Footnote to Youth

I've read this short story a long time ago but it remained to be a favorite. For those who are unluckily and were unable to read this yet, I wish you would enjoy it the way I did.

Just to reiterate (as there are some who might still ask), this is not something that I've written. Let's all thanks Jose Garcia Villa - a true Filipino gem, for coming with this exceptional piece. - YERU

Footnote to Youth
By Jose Garcia Villa

The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and led it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, he wanted his father to know what he had to say was of serious importance as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, but a thought came to him that his father might refuse to consider it. His father was a silent hardworking farmer, who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodong’s grandmother.

He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework.

I will tell him. I will tell it to him.

The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell. Many slender soft worm emerged from the further rows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong’s foot and crawled clammilu over it. Dodong got tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where into the air, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young anymore.

Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and fave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it and the carabao began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interest.

Dodong started homeward thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, then down on his upper lip was dark-these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man – he was a man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it, although he was by nature low in stature.

Thinking himself man – grown, Dodong felt he could do anything.

He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the cool sundown, he thought wild young dreams of himself and Teang, his girl. She had a small brown face and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How desirable she was to him. She made him want to touch her, to hold her. She made him dream even during the day.

Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscle of his arms. Dirty. This fieldwork was healthy invigorating, but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he had come, then marched obliquely to a creek.

Must you marry, Dodong?”

Dodong resented his father’s question; his father himself had married early.

Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray under shirt and red kundiman shorts, on the grass. Then he went into the water, wet his body over and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not long in bathing, then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool.

It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling was already lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. He and his parents sat down on the floor around the table to eat. They had fried freshwater fish, and rice, but did not partake of the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when one held the,, they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of caked sugar, dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more, but he thought of leaving the remainder for his parent.

Dodong’s mother removed the dishes when they were through, and went with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out. But he was tired and now, feld lazy. He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework. He pitied her, doing all the housework alone.

His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him, again. Dodong knew, Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was afraid, his father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward, Dodong himself thought that if he had a decayed tooth, he would be afraid to go to the dentist; he would not be any bolder than his father.

Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was out, what we had to say, and over which he head said it without any effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt relived and looked at his father expectantly. A decresent moon outside shed its feebled light into the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His father look old now.

“I am going to marry Teang,” Dodong said.

His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth, The silenece became intense and cruel, and Dodong was uncomfortable and then became very angry because his father kept looking at him without uttering anything.

“I will marry Teang,” Dodong repeated. “I will marry Teang.”

His father kept gazing at him in flexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat.

I asked her last night to marry me and she said… “Yes. I want your permission… I… want… it…” There was an impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at his coldness, this indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the little sound it made broke dully the night stillness.

“Must you marry, Dodong?”

Dodong resented his father’s question; his father himself had married early. Dodong made a quick impassioned essay in his mind about selfishness, but later, he got confused.

“You are very young, Dodong.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“That’s very young to get married at.”

“I… I want to marry… Teang’s a good girl…

“Tell your mother,” his father said.

“You tell her, Tatay.”

“Dodong, you tell your Inay.”

“You tell her.”

“All right, Dodong.”

“All right, Dodong.”

“You will let me marry Teang?”

“Son, if that is your wish… of course…” There was a strange helpless light in his father’s eyes. Dodong did not read it. Too absorbed was he in himself.

Dodong was immensely glad he has asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father, for a while, he even felt sorry for him about the pain I his tooth. Then he confined his mind dreaming of Teang and himself.

Sweet young dreams…

***

Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely so that his camiseta was damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left.

He wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt afraid of the house. It had seemingly caged him, to compress his thoughts with severe tyranny. He was also afraid of Teang who was giving birth in the house; she face screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry.

In a few moments he would be a father. “Father, father,” he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He was young, he realized now contradicting himself of nine months ago. He was very young… He felt queer, troubled, uncomfortable.

