Tuesday, January 09, 2007

in different toungues

Before the year ended, I treated my siblings to an eyeful of crocodiles and other fauna in the Crocodile Park here. I didn't know it was quite that secluded from civilization and the transportation was really difficult. The park was located in some vast land being groomed as some rich people's subdivision. But it eventually paid off. I particularly liked the tapirs, the lone baby leopard cat, baboons, indian pythons, the crocs of course and the noisy but cute macaques. My two young half-brothers surely had a blast.

While I was looking at the macaques who were lodged in their makeshift tree, I saw a father and son nearby. I was ready to spark a conversation with them as they seem to be also mesmerized with the swinging creatures. But I cut off when I can't seem to understand what they were speaking. I'm quite sure it was Indonesian or Malay, but of course they look Filipino. Instead, I just continued to ogle at the orangutans who were very keen on surprising the onlookers.

Last night, a couple sat near me in the jeep I was riding. They were giggly and cuddling each other to the dismay of two old ladies who were also in the jeep. They started to talk in some alien language. I thought it was Korean but then it didn't turned out to be. The rhythm of their conversation was lost in the rain.

MacLuhan's communication theories delved on the world becoming a 'global village', with the aid of the media we are using. Indeed, the medium of communication continues to evolve and innovate itself. But more than that, I think, the concept of a 'global village' -- a borderless society -- is really turning into something literal due to influx of people in different countries. In the Philippines in particular, there seems to be a growing trend of fellow Asian neighbors coming into the country.

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While working with the School of Business and Governance, the mother office of the Accountancy division where I was assigned, I met a dozen of Thai professionals -- some owners of large companies in Thailand -- finishing their master's or doctorate degree. Though I haven't really talked to them, I know they were coming to Ateneo every quarter of the year for that purpose. They had this funny names that's very difficult to pronounce.

During my stay in Ateneo, I also observed the increasing number of Korean students -- I call it 'the Korean invasion'. Because of their considerable size, they would sometimes form clusters in the gazebo or in the school canteen. While Koreanovelas are making Filipinos berserk, the real Koreans are slowly creeping in our country.

I was always amazed by them that I even considered them as a possible topic for my thesis. But then I thought it would be inclined more in the field of sociology, so I didn't. I have a friend who adores them (I guess). He tutors them everyday. I can just imagine his patience. One time we were able to hang out with one of his tutees, Jae-yon, who happened to be a cousin of Joo In Sung (Paolo from Memories of Bali) and a neighbor of Sandara Park.

We could really learn a lot from these bunch, you know. To be courageous enough to venture into a hostile territory and being able to mingle with the people and being open to the peculiarities of each other's culture.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

omg! kaila nimo cousin ni joo in sung? shucks, tell her/him we can be best friends. :)

jayclops said...

tama diay noh. head over heels man diay ka kang paolo, hehe. actually dili man daw sila close ni joo in sung, i think 2nd degree sila.

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

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