When I'm Sixty-Four
Lennon/McCartney

When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck, and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away.

Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Well, not for another twenty-something years will I be singing that song. But whenever February comes around, it makes me think of reaching that old age when my hair starts to thin, my teeth begin to rot, my bones aching due to cold, and my bedside table begins to look like a mini-pharmacy because of the many medicines I had to take -- for my cholesterol, for my heart, for my bones, for my skin, for my everything.

This February I'd be 41. It's funny: already my hair line's receding, my bones aching and I'm already taking medicines for my cholesterol. And I'm not yet 64!

I guess it really is downhill from here. I might as well enjoy the ride.

Here are some OFW news I gathered today.

His name is Ryan T. Anievas, an OFW working in Rabigh, Saudi Arabia.

He is being charged with counterfeiting for apparently using fake bills to purchase goods. He faces five to fifteen years imprisonment and a fine of not less than SR30,000 and not exceeding SR 100,000. Anievas claims that the five pieces ten riyal bills were from another store and he didn't notice that the bills were forgeries.

Anievas seeks help from local Overseas Workers Welfare Administration (OWWA) offices and from the Philippine Embassy in Saudi Arabia.

More details are found in GMA News' article: Pinoy worker on trial for spreading bogus riyals

Migrante KSA also has an update regarding the case.

(I hope Anievas gets out of this mess soon and I hope he gets the help from Philippine Embassy because the last thing I heard about it is that someone volunteered to help him but Anievas first needs to shell out SAR20k for the service).

(Update: Nereus, a Saudi-based blogger, listed a number of resources to assist OFW's in determining whether a Saudi Riyal bill is fake or not).


A Saudi-based OFW Alan Sepe writes a letter to POLO OWWA Labour Office in Alkhobar to report a fellow OFW Sherwin G. De Vera (alyas Mayumi or May May) who apparently shortchanged 11 OFWs of their money. Sepe claims that he and other Filipinos paid De Vera a sum of money in payment for a house rent for six months. However De Vera reportedly pocketed the money and left Saudi Arabia on an Exit Only visa. Sepe and his friends ended up losing an amount equivalent to more than SAR 40,000.

(The sadder fact about this is that those OFWs who were conned were new arrivals from the Philippines looking for a house in Saudi. A friend once told me: money, you can still earn; reputation once lost is gone forever.)


Saudi Prince Khalid bin Saud bin Khalid gave assurances to overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) in Saudi Arabia that they need not worry (because) there will be no job losses for the more than 1 million OFWs in the Kingdom. In fact, Saudi Arabia are also looking to hire at least 6,000 Filipino health professionals like doctors and nurses in the next three year, the prince says. Inquirer reports more.

(That's a relief. I strongly believe Filipinos are so good a worker we will never run out of jobs abroad.)


Amado Bernabe, a 43-year old contract worker in Australia, lost his job for carrying a bottled water inside the toilet and for not using the toilet the Aussie way. Full story here.

(This is, to borrow an Englishman's term, bloody ridiculous. And insane.)


Pinoy Abroad provides OFWs some sound tips in saving money -- during or even beyond this crisis period.

(I hope all OFWs can do it.)

The tag says: "Honest Scrap Awards are bestowed by bloggers to fellow bloggers whose blog contents or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.”

The tag rules read: “When accepting this auspicious award, you must write a post bragging about it, including the name of the misguided soul who thinks you deserve such acclaim, and link back to said person so everyone knows he or she is real.”

“Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Or improvise by including bloggers who have no idea who you are because you don’t have 7 friends. Show the 7 random victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with “Honest Weblog.” Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

List at least ten honest things about yourself. Then, pass it on!”

Hmmm...let's see. Ten honest things about me?

I've updated my 4 x 3 things about myself and added two of my many (honest-to-goodness) quirkiness.

One: I lotion my feet first then my face. Don't ask me why because I really don't know the reason.

Two: I hurt when I lose mahjong. Again, don't ask. (Oh, please don't regard me with disdain just because I play mahjong. We only play for fun, and we play cheap, like one riyal per game. The highest I've won so far is twelve riyals. Max loss? Fifteen, I think?).

Three: I love my nieces Jillian and Janine. So much. I cooked picadillo once and when Jillian tasted it she said: Picadillo? Di ba dapat Picadiri. (She quickly gave me a nervous glance and I just blurted out: ganun?!). Janine loves doing s-i-g-n languages, which irks her mother so much, but I find so a-m-u-s-i-n-g.

