Encountering Wan Ho Jo: My Korean Tour Guide Par Excellence

The man behind me is not a photo bomber. He is my tour guide in a 10-cities itinerary that took me from the north in Incheon where I landed; to a point south lower than Busan where I had been 6 months before; and back again to the north of the Korean peninsula to Seoul City, where I took my flight back to the Philippines. Incheon City, Gongju City, Daejeon City, Jeonju City, Jinan City, Boseong City, Suncheon City, Gwangju City, Yongin City, Seoul City.

Wan Ho Jo is an amiable guy, about 5’ 11” tall, and a bit lanky for his height. Wearing eyeglasses all the time, he looks more like an academician. He says he is 30 years old going by the international calendar system, having been born on December 5. But he is 32 years old if you go by the Korean calendar, because Koreans are considered 1 year old at birth; and then by year's end, 1 year is again added. So in his case, from December 5 to 31, or after 25 days, another year is added, making him 32 years old.

When he introduced himself, he said his friends called him Wan-no, which I guess was some sort of a nickname, and so I had called him that ever since. Wan-no learned English in middle school. I understood Koreans to have a 12-year system of education prior to university. But he said Korean kids now learn English in as early as elementary school. He is proficient in his spoken English, but he pronounces some words with effort. I learned later that Koreans have a phonetic system very similar to the Philippine phonetic system, except that they have 10 vowels and 14 consonants. And the first 5 of these vowels, believe it or not, are: ah- eh-ee-oh-ou. In any case, the rule-of-thumb he gave me is to write the spoken words as I hear them – simple.

Tour guides of today have a very potent tool in Google. Whenever Wan-no sees that I don’t catch up easily with what he is talking about, he simply clicks and returns to me a Google search data from his iPhone. By the way, considering that this is Korea, the originator of the widely popular android Samsung, I noticed that a lot of younger Koreans are using iPhones. I asked him why, and Wan-no’s answer was a simple “I like Apple”, but that he thinks the older generation still preferred Samsung.

The one thing that struck me about Wan-no was his graciousness and warm courtesy. One night after dinner, as we were walking back to our Kiwajib – the traditional clay roof house where we were billeted – I had made the observation that South Korea’s first tourists are the South Koreans themselves. I had observed that, on my last visit to this place 6 months ago, many young Korean parents brought their kids to the same tourist spots I visited. They love their culture and are the first educators of this culture to their children. This is probably the reason Koreans have such a rich 6000-year recorded history and tradition. In response, Wan-no made a quiet bow and offered his ‘thank you’ profusely.

Wan-no is indeed proud of Korean tradition and history. He will explain the site we are about to visit, or the food we are about to eat. He chose our meals carefully, making sure that we get a taste, not only of the standard Korean food, but also of the local food that each of the 10 cities I went to had to offer. For example, I learned that there are several kinds of Kimchi, which are fermented from cucumber, raddish, and several types of cabbage. And although I had eaten Korean barbeque before, I learned that Samgyeopsal, which is barbequed pork belly, literally means 3 layers. You will observe that the raw belly-part meat, before you put it in the hot plate, will have 3 layers of meat separated by thin slivers of fat. This differentiates it from either Moksal, which is meat from neck-part, or Galbi, which is rib-part. Although Wan-no will barbeque meat to well-done, he thinks it is best to do it medium-well. Wan-no checks out all your barbequed meat and will scrape all black residue on the meat surface if your meat gets overly roasted. He will do this extra effort because his father taught him his may cause cancer.

We took all our meals in Korean restaurants. Sometimes we used conventional chairs and tables, at other times we sat on the floor using traditional Korean table. Since it was winter, many of these places remained cold inside despite the huge heaters that they have. The only exception would be the floor, which would invariably be warm. Wan-no pointed out that Korea is basically a sitting culture – they would sit on the floor for eating or talking with family. This is why they use efficient floor heating systems. My Kiwajib, the traditional clay-roof house where I stayed, had no beds, yet the floor had to be warmed purposely because it served as the bed. Even modern buildings like Wan-no’s 6th floor apartment, have heated floors.

Wan-no is not overly religious, but he had such respect for the way he explained religion. He said that Koreans are 8% Catholics; 18% Christians; 14% Buddhists; and 50% no-religion. He took the effort to wait patiently outside as we prayed inside the Jeondong Catholic Church in Jeonju City; or as we sat on the floor of the Buddha inside Tapsa Temple in Jinan City, in a visit to its mysterious stone pagodas, at minus 9 degrees.

