KWENTONG PEYUPS: Growing Up To Grown Up

(You may have to click on the picture to enlarge it if you're interested in reading it though.)

GROWING UP TO GROWN UP

My first semester in UP, I remember how one of my blockmates was reprimanded in Comm 1 class for her wrong grammar, and how we were then sternly reminded that we ought to speak in proper English. E nung hayskul pa naman, ‘I spoke medyo mixed, like ganito.’ Taglish kumbaga. Shet, ibang level to!

A couple of meetings after, we had to write an essay on adolescence. To make matters worse, our professor, Neil Garcia, required us to read our essays in front of the class. When my turn came, I stood in front, shaking. It wasn’t simply nerves as I’ve spoken in public countless times before. I think I was terrified they’d judge me on my thoughts on the subject. As evinced by the same tentativeness in my Taglish, I realized that before college – before UP – I had reached puberty without really growing up.

Baduy Day in Neil Garcia's class. The same spot where I stood in front of the class,
trembling uncontrollably as I read them my essay on adolesence.

Note the distinction between UP and college. In my mind, UP is unlike other colleges. It’s the microcosm of Philippine society. It couldn’t be truer than in the Diliman campus, my alma mater. After sitting through my first ever class in the wrong classroom, I realized how naïve and unprepared I was for the real world. No wonder I trembled during that recitation. UP had yet to teach me what adolescence was about.

theCouncil reenacting our first day in UP. PH306. Maling klasrum!

To be fair, it wasn’t all UP. It was a confluence of many factors. Less than two years before my college life commenced, my father died. Being an only child whose mother worked overseas, I was sheltered, pampered, and suddenly, I had no choice but to be independent. The decision to move to a new city, a new place, all on my own took that rite of passage to another dimension. UP was my chance to live independently in the real world.

As if I missed out on high school, I rushed through all of life’s lessons during my stay in UP. I learned to treasure every hump and bump I encountered along the way: my first failing mark (P.E. lang naman). Crashing my car. Singing, dancing and acting on stage. Losing my virginity. Falling in love. Getting hazed applying for an org. Getting drunk as a skunk and passing out. Smoking a joint and passing out. Smoking. Making out in my RAV and getting flashlighted by the UPDP. Voting. Ousting a President. Impressing professors, infuriating even more.

Batchmates ko sa hazing (wala lang si Angge).

All those experiences, mundane and profound, carried with them lessons big and small. Ngayon, alam ko nang tumba na ko sa limang baso ng rhum-coke. Na ang uno sa mabait na professor ay mas mababa sa dos ng magaling na mentor. Na pwedeng lumusot sa anumang uri ng gusot. Every exploit was invaluable, and UP did it by introducing me to people of every possible vocation and tradition, in the skin of my professors and classmates, the visiting lecturers, staff members, orgmates and friends. Sina Manang fishball sa Mass Comm, Ate Xerox sa Lib, Manong Guard sa may entrance, Kuya Bantay sa AS, at Sir Pulis na nang-flashlight sa kin.

I soaked it all in, excitedly, and even grudgingly at times. I started to love my country even more. UP made me cherish my identity as a Filipino not only because my education was paid for by my fellow countrymen’s hard earned taxes (though that remains a huge part of it) but because of the pride instilled in me by simply surrounding me with greatness. Greatness in both the excellence of the alumni whose footsteps I follow (pa’nong hindi kung yung prof mo sa BC 121 ay unang Pilipina lang namang nagtrabaho sa BBC?) and the nobleness I recognized in the non-academic members of our community. It made greatness not only a possibility but also a responsibility.

In short, UP was the manger on which the real me was birthed. In being comfortable with all kinds of people, I came to better comprehend what the real world is like, and I learned to be proud and comfortable with who I was. I nurtured a deeper sense of empathy and a more profound identification of my place and role in the society. If you’d met me in high school, you probably wouldn’t think I’d end up as a movie scriptwriter whose currency, apart from imagination, is skill in interacting and empathizing with people. Who would’ve thought all that could be done in just 500 hectares of land? Sa UP lang!

The 2001 Graduates, with my Mom :)

Since then, no matter where I went, I was assured of who I am and confident of what I could be. Like when I was a Freshman representing the Philippines in a youth forum in Japan. Or when I was traveling all over Mindanao making a documentary on issues faced by journalists covering war and terrorism. Or as a Fellowship student in Singapore. Even now, as I pursue further studies here in Great Britain, I’m mindful of how I represent myself as well as the Filipino people. Such awareness drives me to be the best version of myself. I owe it to my country, my alma mater, and myself. UP ata to. Matapang, matalino. Walang takot kahit kanino.

