Chasing Pavements

NOTE: This is our attempt in making a philosophical essay. Maxine, Jewel, and I chose to write about Davao’s Taxi for our COMA 109 assignment. Whew. I enjoyed the workshop. But then again, the most important thing here is: Do you understand?

Chasing Pavements

^[1] Today he is taken. Tomorrow he is not. And suddenly he is taken again. Every now and then, he changes: directions, locations, on and off relationships; no one could predict him except the one who occupies him! Sometimes he chooses whom he likes to be with and he refuses to take a look at other people. However, he dashes to the crowd and pushes himself to catch the attention of the people and assures your security and convenience. He, sometimes, is snobbish and pretends to be busy. He makes other people who run after him wait in vain when he is already taken. Yet, he makes everybody happy. He takes the one inside him on a journey full of commitment and leads you to the right destination. However, you could not foretell whom he likes: men and women of all ages. He always wears a headband and he never takes it off. His headband tells you his identity and inside of it carves his name: TAXI, the taxis of Davao.

^[2] They have a life of their own, apart from all the public vehicles in the city. They choose to be different. The fare may be slightly higher than the others’ but it guarantees you a faster way out! But unlike any other city, Davao has two kinds of taxis, one of which is in danger of becoming extinct. The non air-conditioned taxi is required to close its windows very soon, and not too long from now, they will be converted to be just like any other taxi in town! Nothing shall remain of it, maybe not even the warm body driving it.

^[3] Despite its awaited death, the non air-conditioned taxis remain to be one of the things today that complete one’s Davao experience. As soon as you open the door, the taxi driver immediately gives you the royal treatment fit for someone who stepped foot in the Kingdom of Royalties. He lets you in to sit on the cushion of the car. The soft padding relaxes your butt and helps release the tension from your body. You then choose to lie back, hoping it could massage your neck, until all that is left for you to do is to let go. The vehicle then takes speed. You feel warm air blowing on your face, and then you realize that the windows are open. Just when you wanted to roll them up, you noticed that the window roller is gone! The driver does not bother to explain why; he just lets the air come inside to caress your face until you fall asleep. But just like any other luxury, the services of the taxi come with a price. The “tax” paid by the “I”, who is more than willing to shell out for the fee of royalty, is a very lucrative compensation to fund the facelift of the taxi. Soon, the driver will have to close the windows of his cab to welcome an air-conditioning system; one that can definitely put passengers to slumber and free them from worry of inhaling soot. The driver needs to save up to reinvent the vehicle so as to entice more people in dire need to feel princes and princesses for a day. It is truly a selfish deed, but then people would just refer to it as Davao beginning to improve their standards of living. A portion of purchases going to beautification and improvement!

^[4] The taxi is really different from other vehicles because its chain of command as it operates is linear. Taxis are all equipped with meters, which are electronic devices installed in taxicabs that calculate passenger fares based on a combination of distance travelled and waiting time. This controls the journey desired by the passenger, as it serves as a reminder that more than one drop-off point or destination will mean an additional flag-down charge. The passenger, on the other hand, controls the driver. He or she commands the driver to stop, to take him or her in, and to bring him or her to the desired destination. Finally, the driver sits on the cushion to hold onto the taxi’s steering wheel, steps on its accelerator, makes a brake when the car is over speeding, maneuvers its clutch, and grips the shifter lever. He controls the vehicle.

^[5] Basically, the first priority of a taxi driver is to bring you to the location of your choice safe and sound. Some would stay true to this ideal, but others would refuse to. In fact, the passengers would not even savor the word “rest” or close their eyes to take a nap because of a very nosy driver. They are most commonly known as “chismosong drayber”. Instead of just bringing you to the place where you want to go, such driver would torment you with penetrating questions, thus, depriving you of relaxation. You wish to stop him from talking and imagine yourself wrapping duct tape around his mouth.

^[6] But there are also some drivers whom you have just met, yet you feel like you have known each other for a long time. Maybe because you have things in common, may it be experiences, emotions, or acquaintances. Then and there you become more relaxed and comfortable, and as a bonus you add a new friend to your list! Such drivers are referred to as “barkadang drayber”.

