The Learning Traveler

If only my academics is not competing with my leisure, I would rather go wherever I want. I want to be a traveler. That’s it, to enjoy the sceneries encountered in travelling and to witness whatever the Earth offers to everyone.

For 18 years, I haven’t been to numerous beautiful places on Earth. This interest just showed up lately when I told myself to widen the horizon above me. I know there are people out there, self-actualized, who sorted to the path they wanted to be. I envy them. I even can’t tell if it is only in travelling that I can find my comfort zone. I mean, life is composed of everything, and that ‘everything’ keeps on bothering me when I feel concentrated to one thing. Until the end, these annoy me and I became less productive than I think I should be. Perhaps being young is an excuse. At this age, everyone constructs that I should keep on focusing my studies. What is democracy? Judiciary? International law? Politics? etc.; these are my interests as well but enclosing yourself in the four corners of the classroom cannot be a vehicle to tour yourself around the world. Teachers insist me to keep on reading so by that, there’s no difference because reading puts you to the context of your material. So with that, I learned that the “untouchable’s” of the Indian social stratification cannot join public baths, that Brazil is surrounded by 8 independent states, that Africans’ primarily face the threat of widespread HIV, that militant “red shirt’s” in Thailand supports former PM Thaksin Shinawatra, that Colon Street in Cebu is the oldest street in the country, and so much more. But I want more. Not that I want more books, magazines, newspapers, or any reading stuffs, because these facts might end forgotten in my overloaded memory. All  I wanted is to travel more and feel what emotions I can claim from all of these facts.

This does not implicitly tell me that I am rich. Wealthy people can not only have the privilege of being a traveler.  Traveling for some of them might be just for travel sake with spending their surplus money. For me, I want to bind my interests and create a wholesome package of it that will bring me to the path of being self-actualized.

Today I carry responsibilities on my back. I joined organizations which I know that can be an outlet to serve my interest on traveling. This binds up my interest on “serving the people”, as what my 18-year-old political party in UP taught me. I won two consecutive terms in the Student Council since my pre-mature campaign way back when I was in first year. Being in a council that carries the banner of a nationalist, scientific, and mass-oriented education is not easy. You have to face your demon. Some instructors, co-students, and other people tagged us as rebels, addicts, academically slumped, or whatever, but I’m certain that they are just misled. So who else can enter this serious and bloody career in exchange for happiness in traveling?

I remember my first convention in Kasama sa UP and the General Assembly of UP Student Councils, both   held in Davao. I still remember how I was left by the 2pm Bachelor Bus trip from Tacloban to Davao. I waited for the next bus to leave for the same destination, until I got PhilTanco Bus around 5pm, all the way from Pasay. It was an ordinary bus. Overloaded, I think. It also feels like the bus carries the whole houses of my co-passengers, from folding bed, chairs, tables, sacks of rice, etc. It was peak season in early summer and no wonder how struggling Filipinos in the north return to their loved ones in Mindanao. With the encounters of heavy dusts from the road bumping my face, I felt like uneasy but I was left of no choice. I still enjoy the trip not focusing the situation of being late to the event and being dirty from dusts all over my body. At some point, roads may be unfavorable nevertheless, it perhaps helped me to keep awake and witness the places which I never visited or even just passed by before. I appreciated the silent port somewhere in Southern Leyte, where we got ready for crossing Agusan del Norte. From that time on, I started loving the wide streets of Tagum City.

So I got late there in the venue. We convened in UP-Mindanao which left me think twice how student life revolves there. UP- Mindanao is too far from the city and definitely, the taxi must brave the one-lane, uncemented road towards the campus. We stayed at the PCA Dorm which is even farther. I was glad to meet my co-officers from UP campuses in Luzon, to Visaays down to the officers of UP-Mindanao. I was assigned in a room together with an outgoing Chairperson of UPV College of Arts and Sciences. I remember when his council mates most often gather in our room. They were all speaking so strange. I loved hearing their toned Hiligaynon language. That’s one notable experience I had.

