Ako Ay Pilipino
It’s always an ordeal to make a trip home to the Philippines. The 14-hour trans-Pacific flight and another 4 hours in the air if you’re coming from the US East coast is interminable. I booked with United Airlines, which flies over the North Pole to Hongkong or Japan which cuts the air time one hour, but it has a stopover in Chicago O’hare and that’s a hassle. On US airlines the flight crew is abrupt and curt, bordering on the rude, so I now prefer flying on the Asian airlines, including Philippine airlines, where the crew, service, and food are much better. I have no problem with seat space as I can get comfortable easily and can sleep like a baby on the journey, so paying premium price for first class or business class is not my thing. That may be worth the price however on certain flights especially during the holidays, where there are just too many crying babies on board.
I don’t know why I’m making the trip again after just 10 months. In February I was home for a 2-week golfing trip, then this December home again for the UPCM homecoming, for my class ’67 Ruby Jubilee. This visit felt different for me. Having that 2-day period relaxing in my friend’s Antique beach, with nothing planned to do except to sit by the sea and watch the waves come to shore, I was thinking with a melancholy mood, what’s there for me now to come home to? Since mama died, there is no reason to go home to Naga, and outside of the Jubilee activities, there was no other purpose for me to be home. Except for my friend Lynn, who drops everything to make my visits full with things to do, I suddenly realized, I have no real business to be in the Philippines and I don’t feel at home anymore and there is nothing special about it for me which I cannot get to easier in other parts of the world.
At the Sofitel Philippine Plaza, where the reunion activities for my University of the Philippines College of Medicine homecoming was held, the ambience was international eclectic. It looked and functioned just like any tourist hotel in major cities across the globe. Golf in the Philippines is like golf anywhere else in the world, with added irritation and without historical significance for the game. Others have raved about the Philippine caddies, mostly the men golfers as the caddies are exclusively women. I find them a distraction in the game, and not really helpful as they are not true caddies who are knowledgeable about the course and the game and can analyze your skill to be able to make helpful game suggestions, but they merely serve as assistants who hand you your club, clean your ball, sweep the bunkers, carry your clubs, hold an umbrella over you, and fetch whatever you need, drinks, etc. As a group they try to ingratiate for tips or tell sad life stories to enlist your sympathy for more tips. The men fall for it. That’s what distinguishes Philippine golf, plus having to go through the annoyance of being treated like an interloper since these courses are supposedly private courses for use by members only. However the golf tourists are admitted as paying guests , but not accorded the respect and solicitousness given to guests. The courses have no regard for prompt tee times, for the pace of play, and they make such a big to do about non-cash transactions (since in a membership course, members do not use cash but charge to their accounts all purchases) with tedious and self-important procedures for temporary issue of credit slips.
At Boracay, advertised as an island paradise destination, getting there remains an iffy proposition. Our flight had to return to Manila after hovering over Kalibo unsuccessfully waiting for the clouds to dissipate so the airplane can land. We had to book another flight in a smaller aircraft so we can land in the smaller Caticlan airport, beneath the clouds which interfered with visibility access to Kalibo airport. Since we were billeted at the newest plush resort in Boracay, Discovery Shores, which at over $300 per day, we were spared the hassle of negotiating a price for the banca crossing from Caticlan to the island, and having to find transportation from the airport to the banca launch area. Instead we were met at the airport by a hotel van, our luggage taken care of, then we transferred to a sleek covered boat with a hostess for the 20-minute crossing, then whisked to our hotel destination in an air-conditioned van, greeted at the hotel with a mint drink, led directly to our room and registration accomplished in our room, which has glass ,chrome, granite and wood finish and contemporary furnished with a floating bed and with fresh fruits and flowers, our luggage followed without a hitch, then we sat down for a foot bath and massage, and at night our beds were turned in and ice and fresh pandan drink and leche flan served for bedtime snack. The rate included a full breakfast buffet. We were there for a wedding, staged romantically on the beach with a gazebo festooned with garlands of pink roses, and fireworks in the nighttime sky.
The beach is sugar fine and white and the sky clear and blue, but I’m not sure about the freshness of the aquamarine sea. I have known visitors who came home with red eyes from the sewage contaminated waters . Our hotel location is a bit removed from the crowded Boracay beach, where beach vendors accost you with various offers of trinkets, boat rides, massages,hair braiding, pedicures, etc. Unless you’re a golfer there’s only shopping at D’Mall as an alternate activity. Fresh seafood chosen from the market and cooked to your specification is always a winner. I am told that to have a true island experience and for spectacular diving and snorkeling, one must go to Palawan.
So I’m thinking if I return to the Philippines I will be a tourist and see the Philippines from Batanes to Jolo. Perhaps I can discover the land with a new sensibility and also discover who I am.
Am I Filipino? Who is the Filipino?
I feel different, I think different, and I act different from those I know who never left the Philippines. I became an adult in the USA, and I have become an American citizen, yet I don’t feel I’m American and certainly I’m not treated as an American in the US or in any part of the world. Am I a different breed then as a Filipino-American?
My Filipino friends say, yes, it’s a great idea to tour the Philippines, but don’t go to Batanes, there’s nothing to see there, it’s a very poor province, and don’t go to Jolo, that’s where the Muslims are. You must visit Vigan, it has all the preserved historic houses and old churches. I am from Bicol, and frankly I have no idea about the Visayas and the rest of the country. I went to Manila to study medicine in the University of the Philippines, and that’s all I did. I left for the USA after college graduation, also with very little knowledge about my destination except for what’s portrayed in Hollywood movies and the fantasy of the American dream.
I must have been an ostrich with my head buried in the sand when I was growing up in the Philippines. The 2 days spent in my friend’s private Antique beach was an eye-opener. Antique is one of the provinces of Panay Island of western Visayas, where Boracay is a barangay in the province of Aklan, and Capiz and Iloilo completes the 4 provinces comprising the island. Outside of Iloilo in Miagao, we stopped by to view the restored baroque church built by the Agustinian order in 1786, and now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In Kalibo in Aklan, they have the Philippine tourism marketed festival of Ati-atihan, associated with the Christ child, Santo Nino, and the indigenous Ati tribe warriors, a very colorful Mardi Gras type of street revelry. There are similar festivals all across the region, like the Salakayan in Miagao, and Dinagyang in Iloilo. My childhood memories of the Philippines during the holidays is similarly religious-inspired, the misa de gallo, dawn masses 9 days before Christmas, acccompanied with a festive atmosphere of food stalls in the church yard selling puto bumbong and other delicacies and the pastores de belen, caroling in homes after Christmas to commemmorate the visit of the shepherds to the manger, and the feast of the 3 Kings on the 12th day of christmas, january 6, where, on the eve children hang their stockings at the window for the 3 magi to fill with gifts and goodies. The Spanish derived religiosity of the Filipinos is pervasive. I was taken aback by a public mass held at the airport and similarly at the shopping malls. In the US, when I organized a public festival commemmorating 100 years of Filipino-American migration, I was not given permission to hold a public mass as part of the festival since it was being held in a public space. In the US, Filipinos continue this religious traditions according to the region they come from, such as the Penafrancia fluvial procession of the Bicolanos, the Santo Nino celebrations, and others.