^[7] On the other hand, there are some taxi drivers who are introverts. They are called the “unsociable”. Once you get in, you cannot tell him to halt and to just drop you by somewhere. Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk to you! You have no choice but to keep in silence and to contemplate. But, it may be an advantage to you if you are also an introvert! You need not then to be annoyed nor try to utter some words. You’d just have to shut your mouth, sit back, relax, and enjoy the extremity of silence all the way.

^[8] Conversely, if you are an extrovert person, who undyingly needs to talk and blabber about things, you better bring with you your mobile phone and talk to somebody. Your efforts of socializing with the “unsociable” would be useless, unless you would prefer to suffer from deep agony of preventing your saliva to do its job!

^[9] Choosing a taxi and driver go hand in hand. One has to be careful in the selection process because there are drivers who ask for a contract instead of relying on the taximeter. They would ask you outright to agree on the amount he proposes in order for you to hop in. The reason is not just because they feel like doing it or so. But it is due to the fact that Davao is such a wide and large city; it is difficult to reach uptowns and suburb areas. Instead of using the taximeter, some would probably ask you a hundred pesos or more. Or they may likely use the meter yet ask for additional ten to thirty pesos.

^[10] But then no matter how people would look at taxi drivers, they pretty much have the same function! They cut corners to avoid busy streets of the city, especially in places like Bajada, San Pedro, and Matina. It goes through the safest and most convenient routes in order for you to arrive at the desired time. Although it may seem to be a lot more expensive than the other public transportations, still, it’s worth it! Davao taxi drivers cater to the needs of every individual and serve the public with an equality of zeal. It seems to be a clear reflection of the distinct traits of Dabawenyos.

^[11] Davao boasts of its uniqueness, and taxis are not exempted. Unlike in any other city, the taxis of Davao feel a need to be identified. This makes them completely different from any other public transport in the city because of the major franchises that manage them. The giants of the business are Holiday, Maligaya and Mabuhay, and each of them gives you a distinct journey.

^[12] The name Holiday is a contraction of two Middle English terms that have Old English origins, hālig that means holy and dæg that refers to day. The word stands for a religious observance, but today, people have expanded the definition by associating it with vacation, a day of no classes, and et cetera. In Davao, the term would be associated to the Festival of Festivals – Kadayawan, a weeklong thanksgiving festivity of bountiful harvests. In addition to that, it can be the name of a public vehicle. Riding this taxi that is of yellow and black color combination assures you of the fastest way around Davao, which is perfect when there is massive traffic especially during events.

^[13] The taxi known as Maligaya traces the origin of its name to a Tagalog word that means “joyful”. This taxi separates itself from the rest of its kind by not having to paint its body white. Instead, it greets its potential passengers especially tourists visiting Davao for the Kadayawan with yellow and red, which suggests the mood of the festivity. Riding it assures you of a joyful trip around Davao, especially during its biggest festival!

^[14] Lastly, Mabuhay Taxi derives its name from the Filipino equivalent of the statement, “long live”. At first, it appears to be a remark of congratulations for the achievements of Dabawenyos. But then, it also serves as an encouragement to the people and the city’s visitors to continue exploring what Davao has to offer. Riding Mabuhay assures you of some sort of optimism, that you will find what you are looking for in the city! It shall promise you a fruitful travel.

^[15] Having said these, the names of the known local taxi franchise in Davao seem to suggest three moods or experiences that a passenger can choose from. It is up to him or her if she opts to be in a “fast”, “joyful”, or “optimistic” feeling while travelling around the city. Furthermore, the three names also mirror Davao’s characteristics: Fast Development, Joyful Celebrations, and Optimistic People.

^[16] Taxis chase pavements as if they have lives of their own. They are different from any other public vehicle. Soon, they would all be the same. Only the name of the franchise on their body will differentiate them from each other. But they shall promise a better service. Its driver, whatever type he is, may even be changed! But the next one shall guarantee a better execution of a driver’s function. Finally, what makes a taxi totally different is that it can reflect DAVAO – Its culture and its people.