When the event ended up, I had my straight flight from Davao to Manila for another meeting with the advocates of the controversial Reproductive Health Bill. Now I tell you that I’m really widening up my horizon but not to the extent of being like a damsel of distress. I was left for my 6:10am flight to Manila, having an identical feeling when I was left for my bus trip to Davao. I took the next trip for 10am to NAIA with a very few amount of money in the pocket. I remember how my UP professor waited near in the front desk of the hotel as I arrived from the taxi to that hotel in Makisig Street of Quezon City. Honestly, that was my first time in Manila and I’m proud to brave all the worries of being alone. That was my first time to travel in Luzon. I even saw tarpaulins of Hon. Sonny Belmonte hang on the sidewalks for his candidacy. That was an epic travel.

So student council agenda is over. Currently I am the Secretary General of the UP-Tacloban Debate Society. It’s a fun fact that I am an outgoing Sec. Gen. too of Student Council 2010. I don’t know why that position keeps on haunting me. Much more than that, I tell you, that the ideal organization for a traveler is the Debate Society. Engaging in debate tournament is really fun, if you win. My first tournament was the Visayas Universities Debate Championship, held in Tacloban. Nothing spectacular. Nothing new. Nothing to rejoice except that it’s a team from UP-Tacloban who got the champion. They were seniors from the organization of course.

The next time I joined the battle of debating was in Silliman University, Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental. I entered the arena of adjudicating. It was the Visayas-Mindanao Debate Championships. Every round were exciting most specially to the moment when I was promoted from being a panelist of Round 1 to chief adjudicator in the following rounds. I broke for the top 16 adjudicators during the Break Night. I adjudicated until quarterfinals and finally hailed as the top 10 Best Adjudicator of Visayas-Mindanao adjudicators. Post championship night left me under the weather. I feel like going to the nearest pharmacy and buy anything just to heal my sore throat and my headache. That was few minutes past midnight and I decided to courageously look for medicines. After asking pieces of advice from the hotel guard, since Dumaguete City is so strange to me, I decided to travel alone in the tricycle heading to the nearest open pharmacy, which actually was far from the hotel we stayed in. We exchange pleasantries with the driver, with me pretending like I’m fine. It was like a long trip to end up for that one 24-hour pharmacy in the city. The driver came to be my tour guide. Knowing that I’m new to the place, he pointed out the buildings that we passed by. I got to see Robinson in Dumaguete and the Negros Oriental State University. He even assisted me to get a priority number and waited me in the pharmacy where I stand in the queue of buyers during that 1 in the morning.  After all, I deeply appreciated how that driver lives up the knowledge taught by my History teacher in high school that Dumaguete is the City of Gentle People.

So traveling in return gives us a lot of memories aside from the appreciation we normally see in the environment of our destinations. I remember the 4^th Visayas Universtities Debate Championships in Iloilo City, which was my first time in Western Visayas. The debating format was Asian Parliamentary and I was too happy in the end that our team broke 3^rd in the Top 16 teams among 36, coming from different State Universities and Colleges all over Visayas. More than that, being the 19^th Best Debater among 107 debaters is already a cloud nine.

Whether or not I got my epic achievement in the arena of debating in VUDC, my trip to Iloilo, being nearest to Aklan as the oldest province in the country is an achievement. I felt like breathing the same air breathed by the descendants of the Ten Datu from Borneo, way back in our history.

So at this juncture, I’m happy to be a traveler. If not only for money and time constraints, and if not only I feel the envy of my stuck-in-the-room academics, I could have been an all-out learning traveler. Nonetheless, travelling is my hobby, not because for the sake of travelling but because it is more than that. 

"Her Day"

She’s the woman.

Mama- a term deeply embedded in my system. No single day can wash out this single word from my mouth. I mean for those days that we are together. The days whenever I got home from my university study that is too far from our hometown. Nevertheless, I owe a lot from her, so to speak.