While lounging in my friend’s Antique beach compound I received an education about how different dialects are derived to explain why contiguous regions not divided by any natural barrier such as mountains or sea speak very different dialects. In Panay it is the oral tradition that back in pre-Hispanic times datus from Borneo came to the island and occupied different sections of the island and brought the language in toto. The language did not evolve there but from another land. The Malay influence in the language can be observed in the various dialects. It would be interesting to research if this tradition is historically supported by similar accounts in Borneo. In the Mindanao and Visayas region where the Spaniards made first landfall in Magellan’s time, the Spanish influence is added with the Chabacano dialect particularly intriguing. I was also educated about the social heirarchy in these regions, with the elite converging in IloIlo, as the elite class consisted of Spanish descended Filipinos, many continue to speak Spanish, and the wealth concentrated among them, as being originally Spanish, the group had exclusive access to resources and privileges in colonial days. Filipinos it appear continue to regard these families with awe, curiosity, and adulation reserved for movie stars and royalty. I came from the poor barrio of Pasacao in Naga City, Camarines Sur in the Bicol region, and we only had one Spanish family who sprung from there, yes, the wealthiest in the town, but small fry compared to the Iloilo barons, and since the demise of the patriarch, the fortune had been dissipated by the heirs.
To be like a Spaniard in looks, in privilege, in association, in upbringing, in education, in manner, and in pedigree is the ultimate pride for the Filipino it seems. Who is the Filipino mother who did not inspect the color of her baby’s skin at birth and the shape of its nose, to see if it looks like a Spaniard, fair and aquiline, and beamed with pride? To associate with mestizos, to speak Spanish, and be accepted is a mark of belonging. Even the bastard children of Spanish descended liasons carry this aura.
We speak of colonial mentality, and how this keeps Filipinos in the bottom of progress and national pride among its Asian neighbors. I am so aware of this thinking and feel I must be always alert to its negative and oppressive forces. It saps creative energy. It shares dynamics with slavery, with traumatized, terrorized or victimized groups. Many are now familiar with the Stockholm Syndrome, a psychological phenomenon used to describe the sympathetic and bonding behaviour of hostages to their captors. Colonial mentality is the societal expression of this bonding behaviour. The elements are satisfied by the characteristics of Spanish imperialism in the Philippines. The captor is realisticialy all powerful and there is little hope for resistance, survival of the captive is dependent on the little kindnesses and benevolence of the captor, the captive is isolated from other influences by preventing the natives from learning the captor’s language, there is suppression of indigenous ways by the introduction of Catholicism, and over time, the captives begin to adopt the captor’s ways as the better way since it is equated with survival, and seeing their own ways and own characteristics as inferior. This ultimately extends along racial and genetic lines as the supreme way of identifying or being like the captor. In the Philippines this is even more pronounced in the ever increasing preoccupation with achieving caucasian characteristics by the proliferation of skin lightening products and cosmetic surgery.
It is unfortunate that unlike our Asian neighbors, who have achieved national and cultural identity before being subjugated by foreign powers, the Philippines was a disparate land of unorganized small tribes, with none dominating to imbue the archipelago with a unified kingdom. We were not a nation nor a culture. We were a collection of regional tribes, to which we identified our allegiance even to this day. Hence we see ourselves more clearly as Ilocanos, Tagalogs, Bicolanos, Visayan, etc., rather than as Filipinos. We compete with each other, and undermine each other as part of this tribal upmanship.The Spaniards put us under one rule and made us a nation, and as a nation we adopted the colonial identity which we carry to this day. We are still trying to be like a Spaniard, the Filipino is still the Indio, and the Filipino-American? He is living the American dream, Hollywood style, all show, no substance, for he exists still as an outsider and his color and ethnic looks in white racist America continue to remind him that he is different in an inferior kind of way. Many individuals of course have crossed the threshold among his friends and those who know him, but until that happens, the Filipino-American is judged in America and around the developed world by the color of his skin and by the height of his nose.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Diary of a Whistleblower
Diary of A Whistleblower
September 29,2007
I have a 15-year old cockatiel named Scarlett, and if you whistle to her, she whistles back and then asks you, “Did you fart?”. I should ask my employer that because what they did to me this week really stinks.
My hospital had been in the local news regularly since January this year because of unsafe conditions and sub-par patient care, leading to the forced departure of key hospital administrators, the typical way the division had tried to solve this problem. This notoriety led to the Department of Justice investigation of the hospital last week from September 17-21 for violations of the law under CRIPA (Civil Rights of Institutionalized Persons Act). The week before the site inspection, division leaders and lawyers briefed all hospital personnel about how to conduct themselves in the investigation. Staff were told that a division lawyer will always be present during DOJ interviews, that staff should answer only the question asked and not to add information or elaborate on the answers, or to volunteer information. Staff was also told that the lawyers may tell them not to answer certain questions. The atmosphere in this briefing was heavy. It had the feel of a courtroom trial. We dreaded the coming week. The month before , the division hired consultants to conduct a mock DOJ survey so deficiencies can be identified and corrected before the real investigators from the Federal government arrive. The State has a lot at stake. DOJ can shut the hospital down and the State will forfeit Federal dollars. It can mandate corrective actions and force the State to allocate emergency funding to get the hospital in compliance. The leadership warned hospital staff that they could lose their jobs if the DOJ finds adverse conditions.
On the 4th day of the DOJ visit, September 20, a code was called after a patient acted out violently during his interview in the office of one of the psychiatrists. For several agonizing minutes, the psychiatrist was trapped in the office and could not summon for help. During the debriefing, the focus was to demonstrate to the DOJ the policies and procedures of the hospital governing these incidents. Up to this point, with only one day remaining for the investigation, none of the adolescent unit clinical staff had been interviewed, management staff had been the only ones providing information. I could see that the other psychiatrist, a new hire and a very petite woman, was still very shaken, and I became angry. I interrupted and declared that this incident illustrates the inadequacies of staffing and unsafe condtions of the unit and there are many concerns that bother us. This prompted the DOJ to invite us to express our concerns, and I and the other doctor and 3 nurses talked with them. I took the lead and outlined all the problems, then the rest added their piece. The hospital lawyer and division medical director were there, and did not make any comment. I was waiting for the lawyer to structure my answers but he didn’t say anything. The next day, Friday, at morning rounds I joked that if on Monday the team hears that I’ve resigned, that they should not believe it, they should know that I’ve been fired.
On Wednesday September 26, I was summoned by the division medical director at 11:30 AM and informed that there are numerous complaints about me by staff and parents, necessitating my transfer to the adult unit, and requiring that I receive counseling from the hospital clinical director so that I can improve both personally and professionally. Furthermore, although this is the first step in a disciplinary action, this will not be written up and therefore will not appear in my personnel file. This change will be effective on Monday, October 1st. Wow! I was astounded and commented that after all this is accomplished I should emerge shining. I asked for details of the complaints but he couldn’t give any. He referred me to the hospital clinical director and I met with him the next morning. The latter could not give me any more specific details. I asked where are these complaints, so I can have my rebuttal, as is my prerogative. He informed me that it would be to my benefit if all these is not in writing, but he’ll look into the files and show me the complaints. I asked for a copy of my personnel file. I commented that this change could be very demoralizing to the team. He dismissed it, pointing out that my transfer would be best in the long run. I said I will not be subjected to counseling even if it is not written up, as I do not accept the connotation. When I pressed he reminded me that my position is unprotected, that my being transferred is at the discretion of the medical director, and he advised me that it is in my interest to comply. My jaw practically dropped, I saw what was happening, and I couldn’t believe it!
The other unit psychiatrist, who I recruited and on the job only 2 1/2 months was seen by the hospital clinical director while I met with the division medical director and encouraged to remain in her position, and assured that improvements will be taking place. The adult psychiatrist whom I’d be replacing so he can take my place in the adolescent unit was flabbergasted and his staff very upset.
I informed my team during Thursday’s morning rounds, telling them simply that effective Monday I will be transferred to the adult unit. There was stunned silence, then an outpouring of sentiments and a spontaneous mobilization towards action. A letter was drafted and sent to the hospital medical director, team representatives asked for a meeting with the hospital leadership, and as a unified body, the unit gave me its support. I was deeply moved, and I was overcome with my emotions. This gave me the confidence and courage to reassert myself and restore my self-image, and emerge from that state of confusion, self-doubt,helplessness,impotence, and fatality.
