Tag Archives: Travel

A Tanay Excursion-Part II

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 26, 2024, Manila- With a successful extraction from the muddy road behind us, the five adventurers took to more settled sites-the joys of central Tanay. First off was a fairly new church, Padre Pio Chapel. Here, the ladies indulged in another pose. Kathy could pose forever, and it would not get old.

Tres amigas, at Padre Pio Chapel, Tanay

We got directions from there to a chicken restaurant, Mang Inasal, in Tanay Town Center, where we enjoyed chicken inasal- grilled breast or leg. I covered this part of the meal. K bought us all Halo Halo, a treat that layers shaved us and frozen condensed milk, with bits of fruit.

Following that delectable capstone to today’s journey, we headed over to San Ildfeonso de Toledo Catholic Church, built in 1563. There, we watched a procession of clergy and parishioners, quite common in the Philippines, following Sunday evening Mass.

Procession outside San Ildefonso de Toledo Church, Tanay
Courtyard of San Ildefonso de Toledo Church

After the procession cleared, we made our way over to Tanay Wawa Park, where a small lighthouse stands on the north side of the brackish Laguna de Bay Lake, actually an inlet of Manila Bay. The lake itself is a rich fishing haven, with sea grass and water lilies in abundance, adding a relaxing air to the park.

Wawa, a thriving fishing village, south of Tanay (Above and below)
Tilapia, freshly caught: To buy or not to buy. K and I concluded that lack of a cooler was a problem.
We were satisfied with the decision.
After talking with the fisherfolk, and my climbing the steps up to the top of Tanay Wawa Lighthouse, we headed back towards Manila-but not before stopping at Opus Mall, one of Pasig City’s most opulent. There, a “personal need” became the pretext for more photos. You have to know, I am a willing photographer.

Thus ended one of the sweetest days of this journey.

Cave People, A Change Purse and a Cockroach

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 1, 2024, Manila- The three titular things stood out, in my visit yesterday, to Palawan Heritage Center. My guide, a knowledgeable, if soft-spoken, young lady named Irene, presented two videos: The first, on the island and its tributaries-which constitute the largest province in the Philippines. There are roughly 1, 780 islands and islets in the jurisdiction. The main island is 280 miles (450 km) long and 31 miles (50 km) wide. It is the mini-Chile of the Malay Archipelago. It is also the only part of the Philippines that was once part of mainland Asia.

The second video raised an issue of humanity: The Tau’t Bato, a small subgroup of the Palaw’an First Nation, live traditional, simple lives in the Singnapan Valley, of southern Palawan. They take shelter in nearby caves, during the rainy season. many of the Tau’t Bato came to live in cities, from Puerto Princesa to Manila and Cebu, in the 1970s to 2000s. They found urban life to be totally at variance with their experiences in the Singnapan, only finding “work” as house servants, trash pickers or purveyors of trinkets. They slept on the sidewalks and were generally treated as curiosities, at best, or outcasts, at worst. Many went back to Singnapan, though some still live in the larger communities. Fortunately, those who have returned to their homeland are protected by the provincial and national governments.

As Irene was showing me several paintings by local artists, a cockroach came onto the polished marble floor. I left it to her to decide the insect’s fate, and a janitor was summoned, whisked the creature onto a dustpan and deposited it in the garden outside. (I do this at home, when confronted with a sewer roach.)

The last item was a handmade change purse, which I bought for K, given her love of local handicrafts. I picked up a “glow-in-the-dark” trinket for myself.

Here are a few scenes of the Palawan Heritage Center..

Palawan Provincial House
Some works by local painters
Dr. Higino Mendoza (top row, second from left) was the wartime governor of Palawan. He worked to keep his people safe from Japanese rule, and was executed for his trouble. He is regarded as the provincial hero of Palawan.
Here are more works by local artists.
Here is a replica of Plaza Cuartel’s gate, when it was intact. The present structure has fallen into disrepair.
This depiction of a babaylan ( a traditional healer) was intended, by the Spanish, to frighten children. The healer was actually a gentle soul, as a rule.
Here is a diorama of a Tau’t Bato home.
This may be as close as I get to a Palaw’an village, any time soon.

