How To Pay BDO Bill in Credit Card Using Debit Card

Photo Credit: https://business.mb.com.ph

Hey, I do not want to sound like a commercial model in this post.... though sometimes I dreamily think of myself so!

Yes, for beginners who might not know, you do not have to fall in line as it is possible to pay your bill in your credit card through your debit card - and right at the comfort of your phone screen!

To pay your BDO bill in your credit card through your debit card, you must meet these two conditions: First, aside from the credit card, you must have debit card with sufficient amount. Second, you must have registered both cards in either BDO website or mobile application.

If you meet the above two conditions, you are ready for the initial procedure to enrol your credit card as biller. Follow these simple steps:

1. Log in to your BDO account. 

2. Go to Enrolment Services. 

3. Click Enrol Company or Biller.

4. Provide the following details:

     4.1. Company or Biller: BDO Credit Card Peso Payment to Peso Card

     4.2. Product Type: Choose appropriate type of credit card you are using

     4.3. Payment Channels: IB for Online or Mobile Banking 

     4.4. Subscriber Number: Your credit card number as it appears

     4.5. Subscriber Name: The customer name as it appears

     4.6. Nickname: Give your short code to the selected company or biller

5. Click CONTINUE. 

Once you have successfully enrolled your credit card as biller, you may immediately begin paying your credit card bill through your debit card. Follow these steps:

1. Go to PAY BILLS. 

2. Fill out the following:

     2.1. Pay from: Any of your enrolled debit card you wish to charge

     2.2. Pay this Biller: Any of your enrolled credit card you wish to pay

     2.3. Payment Schedule: Immediate if you want the payment posted soonest

     2.4. Amount: The amount of bill you wish to pay

3. Click CONTINUE. 

And you are done! 

With the steps above, it is now more convenient to pay your bill in your credit card using your debit card! And oh, happy banking! 

Disclaimer: This is not an official post. I just happen to be a BDO patron who wants to help others who may want to upgrade their banking practice by making it efficient to pay their bills in their credit card using their debit card based on my personal experience.

I Want My Deschooled, Reluctant and Unassuming Self

First stop of this journey: Hanoi, Vietnam

I found this unfinished blog entry I wrote last December entitled "All I Want for Christmas is My Deschooled, Reluctant and Unassuming Self" which I was supposed to publish as my official year ender post. It is new year now but I believe this musing is never too late to translate into actions.

Wishing to be deschooled, reluctant and unassuming, I am NOT the type of person who is about to give up at any rate now. As a matter of fact, I am still in the ball games. Perhaps I just want to lie low a bit and live life simply as it comes.

I want to deschool my self, just learning things out of natural curiosities rather than being pressured to the usual "learn something new" piece of advice. I want to just explore and discover any thing that piques my curiosity most at the moment.

I want to play reluctant. There is nothing wrong with being self assured as a person, but I would rather want now to just observe people and things rather than join the the bandwagons and their hooplas. I want to reserve to my self my thoughts about them and learn out of observing them. 

I want to remain unassuming. I want to deal people and mean things just the way they are. I want to be objective with situations and emotions. No assumptions and judgements. Just pure and simple thoughts.

We all have fair share of being deschooled, reluctant and unassuming once in our lives. I am bringing back mine this time for good.

Faith in Humanity Restored

What I love most about traveling is there is just so much to learn, not only about different cultures, but also about humanity.

One time I was on my way back to Singapore from an all day island hop. I was in the waiting lounge of the ferry terminal and looking confused about which gate for which shipping company. An old Singaporean woman, after probably observing my confusion, came close and asked to check my ticket. She said we would be on the same ferry and assured me. I wanted to stay with her but the seats beside her were occupied, so I sat a few chairs away. When it was time to get aboard to the ferry, passengers stood up in unison and I saw her come my way to ensure that I would go with her.

On my other trips, I have experienced such simple but wonderful acts of kindness many times either that Thai who does not speak the international language but gestured to take me picture after seeing I was alone; a Macanese who translated what I wanted to say to the vendor in the market; a Malaysian who helped me book a bus ticket during a peak day; a Chinese who was off to work but took time to accompany just to ensure that I reach my destination; a group of Japanese teens who offered free hugs in the street; an old Indonesian couple who were too kind to treat me like their grandchild; or any body who made the world a little brighter by just giving a smile.