Now I’m on a roll. I have a cause and I am right. I called friends who can give me advice. One is a director of a mental health system in New York who deals with state personnel matters, one is a lawyer who was a successful litigant in a discrimination suit. I had an appointment immediately with my cognitive therapist so I can sort out all the distortions and manage my emotions. I googled the Department of Justice website, the US and Georgia State Labor department, the ACLU, the Georgia state government and personnel policies, OSHA, the EEOC. I filed a phone complaint with EEOC and am following up with research on which agency has jurisdiction over my case, and what laws apply. I’ve set up an appointment with a law firm who had succesful litigation experience with similar cases. I cleaned up my office and safeguarded my correspondence and documents. I went to my family and friends who reminded me I’m a good person, and that I’m loved and I can just be the way I am. It was serendipitous that we took our child psychiatry fellow for an end-of-rotation dinner on the evening when this case burst open. Bathed in the light of the harvest moon hanging over my balcony, I smoked a Havana and sipped Remy Martin with this young man who used to follow the Grateful Dead, and I was reminded of my youth in the 60’s. Then where the times were a’changin’, we dreamed of a world of freedom and love and peace. I’ll see what Monday brings.
September 29,2007
I have a 15-year old cockatiel named Scarlett, and if you whistle to her, she whistles back and then asks you, “Did you fart?”. I should ask my employer that because what they did to me this week really stinks.
My hospital had been in the local news regularly since January this year because of unsafe conditions and sub-par patient care, leading to the forced departure of key hospital administrators, the typical way the division had tried to solve this problem. This notoriety led to the Department of Justice investigation of the hospital last week from September 17-21 for violations of the law under CRIPA (Civil Rights of Institutionalized Persons Act). The week before the site inspection, division leaders and lawyers briefed all hospital personnel about how to conduct themselves in the investigation. Staff were told that a division lawyer will always be present during DOJ interviews, that staff should answer only the question asked and not to add information or elaborate on the answers, or to volunteer information. Staff was also told that the lawyers may tell them not to answer certain questions. The atmosphere in this briefing was heavy. It had the feel of a courtroom trial. We dreaded the coming week. The month before , the division hired consultants to conduct a mock DOJ survey so deficiencies can be identified and corrected before the real investigators from the Federal government arrive. The State has a lot at stake. DOJ can shut the hospital down and the State will forfeit Federal dollars. It can mandate corrective actions and force the State to allocate emergency funding to get the hospital in compliance. The leadership warned hospital staff that they could lose their jobs if the DOJ finds adverse conditions.
On the 4th day of the DOJ visit, September 20, a code was called after a patient acted out violently during his interview in the office of one of the psychiatrists. For several agonizing minutes, the psychiatrist was trapped in the office and could not summon for help. During the debriefing, the focus was to demonstrate to the DOJ the policies and procedures of the hospital governing these incidents. Up to this point, with only one day remaining for the investigation, none of the adolescent unit clinical staff had been interviewed, management staff had been the only ones providing information. I could see that the other psychiatrist, a new hire and a very petite woman, was still very shaken, and I became angry. I interrupted and declared that this incident illustrates the inadequacies of staffing and unsafe condtions of the unit and there are many concerns that bother us. This prompted the DOJ to invite us to express our concerns, and I and the other doctor and 3 nurses talked with them. I took the lead and outlined all the problems, then the rest added their piece. The hospital lawyer and division medical director were there, and did not make any comment. I was waiting for the lawyer to structure my answers but he didn’t say anything. The next day, Friday, at morning rounds I joked that if on Monday the team hears that I’ve resigned, that they should not believe it, they should know that I’ve been fired.
On Wednesday September 26, I was summoned by the division medical director at 11:30 AM and informed that there are numerous complaints about me by staff and parents, necessitating my transfer to the adult unit, and requiring that I receive counseling from the hospital clinical director so that I can improve both personally and professionally. Furthermore, although this is the first step in a disciplinary action, this will not be written up and therefore will not appear in my personnel file. This change will be effective on Monday, October 1st. Wow! I was astounded and commented that after all this is accomplished I should emerge shining. I asked for details of the complaints but he couldn’t give any. He referred me to the hospital clinical director and I met with him the next morning. The latter could not give me any more specific details. I asked where are these complaints, so I can have my rebuttal, as is my prerogative. He informed me that it would be to my benefit if all these is not in writing, but he’ll look into the files and show me the complaints. I asked for a copy of my personnel file. I commented that this change could be very demoralizing to the team. He dismissed it, pointing out that my transfer would be best in the long run. I said I will not be subjected to counseling even if it is not written up, as I do not accept the connotation. When I pressed he reminded me that my position is unprotected, that my being transferred is at the discretion of the medical director, and he advised me that it is in my interest to comply. My jaw practically dropped, I saw what was happening, and I couldn’t believe it!
The other unit psychiatrist, who I recruited and on the job only 2 1/2 months was seen by the hospital clinical director while I met with the division medical director and encouraged to remain in her position, and assured that improvements will be taking place. The adult psychiatrist whom I’d be replacing so he can take my place in the adolescent unit was flabbergasted and his staff very upset.
I informed my team during Thursday’s morning rounds, telling them simply that effective Monday I will be transferred to the adult unit. There was stunned silence, then an outpouring of sentiments and a spontaneous mobilization towards action. A letter was drafted and sent to the hospital medical director, team representatives asked for a meeting with the hospital leadership, and as a unified body, the unit gave me its support. I was deeply moved, and I was overcome with my emotions. This gave me the confidence and courage to reassert myself and restore my self-image, and emerge from that state of confusion, self-doubt,helplessness,impotence, and fatality.
Now I’m on a roll. I have a cause and I am right. I called friends who can give me advice. One is a director of a mental health system in New York who deals with state personnel matters, one is a lawyer who was a successful litigant in a discrimination suit. I had an appointment immediately with my cognitive therapist so I can sort out all the distortions and manage my emotions. I googled the Department of Justice website, the US and Georgia State Labor department, the ACLU, the Georgia state government and personnel policies, OSHA, the EEOC. I filed a phone complaint with EEOC and am following up with research on which agency has jurisdiction over my case, and what laws apply. I’ve set up an appointment with a law firm who had succesful litigation experience with similar cases. I cleaned up my office and safeguarded my correspondence and documents. I went to my family and friends who reminded me I’m a good person, and that I’m loved and I can just be the way I am. It was serendipitous that we took our child psychiatry fellow for an end-of-rotation dinner on the evening when this case burst open. Bathed in the light of the harvest moon hanging over my balcony, I smoked a Havana and sipped Remy Martin with this young man who used to follow the Grateful Dead, and I was reminded of my youth in the 60’s. Then where the times were a’changin’, we dreamed of a world of freedom and love and peace. I’ll see what Monday brings.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Paris
Bonjour Paris! Pour Deux S’il Vous Plait
August 25-September 1, 2007
We were in Paris less than 48 hours when we got yelled at and called, “ You fucking bitches!”, by this deli chef in this neighborhood of Passy, in the 16th arrondisement, where we rented a 1-bedroom apartment for our pied-a-terre for a week in this lively, incomparable city of lights, la ville de lumières.
