Wordless Wednesday
Photo: C. Mercado
Photo: C. Mercado
I love.... the blue walls, and the shadows of candle light splashed on them. The covered lamp that lit your face subtly as you sat next to me... times of love, laughter, movies, music... You know who you are, and you know I love you...
I am on the third flight of my journey to the East, on my way to Bangkok with a final destination of the island of Bali in Indonesia. As I sit on the plane listening to its constant humming, I feel this urge to write down my observations about this particular flight.
I am lucky my job takes me to places. Overall I may have perhaps visited over 150 cities around the world but if I am asked how each of them were, my memories were mostly a blur, and perhaps the most vivid were those spent at airports and airline lounges.
The first leg of my flight took me to Detroit from Montreal. Seated in business class on an early morning flight, the first thing that I noticed was that I was one among two women in that section of the flight. Around me, these men who I assume were either going to meetings or going home from one, were chattering on cell phones. One was asking an assistant or colleague to check a letter before it got sent out, one was asking about prices of materials, and I could hear intimate low voices talking perhaps to loved ones saying they were taking off soon, and would be turning their phones off.
On the flight from Detroit to Narita, I was in the upper deck of a 747 jet, and once again observed that I was one of three women in this group. It is interesting though, the kind of people one meets on these flights. The lady I was sitting next to was flying to Singapore through Tokyo, and informed me that she is originally from Nova Scotia, but now lives in Michigan but based in Singapore working for an IT company. A nice gentleman who helped me get to my gate in Detroit came from Montreal on business and was on his way home. People like these make me think that truly the world has become a smaller place.
In my job, traveling to different countries is an integral part of my work. My organization works with almost 140 countries around the globe, and project implementation is always much more effective if these visits are done on a regular basis. Since my move to Montreal, though, my trips are far less but it always takes me a long time to get to my destinations which are almost always in Asia and the Pacific. While I love returning to Asia, nowadays I really feel the weariness that creeps in with each long flight. For this one for instance, my travel time is even longer than the number of days for my meeting, but it is important for me to be there, so there really isn’t a choice.
I still remember my very first business trip: I was an eager and naïve twenty something, traveling to Moscow. My very first trip abroad was to the USSR back when it was still a communist country. You can imagine the thrill I got from the mere thought of imagining that I would be standing in the Red Square and can see the interior of St. Basil’s cathedral! This trip did not disappoint, and it was only the beginning of an often interesting relationship with airplanes, hotels, airports and airline lounges….
As I get closer to my destination (I am now on my fourth plane ride as I finish this post), I am excited. Bali holds special memories for me. I will be meeting people I know and worked with for a long time and whose achievements and efforts I respect and it will be good. The discussions will as usual be animated, but this trip also gives me a bit of butterflies in the stomach. While I am meeting familiar people, I am also sitting at this meeting in a different capacity. We will be discussing issues that are sensitive to the countries and I am representing an organization that facilitates funding for these projects, so the responsibility on my shoulders is quite heavy.
But I am a person who loves challenges, and this will be just one of those, and again another learning opportunity. I will leave the meeting with a feeling that I have gained something, that my storehouse of knowledge has again been increased and I have shared a lot of what I know to the people I met, and for this, the long plane rides are all worthwhile.
Note: written on board NW 27 Narita-Bangkok, 10 November 2007
I am lucky my job takes me to places. Overall I may have perhaps visited over 150 cities around the world but if I am asked how each of them were, my memories were mostly a blur, and perhaps the most vivid were those spent at airports and airline lounges.
The first leg of my flight took me to Detroit from Montreal. Seated in business class on an early morning flight, the first thing that I noticed was that I was one among two women in that section of the flight. Around me, these men who I assume were either going to meetings or going home from one, were chattering on cell phones. One was asking an assistant or colleague to check a letter before it got sent out, one was asking about prices of materials, and I could hear intimate low voices talking perhaps to loved ones saying they were taking off soon, and would be turning their phones off.