Me and my mother taken last December 2010

I am 18 by now standing proud to have the one like her from my infancy to this 18^th year of my existence. When in doubt, I ask her. When bombarded by choices that complicate my decision to choose, I call her attention as an extension of my ever-stressed brain. From the kind of food to eat, from the designs of t-shirt to buy, from the clothes to wear on occasions, from the type of friends to have, she always has a say. Anyway, her advices, preaches, sermons, are mostly solicited. Yes, I still can’t stand alone. That is, when I’m with her because I’m compelled to struggle on my own in the city where I study and where there’s no more “mama” to ask for.

Tease me by calling a “mama’s boy” for I’ll tell you that this left me of no choice. My father left the family since when I was in Grade 2. My elder brothers and sister were far from us. What remains in our day to day lifestyle in the house is me and my mother. So I tell you by now that she washes my clothes along with hers. That explains why her approval is needed for my clothes to wear on occasions and or any trips.

She has an air of authority and of which most mothers out there possess. I remember when I was once a “stray child” acting like there’s no house to permanently stay; I used to play on the street together with some other playmates. That normally happens on the days of summer- the most exciting season for kids and also perhaps for adults.  Those days went out for whole day play time to the extent of forgetting meal times- an attitude which my mother never forgives. I was beaten for escaping meal times. That day, my friends clapping off their hands on the street, a signal assigned to their presence outside the house waiting for my presence to come out and play, but to no avail, I was not permitted and my appetite then on playing outside with friends diminished. So I’m no more in to that matter.

Now I spent most of my days in Tacloban City- the place where I study as an “iskolar ng bayan, iskolar para sa bayan”. It earned a lot of support from my mother. I remember myself always having a “pasalubong” whenever she got home from her hometown in Panglao, Bohol. There were days when I drop by the terminal in the city to claim my mother’s presents like Bohol’s “calamay” and my favorite “piyaya”. I also received pack of sliced bread and even pack of powdered milk and too many more.

Then I always thanked her through the power of technology. I always leave her a message of thanks in her cellphone number and sometimes we spent talking with pleasantries. And sometimes, when I checked my cellphone, I received messages like, “Have you already eaten your breakfast? Don’t forget your milk”. Funny isn’t it? But that what makes a mother. Thank you and happy mother’s day! 

Ang Daan sa "Tuwid" na Edukasyon

Sa aking pagkaka-alam, hindi maituturing na isang mainit na isyu ang pagdadagdag ng dalawang taon sa basic education dito sa Biliran at siguro ay ganun din sa iba pang sulok ng ating bansa.

Dahil sa kaka-facebook, nabasa ko sa isang kilalang page ang isang artikulong nagpapahayag na pabor ang mga sektoral group ng probinsya ng Biliran sa implementasyon ng K+12 sa Basic Education Program sa bansa[http://www.facebook.com/biliranisland]. Pilit ko mang hindi lumitaw na parang devil’s advocate sa isyung ito, ninanais ko lang na ipahayag ang aking sariling opinyon batay sa naturang kalagayan ng Pilipinas...

Nakabalangkas sa BESRA (Basic Educ. Sector Reform Agenda) na pinaghalawan ng panukalang K+12 ang layuning "education for all" pagdating ng 2015. Dapat lang naman talagang makatamasa ang lahat ng edukasyon dahil nga sa iginigiit nating “Education is a right”, at bilang nakasaad sa ARTIKULO XIV ng 1987 Constitution;  “Dapat pangalagaan at itaguyod ng Estado ang karapatan ng lahat ng mamamayan sa mahusay na edukasyon sa lahat ng antas at dapat magsagawa ng angkop na mga hakbang upang matamo ng lahat ang gayong eduasyon”.

Picture from:     http://www.thepoc.net

Sa puntong ito, handa na ba nating ipaglaban kung talagang ang K+12 ba ay ang agarang solusyon smga problemang kinakaharap ng edukasyon sa Pilipinas?