Strange but these experiences made me feel inspired that there is still hope in humanity... that we are never too old, too poor, too stranger to be good to others.

I will definitely love more of you, world!

Falling in Love with George Town, Malaysia

I feel brave and creative after my recent side trip to this UNESCO World Heritage Site of George Town, Penang, Malaysia. It is not popular for many travellers to hop to this underrated colonial village. Maybe also because I am just one of those few weird culture junkies who love old structures and is willing to endure long, long distance travels and searches just to see an old grandeur! 

It was morning of the next day when I arrived in George Town after twelve hours of bus ride crossing the borders between Singapore and Malaysia. I did not catch some good sleep while seated in the bus the whole time but I felt my adrenaline rushed as I saw and heard the bustle of the old town coming near! I just heard my inner self scream: I am finally in George Town!

I have read about the famous street arts scattered around the old city, but my original interest really was exploring the old structures that wonderfully make up the city. However, after some strolls, I did not expect that these old structures are not as old as I expected. They sure are every where but most of them were built only as recent as 1930s, much like those old buildings in Singapore.

I know that comparing Vigan and George Town is useless like comparing apple and orange because each of them is uniquely beautiful by the virtue of their own cultures and histories. But since I have been both to these quaint colonial cities, I am indulging myself to placing them side by side for some good reasons.

I can say that Vigan gives that wonderful vibe of a classical colonial charm. The horse drawn carriages, cobbled stone paths and gleaming street lamps simply add elegance and vibrance to Vigan. George Town, on the other hand, is a colourful blend. One can see Bhuddism, Hinduism, Muslim and Christian influences in the style of its houses and other structures. 

I must agree though that what makes both charming is its people. Everyone I rubbed elbows in George Town was just welcoming. The moment I arrived in George Town, the lady who drove me to my hotel was very helpful. She even helped me buy ticket back to KL. The man I asked in the street was also very informative. He guided me which museum to go. I saw sunshine in every nook I go as people were just smiling.

Meet my new Malaysian friends!

But perhaps the most exciting activity indeed in George Town is art hunting. And mind you these art pieces adorning the streets and alleys of the city are no ordinary paintings. These murals were installed in 2012 by a Lithuanian artist with the help of Penang government council. What makes the paintings unconventional for pretty amazing reason is the fact that selected parts of the art pieces are real objects – some props set up against the wooden door, window or wall!

Some of my favorite art pieces aside from the Brother and Sister on a Swing featured in the picture above are: Little Children on a Bicycle, The Real Bruce Lee Would Never Do This, Boy in the Bike, Reaching Up, Children Playing Basketball, I Want Pau, Skippy Comes to Penang, and a lot more! If you are interested to check my own trail of musings to these artistic objects, kindly visit my album here.

I must confess that, after side tripping to George Town, I fell deeply in love not only with its rich culture, but also with the creativity and tenacity of its people. There are a few cities in the word that maintains its old character as much as George Town does. It continues to reinvent itself but without altering its old self. On a more retrospective thought, I can only hope that George Town is much like we to our old selves.

Terima kasih for the wonderful experience, George Town! This is not the last visit surely, I vow!

A Twist in My Indonesian Trip: Tracing the Malay Roots of Philippines

How can I thank "words" for giving our minds and hearts the expression of thoughts and emotions? And for reconnecting our heritage?

I must confess though that I am a Hispanist. I have leaning on associating Filipino towards Spanish - architecture, language, music, fashion, cuisine. When it comes to language, just think about Filipino words related to kitchen items, clothing articles, school materials, family names, technical jargons, and even curses! Chance would be they are mostly Spanish loan words. 

But my recent trip mainly to Indonesia with side stop in Malaysia and another sojourn in Brunei illuminated my cultural understanding. It was a trip not only to the ancient Borobudur Temple or the majestic Sultan Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque but to the distant and almost forgotten connection between Philippines and the Malay world.

A Malay commoner :)

I disclaim to be a linguist as I have long abandoned my undergraduate discipline, but my personal observations of languages - Filipino and Bahasa Indonesia - led this reflection that Spanish may have clothed us or named us, but the Filipino soul will always be Malay in core.

