In this post, I shared how my dad's love for me sheltered me from any want, or need, of another boy's love. Here, I related how MY man broke through all the walls, and barriers, I've built around myself, to fight for his love for me. Now, if these two men in my life came any later, my guess is, they would have had to contend with my latest beau, if they hope to capture even just a tiny piece of my heart.
For this strong and mighty contender has stolen my heart. He offers a love bigger than what his tiny heart can hold. Before I met him, I thought I knew the kind of love that can satisfy my heart. Nah-uh. I didn't know what I was missing. I had no idea that a little being can love me with no bounds. I just love how he constantly needs cuddles and hugs. And he knows exactly how to communicate that need to me. Even in the middle of play, he runs up to me and gives me a hug, or showers me with kisses, telling me he loves me. When he's tired, he'd come up to me and say, Mommy, I need to cuddle. Nothing can compare to that feeling of being needed. Gives me a clear picture of my purpose. Reminds me why I'm doing what I'm doing.
I know this stage won't last forever. I know his love will grow and mature to an even stronger and steadfast love for his mother but his expression of it will change. So for now, I am savoring the sticky kisses. Cherishing the spontaneous hugs. Such bliss! Basking in the clinging, tenacious love of a child.
Which reminds me, my love to my Heavenly Parent should be just as unyielding. I should also learn to communicate my need of His presence in my life. I think He loves 'cuddles' and 'hugs' even more than I do. As a child of God, I should let Him know how much He means to me too!
Lord Jesus, I do love you!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Then Sings My Soul Saturday - Let's Sing a Happy Song
This past week I've been thinking a lot about my mom again. I miss her. So badly! Sometimes I wish I can just pray, and I will pray as hard as I could, for just one more moment with her. One more chat, one more hug.
But no, it just can't be. She's gone. The only thing I can do is ask God to comfort my sad heart. And He does. He fills my heart with songs that brushes away the sadness that envelops my soul at such times. One song my little boy and I like singing is this song, "Let's Sing a Happy Song!" Makes me smile in spite of my longing for my mother.
Visit Amy's blog for more songs that can brighten your day and bring you closer to God.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Pain of Losing One's Pet
Early Wednesday morning, I was comfortably perched in front of the PC, checking my emails when my lil boy came running to me, blubbering something. Half-listening because I was immersed in an article, I brushed him off mumbling that I'll play with him in a little while. He left me alone but a few seconds later, I heard him calling again, this time I noted an urgency in his voice that I couldn't ignore. I hurried to where he was, and found him banging on the aquarium wall, telling the fish not to go too close to the filter. Two of his pet fish, one gold fish and one golden carp were stuck on the wall of the filter. As this has happened before, I too rapped on the aquarium wall, encouraging the fish to move away from the filter. Alas, they stayed right where they were. Motionless. Lifeless.
With a heavy heart, I told Roo the fish were dead. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at me sadly. We called his daddy on the phone to relate the news, and before I could even finish talking, Roo burst out crying. Poor boy. I know exactly how he feels. Brought me back to one morning almost four years ago...
May 5, 2005. I still remember the date. I still remember the day. It was a Friday morning. I had spent the night alone at home. MY man came home from his night duty, around six-thirty-five a.m. I heard the front door click but knowing it was him, I dozed back to sleep. A few minutes later, he rushed into the bedroom and without thinking blurted out his news, "Meemoe is dead!"
Still heavy with sleep, I sat up. Did I hear him right? Meemoe? My fish? Dead?
Tears started streaming down my face and before I knew it, I was crying. Cried so hard I got hysterical. Why? What did you do? Why did he die??!
Turned out that on his way to the hospital the night before, he had poured in too much food into the aquarium. My fish must have eaten too much and died from...what do you call that, gluttony? That was one of the saddest days of my life.
The first fish I've ever gotten attached to. Got him when MY man and I were still dating. We had spent the afternoon at the park and on the way home we saw this fish shop and decided to stop. We bought a tiny janitor fish, about an inch long, thinking he'd be good for my aquarium. Never really imagined he'd do me some good too!