Sa taong 2010, kilala ang mga malawakang protestang nailunsad ng bawat mag-aaral mula sa iba’t ibang unibersidad ng bansa tungkol sa mahigpit na pagtutol sa di makatarungang Budget Cut na ginawa ng ating gobyerno sa sektor ng Edukasyon. Kung sa taong 2010 ay may P22.4B na badyet ang 112 State Universities and Colleges, ngayong 2011 ay bumaba ito sa P21.7B, at bilang mga SUC ng Biliran ang NSU-Main at NSU-Biliran campus, nararamdaman kong dinaranas din ng iilan pang SUC’s sa buong bansa ang ganitong problema.

Ang mas nakakangalit pa ay ang zero budget para sa capital outlay ng mga kolehiyo at pamantasan. Sa budget message ni PNoy noong ika-24 ng Agosto, 2010, idiniin niya na “We are gradually reducing the subsidy to SUC to push them toward becoming self-sufficient and financially independent, given their ability to raise their income and to utilize it for their programs and projects.”

Sa kasalukuyan, marami ang naghihirap sa mataas na bilihin. Dagdag pa ang pagpasa ng Oil Deregulation Law na nanggigipit sa ating mga drayber at pati na rin sa aming mga estudyante. Sa patuloy na pagliit ng badyet sa edukasyon, nakikitang pilit nagsusumikap ang ating mga SUC’s na maka tugon sa kanilang mga pangangailangan. Patuloy na tumataas ang Tuition Fee at ilan pang mga pagtaas ng bayarin sa mga pamantasan at unibersidad. Nagkakaroon na ng mga “exorbitant fees” at nagsisimula na ang pagpaparenta ng mga idle assets sa mga pribadong kompanya upang kumita lamang ng pera.

Ang iginigiit nating “Education is a right” ay unti-unti nang nagiging “Education is a privilege”. Ang dahilan  ng karamihang hindi nakakapag-aral o hindi nakatapos sa pag-aaral ay, “walang pera” dahil na nga sa pagtaas ng matrikula at pati na sa mga bilihin.

Ngayon ay ating balikan ang K+12 Program… Sa ganitong kalagayan ng ating bansa, hindi kaya may mas panlunas pa ang ating gobyerno sa mga problemang kagaya nito maliban sa K+12?  

Hanggat hindi pangunahing tugon ng gobyernong Aquino ang edukasyon, dagdag na pahirap ang K+12. Dagdag na budget, hindi dagdag na taon!

Way Back When I Was A Kid

Some people say, “tell me when you were in grade school, and I’ll tell you who you are”. Perhaps I believe that it is true. My hobbies, attitudes, and values are somehow attributed to the way how I was molded in my younger years. So, when in doubt, blame your upbringing when you were still a pupil.

As far as my memory is concern, my schooling started when my parents were too eager to send me to school. I was 4 years old back then when a pre-school teacher did not accept me because I was a year younger than the minimum age that they strictly accept. Not to disappoint their expectation to see me as a pupil, my parents immediately sent me to a kindergarten school inside the compound of a Roman Catholic Church. Finally, I was accepted.

Day 1 came. I feared. I felt that I wasn’t prepared to be mixed with many children in a room. Well, I only have a very few encounters of meeting same age children when I was still young. Neither had I remembered a visitor in the house with a child that I played with, nor I remembered playing joyously to a child anywhere else. So I don’t feel good upon sitting on the front row of that classroom. My mother was standing there outside the screen door. There were also mothers and or “yayas” of my classmates sitting behind us. Our teacher kept on talking and writing there on the blackboard. Things which I did not remember anymore except that writing activity to be done right after her lecture… Then I cried. My memory still recalls myself crying with a concern teacher right there in front. It was not because I don’t know how to write. Not because I’m afraid of the activity. Not because my seatmate bullied me. But it was because for two reasons. One, I don’t know how to open my bag to get my paper. Two, my mother was not anymore standing outside the door, she left me unexpectedly. So I cried. Minutes later, with my teacher helping me to figure out my problems, my mother came back and fetched me. I never came back to that school again. Never again even up to now. That was just Day 1 and that was the last, so we waited for next school year.