It was on our 2nd day, a Sunday. We slept late, catching up with the 6-hour jet lag and the 4-hour flight delay from the States. Evelyn wanted to go to church, but all the masses in our neighborhood were over after 12:30 PM, so we decided to start our sightseeing in Sacre Coeur, hoping to catch a mass there. We bought a discounted packet of 10 metro subway tickets for E11, a saving of E3, took line 6 to Pasteur, then line 12 and got off on the Abbesses stop for what we thought was a short walk to Sacre Coeur. We didn’t know until we reached the top of the stairs at Abbesses that there was an elevator. We emerged out on Montmarte panting and with tachycardia after an ascent of over 30 meters up endless steps winding around and around a colorful stairwell of tile mosaic and painted walls and art nouveau lighting fixtures, and out into the street through an art deco bronze and iron cast gate, just one of 2 remaining original metro entrances designed by famed architect Hector Guimard. Well, that was ahh, exhilarating, and really lovely. We walked to a bustling and festive street scene with a carousel on one street corner and street musicians and happy children playing, and bistros and cafes and shops lining up the narrow cobblestone alleys and the sun bright and warming the cool air and rendering brilliant red and pink geraniums on balconies, and we were filled with excitement. This was how we envisioned our Paris visit would be. We sat al fresco at Cafe Consulat and had a marvelous lunch and a glass of wine. Climbing steps again to the Montmarte butte, where the resplendent Basilica of the Sacred Heart stood majestically over Paris, we passed the last remaining wooden windmill of Montmarte and the smaller cemetery of St. Vincent. We had luck on a mass at 4 PM and so we felt fulfilled in our obligations. We took the funicular down to Pigalle just for the fun of it, cruised the souvenir shops, and because of Evelyn’s objections, I passed on checking the sex shops for toys and passed on the Moulin Rouge Cancan Revue. She also declined to dine in the Pigalle area, so we took the Metro back to Passy and since it was very late, we decided to just stop by the Deli Cafe a block from the metro station and pick up a carry out. The deli chef was charming and was bantering with us, asking where we’re from, showing off his English, joking, even flirting a little, we thought. Then he started adding our purchases in French and we couldn’t keep up with the numbers, and he said his cash register wasn’t working right, so he couldn’t tally the items, then he wouldn’t accept a credit card, and when we pressed, he said our card wasn’t going through, but he was swiping it wrong and we were showing him how to, and we asked him again to review our purchases for accuracy, when he got all bent out of shape, and became upset, and accused us of calling him a liar, so I told him to stop and and just focus on completing our purchase, and he got all excited about the credit card not going through so I said, Ok just get this over with and I’ll give you cash but listen, I’m very displeased, and if we were so inclined we’d go someplace else, but we prefer to go ahead with the purchase. then he started to yell that we can take our business somewhere else, and started to say something about you Philippine women, so I told him, don’t go there, and just shut up and finish. That’s when he went into apoplexy and called us the b-name for everyone on the take out line and the seated cafe patrons to hear. We got our food and told him he can count on us not to set foot on his premises again, and I decided not to give him the finger, and we left calmly instead without saying another word.
We have planned this trip for a year after reminiscing about Julma, our high school classmate from Colegio de Santa Isabel in Naga City, who became a nun and who we learned was based in Paris in the mother house of the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. Sr. Julma C. Neo, Daughter of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, is serving at present as a General Councillor of her Congregation, the first Asian to be elected to that position. Before her election to their General Council, she was Provincial of her congregation in The Philippines. In that capacity, she also served as Chairperson of the Association of Major Superiors of Women Religious in The Philippines. She has assisted her religious order as writer, participant and as speaker / resource person. Before her investiture in the order she was a TOYM awardee.
On the 18th of July 1830, the Holy Virgin appeared to Catherine Labouré in the chapel of the convent of the Filles de la Charité, La Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Médaille Miraculeuse 140, rue du Bac 75340 Paris cedex 07. Catherine Labouré was at that time preparing herself to become a sister. On the 28th of November, the Holy Virgin entrusted Catherine with the miraculous medal and this gave birth to a new devotion to the Blessed Virgin. At the time of Catherine's death, two billion miraculous medals had already been made. Today, two millions pilgrims visit the chapel each year. Fervent celebrations are held everyday and make the chapel the second pilgrimage in France after Lourdes.
Evelyn, Noy and I had developed a tradition after Johnny’s death, of spending August summers around my birthday in Evelyn’s lakeside home in Sturgis MI. We googled Julma there while hanging out last year and I wrote her at the Rue du Bac address. She e-mailed back promptly, so excited to hear from us. Her calendar was very full and we managed to find mutually available dates for August but when our trip finally came together for the week of August 25-September 1, she was suddenly called to go to Indonesia, leaving only August 25, my birthday, available for our visit. Noy could not make it as she had a car accident last winter which disabled her for months and consumed all her leave days. Evelyn, who suffered flying phobia which severely curtailed her mobility, had to pull herself by her bootstraps to muster the courage to make this trip. Having a reunion with Julma after 48 years was the motivation and she distinguished herself with a purple heart on this trip. She was a trouper, and the Lady at rue du Bac proved her miraculous powers. Evelyn is now cured of her flying phobia and is already making plans for her next trip.
Our US flight was 4 hours late of its 8:24 AM arrival at CDG and Julma had checked on our arrival twice already, so our gardienne, the apartment landlady, informed us, and was waiting to have lunch with us. So we put our bags down and without changing our travel clothes, we took the metro to Sevres Babylone and crossed the street from Bon Marche to 140 rue du Bac, and there was Julma and us all choked up after leaving each other as girls in 1959 and meeting again for the first time across oceans and continents and time.
We walked in the convent’s tranquil and bright gardens, she introduced us to her colleagues, all very touched and happy about our remarkable reunion, we toured the conference facilities and the public quarters, she talked about the challenges of dwindling religious postulants, her work in southeast Asia, her experiences in Paris, her wish to return and do work in the Philippines. We observed her attitude of obedience and service, her calm and serenity, her open-mindedness and lack of proseletyzing, and I marvel. Of course, she’s fluent in French. She took us around the convent’s neighborhood, among its streets and alleys. We looked for a place to have a late lunch and most restaurants have stopped lunch service, so we ended up in a Vietnamese fast food place and lingered over coffee until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer, and had to go. We stopped at Bon Marche food section to purchase take out food for dinner, and threw in a bottle of wine and some cheese and pastries for breakfast. It was great to see Julma, it felt like we’ve always been together, just picked up where we left off. I have since reviewed what’s in google about her. I’m very proud of her and very happy for her. I told her I cried and I was confused when I learned she entered the nunnery, that I felt sorry for her, that I thought the sisters brainwashed her, and why be a nun when there were so many young men we knew together who’ve got crushes on her. I know of course that she gave this deep thought and that she’s very learned about her catholic religion and she has actively chosen this life, and the elusive thing I cannot grasp, she has faith. I honestly cannot say that I gave much thought or active choosing of the life course I’m living, but I love my life just the same.
Evelyn and I were on our own then in Paris. We decided to take the hop on hop off tourist waterbus to see the sights. I was familiar with most of the tourist sites as this was my 4th trip to Paris, but I was not taking charge in any of those trips, and here Evelyn was counting on me to have a memorable trip. The waterbus route was super. It offered a unique view of Paris from the Seine, it did not have to contend with traffic and the noise and heat of concrete and exhaust fumes. We had a cool and sunny day to explore the Musee d’Orsay, which was closed on Mondays unfortunately, the Notre Dame and the Latin quarter, St. Germain-des Pres, the Hotel de Ville, which now is the seat of the City municipal government and the nearby le Marais, emerging as the trendsetter of Paris chic and urbanity, the bridges, Pont Alexander, Pont Neuf, Pont Royal, Pont des Arts, Pont de la Concorde, and the bridge to Passy where our apartment was , Pont de Bir Hakiem, which was a mere 10 minute walk to the Tour Eiffel. We got off at the Louvre, went under the glass pyramid to check out the amenities, the mall, restaurants, the underground lay out. We skipped visiting the art galleries as we had no time, reserving this for a more leisurely visit, instead we shopped the museum mall for souvenirs. I bought 3 children’s books and a pair of medieval masks which I forgot on the bench at the Louvre waterbus stop, and 3 days of checking with the tour company did not succeed in returning them. We strolled the nearby Tuileries gardens and found a shaded bench to watch people pass by and to rest our feet. The waterbus terminus is at the foot of the Eiffel tower so we put this last on our tour, planning to have dinner at the halfway platform of the tower at the Jules Verne Restaurant, but alas, it was closed for renovations. We stopped by a bistro in the Grenelle neighborhood. On the way home, as we crossed the bridge to the right bank of the Seine, the Eiffel tower stood against the night sky, bathed in golden light. In the train every night as it crosses the Bir Hakiem bridge we can see the Eiffel emerge from the tree tops, and if the time is right we can catch it covered with twinkling lights dancing all over its surface. I caught it one night alongside the moon, and I got a great picture.