Four: I'm shallow. Very. I enjoy reading emailed jokes. Like this one:

MaTaNdA KA nA...
kung ayaw mo nang sumama sa mga bata.
kung ang lahat ng kasu-kasuhan mo ay tila masakit.
kung ano ang hindi masakit ay ayaw ng gumalaw.
kung alas-kuwatro pa lamang ng umaga ay gising ka na.
kung ang tinitingnan mo sa pagkain ay ingredients.
kung binibilang mo ang calories o fats ng iyong pagkain.
kung ang kati-kati ng likod mo subalit hindi mo makamot dahil hindimo maabot.
kung ang paborito mo pa ring artista ay laos na.
kung si Jaworski pa rin ang paborito mong basketbolista.
kung naiinip ka na sa harapan ng stop lights.
kung dumidikit ang iyong ngipin sa malagkit mong pagkain.

Five: I'm afraid of snakes: big, small, with or with venom, alive or dead. I don't even watch snakes-themed movies or tv series.

Six: I fear hell. (I wonder who of Catholics don't?).

Seven: With all humility, I regard myself as kind-hearted.

Eight: I can say that my life is, at the current time and state, relatively peaceful.

Nine: I'm moody. When I feel like cleaning my room, I'd go without breakfast and lunch just to tidy things up. But if I don't feel like doing it, my room will be unvacuumed, my beddings unwashed, my AC vent undusted for one whole month.

Ten: I love pansit. Except pansit luglog and palabok.

Finally, I tag the following Saudi-based blogs and I'm telling you why:
1. JVC's X-spot: Brilliantly eloquent whether in Spanish or English (and I love his photos too!)
2. Madjik: Brilliantly funny without being vulgar
3. Dyosa's Story: Brilliantly honest in her writings
4. Blog ng Mangyan: Brilliantly engaging in his stories
5. Braggart's Desyerto: Brilliantly opinionated (I actually agree with most of his opinion)
6. Mightydac's Kaleidoscope: Brilliantly friendly in his posts
7. Solis' Thoughtskoto: Brilliantly inventive in his blogs (he has I think three, one of them is an aggregate of blogs by Pinoy expats worldwide).

Saw Slumdog Millionaire last Thursday evening. Watched it again the next day. I wouldn't mind watching it again tonight if a friend drops by and asks me if there's a good movie to watch.

The movie is Indian, in English (with pinches of Hindi language in between). The story is riveting and hurtingly funny and as what I usually say of a good movie, heartful.

It has won numerous Golden Globe trophies and is now a leading contender in Oscar's.

The film tells about the survival of three slum orphans in Mumbai's harsh setting and what became of their lives after going through series of injustices and difficulties. The three orphans, for me, represent three different choices in life. Those kind of choices that we -- knowingly or unknowingly -- take; choices that would ultimately determine what will become of us later in life. Pa-profound ba?.

Jamal's choice: I will take life's shit (he literally plunged in deep shit in one of the scenes) because I believe that life will be better someday, especially if 'it's written'. He ended up answering all the questions in Who Wants to be a Millionaire, winning 20 million rupees!

Salim's choice: I will not take this sitting down. I have to do something to better my situation. In the end, he became one-of-those thugs by one-of-those bigtime mafia bosses. (Although I personally thought his choice was mainly because of his love for his younger brother Jamal).

Latika's choice: I will survive by waiting and seeing. (In fact all throughout the movie, she is seen waiting and seeing. She actually reminded me of those fairytale damsels who opted to wait for their knights in shining whatever to save them). She was prostituted but in the end was saved by his knight, Jamal.

Slumdog is that movie that I wouldn't mind seeing over and over (at least until after the Oscar's is finished because I believe Slumdog will beat Benjamin).

(Too, I wouldn't mind recommending Slumdog to RJ who was a bit sore after I've made recommendations about Seven Pounds. RJ: hope you love Slumdog as much as I did).

This post about Ploning is a tad late. Since last year, I've been unsuccessfully looking for the movie because I was intrigued about its claim that Ploning might finally be that first Pinoy film nominated for Oscar's. Finally, I saw it, slept over it, saw it again and...I loved it.

It's website says: The official Philippine entry to the best foreign language film category of the 81st Academy Awards although the latest news is that Ploning didn't make it in Oscar's final list of nominated films. Just the same, I saw it to find out what the film is about. My personal verdict: Ploning is not as great a film as Oro, Mata, Plata nor Himala BUT may likely be one of the best new Filipino films and that one film that will definitely make you proud of the Philippines and its inherent beauty.