Over the years he spent with me when I was still single, I'd come home after a long and tiring day at work, he was the only fish who welcomed me home. He was a character, that Meemoe! As in when I walk into the room, he'd swim towards me and keep wagging his tail (do fish wag their tails? ;P) in greeting. I often talked to him, especially when I was stressed out, or I had problems, and he'd just stay there at my corner, swimming in place. Listening. When he wanted to play, he'd follow my finger around the aquarium wall. He could do that for quite some time before getting distracted and swimming away. He was the only fish I've seen who can swim upside down! When he ate, he'd glide through the water, gobble up the food, upside down! And when he's resting, you'd see him swimming in place, head up, tail down, under the driftwood. Reminding me of a sleeping bat. How I miss that fish!
MY man kept him in a bottle of formalin for about two years. I couldn't bear the thought of flushing him down the toilet, nor burying him. And I thought I'd be able to gather up the courage to see him lifeless, but I never did. MY man eventually had to get rid of him, in what way I don't care to know. But getting attached to another fish, I think I never will be. MY man got several more janitors but I never bothered to develop a relationship with them anymore. We still have fish, but for me, they're just fish now. Have my heart guarded.
I could only empathize and hug Roo tight when he cried for his fish.
"Will my fish be in heaven, mommy?"
I hope so, my son. I do hope so.
With a heavy heart, I told Roo the fish were dead. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at me sadly. We called his daddy on the phone to relate the news, and before I could even finish talking, Roo burst out crying. Poor boy. I know exactly how he feels. Brought me back to one morning almost four years ago...
May 5, 2005. I still remember the date. I still remember the day. It was a Friday morning. I had spent the night alone at home. MY man came home from his night duty, around six-thirty-five a.m. I heard the front door click but knowing it was him, I dozed back to sleep. A few minutes later, he rushed into the bedroom and without thinking blurted out his news, "Meemoe is dead!"
Still heavy with sleep, I sat up. Did I hear him right? Meemoe? My fish? Dead?
Tears started streaming down my face and before I knew it, I was crying. Cried so hard I got hysterical. Why? What did you do? Why did he die??!
Turned out that on his way to the hospital the night before, he had poured in too much food into the aquarium. My fish must have eaten too much and died from...what do you call that, gluttony? That was one of the saddest days of my life.
The first fish I've ever gotten attached to. Got him when MY man and I were still dating. We had spent the afternoon at the park and on the way home we saw this fish shop and decided to stop. We bought a tiny janitor fish, about an inch long, thinking he'd be good for my aquarium. Never really imagined he'd do me some good too!
Over the years he spent with me when I was still single, I'd come home after a long and tiring day at work, he was the only fish who welcomed me home. He was a character, that Meemoe! As in when I walk into the room, he'd swim towards me and keep wagging his tail (do fish wag their tails? ;P) in greeting. I often talked to him, especially when I was stressed out, or I had problems, and he'd just stay there at my corner, swimming in place. Listening. When he wanted to play, he'd follow my finger around the aquarium wall. He could do that for quite some time before getting distracted and swimming away. He was the only fish I've seen who can swim upside down! When he ate, he'd glide through the water, gobble up the food, upside down! And when he's resting, you'd see him swimming in place, head up, tail down, under the driftwood. Reminding me of a sleeping bat. How I miss that fish!
MY man kept him in a bottle of formalin for about two years. I couldn't bear the thought of flushing him down the toilet, nor burying him. And I thought I'd be able to gather up the courage to see him lifeless, but I never did. MY man eventually had to get rid of him, in what way I don't care to know. But getting attached to another fish, I think I never will be. MY man got several more janitors but I never bothered to develop a relationship with them anymore. We still have fish, but for me, they're just fish now. Have my heart guarded.
I could only empathize and hug Roo tight when he cried for his fish.
"Will my fish be in heaven, mommy?"
I hope so, my son. I do hope so.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Island
A tropical paradise. An exotic and beautiful island. Surf the internet or check out the travel section of a bookstore and you will find more enchanting and tempting invites to the island of Bali. I think I first saw a picture of Bali in a ticketing office, and that left me the impression that Bali is all about pristine beaches and crystal-clear waters. Apparently that is not the real picture. You fly to Bali and expect to see only beautiful beaches, you'll come away disappointed.MY man had his heart set on seeing at least one volcano in Bali. His son who has not yet seen a volcano supported his dad's goal wholeheartedly. The mommy who wanted to relax at the beach, once again outvoted, had to reluctantly concede. We scanned the map for the nearest volcano, and agreed to head to Mt. Batur -- about 87 kilometers away from the hotel.