A Little Bit of Everything

Despite the influence of the Chinese culture in me, I am a Filipino. And I want to be known as a good one. My mother is an Ilokano and my father has traces of being a Bikolano. In addition to such lineages, I am also a Roman Catholic, and I live with our extended family. I told you I am Filipino, and this is my culture:

As a child I grew up with the Chinese tradition, which was more emphasized when I attended a Chinese Christian School for thirteen years. This taught me to see time as a commodity, that it should not be wasted because it can alter my life if it were dealt with the wrong way. It also made me realize the importance of colors; for example, when you go to a burial you should not wear red unless you want to celebrate the death of a person! If not, you should resort to wearing white. Black is a no-no, although Filipino traditions prefer it, since it would portray death rather than mourning. Talking about burial, I have also been accustomed, especially to one, of Chinese beliefs: I do not say goodbye if I were to leave the funeral because if I did, it would bring bad luck.

But then most of the time, I break such norms when I am with a different group, such as Filipinos. My mother always reminds me of the Filipino in me, mainly because she raised my brother, my sister, and I in the Filipino way. We share our “adobo” even if the one we brought was just enough for us. We take care of our elders instead of sending them to the Home for the Aged. When we celebrate birthdays, for example, the Filipino-style Spaghetti is always present. We seem to feel that it brings so much of the culture, even if the dish originated from another country! The difference of the Filipino Spaghetti with the others’ is its distinct sweet and spicy taste, pretty much like the character of a Filipino. In addition to that, we have been used to decorating our house once the “-BER” months have begun.

Sometimes both cultures contrast, just like the importance the Chinese put into colors versus the “creative” use of it by the Filipinos. Both cultures seldom do compliment each other, but most of the time we just have to do what we have to do just to avoid stress!

Having said these, I do not see myself as a “completed project” that has a very distinct culture. Sometimes I do feel a need to shift from one culture to follow to another because I have grown conscious with the background of the people I am with. Well, most likely when I am with my kin and my friends. Often times, I refer to it as an act of respect.

As part Ilokano, I am very frugal. This is a trait ingrained to us by my mother. We only spend for things that are worth the money. As for me, before I buy something, I need to sleep first and when I wake up the next day still wanting it, then there is no doubt that I will be purchasing it! My mother told me it is a way to gauge how you really need, and sometimes deserve (and not want), the thing you are going to buy. In addition, we are used to asking for “pakapin” or sometimes a discount! We need to get as much as we can for the thing we are buying, even if it were just some fried bananas worth three pesos each.

The Bikolano traits were not really taught to us by my father, although we do have a strong liking for spicy food. My father also loves to put “gata” in almost everything he cooks in the kitchen. Come to think of it, it may even be the cause of his death!

I love being Filipino. I have always loved the food, except those with “bago-ong”, the celebrations, the practices, and even the beliefs. Filipino beliefs are very amusing by the way, but I do not really follow or believe in them. They are just plain amusing, like did you know that when you are sick, it is the work of an evil spirit? Stepping on a pillow brings misfortune to you is strange, too. I stepped on one two months ago, and even a couple of times last week, and I did not lose a penny! Maybe the reason why I do not really follow them is because I have not been told of reasons why such statements are true. My parents do not also encourage us to believe in those either, unless it is Chinese. My father believes in a lot of what the Chinese has to say. And I believe what my father has to say so I accept them as true, sometimes even without question.

I prefer being a Filipino. I was raised in the Philippines and I live here. There is no excuse not fully being one. I hate the idea in Chinese on how they treat women. I personally adore my sister and I look up to her, even my mother whom I especially idolized at how she managed to hold our family together after losing my father. Some Chinese also do arranged marriage, which I would dread if I were subjected to one! Sometimes the Chinese culture can be so strict, that I want to liberate myself by following the Filipino way of doing things…

Just like many Filipinos, I live with our extended family. My grandfather, grandmother, aunt, uncle, cousin, and our family all live in one compound, and sometimes we sleep in one house because we enjoy the company of one another. As for the side of my father, it is not the same. The Reyes clan is spread sporadically all over the world so we seldom get to see each other. They do not prefer living with extended families too because some are, in a way, in conflict.