When I asked him about the towns we passed as we took long drives in-between cities, Wan-no said there were no exact translations for some English words such as localities smaller than cities. So in Korea, addresses are denoted by the Si–Gu–Tong system. For example, he resides in: Seoul Si, Mapo Gu, Songsan Tong. That’s the city of Seoul, Mapo district, Songsan locality, roughly speaking.

Wan-no also said some translations are bad. One extremely cold morning, I had an early breakfast at the 18th floor of Lotte Hotel, Daejeon City, which is one of the most prestigious hotel and department store chains in Korea. It has an imposing 360-degree view of Gap Cheon Stream, and the awesome bridges that crisscrossed it. I ate, believe it or not, ‘lugaw’ called “Person Who Lives in Poverty Porridge” in the midst of this majestic and grandest of views. This ‘lugaw’ is actually Maesaengi Juk rice porridge. It is thick and greenish in color, and has a distinct crab meat taste. The main ingredient is seaweed, for which Korea is popular.

On the last evening of my itinerary, Wan-no intimated that it is his wedding anniversary, and his wife is expecting to deliver their first child soon. I congratulated him and bade him goodbye as we shook hands. Back on my hotel lobby, I reflected on what makes this and my other travels fulfilling. It is not only the visual delight of viewing spectacular sights, but the opportunity of learning how other peoples live. There is so much to admire in one another’s culture and traditions. But many of them are universal and as relevant today as they were a millennium ago: respect; courtesy; graciousness; being considerate of others; respect for the environment; honesty; happy disposition in one’s work; humor; and humility.

Wan Ho Jo, Thank you. Indeed, you make your country proud. Gamsahabnida.

When a Friendship Touches Lives – My Tribute to Romeo “Aqui” Divino

October 21, 2017 is a turning of ‘Page’ because it marks on the calendar the passing-on of my dear friend, “Aqui” Divino. To me, however, it was more a turning of “Chapter” in my own journey. The friendship started some 33 years ago, when I was assigned to Botolan, Zambales by my Makati-based consulting firm to undertake construction of the 3rd IBRD-funded Area Shop for the DPWH Bureau of Equipment, for which we did the designs.

Aqui was employed at the DPWH Bureau of Equipment (BOE), the end-user of this Php 12.6 Million foreign-funded, government project. I stayed in the construction site for almost 2 years, until its final stages, prior to turn-over. Since I was required to report to my head-office only twice a month for conferences, I stayed and lived in my engineer’s-quarters within the construction compound. This is basically where our special bond of friendship started.

Aqui told me that his item at the BOE was that of a mechanic. But I never saw him working at the motor pool, he was more of a fixture at the office, an all-around guy doing stuff for the chief-of-office, what was then called the Area Equipment Engineer. Because my work entailed a lot of coordination with the eventual end-user, the BOE chief-of-office, Engr. Millado, had unofficially assigned Aqui to me to do all such liaison work.

On account of this arrangement, Aqui stayed in my field office a lot. Two things caught my attention at that time. First, he religiously went home at 5:00 PM, avoiding what was then prevalent in government offices, drinking liquor after office hours. Secondly, he smoked too much. As I was a bit of a health buff who did road runs at the break of dawn, we would see each other the next day, as I passed their house, by the roadside, just past the bridge that separates Iba, Zambales from Botolan. Sometimes I would take coffee or a quick breakfast at his residence.

Aqui’s talent was more suited to a politician’s Public Relations Officer. He was adept at seeing other people’s needs and addressing them. He helped me cook my food, because I was the only person left inside the construction site after work hours, aside from the security guards at the guard house. He taught me how to buy blue marlin (yellow fin or other some such fish, as I can remember) at a bargain. Or how to select good-quality mangoes, for which Zambales is known for. Eventually, he assisted me in hosting my visitors from Manila who came to conduct regular inspections.

Looking back, my friendship with Aqui evolved from a much stronger but less evident foundation. I’d like to think that we were both members of the same “Mutual Admiration Society”. This of course is a mere product of my imagination. We laughed at the same jokes for months on end. In these jokes, we were the white knights and the rest were the villains. We sat innumerable minutes just telling our life stories. We did this under old buildings which I soon ordered demolished to give way to massive structures that replaced them. I would know that he had a great joke to crack when he begins to successively tap his right closed palm on the table or on the side of his pants, much like a soldier preparing to salute.

Aqui surprised me one weekend when he came to my office because they normally had no work on Saturdays and Sundays. He was more than lively in his invitation to go somewhere but would not tell me exactly where. After hurriedly dressing up, we drove to this big ‘White House’, and as soon as we entered, he introduced me to the master of the house. It was Amor Delloso, the then mayor of Botolan, who in later years became the governor of Zambales province. What I admired most about Aqui is that although he never spoke ill of anybody, he was a master of heaping accolades and praises on anyone: “This is my cousin, mayor Amor, a lawyer who got 98% in Criminal Law.” In any case, this got us off to a lively discussion, and before we knew it, half a day had breezed through. As far as I could imagine, there were now 3 members of our “Mutual Admiration Society”.

