Let’s talk about real free money!

Like me, most of my friends are married and/or planning a family. To those of you who are at present raising cute babies and bouncy toddlers, don’t pass the time until these kids apply for college to venture on opportunities to make some extra cash.

I’d like to share this practical and exciting activity to all of you, my friends and avid readers, so that you may consequently convince the cynics and squanderers in your circles to join the Upromise aficionados. This discipline-forming savings program is an amazing way to amass some cents and dollars when shopping, dining, gassing up, buying groceries, traveling, buying or selling your house and so much more. Savings ranges from 1% to 25% in college savings from Upromise partners. So, what is Upromise? It’s not as complicated as you think.

Upromise (www.upromise.com) is a free service that helps families (and individuals, too!) earn extra money for education by partnering with hundreds of like-minded companies who share the Upromise mission and who agree to provide YOU, the Upromise member, with rewards for using their products and services… and these rewards go into your Upromise account, where they become actual savings (that can be linked to a 529 College Savings Program (www.nysaves.org for residents of New York) for college, grad school or even paying down a loan.

At this time when the economy poses great concerns of inflation on food and other basic commodities, it pays to be frugal. More importantly, it pays to spend your hard earned money wisely. Since I joined Upromise almost 3 years ago, I’ve already earned more than $350. This money is linked and invested to selected funds in 529 account managed by The Vanguard Group. If credit cards work for you, I would also highly suggest that you apply for the Citi® Upromise® World MasterCard® or the Citi® Upromise® Platinum Select® MasterCard® that gives at most 10% cash reward for all qualified transactions. Here’s an example of what you will see in the “Transaction History” in your Upromise online account:

In the above table, notice the “Details” under “Funding Status”. When you click this link, this will automatically direct you to the savings you made for that specific trip to the grocery store. For this Stop & Shop visit, I had $0.07 cash-back for a tray of $1.40 tray of eggs and since I used my Citi Upromise MasterCard, I earned another $0.14 that gave me a total of $0.21 in savings.

I am not the best person to ask about investments but $0.21 saved in even a very conservative fund would amount to decent dollars in 10 years that could probably buy another tray of eggs or a box of pencils. For now, forget about rollover interests, dividend reinvestments and other funds growth model, what’s important is that the $0.21 is yours for free.

At the end of every tax year, your Upromise savings and contributions to 529 plans are deductible from state income tax, when applicable and subject to terms and conditions.

At the time of this writing, you can get $10 when you join for free and shop online through upromise.com. Give it a try and in 20 years or so, you promise to call me for the graduation party.

Growing up, I had so many unanswered questions. While I buried most of them in my deepest slumber, a number of what-if-my-father-were-here are lurking all around my comfort (and not so comfortable) zone.

I don’t intend to change the great opportunities and the countless blessings that came overshadowing the pains and struggles that I’ve been through knowing that I didn’t have the luxury of fatherly support systems. In fact, I want to share some moments of self-assurance that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel…

When my father left us to join the Redeemer at the other side of the world, our family had to learn all means to keep us strong. No word can measure our family’s share of sweat and tears that would probably cripple and cause selective amnesia to the fragile population sample of humanity. Our mother — a forbearing woman who knows nothing but perseverance to keep all her children to school and the family together — set the bar so high that we cannot concede our dreams. Yes, the world will be celebrating Mother’s Day this coming Sunday but today is the day that Vicente Delmiguez Lustre Sr., my father, was born.

Today, I remember my father.

On the basis of tittle-tattles among my father’s contemporaries, he was a very playful and audacious character in his youthful years. He was earning an engineering degree in Manila when he enlisted in the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) and joined the 19th Battalion Combat Teams (BCT) from April 1952 to March 1953 of the Philippine Expeditionary Forces To Korea (PEFTOK) that served under the United Nations Command (UNC), a coalition of 21 countries led by the United States, during the Korean War (1950-53). While serving in the Korean War, he was promoted to Staff Sergeant (S/Sgt) in August 1952.

According to unconfirmed word of mouth within the family, my father raised the Philippine flag (with the US flag) after the victorious Battle of Arsenal (the Chorwon-Sibyon-yi corridor in the west central sector) in Eerie Hills, South Korea. There were also the 10th, 20th, 14th and 2nd BCT’s whose stories are equally, if not greater, worth writing about. In the website “The Glory of Our Fathers – PEFTOK”, Art Villasanta wrote: “The 19th BCT (Bloodhound) was the first PEFTOK battalion awarded the South Korean Presidential Distinguished Unit Citation and received a Battle Citation from the US X Corps.”

I emailed Art Villasanta inquiring if his father, Johnny Villasanta, a UN war correspondent who was assigned to cover the Korean War and the author of the book, “Dateline: Korea” that was published in 1954, may possibly have some accounts about my father. I realized that my search for answers about my father as a Korean War veteran has just began.

