A Stopover at Beijing Airport

After close to a week and a half of being away from this blog, I'm back. After a 23 hour-long trip, my plane landed in New York at around 5:30 p.m. last night (Sunday night, 6:30 a.m. in Manila). It was a long and exhausting trip. It would have been a much shorter trip were it not for my five-hour stopover in Beijing.

I took a Philippine Airlines (PAL) flight out of Manila for Beijing early Sunday morning. It wasn't a full flight. At the most, the flight was only 40% full which made me wonder if the Manila-to-Beijing route was a profitable one for PAL. The stop at Beijing involved a transfer to an American airline. Once my plane landed at Beijing Airport, I was surprised to find that even though I was only there for a stopover, I was still required by Chinese immigration law to fill out immigration admission and departure forms. I asked the lady at the immigration desk why this was so but she barely spoke English. It was mainly through hand gestures that she was able to partly answer my questions.

As they say, one can't fight city hall so I decided to comply, albeit reluctantly. I also had to watch my behavior for being in a strict communist state, I knew that the authorities there have a very low tolerance for dissent. The last thing I needed was to spend months in a dirty, cold and crowded Beijing jail simply because I questioned the wisdom behind some of their immigration laws.

Beijing's airport was quite huge and it was made so in preparation for the 2008 Olympics. However, in my humble opinion, the place didn't really offer much in terms of entertainment or shopping. I didn't see a lot of souvenir shops. Most of the ones I saw sold cigarettes, liquor and perfume. Pretty much just the basic stuff. The signages on the shops were not pleasing to look at either. Most of the shops' names were simply painted over an awning above a shop's entrance. Televisions all over the airport lounge I was in only showed programs in Chinese without the benefit of English subtitles. In short, the place was big but boring. I'm just glad that I brought a good book with me to help while away the hours.

Except for the immigration officers and people who manned the airline desks, communication in English was definitely a problem. At one point, I needed to go to a restroom and had to approach one of the airport workers to see where I could find the nearest restroom. Our brief conversation went this way:

Baker: Excuse me, could you point me to the nearest restroom?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head while responding.)

Thinking that I might have been misunderstood, I immediately rephrased the question to see if I could get a different answer out of him.
Baker: Is there a comfort room around here?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head again.)

I searched my mental dictionary for another word he might be able to understand.
Baker: Is there a toilet around here?
Airport worker: No. (Shakes his head again and smiles this time. The "smile" was probably his way of confessing that after all this time, he didn't really understand a word I was saying.)

The only option left to me at this pont was to use some hand or bodily gestures to show what I needed to do but again, this was Beijing. I have to admit that since it was my first time in a Communist country, I was a bit paranoid and didn't want to do anything that would offend the "authorities". Thus, by resorting to gestures, I ran the risk of being misinterpreted in a big way and it will probably land me again in a dirty, cold and crowded Beijing jail. So, I just kept walking until I eventually came across a picture symbol for a restroom. Good.

Walking into the men's room, I was greeted by a male attendant who, in contrast to the airport worker I dealt with a few minutes earlier, proved to be a shining example of extreme helpfulness. With a smile, this attendant courteously directed me to one of the available urinals. (As if I needed to be shown where they were. Hehehe) Once I was done, he immediately walked over to one of the sinks and proceeded to turn the faucet on for me. I appreciated the service and put my hands under the faucet. As I began to wash my hands, he immediately proceeded to turn the liquid soap dispenser (which was immediately to the right of the faucet) on for my use. With that, I completed washing my hands.

However, the gentleman wasn't done with his service. As soon as he saw that I was done washing my hands, he immediately swiped two paper towels out of the paper towel holder on the wall and handed them to me so I could dry my hands with them. I wasn't sure if he was expecting a tip from all of that great service he provided but I sure appreciated his help. He smiled and respectfully nodded his head at me as I thanked him while walking out of the restroom.

Finally, no Baker activity would be complete without a visit to a cafe or restaurant. Midway through the five-hour wait, I got hungry and decided to have an afternoon snack at an airport coffee shop called "The Lei Cafe". I ordered a couple of hotdog sandwiches (Did I say that I was VERY hungry at this point? Hehe) and a can of Coke.

As I was waiting for my order, I came across the following sign that was posted by the coffee shop's main entrance. It attempts to explain the rationale as to why The Lei Cafe was named the way it was. Word for word and down to the exact spelling of each word, here is what the sign said:

"Lei are used to signify Peace, Friendship and Love. It also should be a welcomed, parting, thankful or congratulant celebration of one person, is affection to another."

I couldn't have said it better myself. :D

I'm slowly easing my way back into work mode after having been away for 10 days. It doesn't help that I'm dealing with a severe case of jet lag and to a lesser degree, an upset stomach. But I should be ok within a few days. I hope.

Baker's Going On A Break

Folks, I will be away for a few days to take a much needed break.

To those of you who reside in the US, I wish you all in advance a Happy Thanksgiving Holiday!