Dodong felt tired of standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet close together. He looked at his calloused toes. Then he thought, supposed he had ten children…

The journey of thought came to a halt when he heard his mother’s voice from the house.

Some how, he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something not properly his.

“Come up, Dodong. It is over.”

Suddenly, he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow, he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he has taken something not properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust off his kundiman shorts.

“Dodong,” his mother called again. “Dodong.”

He turned to look again and this time, he saw his father beside his mother.

“It is a boy.” His father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.

Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. His parent’s eyes seemed to pierce through him so he felt limp. He wanted to hide or even run away from them.

“Dodong, you come up. You come up,” his mother said.

Dodong did not want to come up. He’d rather stayed in the sun.

“Dodong… Dodong.”

I’ll… come up.

Dodong traced the tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parent’s eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untru. He felt like crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him.

“Son,” his father said.

And his mother: “Dodong..”

How kind their voices were. They flowed into him, making him strong.

“Teang?” Dodong said.

“She’s sleeping. But you go in…”

His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his wife, asleep on the paper with her soft black hair around her face. He did not want her to look that pale.

Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips. But again that feeling of embarrassment came over him, and before his parent, he did not want to be demonstrative.
The hilot was wrapping the child Dodong heard him cry. The thin voice touched his heart. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him.

“You give him to me. You give him to me,” Dodong said.

***

Blas was not Dodong’s only child. Many more children came. For six successive years, a new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children. But they came. It seemed that the coming of children could not helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.

Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children tolled on her. She was shapeless and thin even if she was young. There was interminable work that kept her tied up. Cooking, laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had no married. She did not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet, she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong whom she loved. There had neen another suitor, Lucio older than Dodong by nine years and that wasw why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong who was only seventeen. Lucio had married another. Lucio, she wondered, would she have born him children? Maybe not, either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong… in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about many things.

Life did not fulfill all of Youth’s dreams.

Why must be so? Why one was forsaken… after love?

One of them was why life did not fulfill all of the youth’ dreams. Why it must be so. Why one was forsaken… after love.

Dodong could not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to make youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet.

Dodong returned to the house, humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know little wisdom but was denied it.

When Blas was eighteen, he came home one night, very flustered and happy. Dodong heard Blas’ steps for he could not sleep well at night. He watched Blass undress in the dark and lie down softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called his name and asked why he did not sleep.
You better go to sleep. It is late,” Dodong said.

Life did not fulfill all of youth’s dreams. Why it must be so? Why one was forsaken after love?

“Itay..” Blas called softly.

Dodong stirred and asked him what it was.

“I’m going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.

“Itay, you think its over.”

Dodong lay silent.

I loved Tona and… I want her.”

Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard where everything was still and quiet.

The moonlight was cold and white.

“You want to marry Tona, Dodong said, although he did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young.
The life that would follow marriage would be hard…

“Yes.”

“Must you marry?”

Blas’ voice was steeled with resentment. “I will mary Tona.”

“You have objection, Itay?” Blas asked acridly.

“Son… non…” But for Dodong, he do anything. Youth must triumph… now.  Love must triumph… now.

Afterward… It will be life.

As long ago, Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong… and then life.

Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and sorry for him.

Sorrow, Oh, Sorrow!

I can smell the stench of sorrow

knocking on an invisible door

that is the depths of my heart.

Its arms are open wide, inviting

but as they touch my skin

they're cold, numbing;

taking away the warmth,

the breath of the sun

that had nurtured all else

except perhaps the skull

of God that had remained

hidden, forbidden.

I can feel the embrace of sorrow,

can feel its paralyzing grip

the clutches of the nails

never wanting to let go.

They drill deep down inside me

inside my hollow inner self

that I have kept away

from judging, troubling stares

but sorrow, oh sorrow,

the pain and the stench,

the murderous embrace,

must stop. For I,

by you, need to be let go.

Kapurpurawan: A Piece of Greece (It, isn't!)

“For a moment there, I thought I was in Greece.”