In the afternoon, I went with Roger to a small local beach, called Aquaman Beach Resort. It is in a small barangay called Bancao-Bancao. The tide was incoming, but the water was like a bath, so I walked around a bit and took some shots.

A view of the Philippine Sea, at Bancao-Bancao. (Above and below)
Roger, resembling Ernest Hemingway.
Longhouse, at high tide.
Lone tree, and a boat cabana
Long view of Aquaman Beach Resort.
Another “tree islet”
Forest trail, out of Aquaman Beach Resort.

My last day in Puerto Princesa ended with a nice meal at McCoy’s Restaurant, at Bay Walk Park. For now, having returned to the capital, Palawan will continue to exist in my heart. The Philippines as a whole will, as well, after I head back to North America, on October 27. Something tells me, though, that we will be far from done with one another.

Soloing

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Historical, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 28, 2024, Puerto Princesa- The shoe, it turns out, was only moved a short distance from its untouched mate. Darkness keeps us in suspense, yet I sense when patience will win out, in daylight. The pair again adorn my feet.

I met another American, this morning. He has settled here in Palawan and farms with his wife, near BM Beach, which will itself be my beach experience on Monday. I have made it known that, so long as I am welcome in the Philippines, next year will bring a longer stay. The “Great Adventures” I had planned for the next five years are better off done with someone I have come to love-and trust- very much. Before them, then, comes earning trust, myself-and so I make that commitment, even with the adjustments this will bring to my comfortable life in Arizona.

Family has only grown larger, over the years, but I have seen a bigger picture than my local scene, since I was four years old. Always branching out, farther and farther-while never forgetting my roots, it has been such a rewarding life. Some of this has been imparted to my son, who is in the rootedness phase of life, and so will be the anchor of annual or semiannual jaunts back to North America. The wider family, though, will hardly shrink.

I felt comfortable enough, this evening, to walk south and west, and take in Puerto Princesa’s Bayside Park, its Cathedral and Plaza Cuartel- the scene of a brutal massacre during World War II. It may or may not be a hallmark of American travelers, but I go anywhere that is not off-limits, or is obviously dangerous turf. Puerto Princesa is not a dangerous place.

Statue of the “princess”, for whom the city is named. She was an elusive figure, it is said.

Peacock Statue (Tandikan)-the provincial bird of Palawan.

University crew members, in practice

City logo, at Bayside Park.

Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Puerto Princesa

Account of brutality that grew out of fear.

So went my solo visit to Hondo Bay and its interesting park.

Eastbound and Back, Day 17: France in North America, Part I

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 15, 2024, St. Pierre, SPM- The little girl was proudly pushing her training-wheeled bicycle up the sidewalk of the waterfront park, confidently returning my greeting of “Bonjour”. Continuing my walk, my eyes cast about, for who the adult accompanying her might be, as even in this small town, on a Eurocentric island in the North Atlantic, there is a concern for safety. Not to worry- Maman called to her petite ange, who told her that she would not go onto the street. For good measure, Maman went up to her daughter and brought bicycle and child back into the park. Life on Ile St. Pierre thus proceeds as it does elsewhere in La Belle France, the major part of which lies a minimum of 3822 km/ 2375 mi. (Brest, Bretagne) to the east.

Bruce, the sole attendant these days, at Abbie’s Garden, named for his late first wife, wished aloud that he’d had a better sleep. Still, he put together a fine breakfast and wished me well, on my visit to St. Pierre and the rest of my journey. Then, he said he was going back to bed. I wish him well, and a speedy recovery from what seemed to ail him this morning.

The drive over to Fortune, and the ferry office, was no big deal, but I did have to ask where the ticket office was, as all signs point to the actual terminal. A kind Canadian customs officer steered me in the right direction, tickets were purchased, Sportage was safely parked in a secure lot up the road, I caught a shuttle back to the terminal, and an hour later, twenty-five of us were en route to the sole remnant of French North America, north of the Caribbean Sea.

My interest in St. Pierre & Miquelon is not so much in its being French, as in its existence as a mini-state of sorts-a North American Andorra, or Nauru. Much of the approach to SPM is standard: Bags are inspected, at the Canadian Border Station, in Fortune and again upon arrival in St. Pierre; passports are stamped, with the imprimatur of St. Pierre & Miquelon; a short, but winding, walkway leads out of the terminal.

