. I still remember he went to Globesco everyday at 7am even though he was already 70+. I still remember he loved playing golf and had his nasty habit of smoking like my dad. I still remember he loved calling one of my cousins Battery (Valerie) and another Tua Diap Gong (hard to translate in English as it sounds really bad). I still remember how he used to shush my mom and her siblings whenver they got too loud and giggly. I still remember how much he liked Grassi's for dinner and we felt it was such luck if he had a craving and you happened to be in his house at that time.
But now, I don't remember how he laughed anymore. Or even how he called me. I can't even remember how that nasty Chinese balm he had smelled like.

Grandfathers are bigger than life. They are somehow more perfect and less scary. They never get mad at you and are always happy to see you.
I know that I will never forget how Kong made me feel whenever I was with him -- safe, loved, protected, knowing that I came from greatness. Kong gave me reason to believe that anything is possible.

Nesting

I am an OC person when it comes to staking out and laying claim to a territory.

Everytime I travel, the first thing I do is unpack. I display all my toiletries, put my toothbrush in the cup, place my shampoo in the shower, hang all my clothes and arrange my footwear at the foot of the closet. It's always a ritual for me to also open the hotel directory and look at all the amenities offered even if I don't plan on doing any of them. I need to make this place my own (albeit even if only for a night or two) and study my surroundings.

So, it comes as no surprise when it came for me to actually settle into my new place, the 3rd place that I would eventually recognize as "home" (the 1st was my grandma's house where I lived for 10 years and the 2nd where my family moved thereafter and where I've been living for 17 years now), I would exert all my efforts madly to make it my own.

I know my boyfriend was ready to kill me but for 3 straight days since the day we arrived in Singapore, we went to good old Ikea. Even though my flat was supposedly fully furnished, the bedroom was sparse with only a bed and a closet. I needed a desk, a night table, a lamp, photo frames, hanging pictures, hamper, sofa bed, mirror, shoe rack, trash cans, beddings, cushions (okay so maybe some were actually wants and not needs). And he was sweet because I bugged him to carry and fix up most of the furniture.

I am a true-blue Libran. I appreciate and need beautiful things around me to be happy. If I was going to be away from the people I love, then all the more I need to be comfortable and look forward to at least going home. I revel in seeing my closet filled to the brim and my desk overflowing. It makes the place feel more like my own than some stranger's. It makes me feel that I am really living in this country and not just here on an extended vacation.

What is it about things that bring us comfort? I love my comfy sofa chair where I curl up and watch my download videos and my soft khaki quilt where I sleep in every weekend. I love the clothes I brought because they bring familiarity. I love the way my desk is now organized into a make-up dresser area and my magazine holders now hold various folders of bills and documents. Most of all I love my mini gallery facing the bed which display a myriad of memories and faces.

The Office

Today I moved into my "new" office.

I feel that I've been packing and unpacking and moving out and moving in every week! I just settled into my new cubicle 2 weeks ago when the person I replaced moved out after 3 weeks of hand-over (they say that here instead of turn-over which always earns me blank stares whenever I use that word). I cleaned out her old files, organized everything into folders complete with post it's and finally got used to the solo printer and laptop docking station squeezed into the cubicle.

But wonder of wonders, the secretary informed me that I would be getting a room instead as there's an empty one available. For those who do not work in the corporate world, it doesn't sound like a big deal. But for those who do, it is a big f***in deal!

It's such a big deal that my counterpart manager in another brand who has been waiting for a room since she started a year ago even threw a ribbon cutting ceremony complete with complimentary snacks and posed pictures!

It's a big deal because it means more space (hello heels I can leave in the office to slip into my havaianas for going home), privacy (hello facebook for slow times which is quite rare) and of course status in the corporate ladder. And isn't that what everyone aims for anyway?

Precious Moments

They say there's nothing to do in Singapore.
People come here to eat, shop, and well, that's really it. But I think it's the same as in every city, well every Asian city at least, where city life is limited or tourist stops contrived (Europe has all the museums and inspiring art while US has the enviable easy access road trips).

The only difference is in Manila there's more people to do it with.

There's the small activities that make up a life -- family dinners, friends' birthday treats, class reunions, office get-togethers, movies with the boyfriend, . . .

Living away from the people you've known all your life and the places you've treaded everyday, means one has to live life just a little bit quieter.

A Tribute

Today is my grandma/ guama's (ama) birthday. This is one of the things I miss most about being here -- those "little" occassions that one takes for granted. The birthday dinners, the get-togethers, the normal routine saturday lunches. Whenever my family (mother's side including all her siblings, their spouses, kids) get together, there is a different kind of energy. Lots of laughs, gossip, teasing, baby coos and just plain 'ol familial love permeate in the room. Don't get me wrong, we are not cheesy. But we know how to have fun with each other hence the loud guffaws and incessant teasing (again all in the name of fun of course).
But that's another topic because tonight I want to write about my ama.