When I stood up to go, the mayor motioned Aqui to get a crisp white pad of stationary from his table. With deliberate and exquisite strokes of his pen, the mayor had written on his letterhead that he was giving me 500 square meters of a beach lot at Barangay Danacbunga. He stood up and silently handed me the piece of paper, making this moment more memorable by reaching out with his right hand to give me a firm handshake. Aqui stood silently by my side, with a gaping mouth, I wouldn’t know now if it was from wonder or awe. As he led me to the door, the mayor called me out: “Perry, you should visit me more often.”

October 26, 1940 to October 21, 2017. That makes Aqui 5 days short of 77 years old. This is the first time I became aware of his age. He had this boyish look and boyish smile that betrays his real age. It’s been 33 years since I’ve left Botolan and today, October 26, 2017, I am returning to meet my friend one last time. It is dusk and I had come from Manila, dropping by my farm in Nueva Ecija shortly, before proceeding to his home in Botolan, where he lay in state.

Thirty-three years seem a heartbeat when I consider that I met him only twice in that span of time. The first time was in 2016, at their relative’s home in Project 4, Quezon City. His wife sought me out in Facebook, with what I thought at that time was a silly question: “Do you know Romy Divino?” To which I blurted out: “of course, Aqui, and I’ve been looking for him all these years. During this first visit, he told me how he was blessed with 3 daughters, now all professionals, with 2 of them working abroad. Although some things remain unverbalized, I felt how proud he was of his kids. The second time we met was in 2017, in Medical City, Ortigas, where he was making remarkable recovery from an uncommon cancer. In the hospital, I met 2 of his 3 kids, both possessing of tough-as-nails attitude towards his disease.

It is now almost 7:00 PM and I am in time for the vigil prayers. The prayer leader said something that to me made sense: We translate one’s death not as “namatay” but “sumakabilang-buhay”, meaning to transcend to another life, that which our religion promises to be an eternal life with our Creator. This is probably why I constantly refer to friends who die as having passed-on rather than having passed away.

As I touched his coffin glass, I looked at his face and it was in a state of bliss. At that moment, I realized that when friends go to their buddy’s wake, it is not as much to mourn as to celebrate their friendship, one that has touched their lives, in a way that it will never be the same again. It will surely feel empty at some point, but the essence of real friendship is in that, having stood shoulder-to-shoulder, you made each other proud.

Aqui, thank you for the privilege of your friendship. I think I am a better person now because of our friendship. I hope you are proud of me as I am so darnest proud of you.

It's Never Too Old to Dream: He Thought Suicide is the Answer to His Massive Failures

I found this article as an anonymous Facebook post and just had to blog it because of how I think it will impact many doubting Thomases, those who lack the confidence to pursue success as a matter of one’s birth right. I did some minor editing before putting it here.

“At age 5 his Father died.

At age 16 he quit school.

At age 17 he had already lost four jobs.

At age 18 he got married.

Between ages 18 and 22, he was a railroad conductor but failed.

He joined the army but washed out there.

He applied for law school but was rejected.

He became an insurance sales man but failed again.

At age 19 he became a father.

At age 20 his wife left him and took their baby daughter.

He became a cook and dishwasher in a small cafe.

He failed in an attempt to kidnap his own daughter.

Eventually he convinced his wife to return home.

At age 65 he retired.

On the 1st day of retirement he received a cheque from the Government for $105.

He felt that the Government was saying that he couldn’t provide for himself.

He decided to commit suicide.

It wasn’t worth living anymore.

He had failed so much.

He sat under a tree writing his will.

But ended up writing what he would have accomplished with his life.

He realized there was much more that he hadn’t done.

There was one thing he could do better than anyone he knew.

And that was how to cook.

So he borrowed $87 against his cheque and bought and fried up some chicken using his recipe.

He went door to door to sell them to his neighbors in Kentucky.

Remember at age 65 he was ready to commit suicide.

But at age 88 Colonel Sanders, founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) Empire was a billionaire.

Moral of the story: Attitude. It's never too late to start all over.

Most importantly, it's all about your attitude.

Never give up no matter how hard it gets.

You have what it takes to be successful.

It's never too old to dream.”