On the flight from Detroit to Narita, I was in the upper deck of a 747 jet, and once again observed that I was one of three women in this group. It is interesting though, the kind of people one meets on these flights. The lady I was sitting next to was flying to Singapore through Tokyo, and informed me that she is originally from Nova Scotia, but now lives in Michigan but based in Singapore working for an IT company. A nice gentleman who helped me get to my gate in Detroit came from Montreal on business and was on his way home. People like these make me think that truly the world has become a smaller place.
In my job, traveling to different countries is an integral part of my work. My organization works with almost 140 countries around the globe, and project implementation is always much more effective if these visits are done on a regular basis. Since my move to Montreal, though, my trips are far less but it always takes me a long time to get to my destinations which are almost always in Asia and the Pacific. While I love returning to Asia, nowadays I really feel the weariness that creeps in with each long flight. For this one for instance, my travel time is even longer than the number of days for my meeting, but it is important for me to be there, so there really isn’t a choice.
I still remember my very first business trip: I was an eager and naïve twenty something, traveling to Moscow. My very first trip abroad was to the USSR back when it was still a communist country. You can imagine the thrill I got from the mere thought of imagining that I would be standing in the Red Square and can see the interior of St. Basil’s cathedral! This trip did not disappoint, and it was only the beginning of an often interesting relationship with airplanes, hotels, airports and airline lounges….
As I get closer to my destination (I am now on my fourth plane ride as I finish this post), I am excited. Bali holds special memories for me. I will be meeting people I know and worked with for a long time and whose achievements and efforts I respect and it will be good. The discussions will as usual be animated, but this trip also gives me a bit of butterflies in the stomach. While I am meeting familiar people, I am also sitting at this meeting in a different capacity. We will be discussing issues that are sensitive to the countries and I am representing an organization that facilitates funding for these projects, so the responsibility on my shoulders is quite heavy.
But I am a person who loves challenges, and this will be just one of those, and again another learning opportunity. I will leave the meeting with a feeling that I have gained something, that my storehouse of knowledge has again been increased and I have shared a lot of what I know to the people I met, and for this, the long plane rides are all worthwhile.
Note: written on board NW 27 Narita-Bangkok, 10 November 2007
The "Indian" me is feeling very nostalgic. It is because the celebration of Diwali makes me feel this way sometimes, especially here in Montreal where I have very few Indian friends.
Diwali is an Indian festival. One might ask why a Catholic like me finds this important, but I find joy in celebrating festivals of other beliefs and religions, and I do not think it goes contrary to my own beliefs. I wished my friends Happy Eid after they finished Ramadan, and they did not ask why I was saying this despite the fact I was not Muslim.
For Indians, the festival of lights, as Diwali is also called is the time to celebrate the victory of good over evil. The significance of lights is in the fact that it illuminates one's way through the darkness. Tiny clay lamps called diyas are lit in homes to usher in abundance, prosperity and peace and to ward off evil.
I remember my first Diwali party in the Philippines. It was at the home of cousins of a very good Indian friend, and practically the whole Indian community was there, many of them Bengalis. We had food, sweets like homemade carrot halwa, laddoos, barfi, gulab jamuns. There were fireworks as well! I especially enjoyed putting out the diyas in the garden and lighting them. There is something about the flickering light of tiny lamps in a wide space that is so beautiful and exudes an aura of peace. I recall that this was how it made me feel.
My daughter Kristina was around 5 years old at that time. She was asking me why we were having fireworks in November, and I was explaining to her somehow what the significance of this was. This was probably all lost to her, but she had fun with kids her age and they stuffed themselves with all the sweets and snacks that were available.
There was a time when an old friend gifted me with a beautifully carved clay elephant, that had diyas around it. It was such a lovely, delicate thing, and I was so happy with this special gift and put it in a prominent place in the house until one day my daughters were playing around and accidentally hit the shelf where this was and it fell into pieces on the ground. I picked up the clay bits with tears in my eyes.
The last time I celebrated Diwali was two years ago, it was with a special someone. Instead of going out to a party, I just lit votive candles outside in his balcony, while we could hear the fireworks in the background. Then we just sat quietly together watching the lights and shared a glass of wine. That was pretty special to me, and I look forward to another opportunity to do this!