So I turned 5 years old. We revisit Pre-school and there I was accepted. My mother choosed me to enroll in the afternoon session which I don’t know why, but whatever the reason was, no regrets at all. I can still remember the first day I entered that room where my classmates were busy playing with the small blocks of different shapes and pieces of clay shaped into whatever figure we want. That was Day 1 in my Pre-school days and I think it left me enjoyed, so I loved schooling from that day on.

My mother, if not my brother kept me accompany in going to my classroom. So here’s my attitude again- I always want that whenever I glanced at the door or at the window, I can see the presence of my mother or whoever from the family. If not, then everyone can hear again my terrible cry. So my mother was left of no choice. During those days, my mother kept herself busy accepting thesis papers of college students. She was paid for making that “holy paper” and also paid for typing out all of those thick compilations. Computers for encoding were not so popular during that time so most of college students resort to typewriting which my mother also accepts. I remembered those days that whenever I glanced outside the door, I could see my mother sitting on a little chair with a typewriter in front of her placed on the cemented bench. School benches were put around the sturdy paper trees so the shade I think was enough to protect my mother from the afternoon’s heat of the sun. She was busy typing. I was busy listening to our teacher. Until that graduation came, not bad that I received a ribbon. I was hailed as the Most Attentive Student. That was cool. I realized that it feels better when there’s something to get when the school year ends.

Grade 1 Section Yellow. Row 1 and I was proud (our seating arrangement was based to the level of our intellects). I remembered when we from Row 1 taught our classmates from Row 4 to read some texts written in our workbook. I thought of myself as an achiever. I always want to answer in recitations or if not, I always want to figure out how others understand some lessons which I find a bit of difficulty. That time, I already have a notion that life is always a competition. Not to the extremes, though. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. I remembered one time that during the early days of my grade 1, I seated in Row 4. My only seatmate was so annoying. The two classmates I had in front were so noisy and the two classmates sitting in the desk behind me were playing my bag and it left me irritated. Our teacher caught our attention and in exchange, we were assigned to sweeping and scrubbing the floor right after the class. Then my brother who was in Grade 6 that time came to fetch me in going home. He waited me to finish the tasks and I feared that he might know why we were assigned to be sweepers. I feared that our teacher will tell him and of which my parents might know right after. I don’t want to disappoint them and that’s what I get rid of. Time flew. I received a medal for being the second honor in the class. That was just a very small achievement. What is a 2^nd honor medal of a Grade 1 student compared to an honorific scholarship received in college?

I don’t know if some children like me before and of today also thought the way how I wanted to see myself in the lens of my parents, my teacher, or to everyone. I still remember how I ran so fast in heading home for lunch on the day I knew that I was on the honor’s list. If only I can teleport that time, just in a second, I already got home and proudly showed my medal to my mother. The medal which was given to us days earlier than the recognition day still clangs on the wall of our living room. That was my first all-out happiness. That’s the image I saw in that tiny little thing. Today, it continues to clang on the wall together with some other medals I received. Whenever I looked at it, an air of happiness emanates from its glittering surface.

                

FIRST POST... ABOUT ME:

I am Dick Guiller Casio de Delfin y Bucao de Guiritan

Never mind saying that I am simple (too cliché )... I'm just from a petty bourgeois family, the youngest, and away from them for an exchange of my study in UP.

Standing 5'7", brown eyes, black hair, with an Asian complexion, my family raised me in Naval, Biliran where my father (Pedro Casio Delfin) and his relatives originally settled. My mother (Severina Ruth Bucao Guiritan) is from Panglao, Bohol. My grandparents from mother's side came from Cebu and Mindanao and formerly had Muslim ties.

Despite family diversities, my native tongue is Cebuano but its not completely the same as how it is spoken in Cebu considering some terms. I also understand Waray-waray. It is a must. My study in UP- Tacloban compels me to learn it.

According to them I am mysterious, shy, nerd, silent, geek, whatsoever... anyway, everyone is free to judge, but just try to know me more, perhaps you could agree or oppose... :)