History books and countless journals account for all the glories about the Korean War. To some reckless authors, the war was just another forgettable heroism eclipsed by controversies and power politics. To me, I just want to honor the memory of a person whose stories were never heard and will, if not soon, be forgotten.

The reverse side of the 20-year old Philippine 500-Peso bank note is sated with Korean War imagery that spotlights the assassinated Benigno Aquino Jr., the husband of the former “People Power” Philippine President Corazon C. Aquino, while he was working as a journalist during the Korean War. It is being suggested that the said imagery be redesigned to pay tribute more to the greatness of Filipino combat troops who fought for democracy in South Korea and saved the country from being conquered by North Korea and Communist China.

Three months after my father’s heroic welcome in 1953, he “retreated” to a small suburban town to marry a wonderful woman who eventually raised a dozen broods he sired – this very same blogger is the youngest. He was honorably discharged from the military service in 1955 to be with his family and to become a rice farmer.

While serving as director of the local office of the National Irrigation Administration (NIA) in my town, he suffered stroke right after an onsite field visit during a hot September noon. He underwent years of speech and physical therapy; yet, he was partially paralyzed for almost a decade until a heart attack a day after his birthday in 1988 that caused his health irreversible damage. On the first day of the following month, he passed away. He was 57.

I spent my childhood years with my paralytic father.

My father reminded me of a very strict but fair person. He was very choosy and difficult at times when it comes to food, to programs to watch on TV, to his haircut (plus all the remnants of the military-discipline-style grooming and scheduling) and to almost everything. There was so much resentment in him. He was very hard to please. I refuse to believe what my siblings claim that I am the pet of the family and my father’s favorite; I was the only one who can joke around him while all the rest were so cautious in dealing with him.

After a while, I understood that attitude comes with how people view themselves. It dawned on me one time that my father was in a very difficult situation being sick and feeling inutile that’s why he got so much consolation from putting us, his family, to test on how much we loved him. In spite of his physical condition, he still decided on major family undertakings… he remained the pillar of the family. Everyone respected his decisions and attached importance to his advice and parental blessing.

Not so long after my father was gone, a wave of (South) Koreans “invaded” the Philippines. They keep on growing in language schools and in boardrooms. The demand for English teachers is exponential since the steady influx of Koreans to the Philippines to learn the language at cheaper pesos accent compared to the dollar twang remains unstoppable. This demand graph is directly proportional to kimchi consumption, which prompted others to stay to seek opportunities in the country’s market and business industry.

While I was in the university, I tutored English to Koreans and a few other international students. I even landed in a language school teaching English part-time to a small class of Koreans. With not a tinge of heroic resemblance of Korean War combatants to my teaching experience, one of my former students recently emailed me that he now works as an English teacher and a part-time disc jockey in an international club in Seoul.

This coming June 1st, it will be the 20th anniversary of my father’s death. Looking back, there was a big part missing during the momentous rites of passage in my life. All those years, I never stopped praying for his guidance. I couldn’t turn back the time; all those years, I yearned for father-and-son bonding moments and adventures that I never had.

My father’s youngest brother, Jose, had passed away last month. I didn’t make it to his funeral. The last time I saw him last year, I remember him telling me, “I wish your dad had a taste of the generosity of his youngest son.”

Everything happens for a reason. We just have to believe. Life, no matter what happens, is beautiful.

Senator Barack Obama has been an easy target of political punditry because he happens to have nurtured years of friendship and mentorship with his church pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Finally, the senator from Illinois realized that the very winged tongue that lifted his spirit while listening to the reverend’s eloquence and scholarly sermons for a couple of decades would be the same whip that would put him under fire. The timing is very unlikely especially that Obama has a good chance to become the next US President.

I feel sorry for the senator for entrusting his faith in the hands of the unforgiving Wright. I believe that Senator Obama deserves the credit for trying to salvage the sanctity of his respect for the pastor especially that he is the same person who led him to the path to religious awakening. When the controversial sermon surfaced on YouTube, Obama weighed and waited until Wright resurfaced the headlines again with more ballistic remarks.

Whether the stakes are negligible or high, I believe that Obama did a very decisive gesture to admit that it is time to sever his ties with Wright. The pastor has been very detrimental to his run for the presidency branding him as just another politician. His words are antithetical to his campaign banner of “CHANGE” and to him as a person in general. Wait. Isn’t it that clerics and church leaders should be God’s instruments of peace?

Like Obama, most of us get blinded of flawed actions and systems around us because of our learning of institutions such as the church. There are so many things that we cannot change or do much that conventions slowly eat up our perceptions and conceptions. Obama is the victim here regardless of his political ambitions. I would not entrust my soul to someone who cannot even speak good things about me on earth.