So tonight at home, I will light the candles in the living room, burn some incense, and sit quietly for a few moments to let the positive energy flow, to meditate on how life has been good, very good, and hope for blessings that it continues to be happy, peaceful and full of love. I will also imagine how nice it would be sitting around the table with my friends, eat some nice hot jelabis with a cold glass of lassi, which I could get if I was in Dilli! Ahh!
To all my Indian friends, Happy Diwali, and may peace, love, and prosperity be yours not only this time, but always!
Our front porchPhoto by: C. Mercado
It rained the day before, and it was a little chilly. But the forecast for Halloween promised warm weather. And as we walked out of the house that morning with Kara transformed into Dexter, the disguise she was wearing to school, complete with orange hair, and nutty, nerdy glasses, we were looking forward to the evening ahead. The previous night I had already stocked chocolate eyeballs, cut up chocolate body parts, caramels, lollipops, and other goodies, and Kara and I were both ready to greet the trick or treaters.
I managed to leave the office early, and as I drove through Westmount at around 6 pm, I could see all sorts of "creatures" trawling the streets with their goodie bags. The little ones were dressed up as fairies, cartoon characters, wizards, and held on to their mother's hands with their plastic pumpkin candy containers. The parents rose to the occasion, too, some had on horrendous looking masks and flowing robes. There was such excitement in the air, and the weather people were not wrong this time, it was a lovely cool evening. The kind where you would love to stroll around the neighbourhood, and this is exactly what everyone was doing.
When I reached home, my neighbour and landlady had plunged our front porch into darkness, with a few candles lit around, and our main door open. She worked very hard over the weekend with her two daughters to decorate the front of the house, and it was one of the scariest in the street. A large bat was hanging over the ceiling of the porch, and we had mummies and ghosts stuck to the door, and "cobwebs" everywhere! Even the small bush in front did not escape her hands, it was decorated with ghost shaped lights. I learned from the neighbours that once you put on Halloween decorations, the kids know that there are goodies available. The open door was proof of that.
Kara was waiting, still in her disguise, all excited over giving out candy. There was a steady stream: the younger kids were coming first probably because they needed to get to bed early, and they were followed by teenagers, and even adults! There was this cute little Ninja turtle, a boy not more than 6 years old. A group of well disguised teenagers also came to the door, someone looked like Charlie from Roald Dahl's famous book, I was really quite amazed at the effort that some people put into their appearance, and it was fun to watch.
Our chocolate eyeballs and body parts were the most popular, I was right to have have picked them up from the supermarket! By 9 pm, everything started to quiet down, and by then we closed our door.
Kara and her bowl of candies (Photo: C. Mercado)
Halloween as celebrated in North America is not a tradition that we are used to. In the Philippines, the end of October signals the arrival of All Souls' and All Saints' days, and while we do not dress up as ghouls or anything scary, I still remember from my childhood that this was also a festive time in the most unusual place, the cemetery.
The week before All Souls' day, cleaners would go to my grandfather's small mausoleum, clean it, make the whole place spick and span. The neighboring tombs will also be sparkling clean, and the local government would string lights throughout the cemetery to allow people to stay there late in the evening. On the day itself, my grandmother would be making steamed rice cakes, and other native goodies. Then after saying the rosary at my grandma's home, we would all troop to the cemetery to my grandfather's tomb.
There another rosary would be said, all of us cousins would sit through it impatiently, knowing that after that the adults would bring out the food and we will eat around my grandfather and chat with him like he was with us. The we would all clamber on top of the tomb, and play cards, my cousins and I with our aunts and uncles.
After a while, when we started getting bored, we would go around the cemetery collecting candle wax that dripped onto the tombs, yellow, red and white wax, and we would make them into balls. We would also meet friends and go around visiting the tombs of friends parents' and all others that we know. We would kneel and say a prayer at each tomb. I am scared of cemeteries, the mere thought of having so many people in one place really frightens me, thoughts of zombies often come to my mind. But this was a time when we were not afraid to be here.
This was tradition, at least in the province this was how it was, and we all looked forward to it.
This was the only time we celebrated death, or perhaps we celebrated the memories of our dead loves ones. This was our Halloween.
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