To everyone else, take very good care of yourselves.

Although I won't miss my work, I'll certainly miss blogging and bloghopping through your sites. But I'll see you all again in a couple of weeks. Until then, take care everyone!

A Couple of Sentimental Favorites

It's a quiet Saturday evening where I am so I decided to enjoy the moment by listening to some favorite songs. My CD player has been quiet these past couple of months because thanks to a rather busy work schedule, I wasn't able to spend some time listening to any of my CDs. Anyway, with some free time on my hands finally, I decided to end the quiet streak to once again listen to some old favorites.

I've loved this Free Movement song from the very moment I first heard it played on DWRK 96.3.

It was the mid-eighties. I was in college and at the time, RK 96 (which was how DWRK 96.3 was known then) was the station I listened to whenever I needed my "oldies fix".

The radio station was still rather new at the time and during my first couple of years in college, the station broadcasted out of a building at the corner of Senator Gil J. Puyat Avenue (Buendia Avenue) and Bautista Street in Makati City. If my memory serves me right, the building's ground floor was occupied by a branch of the United Coconut Planters Bank. ("UCPB") The radio station set aside Wednesday of every week to play nothing but oldies songs all day. The folks at DWRK called this program "Oldies Wednesday". Or maybe it was "Sixties Wednesday"? Hahaha! I can't exactly remember now but anyway....

It was through RK 96's oldies Wednesday program that I was introduced to the song above. It's called "The Harder I Try (The Bluer I Get)" and was a tune that The Free Movement released back in December 1971. I love the song for the simplicity of its lyrics and the beauty of its music. Talk about true "easy listening". Too bad though that as a group, The Free Movement didn't last long for the group had ceased to exist by 1973.

Anyway, let me just share with you the lyrics of this little musical gem a great vocal group gave us from the distant past:

At night I find that I can't sleep
All day long I walk the streets
My heart is filled with misery and pain
Tears fill my eyes when I speak your name

The harder I try,
The bluer I get;
Lord knows that I
I haven't gotten over losing you.

I can't get over losing you...
I can't get over losing you...

I'm so lonely I've lost my pride
And I've got tears that I can't hide;
Every day I'm so sad and blue
Without your love, what would I do?

The harder I try
(The harder I try)
The bluer I get
(The bluer I get)
Lord knows that I
I haven't gotten over losing you.

Last night I held someone new
But when I kissed her lips I was seeing you
A kiss like this has no meaning you see
And life without you has no future for me

Oh, the harder I try
(The harder I try)
The bluer I get
(The bluer I get)
Lord knows that I
I haven't gotten over losing you.

I can't get over losing you...
(Losing you...)
I can't get over losing you...
(Losing you...)
I can't get over losing you...
(Losing you...)

As for the radio station DWRK 96.3, I was a junior in college when it moved from its humble digs in Buendia to its new and current location at the FEMS Tower 1 Building on Zobel-Roxas Street. I still make it a point to listen to the station whenever I'm in Manila. The building that used to house the station at the corner of Buendia Avenue and Bautista Street is still there. A UCPB branch still occupies its ground floor. Like the song above, this station has remained a sentimental favorite of mine because I remain grateful for the countless songs it introduced to me many years ago, songs I still love listening to to this day.

Lost Them..... For Now

I don't know how many people find themselves in a similar predicament but what has long been a source of personal frustration for me is the fact that I do not know enough of my family's history and heritage. And by this, I'm not just referring to one side of the family. I'm referring to BOTH my father and mother's respective sides of the family. I find it quite pathetic not because I didn't care enough to find out but it is mainly due to the very limited information available from close relatives.

Let me start with my mother's side of the family. My mother does not know where both my grandfather's parents are buried. My maternal grandfather, an only child, was born in 1897 and died in 1983. Both his parents had passed away by the time he was in his early 20s in 1920.

Being the seventh of eight children and having been born in the latter part of the 1930s, I can understand and even forgive my mother for this lapse. However, the situation becomes quite absurd when one learns that none of her older siblings also know where their grandparents are exactly buried. All I was told years ago was that the poor, almost forgotten couple were buried in a cemetery somewhere in Malolos, Bulacan.

However, when I asked my mom the very same question just this past week, she said that there isn't even a degree of certainty that my maternal greatgrandparents' remains even lie in a Malolos cemetery. All she now knows is that they were buried somewhere in Bulacan. Oh great. Just effing great. Now, all of Bulacan's cemeteries just became search candidates. If I had to start my search at this very moment, I would have to first come up with a master list of all Bulacan cemeteries that have been around for at least a hundred years and are still used today. God knows how many such cemeteries are out there. And worse, there's also the possibility that the cemetery those poor folks were buried in nine decades ago may no longer be a cemetery today. For all I know, on the cemetery's old site could now stand any of the following: a children's playground, a subdivision, a tiangge (flea market) or worse, perhaps a row of uber-trendy restaurants. I certainly hope that that's not the case.