One would feel at least at home in Indonesia reading and hearing familiar words virtually in every nook and cranny of Indonesia. A friend later informed me that a study did identify at least 300 related Filipino and Indonesian words. This statistics, I believe, could be higher. Based on my personal encounters, here are some of those words I amusingly discovered.

Filipino and Indonesian words with the same words and meanings:

right - Fil. kanan; Indo. kanan    child - Fil. anak; Indo. anak
sky - Fil. langit; Indo. langit        white - Fil. puti; Indo. puti
cheap - Fil. mura; Indo. mura    sickness - Fil. sakit; Indo. sakit
eye - Fil. mata; Indo. mata

Filipino and Indonesian words with slight variations but with the same meanings:

push - Fil. tulak; Indo. tolak        open - Fil. bukas; Indo. buka
stone - Fil. bato; Indo. batu        kitten - Fil. kuting; Indo. kuching
year - Fil. taon; Indo. tahun        enter - Fil. pasok; Indo. masuk
door - Fil. pinto; Indo. pintu

Filipino and Indonesian words that are false friends, the same words but different meanings:

bunga - Fil. fruit; Indo. flower
manok - Fil. chicken; Indo. bird
halaman - Fil. plants; Indo. park

Because I also speak Cebuano, Hiligaynon and Ilocano, I discovered these some interesting words same or similar to Indonesian:

street - Ceb. dalan; Indo. jalan
wall - Hil. dingding; Indo. dingding
food - Iloc. makan; Indo. makan

I recall there were instances when we proudly counted in Filipino much to the delight of our Indonesian friends! They told us that we could learn Indonesian in a month and survive in Indonesia!

On a more retrospective side, I wonder how Philippines has grown apart and differently in many aspects with its cousins from the rest of Malay archipelago. But thanks to these wonderful words as they serve as immortal evidences to our Malay heritage connection.

Terima kasih, Indonesia!

Japan Spring: A Celebration of Things Old and New

A celebration of things old and new - this is the insight that made a significant mark to my mind soon after my Japan trip for eleven days. I think that it is an appropriate phrase for a sojourn to heritage places -  a symbol for things old; for a journey on spring time - a symbol for things new.

One of the most exciting part of our trip was seeing the famous cherry blossoms or sakura, especially when we are about two weeks late from the blooming season. Luckily and delightfully, we found some last cherry trees that bore flowers abundantly - pink, white and green. Every time we found one, our company swarmed around these natural beauties and take many photographs. 

I have not lived in Japan long enough, but I think that when cherry trees bloom, they are the most beautiful on earth. And when they do, they only bloom so for a certain short period. As what some romantic poets have celebrated on spring, cherry blossom is the best reminder that life is wonderful but only momentary.

Celebration of spring!

I also appreciate how Japanese people are passionate about for their culture. Japan is a testament that a country can go forward to progress without disregarding culture. Going to some of their cities, we found their ancient castles, temples and other historical landmarks exceptionally well preserved. One could see how love is written all over these old structures.

One time, we visited the quaint Kintai Bridge. I was touched about the past story behind the old bridge. I learned that locals once built protective structure around the bridge to save it from the raging typhoon one time. However, the bridge did not survive; locals tearfully watched the it get washed away by the great flood. But in a short span of time, the locals amazingly rebuilt the bridge piece by piece as a remembrance to the old heritage.

Japanese culture is also famous for the origami, the ancient art of paper folding. Japanese children learn origami early at the lap of their mothers. While some people may think it is just a plain paper folding, it actually reflects the ingenuity and aesthetics of Japanese culture. This is a unique art of living – a reminder of patience, resilience and discipline - values which are written and reflected all over Japan. 

This art forms a part of Japanese curriculum. Aside from integrating a uniquely Japanese trademark to their education, I am amazed how actually paper folding does cognitive advantages for learners. Aside from developing fine motor skills, origami is a pictorial learning through repeatable actions, and by transforming a flat piece of paper into a three dimensional crane, it is also a cognitive stimulation of spatial reasoning. Now, I wonder not why Japanese are very good in mathematics and science!