(Recently, Ploning won an award for its director Dante Nico Garcia from the Asian Festival of 1st Films.)

The film, shot entirely in Cuyo, Palawan tells of a simple lass named Ploning (Judy Ann Santos) whose simplicity have touched the lives of people around her including that of a young boy who at his age have learned the pains of lose and betrayal. (I'm not good at summarizing the movie in a few words and I might end up giving away the movie's secrets so I suggest you just watch it yourself or read its summary in their website).

The sneak preview says: A man searching for his past...a woman waiting for her love...a town eager to move on...and a boy caught in between.

The preview ends: If love is meant forever, can you wait a lifetime?

Ploning's downside is on first half hour of the movie (I'm a firm believer that if the first 10 minutes of the film didn't bore you, then it's a good film!). It was so slow that when I first saw it at home in the Philippines, I, maybe because of tiredness, fell asleep. Or maybe because I was lying down when I watched it that I had difficulty reading the tagalog subtitles (it was dubbed in Cuyonon dialect), and so my eyes gave in.

Last night in Saudi, I saw it again and realized what I missed when first previewed it: the beautiful cinematography of Cuyon's beaches, it's festive atmosphere, the introduction of the film's characters. Still, it was too slow for me. Only after the arrival of Mylene Dizon did the movie picked its momentum and from then on up to the ending, the movie unfolded into a very beautiful story.

Equally memorable about Ploning is its dialogue: sometimes profound, othertimes irreverend. One that I remember well is this: Siguro kung naging matalino ako, hindi ako naging masaya. Hmmm...

A friend lent me three films to marathon watch this weekend: Changeling, The Day the Earth Stood Still and Body of Lies. Over a steaming cup of coffee, I, unbathed because of the cold weather in Saudi, locked myself in my room for almost seven hours and saw three films: one rewarding, two forgettables.

Here are my rotten (tomatoes-ish) thoughts:

I admit I didn't like to watch Changeling (a true to life story) because I hate films where children are killed or molested or tortured. But then I saw its preview on tv and I thought I'd give the movie a try. I'm glad I did. Jolie, even though I keep seeing Madonna in her throughout the film, was credible in her portrayal of a mother who lost a son and found herself causing a change within the police system of 1920's Los Angeles. Jolie was so sedate throughout the film (which was difficult for me because I keep remembering her as Lara Croft). This is also the first Jolie film I saw where she didn't pose with her too wide-smile, pouty mouth, perfectly-chiseled teeth. Because of this, she is now in my five favorite actresses. Really. (Clint Eastwood is a director to beat in this season's Oscar's. I heard too that his Gran Torino is excellent.)


I thought, while watching Body of Lies, that there were other better films which tackled the subject of terrorism in the West and the Middle East. I even thought the scenes from this movie were rehashed from other films: zooming in and out of spy satellites over the Iraqi desert, slow-mo scenes of building being bombed, etc (because I've seen such scenes ten times from ten other films, I am no longer amazed). I even thought the love story part between DiCaprio and her Indian-looking nurse was an after-thought to inject something warming about the movie. I personally think The Grid is far, far better than this film.


The last film I saw was The Day the Earth Stood Still (a remake of a 1951 film, I later read). Didn't like it a bit and had a thought of re-titling it to The Film that Bored Me to Death. My friends and I were meaning to watch this last December at Mall of Asia IMAX theater (at P400 per seat). Good thing we didn't! Midway in the film, I was taken aback after hearing the alien's reason for visiting the earth: to annihilate mankind and save the planet's resources. The way to get rid of mankind? Feed them to a swarm of what I thought were locusts but later read that they're self-replicating nanites (locusts would have been a better idea, I think).

Next weekend, I hope to find something more fruitful things to do (or better movies to watch).

Saw Will Smith's Seven Pounds last night and it got me hoping if someone rich and giving (not necessarily as good-looking as Will Smith) please discover my inner kindness and find out about my deep-seethed desire (to own one) to give me -- without strings attached and sans conditions -- a beautiful beach house!

That's what Will Smith did in the movie: he gave a needy mother of two his beautiful beach house. He also gave away his kidney, liver, bone marrow and his lung. In the end he also gave away his eyes and his heart. All because of guilt. Because some years ago, his wife was killed in an accident together with six other strangers because he was fidgeting with his cellphone while driving.