They Made His Father Dig His Own Grave

Sometimes we come across men whose life stories are worth re-telling. Sometime in June, 2016 I met Canupling (not his real name), the driver of the cab I took in Manila as I was rushing to the airport. While we were having small talk amidst the traffic, I became intrigued with the happy disposition this cab driver had. He was originally from Leyte, and that he came to Manila all by himself as a young man of 19. He is now 39.

I asked what drove him to leave the comfort of his hometown, expecting a normal answer by young rural boys who migrated to Manila in search of their destiny. My dad was one such boy, ages ago. But his answer shocked me. He had no choice. His father was made to dig his own grave before being liquidated by what they suspect were NPA rebels. Because their mother cannot support them any longer, he and 5 of his siblings had to go their separate ways and must try to fend for their own. The answer for him is Manila.

Luck favored him, as he easily landed a job in a bakery. He made good in all his tasks as a baker’s helper, and pretty soon he was already making deliveries as a ‘pahinante’ (trucker-hand) of the truck driver. By this time, he developed an image in his mind that he wanted to be a driver, so he focused all his efforts to that one goal. He befriended the company driver and gave him all sorts of presents for the opportunity to drive the delivery van in and out of the garage. Pretty soon he was on the driver’s seat as they did the rounds of their daily bread deliveries.

He was totally consumed by his desire to make driving his lifetime profession. But he did not even have a driver’s license. Lacking of education, (he did not finish elementary grades) he thought it impossible to get one. Until he heard of Recto (a street in Manila’s university belt where one could get a fake copy of any document for a fee) from friends. So with his life’s savings of 2 years, off he went.

The years quickly passed as he went through the motions of working as driver for different companies. Now he sits beside me, one happy cab driver with seemingly no care in the world. “Sir, pangarap ko lang maging driver nung pumunta ako sa Maynila. Pamasahe lang ang pera ko at sa Luneta ako natutulog. Ngayon 39 na ako, okay naman trabaho ko as taxi driver, may dalawa akong anak, may maliit na bahay thru Pag-ibig, at naging teacher din ang asawa ko." ("Sir, it is my dream to become a diver when I went to Manila. I only had money for my fare, and I slept at the Luneta Park. Now I’m 39 years old, I have a good job as a cab driver, I have 2 kids, I have a small house which I acquired thru a Pag-ibig loan, and my wife became a teacher.") With that he drowned the stress of traffic outside my cab in one rambunctious laughter.

He knew that I had to go down soon because we had just entered the airport gates. So he shot off this one last repartee: “Actually sir, nung naging driver na ako, ang pangarap ko naman ay maging seaman. Ewan ko lang kung kaya pa sa Recto nito, hehehe." ("Actually, sir, now that I’m already a driver, my new ambition is to be a seaman. I just don’t know if Recto [fake documents] can handle that. hehehe.")

Soon I was rushing out of his cab into the throng of people at the airport’s departure area. His positively bright, beaming face was the last I saw as he shouted "thank you, sir!" as I handed him the bills that I had surreptitiously prepared so I won't expect change. "salamat din", I shouted back, as I gave him the ‘thumbs up’.

Indeed, I had so much to be thankful for. This short encounter of less than an hour made my day. Suddenly, I was smiling as I took the time to walk less hurriedly. I was more patient with crowd and the ruckus all around. I thought to myself: some people with so much more don’t seem to be as happy as this guy with so much less. Thank God for this day, for making me appreciate life through the eyes of another person. I will try to make this day as perfect as I can, in honor of this man who really, really appreciates life. 

:)

Fresh Air Amid Hopelessness: Isang Daang Piso Para sa Matinong Kandidato

There’s so much negativity on the news lately as a result of developments in the Napoles pork barrel case. Now a lot more personalities have been linked, including media, senators and congressmen. It seems there’s an effort to muddle the issue by who-knows-who.

Prior to this, the Ph took a roller coaster ride through 6 presidencies in recent memory: Marcos, Cory, Ramos, Erap, GMA and Pnoy. That ride was one brief spell of euphoria and hope, followed by a downward spin that would somehow be mitigated by a glimmer of fresh hope with every change in presidency. Then back to rotting in the gutters for the Pinoy.

So, What’s Wrong With Us as a People and a Nation?