With the exception of their main city, Denpasar where there are a few modern structures sprouting up, Balinese architecture and ancient-style dwellings still abound in the island. "There are no buildings here in Bali, mommy" Roo noted "only houses." Traffic and road signs are still in their language. You won't have a hard time getting lost because signs are few, and mostly hidden by branches of trees, and are often too close to intersections. And get lost we did! :D
As we left civilization and drove to the countryside, picturesque scenery came into view. MY man on the wheels of the Avanza we rented excitedly exclaimed, "Now this is the real Bali!" His son seated beside me at the back, stopped sucking his thumb for a second, and asked, "Why, where's the fake Bali, daddy?!"
Let me share with you a few pictures of the "real" Bali:
The entrance and exit of every town/city in the island is marked by this gate or the split one shown below.
Many different designs of this split-gate structure is found at entrance of temples or towns.
View of the rice terraces...their rice fields are like these even the tiny ones which just have three or four levels
Mt. Batur --1,717 ft high
Hawkers at the volcano viewpoint
The volcano
Close-up view of the volcanoWednesday, February 18, 2009
Faces of Bali (title borrowed from MY man)
What impressed us most was their culture: it appeared that the Balinese haven't lost their traditions and their identity. And they don't just have their culture, they still live it. Yes, they do wear modern clothes, i.e. pants, skirts, and tee-shirts, but we noticed that the Balinese men, even the younger ones, still wear their sarongs and head cloth (udeng)> The women use traditional clothes of bright-colored long-sleeved lace or silk, and sarong, even when driving their motorbikes! On the way back from the volcano, we encountered a religious procession--we had to slow down and inch past them on the shoulder of the road for they occupied most of the road. These Balinese men and women were dressed in their finest clothes as they walked to their temple. The women were carrying offerings on their heads, while the men played musical instruments which enlivened the procession.
People in Bali are hospitable and friendly. MY man and I discussed these traits at length, in an effort to distinguish Thai friendliness from that of the Balinese, and we came to the conclusion that Thais are still more on business-like friendly. Not the Balinese. They really stop to talk to you, and really appear to be interested in you. MY man said they're genuinely friendly, emphasis on the genuine. You chat with them and you get this sense of belonging, like you are a part of their warm community, and not a stranger. They introduce themselves, shake your hand, and ask you your name in turn. Everywhere you go, the Balinese (with the exception of the hawkers, I have to add) greet you with this amiable smile on their faces as they call out a hearty "Hello!"
The Balinese are also very helpful. Even in the rural areas where they could hardly speak a word of English, they try their best to help lost tourists. One even got his motorbike out and drove ahead of us for like two to three kilometers just to lead us to the place we wanted to go. Then on a couple of incidents, we witnessed two motorbike accidents where quick as a flash, pedestrians and onlookers rushed to help the motorists like they were their own family members.
One thing that really stood out in comparison to Bangkok, or Thailand for that matter, was the Balinese' use of helmets. Real ones. It's either the police are very strict about it, or they are really just concerned about their safety. A majority of them use motorcycles, and most of them stay on the motorbike lane. Sure there were a few strays who wove in and out through mainstream traffic, and a handful who instead of wearing helmets, were using their udeng, but for me who comes from a place where people don fake helmets to "comply" with the law, it was quite impressive to see the majority using real helmets! Even the little ones who ride with them have their own helmets, too!
Visiting photographers, I imagine, really have a blast taking pictures of the people of Bali. The Balinese are very comfortable around cameras--when you ask to take their picture, they're only too happy to oblige. MY man didn't know this. The first time he spotted an interesting subject--the man in charge of parking near the volcano viewpoint, he asked me for 1,000 rupiah. He was going to offer the Balinese money in exchange for a few snapshots. Turned out he didn't have to. The guy readily agreed and smiled into the camera.