We wanted a taste of Paris shopping so on the 4th day we took the metro to the Opera, and started on Haussman Boulevard, and checked out Galleries Lafayette, and Printemps, then took a breather at Cafe La Paix for lunch, then proceeded to Place Vendome and checked out all the mouth-watering baubles at Cartier, Van Cleef and Arpels, Boucheron, and the like. We lost ourselves browsing on rue St Honore, the boulevard Capucine and rue Royal. We splurged on Louis Vuitton presents. We went home excited with our purchases and wanted to deposit them before going out for dinner in a nice restaurant. By this time we were getting tired of bistro menu, we’ve ordered them all and we wanted something real nice, like grilled fresh fois gras or cotes de veau. Horrors, we forgot our key inside the apartment. We got into the ante foyer by using the code at the door 3436B, which we remember by thinking of bra sizes which do not fit us. We got into the inside foyer through a resident who happened to arrive. The gardienne, Lydia, is the homebody sort who was always around the whole time we were there until tonight. We have waited over an hour until Danielle, a resident in the building for 25 years arrived who knew Lydia and knew that she was babysitting for a friend that night and knew how to contact her there by phone. Lydia arrived all flustered to discover she left her keys too in her apartment! Mon Dieu! But not to worry, her son lives upstairs and has a key to her apartment. Voila, we all got in and found our keys where we left them on the mantle. By this time, it was too late to eat anywhere but we found a Chinese buffet in Passy, about to close for the night but the owner allowed us to have the remaining scraps in the trays. The next day we took the RER train for a day of designer outlet shopping in La Vallee Village, 35 minutes east of Paris. You get off one stop before Disneyland Paris, at Val d’Europe. We had to learn the hard way that the Paris metro tickets are not good for the suburban RER trains. The exit turnstyle wouldn’t open for us until we paid the supplement price of E4.50. I didn’t get too excited in these outlet stores, as I can get better deals at Loehmann’s and at Sak’s and Parisian when they hold their super discount sales.
Everybody goes to Versailles when they visit Paris, so we took another RER to travel 25 minutes southwest of Paris to view the setting of the opulent lifestyle that took the monarchy down, and cost Marie Antionette her head. It was a beautiful day, we took our time, lingered in the gardens, took long walks to the Grand trianon and the petit Trianon and to Marie Antionette’s hamlet. What a grand way to play country maid. We had a delightful lunch at the La Petite Venise, a wonderfully conceived restaurant in the old boat house that once housed the King’s Venetian gondoliers and oarsmen.
Ho hum, this touring is already wearing us down and we’re just about ready to settle to a quiet day of reading or watching TV but our TV is all in French, and the apartment does not have enough lighting good for reading, and we have places we haven’t been yet. We’ve been losing sleep because this charming apartment with its high ceilings and lovely embossed ceiling trays, herringbone-patterned wood floors, antique furnishings, and art on the walls, has no sound insulation at all and in fact the walls acts like conductors of the feeblest sound from elsewhere in the building. We could hear footfalls above, the rustling of paper, conversations,the rush of water in the pipes, the roar of flushing toilets, and the heavy metal clang of the iron elevator outside our door. Lydia, who communicates with us in Spanish since she knows no English and we know no French, bustles noisily in the early morning in the courtyard dragging garbage bins and rattling them every which ways and running the water hose inside the bins which acts like a drum in a marching band. But she’s a dear otherwise, very helpful and friendly. She arranged our airport shuttle and gave us tips and directions. We gave her a bottle of Bordeaux in appreciation.
On our last day we took the metro to Etoile and visited the arc d’ triomphe, then walked down Champs Elysee to the Place de Concorde. We hunted down the restored art deco covered shopping arcades and galleries, popular Parisian hangouts at the turn of the century, the prototype of the modern shopping malls. We started on Rue Rivoli and Rue du Louvre to track rue Jean Jacques-Rosseau and find Galerie Vero- Dodat, then Galerie Vivienne and Galerie Colbert. Along the vicinity of Palais Royal and Rue St Denis we stumbled on Passage Jouffroy , Choisuel, de Perron,among many. These are in various stages of restoration.They are very charming with mosaic tiled floors, wood paneling at store fronts and glass domed ceilings. We meandeared along the Grand Boulevards, des Italiens, des Capucines, Rue royal, watched a dance performance on the square at Place Colette. We found ourselves on Boulevard Montmarte and was amazed at the distance we’ve covered. We had dinner in a nice restaurant and went back to Passy to pack. We didn’t have any problem getting our VAT refund at the airport and the flight back was almost on time, just half an hour late, and customs was a breeze, after all we didn’t bring in any Frenchman! Au revoir Paris, vous voir bientôt.
August 25-September 1, 2007
We were in Paris less than 48 hours when we got yelled at and called, “ You fucking bitches!”, by this deli chef in this neighborhood of Passy, in the 16th arrondisement, where we rented a 1-bedroom apartment for our pied-a-terre for a week in this lively, incomparable city of lights, la ville de lumières.
It was on our 2nd day, a Sunday. We slept late, catching up with the 6-hour jet lag and the 4-hour flight delay from the States. Evelyn wanted to go to church, but all the masses in our neighborhood were over after 12:30 PM, so we decided to start our sightseeing in Sacre Coeur, hoping to catch a mass there. We bought a discounted packet of 10 metro subway tickets for E11, a saving of E3, took line 6 to Pasteur, then line 12 and got off on the Abbesses stop for what we thought was a short walk to Sacre Coeur. We didn’t know until we reached the top of the stairs at Abbesses that there was an elevator. We emerged out on Montmarte panting and with tachycardia after an ascent of over 30 meters up endless steps winding around and around a colorful stairwell of tile mosaic and painted walls and art nouveau lighting fixtures, and out into the street through an art deco bronze and iron cast gate, just one of 2 remaining original metro entrances designed by famed architect Hector Guimard. Well, that was ahh, exhilarating, and really lovely. We walked to a bustling and festive street scene with a carousel on one street corner and street musicians and happy children playing, and bistros and cafes and shops lining up the narrow cobblestone alleys and the sun bright and warming the cool air and rendering brilliant red and pink geraniums on balconies, and we were filled with excitement. This was how we envisioned our Paris visit would be. We sat al fresco at Cafe Consulat and had a marvelous lunch and a glass of wine. Climbing steps again to the Montmarte butte, where the resplendent Basilica of the Sacred Heart stood majestically over Paris, we passed the last remaining wooden windmill of Montmarte and the smaller cemetery of St. Vincent. We had luck on a mass at 4 PM and so we felt fulfilled in our obligations. We took the funicular down to Pigalle just for the fun of it, cruised the souvenir shops, and because of Evelyn’s objections, I passed on checking the sex shops for toys and passed on the Moulin Rouge Cancan Revue. She also declined to dine in the Pigalle area, so we took the Metro back to Passy and since it was very late, we decided to just stop by the Deli Cafe a block from the metro station and pick up a carry out. The deli chef was charming and was bantering with us, asking where we’re from, showing off his English, joking, even flirting a little, we thought. Then he started adding our purchases in French and we couldn’t keep up with the numbers, and he said his cash register wasn’t working right, so he couldn’t tally the items, then he wouldn’t accept a credit card, and when we pressed, he said our card wasn’t going through, but he was swiping it wrong and we were showing him how to, and we asked him again to review our purchases for accuracy, when he got all bent out of shape, and became upset, and accused us of calling him a liar, so I told him to stop and and just focus on completing our purchase, and he got all excited about the credit card not going through so I said, Ok just get this over with and I’ll give you cash but listen, I’m very displeased, and if we were so inclined we’d go someplace else, but we prefer to go ahead with the purchase. then he started to yell that we can take our business somewhere else, and started to say something about you Philippine women, so I told him, don’t go there, and just shut up and finish. That’s when he went into apoplexy and called us the b-name for everyone on the take out line and the seated cafe patrons to hear. We got our food and told him he can count on us not to set foot on his premises again, and I decided not to give him the finger, and we left calmly instead without saying another word.