Living with the extended family fosters unity within the group. Everybody knows you so well that sometimes you do not need a “barkada” anymore. But the best thing about it is that whenever you go home, you never run out of persons to talk to. In addition to that, you are assured of receiving a “pasalubong” whenever one of the members travels to a different city or province. Indeed, our family, at least the side of my mother, remains to be the source of our happiness. Had my father’s side been existent enough to see me grow bigger, I might have learned to love them as much as the family of my mother.

I prefer the company of my family, too, whenever there are celebrations, especially during Christmas and the New Year. You receive a lot of gifts by midnight, in addition to the money they put in “ang pao”. We also do not run out of things to talk about. We discuss about serious issues, but then we know how to keep things light as well by talking about stuff we have experienced. Most of my family graduated in UP, so sometimes it is unavoidable to talk about national issues, especially concerning employment! But then if you are bored talking to the oldies, you may move to the youngsters who talk about movies, gadgets, and et cetera. There really is a generational gap! But the best thing about celebrating with my family is you realize that it is important to stay together. It keeps us happy despite the “stressful” life everybody is living. And I think it is very Filipino as well, and I love it. Furthermore, we are not compelled to wear red!

In our family, we respect our elders. It is a must to add “po” or “opo” when replying, or “paki” when asking a favor. We were trained that way, but sometimes due to my overexposure to media, I forget about these rules when I see our maid. Yes, I am sometimes a spoiled brat. Furthermore, like many families, we prefer people removing their shoes or slippers when entering our house. We do not want to clean the floor over and over again! And whenever a visitor fails to do so, we almost immediately have the impression that this person is “bastos”.

As Roman Catholics, it is always a must that we go to church during Christmas, New Year, death anniversaries, and birthdays. We consider it a blessing, but we do not go to church every Sunday though. I do not even consider myself as a true Catholic, because I could not feel the sincerity during mass. I mean, all the priest is doing is to read. He even bores his audience when he speaks. I do not even do the sign of the cross. I guess the whole RC thing is too hymnal that it can hypnotize one. That is why I prefer going to a Baptist church. Growing up in a Christian School, I feel it is a better religious conviction because I do feel sincerity, I do feel God’s presence, and I do feel a certain connection with Him. But I do not want to be converted. I no longer see religion as a very important thing. My faith is sealed, but I am keeping some Roman Catholic practices and Baptist practices with me. I love the “Simbang Gabi” because it gives me the feeling of Christmas. I love having bands in church during mass because they keep me awake and focused in God’s Word. I enjoy the communion in the Roman Catholic Church, but I love it when I shake hands with everyone in a Baptist Church. This might have been one of the effects of staying for thirteen years in a Christian School.

Young as I am, I have been exposed to many cultures. I grew up with the Chinese culture: knowing how to do calligraphy, using chopsticks, speaking in Chinese, and understanding colors and even some traditions and beliefs. Today, I live with a Filipino family, who has taught me the value of the basic unit of society, and how important it is to stay together. I have finally understood why I am frugal or why I like spicy food! I have also liberated myself to the stern practices of the Chinese by living in a purely Filipino family. In addition to these, I also work for a Japanese company now which has taught me to work as hard as I can. And yes, I now have a tendency to be a workaholic. I also have friends from other countries who have educated me about how they see things. And probably due to media, I have been influenced by many cultures. I have adapted so much of these that it made me who I am today: a little bit of everything.

I am a person who believes in a lot of things primarily because of the many cultures I have experienced. I believe that colors can convey meaning, but then what would be its use when the receiver of such message does not understand? I adore different kinds of cultures and their cuisines, but I still prefer Chinese and Filipino food mainly because of their distinct sweetness and spiciness. I value religious practices, but not as much as God, money, time, and company. I am a little bit of everything, but I must know when to apply such culture to the situation so that I can also convey the blissful meaning of the word, respect. At the end of the day, I still choose to be Filipino even if I have traces of many cultures in my ways and being. They say, culture is a complex whole, and this is who I am.

