Million People March: 26 August 2013

I successfully convinced my two sons (who are in their early 20’s) to come with me to the Rizal Park to join the march.  This was to be their very first experience to be on the streets.

!Maki-baka! Hwag magbaboy!
(English translation:  Let's have beef, not pork)

As expected,  it was a picnic Sunday.  For a total of P350.00 (USD7.86) we had a hearty breakfast in a hole-in-the-wall eatery  along Adriatico St.  

They were just on standby

A tree house across the grand U.S.  Embassy

The morning sun was shy and the cool breeze from Manila Bay dominated the air. The new U.S. embassy building was impressive.  The police force and all other government enforcers were just in the sideline, unobtrusive.  Roxas Blvd. to Luneta (which were closed to vehicular traffic) became the playground of the masses that beautiful Sunday morning.

The gathering at the park was literally clean fun.  There were no showbiz people and/or politicians hogging microphones.  Since there was no formal program, no one person or organization dominated the activities.

Cardinal Chito Tagle, the Archbishop of Manila, was there, too.

In fact, no one used the Quirino grandstand.  Wherever there was a small dry ground in the park, people will converge in small groups listening to music,  dancing,  chatting with old friends, or spreading their sit-upons.

Among the bosses of President Aquino

Going around the many pocket groups entailed reading the placards with catchy, if not humorous,  text.  Picture-taking was commonplace, and the two carabao statues were the most photographed background,  even more popular than Jose Rizal, the national hero whose imposing monument is the icon of the park.

From the simple to the complex

Two ugly things I noticed:   A vendor selling umbrellas at a price not many people took, and a radio reporter who interviewed the owner of the effigy of President Aquino, who in a very sly manner, asked the man, "Why are you not burning this effigy?".  To which the man said, "I am here not to do such a thing".

Three participants captured my admiration.  The motorbike rider who came with his amplifier-bedecked bike.  When I asked him to increase the volume, he said, "Ma'am, that's already full volume because my amplifiers got submerged in the floods brought by typhoon Maring".

Looks like we could fly

The San Juan de Letran  students (I reckon, the biggest contingent) came with their drums and bugles. A big screen displayed on real time the twits that earned the event the highest trending for the day in Twitter.

The world was our audience

But the meaning of the day could be summed up by two people from Mariveles, Bataan holding their banner.  Their issue:  The 2 garbage trucks that the local government procured in 2011 could be the most expensive garbage trucks in the Philippines -  costing around P13 million each, when the market price  for the same type is less than P5 million.  They have raised the matter to the appropriate government agencies concerned, including the Commission on Audit.  They are almost frustrated because they have not even received an acknowledgment of their complaint.  Some passersby promised to help them in their expose.

A garbage truck for the price of a helicopter?

Late lunch was at Café Mediterranean and we ended the day with an appreciation of old maps displayed at the MOA lobby (see http://lifestyle.inquirer.net/121905/self-esteem-grows-with-cartography).

A few days ago our hearts were rending for the flood victims.  As soon as the skies cleared, we left behind our troubles and gaily showed up at Rizal Park.  

Indeed, it is more fun in the Philippines!

On being a student - once more

My school

Volunteering has given me a new sense of perspective in life.  This comes at a time when in the conduct of my life's inventory, I noticed that my biggest asset now is PERSONAL TIME.  Isn't this an opportunity to seek another dimension to a more meaningful last 1/3 of my life?

Aristotle contemplating the bust of Homer (google images)

Well, I got myself again into a road less travelled by people of my age  (see http://eveavila.blogspot.com/2011/09/gulu-ngo-town.html).  I went back to school and enrolled in Philosophy 101  - Philosophy of the Human Person.  At the onset, there are already signs that this would be another life-enriching experience.

My adviser in this back-to-school project was my son, Yori.  First, I chose the subject based on the course description, then short-listed the professors by referring to the students' blog.  The blog contains comments on the strengths and weaknesses of each professor.  Next important factor was the class schedule.  With this information on hand,  I was ready to enroll.

My classroom - donated by the bank I joined 30 years ago.

This time, our roles were reversed.  It seems not too long ago when I would take a day-off at work to enroll my children and bring them to their classrooms on the first day in school.  Now, it was Yori queuing for his mom, leading his mom by the hand to find her classroom so she knows where to go on the first day, giving his mom a tour of the campus (library, cafeteria, bookstore, chapel, etc), so she will easily find her way.

Smocket, short for smokers' pocket garden

For a senior citizen like me, being in a school campus these days is like being in a different planet.  It was a shocker to see female students  attending classes in very short pants or very revealing tops.  Well, I understand that the strictest dressing code is not on the dress but on footwear.  Sandals or slippers without ankle straps are prohibited.  I was not surprised when a mom told me that she even asked her son why he goes to school in a get-up that looks like he just got up from bed.

A stroll not in the park, but to the classroom

When I got home from my first day in school, it was my son's turn to ask 

"How was your first day in school, Mom?"

My classmates, awaiting seating arrangements