At least I know my greatgrandfather's full name if in case I have to search through some birth and death records. Researching about my greatgrandmother would be more of a challenge. Although I know her first name, neither my mom nor any of her siblings know what her maiden name was. I guess I could attempt to find a marriage license somewhere that has both my greatgrandfather's full name and my greatgrandmother's first name on it.

On my father's side of the family, things are only slightly better. In contrast to my mother's side, both my greatgrandparents' names, their birth and death dates are well documented since they're both buried in the family plot at Manila's North Cemetery. However, even though I was told that my greatgrandfather was part of a rather large brood, I do not have any information as to the names of any of his siblings. Neither does my father nor any his surviving siblings.

I also know next to nothing about my dear greatgrandmother. I do not have any information as to who her parents and her siblings (if any) were, and where exactly in Manila she grew up. At least I know her maiden name and that would be a start. She was quite entrepreneurial according to my father. She was the brains behind a successful family business that operated in both Manila and Makati City back in the 1930s. She passed away from old age when I was four years old.

As for my greatgrandfather's heritage, I have mixed information. Looking at old family photographs from the early 1930s, my greatgrandfather had very strong Chinese features. From the photographs I saw, he possessed a rather fair complexion and Chinese eyes. I was also told that my greatgrandfather's father had worked as a cook somewhere in Binondo during the 19th Century. My father and relatives say that we are of mixed Chinese and Filipino heritage. That's probably right because it's quite common in the Philippines.

But again, nobody knows where my great greatgrandfather lies buried. I don't even know the name of his wife, my great greatgrandmother. No one in the family knows what her name was. I have no real information on any of my greatgrandfather's siblings either. My father has second cousins but I didn't find out who and how many they were until I visited Manila last year. What makes matters worse was that in all the many years I lived and grew in my hometown, I never knew (and my father never bothered to tell his children) that those folks had been living in a neighboring district all that time!

As for the origins of our family name, the answer I got was that the name was/is quite common in Batangas. In particular, our ancestors were supposed to have migrated to Manila from Batangas, Batangas. How nice and yet how generic. But here again, growing up, none of my cousins and I were ever introduced to any Batangueno relative. None of us were even taken to Batangas on a single sentimental trip to see an ancestral home. The only memories I have of Batangas were of family excursions to beach resorts in the summer. But no memories at all of any single trip that was taken for the sole purpose of meeting up with a Batangas-based relative.

Seriously, I have my doubts about our family's Batangueno roots. And the reason I say this is based on our family's collective command of the Tagalog dialect. Whenever we speak to each other, we hardly use deep or profound Tagalog words. Our vocabulary is pretty much limited to common or everyday Tagalog words. The deeper Tagalog words we learned along the way often came from school and from people who married into the family.

If still possible, I also want to find out what our original Chinese name was. This is due to the fact that our Chinese features are so strong that people often mistake quite a number of my cousins and I for Chinese rather than Filipino. When I was in Hongkong earlier this year, a lot of locals came up to me and spoke to me in Chinese. It may be close to impossible at this point but I still hope to set the record straight someday.

Given all this family history mess, I definitely have my work cut out for me. I plan to spend a good deal of time in Manila someday to work on sorting these things out. I hope I will still be healthy enough if and when that time comes. I want to know more about my family's past. I'm not very happy with the very limited information I have right now. I feel bad for my long deceased relatives whose names are almost lost to history. I feel bad that as a family, we haven't done a very good job of remembering the people who came before us.

I believe we owe it to our ancestors to keep memories of them alive. I also believe that we owe it to future generations of our family that they get a sense of where they came from and who they are. I fervently hope that records still exist in some government or municipal office somewhere that would provide me with leads or clues as to who they were, where they lived, and aside from us, who their other descendants are.

I'm still not certain as to what I'll do when the day comes and I finally have all the information I've long sought for in front of me. All I can say right now is I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

A Very Big Thanks!

I would just like to pause for a moment and thank a few blogger friends who, over the last couple of months were very kind to award yours truly.

First of all I would like to express my deepest thanks to both Blogusvox and Ever for sharing with me the Oops Award.

Accoding to the folks who came up with the Oops award, the award was created and is to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their humor and their talents, also for contributing to the blogging world in whatever medium. When you receive this award it is considered a “special honor”.

The following Uber Amazing Blog Award was given to me by one of my first blogger-friends, RDL. The Uber Amazing Blog Award is a blog award given to sites who:
~ inspire you
~ make you smile and laugh
~ or maybe gives amazing information
~ a great read
~ has an amazing design
~ and any other reasons you can think of that makes them uber amazing!

Her blog was one of the first I enjoyed reading and visiting when I was still new to blogging. As such, a very big THANKS goes out to her.

Last but not least, the following Friendship Award was given to me by Madbong23 all the way from New Zealand. I enjoy reading about his life stories and experiences in that special part of the world.

Friends, thank you very much again for these awards. I apologize that it took me quite a while before posting them on here but please know that I appreciate the thoughts behind them very much.