While they have proved their world leadership when it comes to technology and economy, I am amazed as well to know that they have maintained their communion with nature. I think that Japanese people are one of the few most passionate people about living with nature as we all are from nature and forever interconnected to nature.

Visiting some cities, I marveled at how organized are the spaces. Just a few kilometers from the urban center, one would feel like being transported to a completely different place because the outer villages still maintain their rural vibes. Trees are well taken cared and animals, like deer, turtle and bird, live in harmony with people.

This article is not enough to vicariously contain all the wonderful memories I gained but personally, Japan will always be a special place in the world being a perfect blend of heritage and progress... of environment and culture... of old and new....

Sayonara, Japan! Until I see you again!

Abra in Time: Meeting My Family in the North

I never personally knew my maternal relatives. Back in my childhood, I only read them through snail mails that my grandmother shared with them and through her stories. But my hope of meeting them personally - to share stories of our family, to know how they are feeling - has never left me since then.

The drama of my UP journey came as a mission of many purposes. There was one important purpose: to personally meet my family in the North. And last Holy Week was indeed the perfect chance to finally get to know them although a few of them were home.

I did travel the roads of Ilocos Region three years ago, and passing again by that long, dry road made me realize how hard the journey of my grandparents was. As I posted, I saw harsh landscape of undulating plains, whipped by blistering winds... and this could probably describe also the journey of my grandparents many decades ago. That was the time when they had to leave the region in search for a place in Mindanao to build their new home... and their new dreams.

On the second bus that I took aboard, I was seated in front - a perfect spot that I was able to capture the iconic tunnel of the province of Abra. This welcomed my very first sojourn to the land where my forebears came. And it was just so amazing, knowing that finally I am home for the first time!

My Lolo Porcing, the youngest brother of my grandmother, waited for me in the capital of the province. I immediately recognized him, and I hugged his beautiful wife, Lola Norma. He looks like the handsome male version of my grandmother. We drove for about an hour before we reached the ancestral house where my great grandparents and grandmother once lived. "Ito ang bahay natin," said Lolo Porcing. It was so sweet.

I spent the three days with the family, talking about how life has been before the family migrated and how every one is doing in Mindanao now. I also lived with one of my uncles and his family, and we frequently bonded with my first cousins, Manong John and Jhey, who were there. Life is very laid back in the province, and these are the things that I missed most... the silence, the food, the home. I can never forget how they graciously made me feel a part of the family.

I thank God for this once in a lifetime opportunity. It feels so good that somewhere else in this world, you belong to a very wonderful family. I cannot even imagine until now that I trace my roots in this corner of the world, that  wonderful feeling of a place where a part of my humanity came from.

Clockwise: The Abra Tunnel; my Lolo Porcing and Lola Norma;
the old house where I stayed; and with Manong John and Uncle Chet.

On the day I was about to leave home, I hugged them with all my heart and with teary eyes. They told me to come back as often as I can, and I promised them that I will.

A City Frozen in Time

It is an irony that though I am a self confessed culture junkie myself, I have never been to many cultural places. So, when this summer road trip came, I took the liberty to witness at large the heritage treasures of our country that I have always wanted to visit.

We reached the world famous Spanish colonial town of Vigan on the third day of our road trip to the north. Vigan City was such a welcome twist from the nature adventure we had in Baguio City after five hours of butt burning travel.

Vigan was the seat of politics, religion, culture, economy and education in the north during the Spanish colonial times. As we entered the town, I felt I was transported back to the past with its cobbled stone streets, crumbling pillars side by side, and imposing house architectures. We were toured by a horse drawn carriage and everything just felt nostalgic.

We saw old houses, many of which were converted into hotels, restaurants, botiques and shops. The city government though has taken care of these treasures. According to a resident whom we had a small talk, any house repair by the owner has to secure permit and acquire design from the city. Thanks heavens for this kind of preservation efforts.

And although there are a number of modern Spanish inspired buildings around Vigan notably the fastfood chains like Jollibee, Chowking and McDonalds, there are a good number of authentic Spanish era houses dotting all over the city. The best preserved ones are those that are located in Calle Crisologo, a seemingly time frozen section of the city that tourists should never miss.