Kaya ngayon, pag recitation, di na ko nanginginig. At dahil nasa London, syempre proper English!

So anong kwentong Peyups ko, exactly? Is it how UP was the scene of my adolescence, or how it made me value my being Filipino? Or is it how it taught me to survive in the real world?

Baka magalit pa professors ko, sabihin para kong hindi taga-UP. Let me sum up this way, then (and in straight English):

It was in UP that I grew up to be a Filipino who is grounded in the realities of the world.

Lusot ba?

***

I composed this the weekend before the start of our second term at LFS. I originally called it, "A U.P.-Grown Grown Up on Growing Up" - a sort of word play which I didn't really expect to be adapted as its title upon publication. I had some time in my hands and wanted to contribute to my Alma Mater's celebration of its centennial.

I honestly thought this wouldn't get published because I didn't feel like it was what Campaigns & Grey wanted for the series. You'd notice I wasn't very specific about the experiences I recounted in the article. It's more like an abbreviation how my UP life was kasi. I've read a lot of the articles published, including my friends'. They, however, wrote of specific life episodes while they were still studying in the campus. I realized my article wasn't like that after I made my friend Jean read it, which was after I had emailed the article. I thought of writing a new one but never got around to doing it. Classes started and I got busy. I figured, I can always post it in my blog anyway. That's why I was surprised when I was woken up by Norman's text (at 7AM on Saturday!), saying "Yours is today's Kwentong Peyups! Congrats Ü"

Thanks to my cousin Majah who took a picture of the article to send to me. There it was...

100 Kwentong Peyups
Growing Up To Grown Up

Raz Sobida de la Torre
BA Broadcast Communication
97-18393 U.P. Diliman

I'm glad they printed this anyway. Among the reasons for my apprehension in leaving the country to study in London this year is the thought of missing out on all the festivities. Seryoso, sobra kong bad trip na wala ako sa Pinas para sa Centennial Lecture Series (though I was lucky enough to attend Sheila Coronel's during my summer vacation there), Homecomings, and the UP Pep Squad's defense of its title, among other things. This certainly helps make up for my absence :)

Wave of The Future

Like always, I did my morning rituals while watching the show Breakfast. One eye on the telly and the other on the mirror. I miss Umagang Kay Ganda and Alas-Singko Y Media but I don't have TFC, so I have to settle with BBC One. I caught this feature on the world's first ever wave farm. The Pelamis wave machine, a gigantic, segmented phallic structure that floats off the coast of a town called Agucadora in Portugal, was launched just recently. Its aim is to harness power from the Atlantic's powerful waves. I thought that with the rising oil prices and the Philippines' huge dependency on crude oil, and considering our long coastline (longer than the States!), this is a viable alternative power source our national government could pursue (if it hasn't).

I remembered this instance a few years back when the Philippine Daily Inquirer featured two photos on top of each other on its front page. I was immediately drawn to the first one on the top half of the newspaper because it was unmistakably familiar. When I read the caption, it confirmed that it was a picture of the Caliraya Lake in Cavinti, Laguna, my dad's birthplace. On the photo, you could see a man walking in the shallow part of the lake, which was smack in the middle of the lake bed because the water levels were extraordinarily low that time of the year.

When I scanned further, I noticed that the second photo below featured the power plant in Tiwi, Albay. I found it amusing because Tiwi is where my barkada/thesis partner Joni Mosatalla hails from naman. Kaya nga pala mura ang kuryente sa kanila. Rates were subsidized because the plant was within Tiwi's territory.

That PDI issue featured both our home towns on the front page because both were sites of alternative power sources. The hot springs of Tiwi generate geothermal power, while the man-made Caliraya lake provides hydroelectric power.

In all my years of friendship with Joni, preluded by all 4-years of college in UP (including an intense adventure making our thesis on our senior year), it was the first time that this curious coincidence of our towns being cradles of alternative power generation was brought to my attention. You'd think it would've come up at least once. Joni and I always joke about how there seems to be nothing left to talk about when we're with each other, and yet there we found this one, perhaps insignificant, detail that we've managed to overlook.