I think that described a small part of the enigmatic beauty of what is called Kapurpurawan. Spoken by a long time travel enthusiast and partner, she could have not said a far better description or a perfect reference.

For Kapurpurawan is exactly that. It is Greece in one aspect but something else on its own.

More than twelve (12) hours of picturesque bus ride had took us to this piece of wonder a few kilometres away from Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte – a place I discovered has been keeping a lot of promising sites that at present are doggedly and hastily being abused by tourism and economics.

They said that imitation is the greatest form of flattery. Cliché I know. But Kapurpurawan is no imitation of Greece. The wind, the sun, the sea and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of years of nature’s antagonism and indifference had worked to our benefit for the Philippines has been gifted a small but hopefully a lasting legacy.

Although not as labyrinthine as the Grand Canyon, Kapurpurawan hold on its own a breathtaking wonder making it one of the must-see places in Ilocos. Perhaps, a trip up north is not complete without saying hello to the charming place’s turquoise sea, inviting white walls and wide, eye-catching lawn.

Kapurpurawan is not your usual travel destination. It is only for those who travel wanting to find which that only nature can provide, some call it peace, others call it solace, I, on the other hand, would like to call it a place of bliss. 

Best Job In the World

I couldn't agree more. :P

Call it Crazy!

Earlier today, I overheard two gentlemen talking. One of them said: these are bad times to be courageous. They couldn’t be more right.

But that’s not what this entry is all about.

I can’t end (or begin) this day without summarizing how I feel about the past twenty-four (24) hours. The night shift is a crazy adventure but I seem not to regret being in one.

My peers and I were doing some training, the reason of which I’d rather keep to myself.

Tonight is perhaps the highlight of the week. I was in the company of great people. I laughed a lot. I can’t remember the last time that I enjoyed being awake in the wee hours of the morning but today is one of the best nights (or morning).

My friends (yes, I realized that they are no longer acquaintances or just workmates) and I talked about a lot of things. Some of those things were dreary – purely a vexation to the imagination, some utterly disgusting, some incontestably funny and some tested my tolerance for things, well let’s say unheard of.

I’ve always considered myself as an open-minded person. Tonight however, that thought of being open-minded was put to the test. I realized that there are a lot of things that can make me uncomfortable. I giggled like crazy but inside I felt embarrassed. My Lola’s conservative ideals rubbed off on me really bad.

But despite my being uncomfortable, I’d like to think of our conversation as educated. I learned a lot and my only regret is that to have the same group of people in one setting and to have such interesting talk will no longer be possible after May 3.

I hope I have painted a picture of a happy office environment. At least that aspect is happy.

Back at home, everything’s not as great. I’m beginning…

Honestly, I don’t know what I’m saying. I seem to be doing very good in making someone feel irresponsible and useless, as the person put it.

They said that there’s calm before the storm – and I’m not in the mood right now to be in a storm. But I think, the longer you are in a state of happiness, the greater the possibility of getting sad. I remember my mother back when I was young. Whenever my brother and I had too much fun, she would ask us -warn us to stop otherwise one of us will end up crying. She was right every time.

So this has been the lesson I’ve kept in my heart growing up: too much happiness is not good. The heavens only allow you to be very happy if it’s planning to take something away from you.

And I dread for that time to come but at this moment, I think it’s already at my very door and there’s no stopping it.

I know that the last five paragraphs prior to this are confusing. I think I will have clarity in the days to come and maybe by then I will be able to write with sense, too.

Pannzian: (Twilight's) Forks, Washington of the Philippines

When Stephenie Meyer wrote, "a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains in this inconsequential town more than any other place..." for her bestselling book Twilight (as narrated by the hopeless-romantic Bella), I thought she was just mistaken and was really meaning a different place.

When she added, "It was beautiful, of course; ... Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves..." I was so sure she was not describing a small town in the US but a remote place up north here in the Philippines.

Of course, I haven't been to Forks, Washington. But I'd been to Pansian in Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte, and I could have sworn it was Meyer's Forks coming to life.

