Pinoy in China

Two weeks ago I flew to China to attend our annual Lean Conference. I didn’t have much time to roam around as I spent my weekend finishing my presentation. Having my finicky boss around wasn’t much of help, as I had to do several revisions just to suit her unpredictable taste.

I missed the 1^st eviction night of Pinoy Big Brother. Hell, I’ve even missed the fight of Pacquiao. Darn how could I have missed that! Actually, I really couldn’t qualify it as missing the match because I never even knew that Pacquiao had a scheduled fight that weekend. Goes to show that my work-life balance has already gone awry, I being unaware of the outside world.

If it’s any consolation I did get to squeeze in a bit of time for myself in China. Had a great time visiting the bars of Gunagzhou and Shanghai. Filipinos are well known there for being excellent band performers. (My former colleagues in GE China thought all Filipinos were good singers. I have proven them wrong when after their incessant prodding, I rendered a rather blood-curdling and hair-raising version of Hotel California in a karaoke session)

I fooled a Pinay singer in the bar of my hotel in Guangzhou. She thought I was Chinese. Naturally she was jubilant when I spoke to her in Tagalog. I’ve met other Pinoys also lounging in the bar. They were sailors who were docked for the week in China. We sat together around a table (the band members later joined us after their show). For that night we felt like old friends talking about our beloved country.

It’s refreshing to know that while discord seems to be the way of life here, out there when Pinoy strangers meet each other they feel a sense of oneness, of being at home.

More of the saga next time. Here’s a snapshot of the colossal Yangpu bridge in Shanghai.

Toilet paper life

Life is like a roll of toilet paper - the nearer you are at the end the faster it goes.

I probably saw this quote, on some CR graffiti in my college dorm.

Well stated analogy and despite its perturbing implications it speaks of undeniable truth and impeccable wisdom.

Time moved at an excruciatingly slow pace when I was young. This most likely because the town where I grew up was very laid back, detached from the hustle and bustle of city life. Mountains loomed on the east, shorelines sprawled on the west - we were safely secluded from the rest of the world and within my world, time moved at its own unhurried pace.

The days seemed to move soooooo slow. A whole year felt like forever. A million sunsets had to happen before my next birthday.

I had wanted to move things fast forward, to mature in haste and discover what wonders lie beyond the horizons. Growing old - it then meant freedom, independence, adventure - was something I had looked forward to.

Alas! such folly of childhood; too young to comprehend its wonder, its sheer magic, its immense beauty. Wasn’t there a saying that goes“ We never get to appreciate the importance of something till we lose it”?

Now that I am old, everything moves like a blur. Weeks, months and years rush by determinedly, no slowing down, no going back.

One just feels helpless to the edacious time. You want to stop it or even to slow it just a bit, cling on to the past as if your whole existence rests on it.

But the more you hang on to the past, the faster it slips away. We are dragged inexorably, hurriedly toward our predestined end. Fight as we may, we don’t get to win.

And probably the only thing that we could do is accept the inevitability, of course never grieving about what was lost, but making the most of what is left.