We have planned this trip for a year after reminiscing about Julma, our high school classmate from Colegio de Santa Isabel in Naga City, who became a nun and who we learned was based in Paris in the mother house of the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. Sr. Julma C. Neo, Daughter of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, is serving at present as a General Councillor of her Congregation, the first Asian to be elected to that position. Before her election to their General Council, she was Provincial of her congregation in The Philippines. In that capacity, she also served as Chairperson of the Association of Major Superiors of Women Religious in The Philippines. She has assisted her religious order as writer, participant and as speaker / resource person. Before her investiture in the order she was a TOYM awardee.
On the 18th of July 1830, the Holy Virgin appeared to Catherine Labouré in the chapel of the convent of the Filles de la Charité, La Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Médaille Miraculeuse 140, rue du Bac 75340 Paris cedex 07. Catherine Labouré was at that time preparing herself to become a sister. On the 28th of November, the Holy Virgin entrusted Catherine with the miraculous medal and this gave birth to a new devotion to the Blessed Virgin. At the time of Catherine's death, two billion miraculous medals had already been made. Today, two millions pilgrims visit the chapel each year. Fervent celebrations are held everyday and make the chapel the second pilgrimage in France after Lourdes.
Evelyn, Noy and I had developed a tradition after Johnny’s death, of spending August summers around my birthday in Evelyn’s lakeside home in Sturgis MI. We googled Julma there while hanging out last year and I wrote her at the Rue du Bac address. She e-mailed back promptly, so excited to hear from us. Her calendar was very full and we managed to find mutually available dates for August but when our trip finally came together for the week of August 25-September 1, she was suddenly called to go to Indonesia, leaving only August 25, my birthday, available for our visit. Noy could not make it as she had a car accident last winter which disabled her for months and consumed all her leave days. Evelyn, who suffered flying phobia which severely curtailed her mobility, had to pull herself by her bootstraps to muster the courage to make this trip. Having a reunion with Julma after 48 years was the motivation and she distinguished herself with a purple heart on this trip. She was a trouper, and the Lady at rue du Bac proved her miraculous powers. Evelyn is now cured of her flying phobia and is already making plans for her next trip.
Our US flight was 4 hours late of its 8:24 AM arrival at CDG and Julma had checked on our arrival twice already, so our gardienne, the apartment landlady, informed us, and was waiting to have lunch with us. So we put our bags down and without changing our travel clothes, we took the metro to Sevres Babylone and crossed the street from Bon Marche to 140 rue du Bac, and there was Julma and us all choked up after leaving each other as girls in 1959 and meeting again for the first time across oceans and continents and time.
We walked in the convent’s tranquil and bright gardens, she introduced us to her colleagues, all very touched and happy about our remarkable reunion, we toured the conference facilities and the public quarters, she talked about the challenges of dwindling religious postulants, her work in southeast Asia, her experiences in Paris, her wish to return and do work in the Philippines. We observed her attitude of obedience and service, her calm and serenity, her open-mindedness and lack of proseletyzing, and I marvel. Of course, she’s fluent in French. She took us around the convent’s neighborhood, among its streets and alleys. We looked for a place to have a late lunch and most restaurants have stopped lunch service, so we ended up in a Vietnamese fast food place and lingered over coffee until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer, and had to go. We stopped at Bon Marche food section to purchase take out food for dinner, and threw in a bottle of wine and some cheese and pastries for breakfast. It was great to see Julma, it felt like we’ve always been together, just picked up where we left off. I have since reviewed what’s in google about her. I’m very proud of her and very happy for her. I told her I cried and I was confused when I learned she entered the nunnery, that I felt sorry for her, that I thought the sisters brainwashed her, and why be a nun when there were so many young men we knew together who’ve got crushes on her. I know of course that she gave this deep thought and that she’s very learned about her catholic religion and she has actively chosen this life, and the elusive thing I cannot grasp, she has faith. I honestly cannot say that I gave much thought or active choosing of the life course I’m living, but I love my life just the same.
Evelyn and I were on our own then in Paris. We decided to take the hop on hop off tourist waterbus to see the sights. I was familiar with most of the tourist sites as this was my 4th trip to Paris, but I was not taking charge in any of those trips, and here Evelyn was counting on me to have a memorable trip. The waterbus route was super. It offered a unique view of Paris from the Seine, it did not have to contend with traffic and the noise and heat of concrete and exhaust fumes. We had a cool and sunny day to explore the Musee d’Orsay, which was closed on Mondays unfortunately, the Notre Dame and the Latin quarter, St. Germain-des Pres, the Hotel de Ville, which now is the seat of the City municipal government and the nearby le Marais, emerging as the trendsetter of Paris chic and urbanity, the bridges, Pont Alexander, Pont Neuf, Pont Royal, Pont des Arts, Pont de la Concorde, and the bridge to Passy where our apartment was , Pont de Bir Hakiem, which was a mere 10 minute walk to the Tour Eiffel. We got off at the Louvre, went under the glass pyramid to check out the amenities, the mall, restaurants, the underground lay out. We skipped visiting the art galleries as we had no time, reserving this for a more leisurely visit, instead we shopped the museum mall for souvenirs. I bought 3 children’s books and a pair of medieval masks which I forgot on the bench at the Louvre waterbus stop, and 3 days of checking with the tour company did not succeed in returning them. We strolled the nearby Tuileries gardens and found a shaded bench to watch people pass by and to rest our feet. The waterbus terminus is at the foot of the Eiffel tower so we put this last on our tour, planning to have dinner at the halfway platform of the tower at the Jules Verne Restaurant, but alas, it was closed for renovations. We stopped by a bistro in the Grenelle neighborhood. On the way home, as we crossed the bridge to the right bank of the Seine, the Eiffel tower stood against the night sky, bathed in golden light. In the train every night as it crosses the Bir Hakiem bridge we can see the Eiffel emerge from the tree tops, and if the time is right we can catch it covered with twinkling lights dancing all over its surface. I caught it one night alongside the moon, and I got a great picture.