Throughout the movie, I thought Will Smith was dying of something that's why he chose people whom he will give his body parts to (and that beach house!). I was wrong. All throughout the movie, Will Smith was trying to know the kindness of those people whom he decided he will help live (by giving parts of himself, literally). The whole film was about someone's hope for redemption via kindness.

(This must be the reason why I'm in Saudi and not copywriting for a famous advertising company in Manila. I don't know how to describe a beautiful movie. I do not have a flair for a Rotten Tomatoes-ish movie review).

I liked Seven Pounds the movie because it made me realize a lot of things, mostly about the inherent kindness of people. That life is not really about what you can get from it but from what you can give to it. That kindness begets kindness and redemption and joy and life.

Many, many years ago I met an elementary school teacher who travels by foot just so she can teach the children of a remote village somewhere in Rizal. I've forgotten her name now. The article I wrote about her didn't get published (it's not her fault; it's my bad, bad writing). But I remembered what she told me when I asked why she decided to accept the job: "I pity the children."

She pities. And her pity emanated kindness.

For a while I thought I'd also be a teacher and travel by foot and teach children of remote villages how to read and count and sing. Greed for material wealth took me away from that short-lived dream. Once in a while, during those moments of solitude and contemplating (about getting old, death and dying), I revisit that dream of becoming a teacher in a barrio; revisit that desire to serve other people.

This I plan: when I reach 50, I will submit myself to serving others. (I planned to have a million pesos by 30. I'm 40 now with a paltry savings. So go figure).

Seven Pounds is that kind of a positive weeper that I will, maybe for a few months, remember and claim as my favorite. What I'm hoping to remember, till my life's over, is that kindness creates kindness; the more kindness we see, the kinder we become.

(I don't know if you get this feeling but I remember whenever I ride a jeepney in Antipolo and I happen to sit with either a nun or a seminarian -- or someone religious-looking -- I can't help but be watchful of my thoughts as if they can read the sinful things that go through my mind. I want to be that kind of kindness/goodness/positive vibration/non-evil/holy-emanating person -- without the habit or the all-white gown. I wonder how...)

That is the kind of movie Seven Pounds is. Emanating positive vibrations of kindness, love, giving.

Even prior to being in Saudi, everytime I come from a trip from anywhere, before going home in our house in Antipolo, it was my habit to pass by the Antipolo Cathedral to pray, contemplate, rest, converse with God, ogle at the many devotees of the Nuestra Senora dela Paz y Buenviaje (Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage), etc. During my last vacation, I revisited the habit and was amazed by how profound the feeling is: of rest, of being at home, of peace.

The Antipolo Cathedral never ceases to awe me: its grand architecture, its high dome, the artsy glass windows that surround the church, the life-size monuments of the twelve apostles standing guard on top of the dome base and the entrance, the grand wooden doors, the open altar. The sweet noises of those birds building nests in the church's crevices. To borrow Himig Heswita's song, Antipolo Church is that dwelling place; my spirit's dwelling place.

How lovely is your dwelling place
Oh Lord mighty God, Lord above!
Even the lowly sparrow finds a home for her brood
And the swallow, a nest for herself
Where she may lay here young
In your altars my king and my God

I noticed how changed the Antipolo Cathedral is now. The sound system is crisp and clear, unlike before when I can hardly hear the homily and I had to focus my ear, like a satellite dish searching for a signal, to where the sound is coming from so I can hear what the priest is saying. Now, there was even a huge projector outside for those people who are afraid to squeeze themselves pass the throngs of devotees inside the church. Times have really changed!

Sadly, I can no longer follow the mass hymns because they've all changed the music! Even my beloved Ama Namin! It's okay though because hearing the new mass hymns is still uplifting and spiritual!

Outside the cathedral fence are stands of suman, kasuy, mangoes, candlesticks, stampitas, fruits, carinderia cuisines of lugaw, goto, pansit, sotanghon, etc. While Antipolo is famous for its kasuy, nowhere will you find a kasuy plantation in Antipolo. I think they buy the raw kasuy from Divisoria. There you have it! The secret of Antipolo bared to the public!

But who wants raw cashew? Actually, that's what Antipolo is good about: the processing of kasuy! The task, I'm telling you, is difficult; it's hardwork, it's measy. Peeling raw cashew nut is not easy and it tends to leave a stain on your fingernails. But in Antipolo, the 'kasuy experts' can peel around one sack per hour, using a specially-carved knife. The nuts are then halved, baked, cleaned and baked again. The result is a crunchy, sweet, freshly baked-tasting kasuy that sells very costly!