** this is a 6-page essay for my Intercultural Communication Course. It is a cultural autobiography, but I’m not too sure if I have done it correctly. HAHA

Qualitative Communication Research Powerpoint Presentation

The link to the COMA 192 Presentation is here:

http://docs.google.com/present/view?id=dfzf8dmx_18dvg634c4

This is the Qualitative Communication Research Powerpoint Presentation

The New Himati begins!

I’ve been very ecstatic about the position, and I was more than willing to explore and play with my responsibilities.

But still, the position as EIC has not sunk in totally in me. In the end, one thing’s for sure: I’ll do everything I can to revive this paper.

Below are the designs I made for Himati.
The first one is for my invites (which I prefer to call exclusive invites), and the other one is the poster (which aims to get as many writers, photojournalists, layout artists, and cartoonists i can for the first issue)

Himati, by the way, is the official student publication of the University of the Philippines Mindanao. So, we’re still open for new members in UPMin.

You may contact us: emailhimati@gmail.com

A Reflection Paper on “The Breakfast Club”

*** This one is for my COMA 106 class: Group Discussion and Leadership. Argh… I write awfully when I’m sick.

Punishments are a pain in the ass: we would do anything just to escape it. But then no matter how good we are at running away, fate always leads us to the consequence of a bad deed; for example, detention. It was through this school punishment when the Breakfast Club was formed. The beginnings of the group were very unusual, but we realized that in the end, punishment can bring together people and create a bond among them.

The Breakfast Club is a mixture of a primary, social, self-help, and learning groups. The brain, the jock, the princess, the misfit, and the lout all became close friends after the big D. Although they have their own cliques, these people realized that they have more in common than their groupies. They also have given each other encouragement and support, and they even learned how to smoke marijuana together. Clearly, this is a complex group to understand. But how exactly did they develop as a group?

Well, it was first formed because they all had broken school rules, except for Allison. And then it was through the antics of the lout that paved the way for an interaction to commence. This was like the beginning of the storming stage. Because of his wit, he got the princess, the jock, and the brainy to talk, and even solicit some expressions from the misfit. They did not want to get into bigger trouble so they started covering up for the shenanigans of John Bender, the lout. And then, they sort of had concern for each other and realized that they have things in common no matter how differently we perceived they were. They turned into something like a primary group.

In addition to the communication they had, another reason why they cliqued was probably because there were some needs answered in the Breakfast Club for each member.  For example, they all do not have a perfect life, but because of their conversations, they realized that they are not alone. The straight “A” student does not have excellent grades, the princess is very much pressured by her peers, the jock is stressed out because of his dad, the lout has a very disturbed upbringing, and the misfit has no one.  They needed confidantes, and they found that in their group. TBC, then, is like a self-help group. And in turn, they all found true friends, and it satisfied their sense of belongingness, which is one of the triggers why we join groups.

And then we see some norms established. It was first done by the principal who laid down rules like no talking, no moving, and no monkey business. But then these became unsuccessful since TBC deemed it unacceptable. But then we do observe other norms like yelling (at the principal), disrespect for authority, and even self-disclosure.

But just like any group, we were able to observe some individual norms. John Bender is a representation of the louts or criminals and the norms of this group are to be tough, rebellious, and hated. In return, they are disliked, disrespected, and treated unfairly by their friends. They have a bad upbringing and they have a tendency to become just as bad as their parents. Claire Standish, the princess, needs to be perfect and pretty because they think they her group serves as an example for everyone. People who belong to this group usually come from good and rich families. Brian Johnson, the brain, embodies the excellent students. They have to pass all their subjects with high grades, and be excellent in school. When it comes to academic problems, they are the ones to call. Andy Clark is the representation of the jocks that have to be very good at sports. Usually, fathers of these children push their children to the limit just so they would be the best. Lastly, Allison Reynolds, the misfit, embodies the “outsiders”. They are people who see the world from a different point of view and who can provide great insights. They are poised to be different.