Aside from Calle Crisologo, another corner any visitor should never miss is the pueblo, a plan itself so characteristic of Spanish towns of the olden times. It is where the public plaza, the city hall, and the central church could be found. Until this day, this planning can be attested exceptionally conserved in this old city.

Well loved cultural and educational destinations in the city also include museums. The house of Father Jose Burgos, one of the three priest martyrs, and the mansions of famous illustrado families of Syquia and Quirino were converted into museums. It was only unfortunate for us to visit them late in the afternoon and they were closed for public.

We stopped a while at Bantay Church, another well preserved religious structure. At first I thought it was only a reconstruction of an original old church because its facade looked very intact, but viewing its colossal pillars I confirmed it was authentic. Beside the church, the iconic century old bell tower located on top of the hill is a must view.

It was dark when we went back to the downtown. What made Plaza Salcedo buzzing was the multitude of spectators and alike waiting for the spectacular dancing fountain show which I can only describe as world class.

Having toured the entire heritage city, I realized that its real charm is more than its material culture, but the tenacity of its people to safeguard a historical treasure that remains remarkably well preserved amidst the challenge of time.

Strange realization but that was how it felt Vigan for the first time, and I vowed it will not certainly be the last.

Sounds of December

I am really saddened of how December is not the way I hear it many years ago. I have as many fixations about things of the past and I really feel nostalgic about the lively sounds that I used to hear as a kid every time this once dubbed merry season came. 

Instead of cheerful jingles and loud fireworks, my ears are recently fed most of reports about hapless situations of people crying for help. But with this, I realized that we need more than just a pair of ears to truly hear the real essence of this season.

We witnessed the horrible siege of the whole City of Zamboanga for over a month by the armed rebels. The system of the city was paralyzed and so was life in this Chabacano speaking community. Many people were trapped in hunger and others were also held hostage, and the scare it caused to the entire city was immeasurably traumatic.

After that siege, we then saw how the massive earthquake wrecked havoc to the entire island of Bohol and some parts of Cebu. It caused large damage not only to the lives of our countrymen there but it also ruined the once glories of our century old churches that are treasures to the world.

And as if those were not enough, just recently we mourn together for all the lost dreams and hopes of our brothers in Leyte who were devastated by the dubbed super typhoon Yolanda. What came more disappointing were the rifts and fights between our politicians who must have been helping out instead of slinging mud to each other amidst the social crisis in the province.

With all these threats of both human and nature, I am conscience stricken to think of my personal desires while other people out there cannot even afford to be happy in this joyous time. I realize I must be double grateful for I am still one lucky dog in life after all.

In this miserable moment of our life as a country, all we ever need to find the real meaning of happiness is a heart that can hear the most profound sorrows of other people and ready to sympathize with them in any humble means it can.

Totsiens en Dankie, Nelson Mandela

The whole world is mourning over the recent succumb to death of Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, South Africa. Once accused as a terrorist by his enemies who put him behind the bars, he became popular as a leader in his country and a world renowned statesman.

His life is an inspiration of triumph and tragedy. He is the foremost modern hero of liberation of his country from political turmoils and social crisis, giving the world an admirable inspiration. 

The world really feels like it lost a feather by his death. His presence may have gone but surely his wisdom will linger for as long as people remember his heroism. Totsiens en dankie, Nelson Mandela. Farewell and thank you for making the world a little better.

If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.

A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special.

I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.

As I have said, the first thing is to be honest with yourself. You can never have an impact on society if you have not changed yourself... Great peacemakers are all people of integrity, of honesty, but humility.

As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

A leader is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind.

When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.

Everyone can rise above their circumstances and achieve success if they are dedicated to and passionate about what they do.

Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.

We must use time wisely and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.

There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

Difficulties break some men but make others. No axe is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise even in the end.

For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.

I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended.

The Lips of Napoles and Eye of Yolanda

NAPOLES and YOLANDA are two names that will forever be etched in the catacomb of our minds , if not in the pages of history books of this nation.

The official mugshot. Photo credit: en.wikipedia.org.

Janeth Lim Napoles, a businesswoman, became a national sensation after being pointed out as the mastermind of the alleged pork barrel brouhaha involving five other senators in a financial fiasco.