Believe in the signs.

We are taught in church that our records here on earth would definitely matter in the files of the gatekeeper in heaven. I personally care for St. Peter’s tally boards so I try to be good. Of course, nobody’s perfect! I have done stupid things in the past but my faith in the Watchful Eyes Above has always made me strive to better myself.

In our lifetime, we purposely or unconsciously get associated to others by blood or by common experience. We may also mutually or unfairly lose and let go of these attachments instantly or after some time. We always wish good things to last forever but some relationships are not just supported by fate… not even sustained by faith.

As they say, “Tell me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are.” In other words, the people that we hangout with or our family (that we don’t get to choose, obviously!) can in part explain our being. But how do we really get rid of someone who is causing so much infuriation in our lives? I take the message from Obama. It’s a painful time worse than just another good-bye and things will never be the same again.

In a basket of apples, the rotten ones have to stay somewhere and be separated out to protect the rest from infective extinction. In life, someone has to go and someone has to let go when ties are damaging at the expense of very valuable trust. Let’s conserve our energies for the sake of people who really matter most.

With the grace of God, we forgive and forget and whatever happens in life, we move on.

The larger-than-life experience of seeing with my two naked eyes Pope John Paul II during his second visit to Manila for the World Youth Day in January 1995 lingered in my memory. It was a momentous opportunity for me since I was raised as a Catholic and was educated in a Jesuit high school. I watched in awe while the pope mobile surrounded by the military and police officers passed through the swarm of faithfuls cheering “Viva Santo Papa!” as the grand marshal of the country’s religious leaders and political dignitaries welcome the pope at the stage of Luneta Park where the culminating papal mass was celebrated. I was praying in my thoughts knowing that I may never have the chance to see a pope in my lifetime again.

Now that I live in New York, more than ten years later after that papal visit in the Philippines, His Most Holy Father Benedict XVI, the 265th pontiff and the successor after Pope John Paul II’s death in 2005, scheduled a six-day pilgrimage to the US. At the moment he disembarked on the American soil, the headlines underscored the issue of sexual abuse scandal in the church, which Pope Benedict XVI addressed with gracious and humble conviction. He turned eighty-one on the second day of his visit, the 16th of April. His call for action from head of states in his substantive speech before the UN General Assembly reflected a discourse from a great scholar swathed in the highest form of Christian virtues. With a view of the uncertainties in the whole world today, I personally believe that this is one of the most important papal journey of the times.

In anticipation of the weekend, I followed the Pope’s itinerary while in New York City. My only chance to have a glance of him in person would be to wait in the sidelines along Fifth Avenue at 1:45 p.m. on Saturday for the open-to-the-public pope mobile procession – no ticket or pass is required. Too bad, my weekend biological alarm clock didn’t work so well that I ended missing the parade.

Today’s historic “Mass of Hope” celebrated by Pope Benedict XVI at the Yankee Stadium was one of the highlights of his New York route after he visited Ground Zero and offered a solemn prayer for the families and victims of 911. Only ticket-holders who were picked in a raffle in different parishes all over the country could get in the stadium. As expected, I ended up tuning-in to the live coverage of the papal mass on television just like on a Super Bowl Sunday. Of course, both coverages are entirely different since the latter’s euphoric “spiritual” experience is attributed to pints of beer or the halftime show and costume malfunction.

During the pre-liturgical show, I was already feeling so blessed and grateful of all the opportunities that life has given me while the Irish double amputee, who is a medical doctor and a tenor, Ronan Tynan belted “God Bless America!” I drowned in my thoughts as I saw flashes of the pope mobile enter the stadium and the crowd cheered “Pope Benedict!” and I fell asleep.

In my sleep I dreamed I was having a conversation with a very good friend, Christopher Rayala. We shared the same undergraduate program in the University of the Philippines and he is now practicing family medicine in Tennessee. Chris always reminds me of God’s greatness in simple deeds of friends. I usually don’t remember my dreams but the “scene” was so vivid that I remembered him in his genuinely polite voice as he assured me that I am God’s favorite. I was very astonished and I responded to him saying, “Indeed, God is so good to me. I know He has always been there for me unconditionally in everything I’ve been through”. Subsequently, random images after images flashed in the speed of light right in front of me. I was awakened by the loud voice of the newscasters that were enthusiastically wrapping up the TV coverage and I realized that I missed the entirety of the holy mass.