My shuttle driver, Julie, was waiting, with a sign that had my name imprinted. There was a hearty “Bienvenu!”, and I thanked her, in my halting, tentative French (It’s been ten years since my visit to La Patrie and a brief passage through Quebec, in 2022, scarcely required much usage of La Langue Maternelle at all). Excuses aside, we agreed to toggle between our two languages, and indeed that seems to be the sentiment of everyone I encountered this afternoon.

Auberge Quatre Temps

After settling in, at Auberge Quatre Temps, I got my bearings from the complimentary map, then set out to check the downtown and waterfront areas. Centre Ville has the modest Cathedral de Sacre Coeur, a Prefectural Office and a City Hall (Hotel de Ville). There are several boulangeries and a few Patisseries (One never goes into a bread shop, looking for pastry-or vice versa-save for the one baker here, who offers both). St. Pierre has a public library (Bibliotheque) and a large athletic field, where a few intrepid fathers were coaching their sons and daughters, on the finer points of soccer.

Cathedrale de Sacre Coeur

At the waterfront, once mother and daughter left, I encountered a small group of adults and children, having a celebratory gathering of some kind. The adults were putting on Disney character costumes, which fazed the kids not at all. Two boys were chasing one another around the base of the closed lighthouse, and two girls were helping their elders with the costumes. As I left, and prepared to photograph the four cannons that stand in repose, a bit to the north of the lighthouse, a young woman dashed out of a car, marked “St. Pierre et Miquelon”, tripod in hand, set up the device, focused on a vessel in the bay, took her photos and dashed back to the car, speeding off-towards whatever office awaiting her return.

Lighthouse at Havre St. Pierre

I saw quite a few people driving somewhat hurriedly, stopping quickly, dashing out of their cars, doing a brisk errand and then hopping back in the cars and zipping off to whatever was next. Pedestrians, on the other hand, were relaxed and happy, as they made their evening rounds. When I found myself a bit north of Quatre Temps, a lady was glad to offer direction-in both French and English. This will be a fine two-day retourne a France.

Gordian Knots

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 18,2024- A bit ago, a boy in an intermediate school was placed in detention, for hitting a girl classmate. He told the principal that he felt demeaned by the girl and her friends, so he did the only thing he knew-he lashed out.

Anxiety fuels fear, which fuels aggression, which fuels more anxiety and aggression-all tied up in a Gordian knot. The legend of Alexander the Great has the king using the expedient solution of cutting a complex knot with a sword, rather than trying to loosen and unravel it. Modern times find certain rulers using brute force, in an attempt to bring an end to “intractable” problems. Thus, a series of events that would be amusingly schoolboyish, were they not so chilling, are unfolding between two countries-in the guise of preservation of faith.

Thomas Sowell’s admonition that there are no solutions, only trade-offs, has never rung more true than in the matter of the conflict in western Asia. The resolution of this matter involves, essentially, two basic processes: 1. All people living within the borders of a nation-state need to have a full voice in the affairs of that nation-state, provided they are willing to abide by the laws of that nation-state; 2. Countries that neighbour one another need to fully honour the legitimate rights of all people in their neighbouring states, to say nothing of honouring the legitimate rights of their own citizens. The trade-offs will need to be worked out, but they cannot allow dominance of any one country, or national ideology, or authoritarian ruler, over its neighbours.

I’m keeping an eye on the situation in western Asia, at least for the effect it will have on my plans for Autumn, which presently involve transit stops in two airports in that region. Those places need to show a modicum of safety, in order for anyone to make even the briefest of stops. There is also the impact the conflict will have (is at least temporarily having) on global finance. The possibility exists that I may be working for wages in October, instead of visiting Baha’is in east Africa, after my September visit to the Philippines.

Fear triggers anxiety, which brings on aggression, triggering more fear and anxiety. I face all this, knowing that in either Plan A or Plan B, I will be okay on a personal level. Many communities and countries will get through the matter, just fine. There will, however, be vast areas, and millions of people, who won’t be at all fine-with the situations in Gaza, Darfur and Ukraine just the beginning, unless the Gordian Knots are untied, rather than cut.