Here's a picture of him and the rest of the faces of Bali:
Parking attendant at Mt. Batur viewpoint
Close-up view
Religious procession to the temple
Balinese women carrying offerings
Balinese men carrying some stuff we didn't really recognize
Pink must be their favorite color, don't you think?
Never thought of this before, but doesn't this position look so much easier for the child to hold on?
Check out these boys, they even walk around in their helmets
Balinese boys hanging out at the deserted Jimbaran beach
Boys at Jimbaran beach
People in Bali are hospitable and friendly. MY man and I discussed these traits at length, in an effort to distinguish Thai friendliness from that of the Balinese, and we came to the conclusion that Thais are still more on business-like friendly. Not the Balinese. They really stop to talk to you, and really appear to be interested in you. MY man said they're genuinely friendly, emphasis on the genuine. You chat with them and you get this sense of belonging, like you are a part of their warm community, and not a stranger. They introduce themselves, shake your hand, and ask you your name in turn. Everywhere you go, the Balinese (with the exception of the hawkers, I have to add) greet you with this amiable smile on their faces as they call out a hearty "Hello!"
The Balinese are also very helpful. Even in the rural areas where they could hardly speak a word of English, they try their best to help lost tourists. One even got his motorbike out and drove ahead of us for like two to three kilometers just to lead us to the place we wanted to go. Then on a couple of incidents, we witnessed two motorbike accidents where quick as a flash, pedestrians and onlookers rushed to help the motorists like they were their own family members.
One thing that really stood out in comparison to Bangkok, or Thailand for that matter, was the Balinese' use of helmets. Real ones. It's either the police are very strict about it, or they are really just concerned about their safety. A majority of them use motorcycles, and most of them stay on the motorbike lane. Sure there were a few strays who wove in and out through mainstream traffic, and a handful who instead of wearing helmets, were using their udeng, but for me who comes from a place where people don fake helmets to "comply" with the law, it was quite impressive to see the majority using real helmets! Even the little ones who ride with them have their own helmets, too!
Visiting photographers, I imagine, really have a blast taking pictures of the people of Bali. The Balinese are very comfortable around cameras--when you ask to take their picture, they're only too happy to oblige. MY man didn't know this. The first time he spotted an interesting subject--the man in charge of parking near the volcano viewpoint, he asked me for 1,000 rupiah. He was going to offer the Balinese money in exchange for a few snapshots. Turned out he didn't have to. The guy readily agreed and smiled into the camera.
Here's a picture of him and the rest of the faces of Bali:
Parking attendant at Mt. Batur viewpoint
Close-up view
Religious procession to the temple
Balinese women carrying offerings
Balinese men carrying some stuff we didn't really recognize
Pink must be their favorite color, don't you think?
Never thought of this before, but doesn't this position look so much easier for the child to hold on?
Check out these boys, they even walk around in their helmets
Balinese boys hanging out at the deserted Jimbaran beach
Boys at Jimbaran beachOur Pad in Bali
I had the assignment of planning the whole trip, and my search for hotels took more than a week to complete. It wasn't easy looking for a hotel when you didn't know what to expect. MY man texted his friend in Jakarta to ask for advice, and this friend suggested we stay at Kuta Beach, and even got good discounted rates for us at a couple of five-star hotels located at Kuta. "Your first time in Bali," he said, "you've gotta stay at Kuta. Not for the beach, but the culture." Problem was, I've stumbled on one too many negative comments about Kuta. Touristy. Crowded. Dirty.
We want a quiet vacation, and the Nusa Dua area seemed the perfect place for us. At first I hesitated because I did not know how far exactly it was from the airport, and I wasn't sure if I could arrange for airport transfer. Thanks to Kuya D who just came back from Bali. His description of the area narrowed down my search to Nusa Dua hotels. I'm not even going to say I'm just lucky, I believe it was providential, that I stumbled upon a hot deal at Novotel Bali Benoa. Non-refundable, non-cancelable, at $35 less than the normal rate. So Novotel Bali Benoa it is!
Note: The write-up below was written in Bali, 13 February 2009, the night we arrived.