She faced the senate yesterday where she was stewed in juice of queries, cajoled to divulge the truth, and interrogated to drop bomb by naming the people believed to be behind the pork barrel scandal. 

But all the efforts of the senate fell flat as the matron played her game with all her nicely put denials against accusations, well crafted tendencies to forget details and invoking her right against self incrimination again. After all, it was her show.

It is a good move that we are slowly tracking this bandwagon of people with negative motives over the common good, so that this malpractice can be nipped in the bud before it becomes an unspoken norm in the world of politics.

But in the end, we only got more delusion than justice. I agree with the sentiments of the common people. A person like Napoles betraying her country by lying under oath and insulting its people in the process deserves to be thrown behind the bars forever. That would be fair for a gross transgression of justice to our nation.

And as frustrating as that senate proceeding, we are also disheartened by the super typhoon locally named as Yolanda whipping and devastating the provinces in central part of our country at the moment.

According to ask.com, a super typhoon is a classification given to a very strong storm that can be paralleled to five hurricanes by severity. It means that its wind can reach up to sixty five miles per hour.

I am personally desolated to witness the destruction made by Yolanda, washing away not only trees and homes but also lives of many innocent people. My heart goes out for all the victims of typhoon and my fervent prayer is for them to recover very soon.

There's a rainbow always after the storm. Photo credit: www.globalpost.com.

But sadder even is amidst this test of resiliency where our government units and good samaritans extend their hands to our depressed countrymen, there have been reports of lawlessness with people taking advantage by pillaging commercial establishments.

This case of Yolanda brings the bright and dark of the affected people as much as that case of Napoles shows the good and bad of this sad, sad country.

Stay Strong, Bohol and Cebu

After the Zamboanga City siege, another tragedy struck our country after a 7.2 earthquake devastated Bohol and some parts of Cebu, putting both tourism provinces in a state of calamity.

Photo Credit: gmanetwork.com.

Aside from the rising death toll, another thing that really saddened me is the destruction of several world famous historical churches, mostly in Bohol. I have never personally seen any of them  but I have been in deep interest about these cultural heritages that are living grand stands to our colorful past.

But since these living grand stands of our past have crumbled into pieces on the ground, will they also be just dead remnants now? I really hope that these once revered national treasures will be restored back to their old glories. We surely can't afford to lose them forever just that way.

Pray for the people of Bohol and Cebu. Naghinaot mi sa inyong usab nga pagbarog tunga sa mga pagtilaw sa kinabuhi. Ang Ginoo magatabang kaninyo.

Heal, Ciudad de Zamboanga

As a language enthusiast, I have high fascination about Zamboanga City, which is still in the remnants of war today. It is home to Chabacano - the only Spanish creole language of its kind in Asia that had developed and survived for over four hundred years of trades and conquests, migrations and policies.

A creole language, like Chabacano, is a conglomeration of different languages that have evolved into a native tongue of a new generation of speaker. On the case of Chabacano, it is 75% Spanish morphology with grammar and structure from local languages. Linguists continue to be mystified and baffled with the presence of Portuguese, Italian and Mexican lexical terms in this creole language.

In the past decade, language purists of Zamboanga were worried with the continuing borrowing of their language from Cebuano and Tagalog, leaning away from its Spanish superstrate. However, linguists defend and consider this phenomenon as rather dynamism which is natural to all languages. 

Recent incorporations of modern Spanish words are mainly attributed to the Spanish standardization efforts of media, establishment of Spanish call centers in the region, and the reintroduction of Spanish subject in selected schools.

There are over two million Spanish speakers in the country, large bulk of which comes form the Latin City of Asia - a sobriquet given to Zamboanga City due to the fact that it is the only Spanish speaking city in the continent. 

Among the six Chabacano dialects in the country, it is in Zamboanga City that has remained alive and kicking, so it is my opinion that this unique language should be preserved, and there is no other best way than to take care its speakers and the environment where they speak it.

What Is Pork Barrel?

I know that this recent public washing of linen all boils down into a thing called PORK BARREL, but I really wonder about the literal reference of this phrase. I asked a few people around who might be able to suffice my nosiness before it all became a dirty slogan among the protesters and a sickening headline among the news. While I scratched my head hard, they neither really know the answer.