Gratitude Week, Day 7: The Finest Fruits

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Uncategorized

November 24, 2018, Prescott-

I have decided to end this week of gratitude, by looking back at the ten best choices I ever made.  I am grateful to the Universe for having placed these in front of me and I have a measure of self-gratitude for having made them.

10,  Serving in the Army– At 18, I had little to show for my life. There was no discipline, of which to speak and my world consisted of drooling over girls and imbibing too much alcohol, too fast.  Other-imposed discipline gave me a regimen, which I could add to the work ethic that my parents instilled in each of us and it set me on  a course of self-reliance, which I still need and use.

9.  Studying Psychology- It didn’t make me wealthy and barely got me a job, but knowing something of what makes the human mind tick has given me insight into myself and has made me more understanding of others.

8. Living on the Navajo Nation- I have a strong genetic memory of the Indigenous. I am not much, in terms of blood quantum, but my nature fairly burns with the feeling that I belong in the woodlands; that I am a gatherer and a sharer; that I am one with the Universe. Being on the same page, day to day, with Dineh (Navajo) and Hopi people reinforced that unity.

7. Blogging-   Writing is a skill that three of my four high school English teachers saw as a talent that I needed to sharpen.  They gave me the tools to keep on sharpening that talent.  College brought it up another notch.  As a caretaker, and then as a widower, far from extended family, blogging gave me an outlet, one step up from journaling  (which I also still do) and a wider appreciative audience.

6, Returning to work, full time- In 2016, having been a substitute teacher, with a couple of other jobs, whilst being Penny’s caretaker, I found a niche at Prescott High School.  My place there was, more or less, secure and I was urged to return full-time, for the years leading up to my retirement from education.  That work has been fulfilling, and will remain so until I reach 70, two years from now.

5.  Working as a counselor- As a school counselor, I was able to impact thousands of lives, over the span of eleven years, between Tuba City and Keams Canyon/Jeddito, and some of those lives were saved.  I am haunted by  a few lives that weren’t and by those I couldn’t reach.  The majority, though, learned life skills and resilience, and knew that someone had their backs.

4. Settling in Prescott- The job aside, moving here after Penny’s passing was a lifesaver.  I had the anchor of a house, for the time I needed it, and of a Faith Community with whom I was already familiar and who were not intimate with Penny’s suffering.  That last was important.  I could not have the constant reminders of all that we had endured together.  Since then, I have made many new friends and branched out in several directions-all healthy.

3. Widespread travel-Besides going back and forth from Arizona to the East Coast, for family visits, my wanderlust has taken me to western Europe, Hawai’i, the Pacific Northwest and southeast Alaska.  I took in a small swath of eastern Canada, last summer and am likely to cross our northern neighbour again, in the summer of 2020.  California, Nevada and Colorado have also seen a lot of me, these past seven years, as have the South and Midwest.  This is an essential part of who I am.

2.  Getting married- I have always been crazy about girls and women.  There isn’t much about the opposite gender that I don’t like, though I am proud to be male.    Self-dislike got in the way, though, when I found myself drawn to one young lady after another.  Penny didn’t fall for any of that, and we built a solid foundation, by which both of us were able to tame most of our demons and raise a fine young man, who has taken his full place in the world.

1. Recognizing Baha’u’llah- I received a solid spiritual foundation, having been raised in the Roman Catholic faith. As I matured, though, the rituals and practices began to feel automatic to me, and I have always known that there is a continuity to Divine Revelation, superseding any one of the faiths or denominations that are commonplace.  In 1972, I heard of Baha’u’llah, and the Baha’i Faith, for the first time.  Nine years later, I embraced Baha’i as my own.  I have found its precepts teach everything in which I already believe, and the teachings regarding health are exactly what I needed, to tame the demon of alcohol dependence.  Far beyond those, however, are the vision of planetary and human unity-dispelling the darknesses of racism, nationalism and excessive materialism.

I am sure I will have other choices to make, in the coming days, months, and years.  Perhaps a life-changer will be among them, as well.