I love nostalgia. One of my favorite things online is to find posts shared by people who enjoy remembering how it used to be way back in the day.

The latest one I found was about Baguio.

Nestled in the mountains a few hours’ drive from Manila, it was once serene, pristine, ideal for spiritual communion with God and nature; perfect for recharging one’s physical and emotional energizers.

I marveled at the incredible work of the Igorots who cut through the mountains to build Kennon Road. As kids, we knew it as The Zigzag. Burnham Park looked different. The mountains around it were lush and magnificent then.

Not anymore.

I have more memories of Baguio than I care to remember. But sometimes they come unbidden, and like comforting arms around me, they offer warmth on a cold rainy night. It’s all good.

Today’s Baguio is in a deplorable state. The streets are pockmarked and congested and diesel fumes have all but taken over the scent of the pines. Buildings on Session Road are a sorry sight. There is garbage on every street corner.

Is anyone doing anything to restore the summer capital? Does anyone care?

Stunning Hawaii

An old friend posted a video of Hawaii.

I miss my beautiful paradise. How could you not love having near perfect weather all year round? Anywhere you look there is a stunning view—blue ocean, lush mountains, deep valleys; and no billboards to spoil the view.

It was in the late ’60s when we first moved to Honolulu. For several months, we lived in a hotel on Waikiki Beach with a breathtaking view of Diamond Head.

I will never forget watching the luaus next door at the Royal Hawaiian.

The mellow call of a conch shell and the sound of the ipu signaled the start of the show as well as the end of my day. Dinner was over and the kids were tucked in bed. I loved the luxury of finally putting my feet up, relaxing, pouring myself a glass of cold guava nectar and becoming a spectator from my balcony.

I can still see the graceful undulating hips and lovely hula hands. I loved the sound of the slack key guitar, the rhythmic frenzy of the Tahitian and fire dances, and plaintive songs about “aloha.”

The aroma of roasting Kahlua pig and the cloying fragrance of plumeria rose above the breeze. I could hear the waves and the voices of late-night strollers on the beach.

Ah, memories. For a few moments I embraced the sights and sounds of my happy place! It was almost like being there again. Unforgettable.

Changing the subject

I was at a baby shower. I saw an Ecomom, a new sterilizer with all the bells and whistles, an apparently indispensable tool today.

I boiled my nursing bottles in a caserola. Didn’t everyone? How did we ever manage?

Looking for a gift, I came across an ad for a babocush. What is it? I’m glad you asked.

A babocush is a cushion for newborn babies, a shaped foam mattress with gentle vibration in three speeds and a heartbeat. The baby lies there, on his stomach, swaddled snug and comfy, the ad says, to be “relieved of wind, colic and reflux.”

It is pricey.

I imagine it is like holding the baby up against your chest at shoulder level, in line with your heart, while rubbing his back. Yours was the first shoulder your child ever cried on.

And that was for free. Remember?

Permission to rant

A couple of weeks ago, I was stuck in a crazy traffic snarl in Sucat. Crowds of people with nothing better to do were rubbernecking to get a glimpse of the lady senator who had been arrested.

On TV that night, I saw the undisguised delight of her accusers and critics who practically salivated over her sad situation.

I read up about “schadenfreude.” It is German for “the emotion of pleasure-in-others’-misfortune. It is generally regarded as morally evil and often considered to be less acceptable than envy, which is regarded as a deadly sin.

“It would appear to be morally more perverse to be pleased with another person’s misfortune than to be displeased with another person’s good fortune. German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer argues that to feel envy is human, but to enjoy other people’s misfortune is diabolical. For Schopenhauer, pleasure-in-others’-misfortune is the worst trait in human nature since it is closely related to cruelty.”

I think it is heartless; spiteful, wicked, in any language.

Bitter taste

After watching a recent Senate hearing, I had to look for an extra potent freshener to chase away the bitter taste in my mouth.

For a couple of hours, I listened to “the hit man” recant his old testimony at the risk of life and limb. My friend asked if I thought he was telling the truth. Honestly, I didn’t know.

When it was over, I regretted the precious time I wasted watching our “honorable” senators pompously do their thing. At this point, I still don’t know who lied.

But there’s one thing I do believe, with all of my heart.

No one, absolutely no one has exclusive rights to the voice of God. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. His still, small voice speaks to us all, saints and sinners alike.

We need only to listen.