The recently scandalized term pork barrel is also known as Priority Development Assistance Fund or PDAF in our country. It is a monetary budget allocated for each congressman to spend on projects or any matter where it is due without going through budgetary process. If you are a teacher, you would surely relate it to Maintenance and Other Operating Expenses or MOOE of a school.

I browsed some articles and here are some highlights of the things that I learned with regard to the origin of the term. They are really eye opener.

The term originated from the time when refrigeration was not yet a household thing for keeping pork and it was preserved in big wooden barrel of brine. The political usage may have been taken from the distribution of ration of salt pork to slaves in the plantation.  

A journalist C. C. Maxey commented that oftentimes the eagerness of slaves would result to rush upon pork barrel in which every slave would strive to grab for himself. Our modern day politicians, in their eagerness to take their local appropriation items, behaved so much the same as the slaves would for pork in the barrel.

Moreover, a barrel of pork is also used in the olden times as a measure of social status of a family. An eighteen hundreds literary document, for example, J. S. Cooper once wrote "I hold a family to be in a desperate way, when the mother can see the bottom of the pork barrel."

As I write and read this post, the picture that came in my mind from the metaphor above is that of a bunch of greedy politicians wearing a decent barong but in the middle of a stampede in the court with the others who are equally hungry, although not every one, to take the money of the people into their own pockets and cases.

I wonder how these same money we pay as our taxes could have helped so many needy people in our country if our politicians were just honest at all times. It's really a dirty business in a race of dogs, and a really dirty picture I can visualize.

How about you?

The Stinky Fish And Others That Stink

I organize my thoughts in English. I love to read literary pieces in English. I prefer to write this blog in English.

As a puzzled person for having been raised in a diverse linguistic community, I have always believed that English is the superior language. This must be the most reason why, no matter how patriotic I am supposed to be as a Filipino citizen, I choose not to use the Filipino language in many instances.

For the most part, Filipino is not considered as the language of prestige in this country. It is not always the language spoken in the court rooms, medical fields, print labels. It is not also the language written in most of our legal documents. Our constitution, which is the very soul of our government system, is the big proof of this. 

Filipino is not considered as the language of the learned. Many of the affluent families in our social strata prefer to speak to their children in the considered international language. As such, we are raising a generation who are speaking of the foreign tongue and in the process marginalizing our own language in the street and market.

Filipino is also not the language of national consensus. While the declaration is in the law, there are still bitter traces of antagonism among our elder and purist brothers in the region. As such, not so many regional morphological items were successfully integrated in our national language to promote national unity and corporate ownership of it.

I remember back during my junior year in college, I studied on language attitudes for my thesis. Results showed that English is considered as superior language compared to our national language. As I also qualitatively observed through the years, English is also the language more preferred in many formal situations.

But, any language, including our very own Filipino language, is a language equal to any language in the world like English. It has its own phonology, morphology, grammar and syntax to suffice our various purposes to communicate. Would have it fallen short for our needs for us to largely fail in the daily affairs of our living, it should have been extinct and buried forever to oblivion.

Filipino language by "default" is still the spoken language in the most part of our life. Those who have marginalized Filipino by speaking the foreign tongues, by no means, still think and speak the soul of Filipino language whether they like it or not. As such, we have developed and even invented local meanings to foreign vocabularies like "salvage", "back to back", "blow out", "comfort room", "peg" and many others.

I appreciate the developing class of new parents in our social strata that communicates in Filipino to their children, making it their mother tongue. For example, the tenants of my flat who are both Cebuano but consider Filipino as the formal language. When I converse with our learned Muslim brothers, the lingua franca that connects our minds together is nothing less than the Filipino language.

So, unless we do not swallow our pride whole and lift our national language to the pedestal of intellectualism like what other nations did to their respective national languages, we will never stop degrading our own linguistic heritage as we have actually crushed our national identity consciously or unconsciously. 

I don't know how much spartan determination or unselfish time it would take for a change in our attitudes toward our own language, but these I hope to have in myself, too.

Filipinos, this is the time to realize how worse we smell than a stinky fish.

Photo credit: www.thisisdevon.co.uk.