I know almost everyone "loves" their grandma. But what I feel for her goes beyond affection or even respect for being the matriarch. I sincerely just plain like her. "Like" may seem too light a word but I believe it's less forced upon and less automatic.
I genuinely like spending time with my ama. She's just plain fun to be with. She cracks jokes although she doesn't mean to! Her provincial accent causes her to twist English and she can laugh at her mistakes. She's can be so lost sometimes, losing her way out of the bathroom, losing sense of the movie she's watching (to the point that at the end of Meet Joe Black, she asks, who is Brad Pitt again?). She has these one-track missions which is to push her grandchildren (ie. me) to get married. She can conduct the most intense of interviews asking and probing about our work or love life and you can't not reply because it's her! She thinks up of these "fun" little activities like raffling off our ang pao instead of just plain giving it sraight. She wants annual vacations with the whole family and take note we are around 30 to 40 each time so it is a logistical nightmare! Our last family Christmas party consisted of a game with trivia questions about our ama.
I could go on and on ...

But more than all the fun things I have experienced with her and the genuine interest she has for each of her grandchildren, my ama is a wonderful human being
Everyone has history and stories inside and just because I see her now as my ama, she is still someone's wife, someone's daughter, someone's student. Her stories of her youth are heartbreaking. They were poor, in the province and it was those times wherein being a female meant you weren't an equal. She wanted so much to study but she wasn't favored to so even though she was a valedictorian, she wasn't able to continue her studies. She almost thought of suicide but stopped when she saw her mother looking for her worried sick. Now, my ama sponsors children who want to go to school but can't afford to.
Her marriage to my grandpa/ kongkong was arranged. They never held hands before they were married. They were chaperoned all the time. She was barely 20 when they married. But they were married for more than 50 years until my kongkong died last 2000.
They started out poor to the point when she was pregnant with her 4th child, they did not know where to get the money for the hospital. Until my kongkong ran into a friend of the family and secured himself a project. But, they have lifted themselves up, put up a successful paint business, and my uncles have succeeded to run the company. (My kongkong is another remarkable man, respected so much with people all over the world sending their condolences when he died because he has helped so many. Another post soon on him *missing you*).

I admire my ama for what she has been through and for how she went through it.
Her zest for life is remarkable. My friends call her the "young ama". She travels almost bi-monthly to "review" countries. She plays mahjong with friends and hates just staying home. She watches tons of movies. She dresses well and knows what looks good, always noticing the latest fashion that we wear. She is always in on the latest gossip, although at times she forgets it after a day! She has a big heart and has also accepted my filipino boyfriend although I know that her upbringing and generation doesn't.
I love it when she says how proud she is of us. And what she doesn't know is how in turn, we are so proud to be her grandchildren.

The Last Supper (well, second to the last dinner before I leave)

*disclaimer: I didn't have a photo of the dinner so I replaced with a photo from my last birthday*

I finally treated my family to a meal. After 4 and a half years of working, I paid the bill for my own despedida dinner (and it wasn't cheap with the two bottles of wine and Mishi's duck main course at L'Opera). Well better late than never right? Some people treat their family after they get their first paycheck. I treated mine after I got my last paycheck.

They say every family is dysfunctional. I say every family is simply made up of humans so no matter what when you put everyone together there will be comedy and drama. That's the perfect way to describe my own nuclear family. My sisters and I can sometimes giggle for hours on end about nothing and everything with my mom muttering gigi tsio (Chinese for well, giggling I guess) under her breath and my dad just shaking his head and grinning at us. Of course, those laughs usually come at the expense of teasing each other or our parents or at peculiar relatives! (okay so I didn't say we're saints). My 3rd sister is more of the comedian. She is the one who gets teased the most and because of that does a lot of teasing on her own. My 2nd sister is the more serious one but can talk to anyone and my youngest sister is the baby so she's the one who has the most issues (teen-agers!).

When my parents are in a good mood, it is light and easy breezy. We don't really talk much about ourselves and our lives but more of lighter topics like our favorite gossip. We're not in a deep relationship my-family-is-my-best-friend kind of thing. But it is more than good enough. I sincerely like spending time with my family and don't dread it like some do. Travel is always good (but is usually a dramedy as usual).

The drama comes in pretty often as well. What do you expect from a family where PMS comes in to the equation 4 to 5 times a month and a dad who pretty much downs a drink (or two or three) nightly? Whenever someone (my mom especially) is in a bad mood, no one is spared. What's good about those times is that it can be cause for bonding. My sisters and I have laughed countless of times at my dad's nitpicking and my mom's oc-ness. And my mom and I have shared a look more than once whenever my baby sister would go on her bitchy rampage.

We've all had our fair share of parental disputes and teen-age melodramatics. What's weird is that I always thought those problems fade as one grows older. But it doesn't. I still have arguments with my parents, I still defy them, and I still dont agree with them on some things. But I've learned to appreciate and understand them more. I know they only want the best for me even though they show their love in the strangest of ways (hello dad and his calling me to let me know I can use Yahoo phone since it's cheaper). So this is what they meant before... Darn it, so they were right!