Antipolo -- the town -- has changed in a lot of ways. Near the church now stand McDonalds, Red Ribbon, 7-11 and rows and rows of banks, shoe stores, drugstores, beauty shops, etc. Antipolo is no longer provincial as I used to remember it. The atmosphere is no longer personal as before when I'd likely meet either a schoolmate or a neighbor or a friend's relative during a night's stroll in the town plaza. Either my friends and classmates have migrated out of the country or they've decided to live in one of those many exclusive villages and subdivisioins that sprung in Antipolo during the past two decades.

My trip back to Saudi yesterday may be a prelude to the kind of existence I will have on my return: I was bored, sleepless, sad but remained hopeful throughout the flight.

Yesterday, I lounged outside the Manila Airport longer than necessary secretly hoping that my father would phone me to say that he won the Megalotto and that I don't need to return to Saudi anymore. The call didn't come.

While outside the airport, I silently mingled with crescent-faced OFW's and their families: some taking photographs of each other, others just lulling away time waiting for their flight's final call, most on the phone giving final instructions on how to handle the unruly kids, how to budget the finances, how the newly-purchased house shall be paid, how to deal with in laws, etc.

(I can't help but be envious of those other Filipinos who leave the country for pleasure than for business. I hope to one day leave Manila because I'm traveling to Hongkong for Disneyland or to Thailand for some shopping. I'm remorsed that I'm leaving the Philippines for Saudi Arabia so my family can have a decent life. Count your blessings, son, I'm hearing my goodself tell me; most Filipinos are dying to leave abroad for work!).

An hour before the flight, I went inside to queue at the Immigration, then finally at the gate where my flight's assigned.

The trip was arduously long and the flight menu was, as expected, bland. Around me were faces of eager first timers and not-so-eager Saudi OFW returnees.

When we arrived in Bahrain, a shiveringly cold wind greeted us. I was expecting a long wait at the Saudi Immigration in King Fahd Causeway but we crossed the Bahrain/Saudi border surprisingly fast. I arrived very early and dozed off as soon as I had a hot bath.

I lightly slept and, in the morning, I didn't feel well-rested at all. A hot bath didn't help either.

Just when I thought nothing would spike up my day, I remembered those moments while on vacation where I keep muttering to myself: I am happy.

Flashback: Philippines, December 2008.

I was playing the computer and when I looked out the window, I saw a bird building its nest on our mango tree. I muttered, I'm happy.

Or that New Year lunch where my family was glib-talking about nothing in the midst of bulalo and grilled tilapia wrapped in banana leaves. I muttered, I'm happy.

Or seeing our two puppies huddled together in the corner of the house because it was cold outside. I muttered to myself, I'm happy.

Or the thank you's of those children singing carols outside our gate and I heard them asking one another: magkano'ng ibinigay? Barat! It brought a smile in me.

Or hearing my poor cousins say that they remain hopeful in the middle of their poverty, I muttered I'm happy.

{Code PBA09p17099q for PBA Best Post}

It's January 1, 2009. The sky is downcast and there's a light drizzle outside. The wind is drearily cold and I can hear a few firecrackers being lit outside, leftover of last night's revelry. There are a couple of neighbors who are enjoying a karaoke amidst howling dogs. My family has gone to sleep early and I'm the only one left silently tapping the computer for this entry.

It rained last night during our Media Noche but the dark sky remained well lit by Dragon and China-made firecrackers. We bought a box of our own (around PHP750) which only lasted for less than 15 seconds. We were hoarse blowing our cheap 'torotot' and my nieces were quite drenched while running around with their lit 'lusis'. Around us, the well-to-do neighbors, delighted us with their own firework display. There was a short power failure last night at exactly 11:55pm but it didn't dampen the spirit of how we greeted the New Year. I think the total darkness even added drama to the event because it highlighted the colorful lights of the fireworks around us (and the fumes as well).

Filipinos hold this belief that a rain in a New Year signifies blessings. I wanted to think 2009 will be a better year. I have to although economic forecasts say otherwise. It's the year of the ox and although I feel sorry for the ox whenever I see an ox cart in the Philippines (that white beast weighed down by a cart of various native wares -- banig, duyan, walis, etc), I do not have a choice but to remain positive about it. An ox is a resilient animal. We then will be resilient in 2009 as well.

Tomorrow, I will be returning to Saudi Arabia. It saddens me, really, because I will be leaving behind my ailing parents and my growing nieces. I don't know what will be in store for all of us and all I can think of now is to pray that 2009 will not be a difficult year as most people believe it will be.