It's nice to be proven wrong. Comforting to be surprised by incidents like that, when you realize that with great, genuine friends, you'll never run of out of things to talk about. True, some of them are most likely to be not new, but I never find myself bored. In fact, I often find myself listening to stories that Joni's told me previously (and not just once, on most occasions!) I'd listen intently and wait for her to finish before letting an impish grin escape and breaking to her that I already know all about it. It has actually become a running joke that whenever she starts telling me something, Joni would always introduce a story with, "Sabihin mo kung nakwento ko na to sa yo ha?"

Once, during an an impromptu getaway to Puerto Galera with Mark and Forsyth, after realizing there's no new story to share, Joni and I even took to asking each other unlikely, thought-up questions. Tipong, "If you could only among the people you had flings and almost-romances, excluding actual exes, who would you want to ultimately end up with?" Cheesy, I know, but until now, that evening by the beach remains to be one of our funnest, most memorable conversations. And it was about a barrage of nonsense that we found sense in.

Come to think of it, even presence alone suffices. I'm glad there's a select circle of people like Joni with whom I'm able to bear silences. It's a luxury I take for granted but am eternally thankful for. These friends generously sate my desire for conversations as much as my need for comfortable, pressure-free tranquility. Either way, in the pleasure of their company. This I think is why I'm friends with my friends, why I see myself being friends with them long into the future.

***

I think the Portuguese may be on to something with their pioneering venture. Alternative is the way to go. The Bangui Wind Farm that supplies power to the Luzon grid is enough proof of this. There's potential in ethanol, but as Time Magazine's feature has revealed, the environmental cost of cultivating corn and sugar cane farms for this could just be as damaging as burning oil.

Perhaps wave power is really the wave of the future.

Anong Bastos Sa Pagsuot Ng Flag? (A Response)

This is a actually a response to Rey's post in his blog, "Anong Bastos sa Pagsuot ng Flag?" I started to compose a reply, but like Norms, felt embarrassed that its length made it look more like a post on its own. So I decided to publish my reply here.

(Of course, among friends like Rey and the people who responded in his blog, we know better than to think that this constitutes picking a fight - as other people are inclined to intuit. I guess it is simply a natural consequence of keeping an opinionated company like the one I have).

Going back to the object that inspired Rey's post, lemme just say: I love that jacket. The one Adidas released a few months back, brainchild of a Filipino designer working in the Adidas HQ (in Germany I think). Nandito pa lang ako sa UK, nabalitaan ko na tungkol dyan sa Internet. Nagpabili nga ako para ipadala sa kin dito, pero ubos na sya nang magpatanong ako.

Having said that, I must say, I agree with the law (the Philippine Flag Code). I know that tailoring the flag into a shirt or a jacket does not necessarily constitute disrespect. The tricky part, however, is knowing the clear, definite line that tells us when we've gone too far. Kumbaga, when do you start to say that it is? Disrespectful already, that is?

I'd also be wary in arguing under the banner of "freedom of expression." I think we all agree that the flag deserves no less than utmost respect. I find it a bit incongruous if we are to defend our manner of 'expression' as a form of respect, as in the case of that jacket. Being asked to preserve the proper form and depiction of the flag is not the same as preventing someone from expressing his respect for it. One might even say that adhering to the prescribed formalities constitutes part of that deference.

Whereas on the flip side, abrogating that law could eventually allow for underwear and swim suits to be adorned with three stars and the sun, and that might be in bad taste. Some of our Kabayan might even take offense in it. (Liberal naman ang panlasa ko sa ganyang bagay, pero kahit ako, medyo mababastusan kung magkaron ng Pinoy counterpart yung Union Jack swimming trunks).

Moreso with the National Anthem. I think enough argument against the amount of liberty we previously gave to the singing of "Lupang Hinirang" can be found in the tragedy that Jennifer Bautista was.

I can perfectly see why Rey thinks the way he does (after all, I'm still bummed that I didn't get to buy that jacket. At kung meron ako non at hinuli ako ng pulis... I'd argue the same thing - that I am not wearing it as a sign of disrespect. Quite the contrary). But should none of my points fly, I guess I'd be content making my case by saying that I'm simply a stickler for traditions. I believe there are things that must not be compromised in favor the human spirit's predilections.

Balikbayan (Unang Yugto)

My bursting-at-the seams summer holiday-slash-Pinas homecoming (depending on which side of the globe you'd like to see it), last 22 August to 04 September 2008. Celebrating momentous occasions and touching base with the important people in my life :) Best to let the photographs speak for themselves.