I will venture to put up my own Perry’s Top 21 Ph Blackspots that may well describe the Ph, culled from a Libertas blog (http://getrealphilippines.com/blog/2014/05/the-philippines-a-world-travelers-musings-and-ramblings-wtf-wheres-the-fun/) I’ve read lately. I can find this List quite believable without too much debate. I will not lose sleep over it, nor waste my time pondering on how it evolved over time. I would rather think of ways to improve myself, as well as the people around me if I can, so by the next reckoning, hopefully the Pinoy can stand a bit taller. Here’s the List:

1. The Ph is nation of 100 million people, where unemployment is 27% and 35% living below the poverty line. Many Filipinos want to get out of the country (70% according to the last poll), and many do (10 million Filipinos work overseas), sending money to their families, and this accounts for 12% of GDP;

2. Filipinos are very sensitive, emotional souls, and the slightest criticism will result in either tears, or anger, but perversely they do not mind being used and abused by their own politicians, and presumably having gone from past colonial dominance to the current feudal system, subservience is now part of their DNA.

3. It is the center of drug trafficking in Asia;

4. There are 1 million sex workers and has a thriving industry in human and child sex trafficking, many under 14 and working in cybersex dens;

5. There are 14 million child laborers;

6. 26 million people have no toilets;

7. The Ph has the lowest IQ in Asia – 86 – and one of the lowest in the world;

8. It is the 6th worst country in the world for crony capitalism;

9. There’s up to 8 hour daily brownouts during summer, and the most expensive in Asia;

10. It has slow and antiquated Internet service.

11. The Ph sits at bottom of the ASEAN league when it comes to FDI (foreign direct investment).

12. There are no major projects or groundbreaking solutions to well known and long lasting problems on Infrastructure;

13. It suffers from an income inequality that ranks amongst the highest in the world;

14. 76 % of the national wealth remains firmly in the hands of just 40 families;

15. Corruption is the main income generator (even low government officials, especially in Customs, drive new cars, as when recently, its employee got busted for road rage on a brand new Porsche – all on the equivalent of 400 US dollars per month);

16. It is estimated that up to 40% of the annual national budget is siphoned off by politicians;

17. Filipinos do not like spending their own money, and do not regard the environment as important (man-made, or natural). They prefer to play the victim, hold out the begging bowl, then scam the aid or investment from abroad, subsequently siphoning off most of this to off-shore accounts.

18. Manila is the world’s most densely populated city (21 million). People from the provinces gravitate here in search of any work. It is high on the lists for pollution, crime, and with, horrendous traffic jams, incessant road works, an overcrowded and breakdown-prone mass transit system, illegal bus operators, and antiquated fume-spewing 'jeepneys'. The city is dilapidated, and is a vast shanty town, complete with hordes of illegal squatters;

19. Ph newspapers headlines gives good and rapid insight. It is always dominated by corruption, drive-by motorcycle shootings of politicians or journalists, beauty pageants, and any part Filipino who has achieved success abroad. Pinoys focus more on Vicarious pride rather than developing their own self-worth;

20. It is a Catholic country and Filipinos profess to be god-fearing, but that hardly stops the murders, rapes, child trafficking, corruption, scams. The Church itself loves to get involved in politics, and prescribes to their flock who to vote for, as the priest takes delivery of a new SUV.

21. The center of life in the Ph is the tacky lives of ‘personalities’ and politicians. Cheating has to be a component of everything. Lying has become a national art form. Hypocrisy rules.

In the meantime, the Pinoy seems to be caught in a vicious cycle of hoping, then getting frustrated, then hoping once again. During the interregnum, they get by living in utter unending hopelessness, amid the sheer political hypocricy, social dysfunction, and business inefficiency.

As can be gleaned from above, my Perry’s Top 21 Ph Blackspots can be solved by an honest and strong president. By honest, I mean just that – honest, without necessity of qualifying. And by strong, I mean somebody who came by the presidency without selling his soul to the brokers of power.

It is at this time when I looked more closely at the Facebook Group - "Isang Daang Piso Para sa Matinong Kandidato" and spent a week pondering on who they are and what they stand for. Simply put, they are ordinary netizens willing to contribute resources, (P100 pesos to put a fixed square figure) so that when a qualified candidate comes, they can support this candidate and he does not resort to wheeling and dealing with power groups to step up with the exigency of elections.

Inspite of all the social malaise bugging the Ph, and in the face of myriad propositions from interest groups, the roadmap of "Isang Daang Piso Para sa Matinong Kandidato" is quite simple. Their first objective is to create a critical mass of 100,000 members, which should be accomplished by June next year (2015). It is in this endeavor that I am helping out.

So to all my friends, if you are on edge, eyes bulging out, hair falling, and too exasperated you keep chewing your nails due to the fact that only corrupt politicians, or movie stars, or cronies, or elites keep getting elected to run this country like hell, I suggest you go online and ‘Like’ the Facebook Group “Isang Daang Piso Para sa Matinong Kandidato”.

Be relevant in the 2016 Ph elections. Mabuhay ang Pilipinas.