Although they had different norms, they were able to accomplish tasks. One of which is the essay the principal required them to do

At the end of the movie, we have seen changes in each character. Allison was able to open up and come out of her shell. Andy realized that he did not have to be the man his father wanted him to be. Brian was able to de-stress and come out of the perfect student image. Claire realized that she could have whatever kinds of friends she wants. And John was able to come to terms with his own image and became the pleasant person as he seems to have had the right attitude in the end.

This movie is proof that we need groups, and we cannot help but associate with one.

How UP almost killed me

** This is another paper for my Intercultural Communication course. This one’s on culture shock. Note that the word “kill” is just an exaggeration.

Two weeks of absence can make both excitement and anxiety eat you whole. And yes, it does happen especially in college. Because I needed a period of hibernation, everyone thought I did not exist… until I physically showed up. This is my story told a gazillion times already. This is how UP almost killed me.

Prior to my entrance to the University, I was very excited. I always wanted to be free from my old school, and knowing that I would be entering UP I could not wait to grab hold of LIBERTY. Truth be told, the Chinese School I graduated from was close to being a heartless society. I lived with its culture for thirteen years, and so it was but natural for me to shed tears during graduation. I considered it my second home, with everyone there as my family, despite the fact that it was prison-like.

But all of these I left behind just to pave way to my bad ass ambition. The rough and seemingly endless road to UP was a surprise for me, and it was not pleasant. I felt uneasy riding my first habal-habal. It was torture especially because we were chancing upon rough terrain. Unfortunately, jeepneys then feared the infamous boondock. This is where I began questioning my decisions. Aside from the transportation dilemma, the location was also very depressing. Why did I allow myself to be detached from the city life? There were no malls near UP, nor was there any place to hang out. Clearly, it was not the place I imagined it to be!

My idea then of college was shattered. It was the most unusual place I have been to. In addition to that, I was two weeks late in class and I knew no one. I nearly got lost for my first class. I had no idea UP had a CSM! I went looking for my math class at the wrong building. And yes, the security guard whom I trusted with my life during that instance failed to give me the right direction. He led me to SOM, and then I figured, “no one should be trusted in UP when you ask directions”.

It was not the subjects I found hard in the University, it was the place itself. Furthermore, I was staying at the dorm, which made my condition worst. I often got sick because of the environment and I was not used living with strangers. I felt alienated! Then I began enumerating to myself the things I hated in school: I did not like karinderia food that is why I ate chips during breakfast, I had issues with the dorm comfort room that is why I always carried with me some wet wipes, I despised photocopied readings because I have always preferred owning textbooks, I did not like the idea of riding HHs because I was used to the idea of a comfortable transportation, and I loathed being around people I am not used to be with just because they were so different! I was not even as ecstatic as my friends when we decided to write about the deadly sin, “Lust”, because it was a taboo topic then for me. Everything seemed like the total opposite of the Chinese school I came from. We had a decent cafeteria, we had good comfort rooms, we had better transportation, and more so, I felt the people there were of my kind. And then, I thought about transferring, but that has not yet happened until now.

But I did meet some interesting acquaintances. One of them was a sophomore, and she told me that everything I am experiencing is just a phase and that I will get over it when I reach my second year. But I thought to myself, “I could not wait any longer!” Nevertheless, I trusted her because we were both from GenSan. When we were hiking our way to CHSS from the very muddy DHK, she told me of professors to take, limits of absences, places to eat, what to do when bored, and et cetera. She became my guidebook, since I missed out on the freshmen orientation as well! And I guess, she was right most of the time. At the end of the day, we became very good friends and I did learn a lot from her. She was also one of the people who convinced me to choose SPCM as my major, and I still have to figure out if she meant well.

As years passed, I began to feel accustomed to the way of life in UP. I remember what I said to my senior classmate in MST2 due to the dislike I had with the campus, “Similar to a rock, a person can be solid. He will never be influenced by another culture and he will never learn to like it if he chooses to.” But now, I am taking it back because no matter how solid you are, culture will always find means to grow in you.