There were only a few greeters at the arrival area. We scanned the signboards that each person was holding up. Couldn’t have missed the hotel representative. He was right there, at the very front of the cordoned area. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew it was NOVOTEL the moment I saw the familiar blue insignia. He met us at the exit.
“Ms. Eris?” For a second there, I thought MY man had a new name again (I should write a post on that.) But the guy was looking at me. Eris. Yep, that’s me.
With a friendly smile, the driver led the way to the parking lot. He stopped in front on a Toyota Innova and loaded our bags onto the car. “The drive to the hotel," he informed us, "will take about thirty minutes.”
It turned out to be a pleasant drive. “There’s no traffic in Bali, mommy” Roo observed. We had our first glimpse of Balinese architecture on the way. The driver informed us that 90% of the people in Bali are Hindus. No wonder they say that Bali is the only place in Indonesia that serves pork. We were wondering about that because from what we know, Indonesia is a Muslim country.
When we arrived at the hotel, bellboys bowed their greeting and welcomed us courteously. They were all dressed exactly like our driver, in plain beige long-sleeved shirt with chinese collar, and traditional batik sarong that ran all the way to their ankles. Welcome drinks were served at the front desk, and to Roo's delight, Novotel Dolfi Kid's Club had a welcome gift waiting for him! A stuffed reindeer, which he quickly named as Nicky.
The hotel, beautifully designed in traditional Balinese architecture, overlooks Tanjung (Cape) Benoa. We walked to explore the resort and found ourselves in the middle of a lush tropical garden.The atmosphere lent a relaxing and soothing feeling as soft Balinese music played in the air. We trekked to find the beach, passing by a swimming pool with a lifeguard on duty who seemed to have his hands full, but was not too busy to greet us with a smile. We decided to have lunch at their restaurant by the beach, and much to our surprise, the food was very affordable! Vegetarian pizza and a dish set of grilled dory fish with rice and vegetables turned out to be less than $10, inclusive of 21% government tax and service charge. God is good!
Well, God was not finished with His surprises yet. "Your room is not ready yet," the receptionist said, "but we are upgrading your room. You will stay at the tropical terrace room." My smile widened. After all the research I've done on the hotel rooms, I knew quite well that this room is nicer, more spacious, and umm, well, beyond our budget. Isn't that just a wonderful surprise? We paid for a superior room but we got to stay in a tropical terrace room instead!
Here are some pictures of the hotel:
View of entrance to the hotel on the beach side. Taken from the hotel wing across the road.
Balinese flutist playing music at the lobby
Pathway that led to our room: gate opens to a tropical garden
Rain shower beside the gate
Terrace fronting the room
View of the garden from the room
Roo exploring the bathroom
Roo's welcome gift, Nicky the reindeer
Restaurant by the beach where we ate our first Balinese meal
We want a quiet vacation, and the Nusa Dua area seemed the perfect place for us. At first I hesitated because I did not know how far exactly it was from the airport, and I wasn't sure if I could arrange for airport transfer. Thanks to Kuya D who just came back from Bali. His description of the area narrowed down my search to Nusa Dua hotels. I'm not even going to say I'm just lucky, I believe it was providential, that I stumbled upon a hot deal at Novotel Bali Benoa. Non-refundable, non-cancelable, at $35 less than the normal rate. So Novotel Bali Benoa it is!
Note: The write-up below was written in Bali, 13 February 2009, the night we arrived.
There were only a few greeters at the arrival area. We scanned the signboards that each person was holding up. Couldn’t have missed the hotel representative. He was right there, at the very front of the cordoned area. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew it was NOVOTEL the moment I saw the familiar blue insignia. He met us at the exit.
“Ms. Eris?” For a second there, I thought MY man had a new name again (I should write a post on that.) But the guy was looking at me. Eris. Yep, that’s me.
With a friendly smile, the driver led the way to the parking lot. He stopped in front on a Toyota Innova and loaded our bags onto the car. “The drive to the hotel," he informed us, "will take about thirty minutes.”
It turned out to be a pleasant drive. “There’s no traffic in Bali, mommy” Roo observed. We had our first glimpse of Balinese architecture on the way. The driver informed us that 90% of the people in Bali are Hindus. No wonder they say that Bali is the only place in Indonesia that serves pork. We were wondering about that because from what we know, Indonesia is a Muslim country.