Pansian is a few kilometers away from the Ilocos Norte - Cagayan Valley Border. Just like Meyer's Forks, it has plenty of green, the beach is untamed when rain pours but a great one for swimming when it's hot and the Ilocano natives are just as elusive and mystical as the Quileute Indians.

What is fresh and exciting about this place is it's privacy. It hasn't made anyone's top list yet making Pannzian Mountain Resort a destination for people who value privacy and exclusivity for their families or themselves.

MUST TRIES:

Lemon Grass Tea

Cost: Php15.00

Turon

Cost: Php30.00 (per serving of two)

Tip#1

Bring Your Own Tent

Corkage Cost: Php250.00

Tip#2

Expect rain at all times.

Tip#3

Slight delay in meals.

Be proactive when you order your food as they are prepared/cooked only after orders were taken.

There is no such thing as first come, first served. The resort tend to prioritize family members, friends and/or close acquaintances and staff had been trained to do as such.

Pannzian Mountain Resort

Website: http://pannzian.com/

The Cab Ride I’ll Never Forget

This is one of the best essays I've read. I think it definitely is worth blogging about. This has inspired me to write my next blog entry. I'd like to emphasize that the essay is not mine and I don't have any intention to violate any copyrights. Hope you'd enjoy it the way I did.


The Cab Ride I’ll Never Forget
By Kent Nerburn

“We may not all live holy lives, but we live in aworld

alive with holy moments.”~ Kent Nerburn

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.

It was a cowboy’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.

What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry.

Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, and made me laugh and weep.

But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night. I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.

But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation.

Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute”, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80?s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knick-knacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

“It’s nothing”, I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“Oh, you’re such a good boy”, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked,

“Could you drive through downtown?”

“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.”

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to take?” I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You have to make a living,” she answered.

“There are other passengers”.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware – beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

I'm blogging again!

Everything has to begin with an introduction. And so here it is.

I have in my Facebook page these lines...

I've written them when I was still in college (about 6 years ago). I used them in my Friendster account and then when that got cancelled, I can't seem to let go and has therefore, decided to reuse it in my FB profile.

With every introduction, there is always the possibility of goodbye, with every hello - a farewell.

If I sound somber, that's not my intention. This is not the kind of introduction that I wanted for this blog. I wanted it to be fun, joyful, entertaining but more than that, I wanted this blog to be an honest reflection of my thoughts.

I' m saying hello to this blog ecstatic because finally, after several tries and attempts, I finally found what seemed to be a fitting title. But that joy is temporary because some time later, I found out that an officemate is saying farewell. I'd like to think of it as a coincidence but years of experience had instilled in me that there will be a lot of new beginnings but in the same vein, some old things eventually have to end as well.

And today of all days, in the onset of my trying to write an introduction, I have to be reminded that nothing ever stays the same.

So my thoughts are both that of joy and sadness but I'll set the sadness aside for later.

So why "finding. y buen."?

There are a lot of reasons behind it really. I wanted it to be finding.eden because I wanted it to be a travel blog but I realized that this blog wouldn't be all about places - it will also be about life experiences, things that would move me, songs and movies that would entertain me and other stuffs which may be nice and not so nice but all memorable and significant.

Y buen is playing with my last name Ebuen (I'd like to believe of it as a rough translation of the good). Therefore, "finding. y buen." is about finding what is elusive in life (and in these challenging times, could mean anything at all), finding what is good and ultimately, finding out the inner workings of my thoughts.

So yes, today I say hello new blog!

I command you to come alive.

With this command my commitment to always keep you updated.

And I am happy for your creation.

As mentioned, behind this joy however, is a certain sadness fueled by the fact that a little sooner, nothing will ever stay the same. I regret, early as now, the things that I will miss.

But life goes on.

Just in case you're interested, this is an excerpt of a poem I penned several weeks ago. Another coincidence I think.

I hope you’d read my next and future posts.
Thank you.