Telepathy

Harvey V. Chua John went north to the HAB fest. I'm going south to Alabang so I can write, check my students' works and prepare for Tuesday. Will pass by MMP to visit my dad's grave - it's his death anniversary today. He passed on in 1978. I wish he were still alive to tell me family stories.

Harvey V. Chua John just called. He's driving back from the HAB. He told me to prepare the house in Alabang as he does not mind spending a few days there. That's mental (or emotional) telepathy. :)

These were my updates on Facebook yesterday morning. John had invited me to go with him to the Hot Air Balloon (HAB) Festival in Pampanga, two hours away from here, but going there meant waking up at three in the morning. I told John “thanks, but no thanks.” Unlike John, I don’t like walking up early.

I woke up at 8:30am and after breakfast, I turned on my computer to check emails, Facebook and a couple of photography forums. It was Saturday - my schedule for going to Alabang. Since we don’t really live there, I had our landline and Internet disconnected, so I had to finish all my Internet tasks before leaving for Alabang. Just a couple of minutes after I updated my status on Facebook, I got a call from John – he was on his way home, and would like to spend the night in Alabang. Wow, is that mental or emotional telepathy or what!

It was thrilling (in Tagalog, nakakakilig) to hear that John was thinking of the exact same thing I was. Maybe it comes from being in tune with each other. I remember one incident in the 70’s when we were courting (this is the politically correct way of saying it now but in my time, we would say, “when he was courting me” – I don’t know why women allowed this change), and he invited me to go to an air show. True to the way he is, he wanted to be early, while I needed to attend to other things first. By the time I got there, there was a big crowd and I did not know where or how to find him. As he would be busy taking pictures, I did not ask him to stop shooting to be waiting for me at a certain place, and of course, there were no cellphones or even pagers then.

So I put my personal “radar” on, sent a telepathic message to John that I was there and where could I find him - and maneuvered my way through the crowd, going straight to the center of what was “happening” while John was leaving that center to look for me. John and I were both thrilled that we located each other right away!

P.S. This status update came after the ones above.

Harvey V. Chua John and Kathy came to Alabang, but decided not to stay (because we have no Internet or Cable TV here). Instead they asked me to join them for dinner and a movie "Dear John" but I need to be back at home for a 10pm Skype date with Harvey E. Jewell. So I'm back here in Makati. It's okay.

Suburban Breeze

I am here now in Alabang, enjoying the quiet of an empty house. The tenants left two weeks ago but I have not been able to come, except to do an inventory and accept the keys from them on their last day, and very briefly last Saturday just to water the plants. Today, I brought the driver/maintenance man, a houseboy and a maid to help clean and make it attractive for prospective tenants who may come to check out the house next week.

The electric fan is not even turned on, but nature provides the breeze that I need to be comfortable. I sit at the dining table trying to write about this feeling of gladness to be here. The sounds I hear are sounds of a quiet life – the neighbors’ little boys playing basketball, the driver scraping off stubborn epoxy from the kitchen sink (I did not like that orange epoxy was spread all over the rim of the stainless steel sink – it was that way when we bought the house and never found time to fix it until now), the houseboy plucking dead, dried leaves from betel nut trees at the front yard, and the maid moving the aluminum ladder as she moves around in a methodical manner, dusting the windows and furniture.

Just for comparison, over in Makati where we live and work in the same house/building, the cacophony of sounds that predominate are those of buses and cars that run on our busy Bautista street – the street that our house directly faces, without benefit of a front yard to serve as “buffer” or “sound barrier” - and the constant ringing of phones interspersed with someone’s insistent voice on hurried paging announcements. Add to this auditory cocktail the stillness of the stagnant air, trapped within the confines of each of the rooms, artificially brought to a comfortable level by almost 24-hour air-conditioning.

I am not asking for the pristine air of the mountains or the sea. I know that Alabang is not an idyllic rural paradise. Once in a while, but thankfully not too often, the purr and spurts from motorcycles of men who come to deliver pizzas or provide maintenance service to us or our neighbors compete with muffled but nevertheless revving engines of neighbors’ cars negotiating the rise in elevation of our slightly hilly street. So I know I am not in dreamland and that I am not too far from the city.

All that I am wishing for, really, is some suburban breeze – that rhythmically weaves in and out of trees and into the house to provide me with a natural balm from the tropical heat, and as an additional treat, brings in the music it creates by rustling leaves. Today’s slightly active breeze undeniably resonates with my heart’s longing for quietude and comfort in a home.

Naturally, even if only for a day.