When we arrived at the hotel, bellboys bowed their greeting and welcomed us courteously. They were all dressed exactly like our driver, in plain beige long-sleeved shirt with chinese collar, and traditional batik sarong that ran all the way to their ankles. Welcome drinks were served at the front desk, and to Roo's delight, Novotel Dolfi Kid's Club had a welcome gift waiting for him! A stuffed reindeer, which he quickly named as Nicky.
The hotel, beautifully designed in traditional Balinese architecture, overlooks Tanjung (Cape) Benoa. We walked to explore the resort and found ourselves in the middle of a lush tropical garden.The atmosphere lent a relaxing and soothing feeling as soft Balinese music played in the air. We trekked to find the beach, passing by a swimming pool with a lifeguard on duty who seemed to have his hands full, but was not too busy to greet us with a smile. We decided to have lunch at their restaurant by the beach, and much to our surprise, the food was very affordable! Vegetarian pizza and a dish set of grilled dory fish with rice and vegetables turned out to be less than $10, inclusive of 21% government tax and service charge. God is good!Well, God was not finished with His surprises yet. "Your room is not ready yet," the receptionist said, "but we are upgrading your room. You will stay at the tropical terrace room." My smile widened. After all the research I've done on the hotel rooms, I knew quite well that this room is nicer, more spacious, and umm, well, beyond our budget. Isn't that just a wonderful surprise? We paid for a superior room but we got to stay in a tropical terrace room instead!
Here are some pictures of the hotel:
View of entrance to the hotel on the beach side. Taken from the hotel wing across the road.
Balinese flutist playing music at the lobby
Pathway that led to our room: gate opens to a tropical garden
Rain shower beside the gate
Terrace fronting the room
View of the garden from the room
Roo exploring the bathroom
Every evening, hotel staff came knocking at our door to give us the next day's weather forecast. And these calachuchi (plumeria in English) flowers.
Pathway outside our gate, leading to the gardens, and out to the beach
Pathway outside our gate, leading to the gardens, and out to the beach
Roo's welcome gift, Nicky the reindeer
Restaurant by the beach where we ate our first Balinese mealSaturday, February 14, 2009
Once Upon a Weekend
Sure he checked our bags. The customs officer had politely asked to look into our luggage as I handed him the customs declaration form. Putting the forms down without even glancing at them, he proceeded to scrutinize the contents of our big bag.
“Did you bring milk?” first thing he asked. Daddy E nodded and showed him the can of Pediasure milk we brought for Roo. Still sealed.
The officer smiled and waved us on, “Enjoy your stay!”
I have heard and read about the friendliness of the Balinese but I wasn’t prepared to see it in the many hands that beckoned from currency exchange counters right across the exit from customs. Smiling faces peered from their little cubicles, each of them urging us to have our money exchanged with them. Several of them were holding signs that said, “No Commission.” How do you choose which counter to go? “Same rate, same rate.” One kept repeating. That settled it. I headed to the counter nearest to me.
One hundred dollars please. The lady beamed a smile and quickly counted out some bills, “That will be one million one-hundred-forty thousand rupiah." Ahhh, just what I’ve waited so long to hear. At long last, we ARE millionaires!
About thirty minutes before landing, when the plane started its descent, I braved the glare of the sun and pushed the plane window up. The scenery below sent waves of homesickness all over my being. For a moment there, I imagined myself going home to Roxas. The ocean and the islands below didn’t look any different from the ones I see when we’re about to land in Roxas. The structure and layout of the houses looked so similar I choked back a few tears, realizing once more that when I go home to Roxas, mommy won’t be there anymore.
MY man voiced out the thoughts in my mind when we emerged out of the airport. “My love, it’s like we’re in Roxas!” he said. The smell of sea breeze in the air, the people, the cars at the parking lot, all these reminded us of home. Everything looks so green, so serene, and so laid back, that just like every homecoming I’ve had my entire life, time had come to a standstill once again.
Thank God! Our vacation has begun. I took a deep breath of the cool ocean breeze.
Man, it sure smells like home!
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