We wanted a taste of Paris shopping so on the 4th day we took the metro to the Opera, and started on Haussman Boulevard, and checked out Galleries Lafayette, and Printemps, then took a breather at Cafe La Paix for lunch, then proceeded to Place Vendome and checked out all the mouth-watering baubles at Cartier, Van Cleef and Arpels, Boucheron, and the like. We lost ourselves browsing on rue St Honore, the boulevard Capucine and rue Royal. We splurged on Louis Vuitton presents. We went home excited with our purchases and wanted to deposit them before going out for dinner in a nice restaurant. By this time we were getting tired of bistro menu, we’ve ordered them all and we wanted something real nice, like grilled fresh fois gras or cotes de veau. Horrors, we forgot our key inside the apartment. We got into the ante foyer by using the code at the door 3436B, which we remember by thinking of bra sizes which do not fit us. We got into the inside foyer through a resident who happened to arrive. The gardienne, Lydia, is the homebody sort who was always around the whole time we were there until tonight. We have waited over an hour until Danielle, a resident in the building for 25 years arrived who knew Lydia and knew that she was babysitting for a friend that night and knew how to contact her there by phone. Lydia arrived all flustered to discover she left her keys too in her apartment! Mon Dieu! But not to worry, her son lives upstairs and has a key to her apartment. Voila, we all got in and found our keys where we left them on the mantle. By this time, it was too late to eat anywhere but we found a Chinese buffet in Passy, about to close for the night but the owner allowed us to have the remaining scraps in the trays. The next day we took the RER train for a day of designer outlet shopping in La Vallee Village, 35 minutes east of Paris. You get off one stop before Disneyland Paris, at Val d’Europe. We had to learn the hard way that the Paris metro tickets are not good for the suburban RER trains. The exit turnstyle wouldn’t open for us until we paid the supplement price of E4.50. I didn’t get too excited in these outlet stores, as I can get better deals at Loehmann’s and at Sak’s and Parisian when they hold their super discount sales.
Everybody goes to Versailles when they visit Paris, so we took another RER to travel 25 minutes southwest of Paris to view the setting of the opulent lifestyle that took the monarchy down, and cost Marie Antionette her head. It was a beautiful day, we took our time, lingered in the gardens, took long walks to the Grand trianon and the petit Trianon and to Marie Antionette’s hamlet. What a grand way to play country maid. We had a delightful lunch at the La Petite Venise, a wonderfully conceived restaurant in the old boat house that once housed the King’s Venetian gondoliers and oarsmen.
Ho hum, this touring is already wearing us down and we’re just about ready to settle to a quiet day of reading or watching TV but our TV is all in French, and the apartment does not have enough lighting good for reading, and we have places we haven’t been yet. We’ve been losing sleep because this charming apartment with its high ceilings and lovely embossed ceiling trays, herringbone-patterned wood floors, antique furnishings, and art on the walls, has no sound insulation at all and in fact the walls acts like conductors of the feeblest sound from elsewhere in the building. We could hear footfalls above, the rustling of paper, conversations,the rush of water in the pipes, the roar of flushing toilets, and the heavy metal clang of the iron elevator outside our door. Lydia, who communicates with us in Spanish since she knows no English and we know no French, bustles noisily in the early morning in the courtyard dragging garbage bins and rattling them every which ways and running the water hose inside the bins which acts like a drum in a marching band. But she’s a dear otherwise, very helpful and friendly. She arranged our airport shuttle and gave us tips and directions. We gave her a bottle of Bordeaux in appreciation.
On our last day we took the metro to Etoile and visited the arc d’ triomphe, then walked down Champs Elysee to the Place de Concorde. We hunted down the restored art deco covered shopping arcades and galleries, popular Parisian hangouts at the turn of the century, the prototype of the modern shopping malls. We started on Rue Rivoli and Rue du Louvre to track rue Jean Jacques-Rosseau and find Galerie Vero- Dodat, then Galerie Vivienne and Galerie Colbert. Along the vicinity of Palais Royal and Rue St Denis we stumbled on Passage Jouffroy , Choisuel, de Perron,among many. These are in various stages of restoration.They are very charming with mosaic tiled floors, wood paneling at store fronts and glass domed ceilings. We meandeared along the Grand Boulevards, des Italiens, des Capucines, Rue royal, watched a dance performance on the square at Place Colette. We found ourselves on Boulevard Montmarte and was amazed at the distance we’ve covered. We had dinner in a nice restaurant and went back to Passy to pack. We didn’t have any problem getting our VAT refund at the airport and the flight back was almost on time, just half an hour late, and customs was a breeze, after all we didn’t bring in any Frenchman! Au revoir Paris, vous voir bientôt.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Computerization of the UPCM
Wellness, Wit & Winning at the Wynn
UPMASA 22nd Annual Grand Convention
July 1-5, 2007
by Miman Class '67
The recently concluded 22nd UPMASA AGC held at the fabulous Wynn Las Vegas was attended by over 600 registrants and over 300 University of the Philippines College of Medicine alumni. It is an annual ritual of bonding, earning CME (Continuing Medical Education) credits, and renewing allegiance and inspiration from the alma mater. One of the CME lecturers, Dr. Alvin Marcelo, UPCM ’99, TOYM Awardee in 2005, Director of the Medical Informatics Department in the UPCM and the head of the Buddy Works Philippine Tele-health Project, delivered the Johnny B. Pellicer Professorial Chair lecture on “ Integrating the Philippine Health Care System Through Tele-health”. This lecture excited a lot of the alumni. It was inspirational. It moved one alumna to direct her donation to the cause specifically. The project embodies all the ideals that a UPCM graduate holds, to offer the best of himself to serve the greatest need of the under-served Filipinos. This project brings to doctors to the barrios the capability to connect with UPCM and all its resources in the care of the local patient in remote areas of the Philippines. UPMASA has played a major role in its development.
Ten years ago, UPMASA visionaries headed by Wee Besa, UPCM ’67, who was the Computerization Committee Chair then and for several years after, doggedly persisted in convincing UPMASA leadership to support the computerization project in the UPCM. It was a struggle as 10 years ago the cost of internet connection was $550 per month, and a computer cost $1500 compared to today’s $400. Through graduated phases in the project UPMASA built the infra-structure slowly over a period of 4-5 years. The UPCM LAN Project distinguished the College to be the first in the Philippine academic community to link all its buildings and departments together with a broadband connection. Various components of UPMASA helped with the computerization. The Delaware Valley Chapter under Joe Pamintuan’s presidency in 1997 built the first Multi Disciplinary Laboratory used by the Basic Sciences Department where Anatomy, Physiology, and Biochemistry are taught and simulated computerized experiments replaced animal physiology experiments. Class ’71 donated the first 10 computers to the medical library and supported a subscription to Ovid/Medline database, through its EMERALDS Project. The Baltimore, Michigan, and Philadelphia Chapters held fund-raising events to support subsequent phases of the project. Delaware Valley Chapter has its Laptop project for needy undergraduates and post-residency physicians. It has extended its support to provide laptops to physicians in the Doctors to the Barrios program, an important piece in integrating the Philippine health system through Tele-health. Individual donors, Linda Gambito ’66, $50K, Nicki Nicdao ’67, $45K, and many alumni helped. The PEF (Permanent Endowment Fund) supports its maintenance by funding the salaries of 4 MIU employees and allocating an annual $17K budget for computer maintenance and replacement. Most recently, Class ’57, headed by its president Joe Peczon, had undertaken the computerization of the Orthopedics Department Health Records as its class Golden Jubilee project.
The Medical Informatics Unit in the UPCM developed a database system called CHITS (Community Health Information and Tracking System) in conjunction with the UPCM Community Health Department and the government of Pasay City where UPCM interns rotate. The software is in Tagalog, and barangay health workers are trained to enter data in the patient health registry. It asks, “ Ano ang pangalan mo?”, “Saan ka nakatira?”, etc. And true to Filipino ingenuity and frugality, MIU recycled old computers and introduced new technology and new skills to the barangay health workers. This Urban Community Based Health Program over the period of 3 years as a demonstration project, will ultimately reach 75,000 residents in 10 barangays, train 200 lay volunteer health workers, 100 community leaders and local government officials, and benefit 320 medical students, and 50 local health care professionals. UPMASA Southeast Chapter is supporting this project with $36K over the 3-year period. PEF donated audio-visual equipment for training health care workers. This project will lay down the infra-structure for the Pasay City government to provide basic health care to its constituents. CHITS has caught international attention as a model of medical informatics technology and was a finalist in the Stockholm Challenge in 2006.
Bringing the Tele-health technology to the barrios will require upgrade of the 10-year old infra-structure. When the cables were laid down in 1997, the MIU was young and had no experience in building a network. With subsequent increased demand, the LAN expanded without structure and order. The system had become congested and is constantly breaking down. It will require the services of a certified network engineer to evaluate and audit the system and recommend fixes. Upgrading into a wireless infrastructure with industry-grade connectivity is also indicated. The Dean had identified the UPCM Network Rehabilitation and Upgrade project as #1 priority. To have this system running smoothly will open up challenging opportunities for international collaboration in Telehealth. Already the Shriner’s Hospital in Hawaii is about to commence testing its system and many are waiting in the wings.
During the pre-convention activities, the Dean of UPCM Dr. Bert Roxas articulated his vision for the College in the next 25 years, in the Conversation with the Dean pre- 4 Doctor’s in Concert segment. He seeks to restore the UPCM in the forefront of technology, innovation, develop a research program, build academic excellence, nurture faculty and employees, develop sustainability, and produce graduates who are imbued with nationalism and social accountability, rendering service to his community and his country. When we entered the College of Medicine, we were all asked in our admission interviews why we wanted to be doctors. I bet we all answered because we wanted to serve humanity. We thought we’d train in the US and return and serve our country. But of course, life happened, and we got married, had children, acquired a mortgage and credit card bills, and we got stuck. We had good intentions and we wanted to somehow make things right. UPMASA allows us to give back to UPCM and PGH, and to the Filipino people. When we learn of how much colleagues like Dr. Alvin Marcelo make a difference because of the work they do, we become nostalgic of what it may have been for us if we traveled the other road. The next best thing then is to support UPMASA, because if we do, we help colleagues like Dr. Marcelo do the things that we would have liked to accomplish if we did our work back home. Ahh, C’est la vie. During this 22nd AGC, with its theme of Wellness, Wit & Winning at the Wynn, my Class ’67 had pledged to support the UPCM Network Rehabilitation and Upgrade Project as our Ruby Jubilee project. This is a winner!
UPMASA 22nd Annual Grand Convention
July 1-5, 2007
by Miman Class '67
The recently concluded 22nd UPMASA AGC held at the fabulous Wynn Las Vegas was attended by over 600 registrants and over 300 University of the Philippines College of Medicine alumni. It is an annual ritual of bonding, earning CME (Continuing Medical Education) credits, and renewing allegiance and inspiration from the alma mater. One of the CME lecturers, Dr. Alvin Marcelo, UPCM ’99, TOYM Awardee in 2005, Director of the Medical Informatics Department in the UPCM and the head of the Buddy Works Philippine Tele-health Project, delivered the Johnny B. Pellicer Professorial Chair lecture on “ Integrating the Philippine Health Care System Through Tele-health”. This lecture excited a lot of the alumni. It was inspirational. It moved one alumna to direct her donation to the cause specifically. The project embodies all the ideals that a UPCM graduate holds, to offer the best of himself to serve the greatest need of the under-served Filipinos. This project brings to doctors to the barrios the capability to connect with UPCM and all its resources in the care of the local patient in remote areas of the Philippines. UPMASA has played a major role in its development.
Ten years ago, UPMASA visionaries headed by Wee Besa, UPCM ’67, who was the Computerization Committee Chair then and for several years after, doggedly persisted in convincing UPMASA leadership to support the computerization project in the UPCM. It was a struggle as 10 years ago the cost of internet connection was $550 per month, and a computer cost $1500 compared to today’s $400. Through graduated phases in the project UPMASA built the infra-structure slowly over a period of 4-5 years. The UPCM LAN Project distinguished the College to be the first in the Philippine academic community to link all its buildings and departments together with a broadband connection. Various components of UPMASA helped with the computerization. The Delaware Valley Chapter under Joe Pamintuan’s presidency in 1997 built the first Multi Disciplinary Laboratory used by the Basic Sciences Department where Anatomy, Physiology, and Biochemistry are taught and simulated computerized experiments replaced animal physiology experiments. Class ’71 donated the first 10 computers to the medical library and supported a subscription to Ovid/Medline database, through its EMERALDS Project. The Baltimore, Michigan, and Philadelphia Chapters held fund-raising events to support subsequent phases of the project. Delaware Valley Chapter has its Laptop project for needy undergraduates and post-residency physicians. It has extended its support to provide laptops to physicians in the Doctors to the Barrios program, an important piece in integrating the Philippine health system through Tele-health. Individual donors, Linda Gambito ’66, $50K, Nicki Nicdao ’67, $45K, and many alumni helped. The PEF (Permanent Endowment Fund) supports its maintenance by funding the salaries of 4 MIU employees and allocating an annual $17K budget for computer maintenance and replacement. Most recently, Class ’57, headed by its president Joe Peczon, had undertaken the computerization of the Orthopedics Department Health Records as its class Golden Jubilee project.
The Medical Informatics Unit in the UPCM developed a database system called CHITS (Community Health Information and Tracking System) in conjunction with the UPCM Community Health Department and the government of Pasay City where UPCM interns rotate. The software is in Tagalog, and barangay health workers are trained to enter data in the patient health registry. It asks, “ Ano ang pangalan mo?”, “Saan ka nakatira?”, etc. And true to Filipino ingenuity and frugality, MIU recycled old computers and introduced new technology and new skills to the barangay health workers. This Urban Community Based Health Program over the period of 3 years as a demonstration project, will ultimately reach 75,000 residents in 10 barangays, train 200 lay volunteer health workers, 100 community leaders and local government officials, and benefit 320 medical students, and 50 local health care professionals. UPMASA Southeast Chapter is supporting this project with $36K over the 3-year period. PEF donated audio-visual equipment for training health care workers. This project will lay down the infra-structure for the Pasay City government to provide basic health care to its constituents. CHITS has caught international attention as a model of medical informatics technology and was a finalist in the Stockholm Challenge in 2006.
Bringing the Tele-health technology to the barrios will require upgrade of the 10-year old infra-structure. When the cables were laid down in 1997, the MIU was young and had no experience in building a network. With subsequent increased demand, the LAN expanded without structure and order. The system had become congested and is constantly breaking down. It will require the services of a certified network engineer to evaluate and audit the system and recommend fixes. Upgrading into a wireless infrastructure with industry-grade connectivity is also indicated. The Dean had identified the UPCM Network Rehabilitation and Upgrade project as #1 priority. To have this system running smoothly will open up challenging opportunities for international collaboration in Telehealth. Already the Shriner’s Hospital in Hawaii is about to commence testing its system and many are waiting in the wings.
During the pre-convention activities, the Dean of UPCM Dr. Bert Roxas articulated his vision for the College in the next 25 years, in the Conversation with the Dean pre- 4 Doctor’s in Concert segment. He seeks to restore the UPCM in the forefront of technology, innovation, develop a research program, build academic excellence, nurture faculty and employees, develop sustainability, and produce graduates who are imbued with nationalism and social accountability, rendering service to his community and his country. When we entered the College of Medicine, we were all asked in our admission interviews why we wanted to be doctors. I bet we all answered because we wanted to serve humanity. We thought we’d train in the US and return and serve our country. But of course, life happened, and we got married, had children, acquired a mortgage and credit card bills, and we got stuck. We had good intentions and we wanted to somehow make things right. UPMASA allows us to give back to UPCM and PGH, and to the Filipino people. When we learn of how much colleagues like Dr. Alvin Marcelo make a difference because of the work they do, we become nostalgic of what it may have been for us if we traveled the other road. The next best thing then is to support UPMASA, because if we do, we help colleagues like Dr. Marcelo do the things that we would have liked to accomplish if we did our work back home. Ahh, C’est la vie. During this 22nd AGC, with its theme of Wellness, Wit & Winning at the Wynn, my Class ’67 had pledged to support the UPCM Network Rehabilitation and Upgrade Project as our Ruby Jubilee project. This is a winner!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)