Tonight, I reflected: Allow me to use the metaphors and analogues of being a seed or grain of rice. I am just one of the countless grains in the rice field – nothing special. One day, I fell on a fertile soil with right water and nutrients and developed into a sprout, continued to grow with the right sunlight and endured all ecological predators and disasters and lived through the seasons. Come harvest time, I joined all other grains to the rice mill where everyone gets to be dehusked and polished. Some get fortified. Altogether, the grains are classified and weighed before distribution in the market – our destination… our fate. Some grains are consumed right away. Some are exported in exchange of some imported. Some land on the hands of shrewd businessmen with the blessings of politicians. Some reach The Gates’ household so a Jeffrey Sachs is needed to map a fair re-distribution of global wealth. Some never find it’s way to a dying mouth. In yesterday’s youth rally, some get to be offered as gift to Pope Benedict XVI to represent Asia and Africa. Very symbolic indeed! Yes, it may take a pope to bless the staple grain to rid it from opportunists and hoarders that are causing the present “rice crisis”. It is not all about the laws of supply and demand. It is also about conscience. According to the holy gospel (Mark 8:36), “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” In the eyes of God, every grain is special in the cycle of life. Miracle comes with the responsibility to nourish oneself – both physically and spiritually.

Today, Pope Benedict XVI concluded his US visit with a vision of unity and affirmative action in the grace of hope. I am just glad he came.

May the Lord bless us all!

(This was written a day before it was published.)

When I was kid, I used to collect empty bottles with marked deposit value. I treasured these bottles waiting for the weekend pushcart-peddlers parading the streets with their own distinctive yells and sound machines as they magnetize children like me with homemade popsicles, shakes with artificial food colors, cotton candies and buckets of popcorn. I would barter these bottles for any junk food available that were of equivalent value to the bottles I saved. It was always a delightful deal to do trade with these highly industrious merchants.

Life was very simple then.

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How do we really transcend the dreaded R-word?

Many economists and business experts have been injecting in the minds of the average Americans the possibility of a recession. Realistically or more blatantly, the country’s Federal Reserve Chairman, Ben Bernake, has recently hinted that the US could stumble into recession from the potent catastrophe of housing mortgage, credit and financial crises. Recession is a temporary and short decline in economic market and prosperity and increasing unemployment but a deepening recession could lead to depression.

Fine. So, what should we do?

Not until most recently, I get to know names like Fox’s News’ Neil Cavuto and read books like Joel Greenblatt’s “The Little Book that Beats the Market”. I want to believe that I get it.

After filing the 2007 income tax return on or before the April 15 deadline, the “qualified” average Joe’s will be receiving a check from Uncle Sam’s coffers come May as part of the economic stimulus package. Sweet. The best advise from President Bush is to spend it wisely on American-made goods and products so that it will boost up the economy. Wait. I haven’t done extensive research or never have I studied economics so I have to warn you that fiscal policy is not my cup of tea. But I can offer “professional” advice on how to spend your $600 tax rebate check; let’s say in one week.

Here’s the trick with the rebate. It’s an enjoyable and guilt-free spending since you are helping bolster the economy while you go broke. I call it patriotic squandering.

The very moment you encash the check or withdraw the money, make a wish and kiss your green bucks bye-bye. You are so ready to take the cab from the bank to your house. That’s $10 ($2.50 “flag drop” rate plus 40 cents for each one-fifth of a mile or 60 seconds of no motion or motion under 12 miles an hour and extra tip). Such an extravagant ride just saves you a couple of travel minutes and contributes to my friend Rashid’s growing taxi business.

On Monday, swing by Starbucks for a grande soy caramel macchiato in a venti cup and add a short Java regular coffee and pour it over the caramel on top of the foam. I guarantee a heavenly sip of caffeine with the right sweetness and creaminess combined. That’s $7 times 5 workdays and you just gave $35 to the most successful Seattle-based coffee company in the world that employs thousands of baristas and provides business to coffee farmers all over Africa, Asia and South America. More to the point, coffee will increase work productivity by keeping you awake all day in the office.

Forget about bringing home-cooked lunch to work. Explore the restaurants around your office for the week. When I say restaurant, I don’t mean the $4 lamb or chicken over rice or pita bread from how-are-you-my-friend food cart at the corner of 59th and Madison. Tao Restaurant would be a good idea for a Monday but I want you to “discover” restaurants for the week, not for a day, so try Kar Won Chinese to feed your winter-damaged dry hair with some unsaturated fats. That’s around $8.50 for General Tso including a bottled drink and tip. Sunberry’s on Tuesday ($13 for pan-sautéed salmon with sides of rice and salad and a small Orangina), Cabana lunch specials on Wednesday ($25 churassco skirt steak with chimichurri sauce and cebollitas Yummy! including drinks plus tax and tip) and Delmonico’s all-you-can-stack-and-weigh-and-pay on Thursday ($14…neks neks…neks plis!). Your office is treating everyone pizza for lunch on Friday for a job-well-done so treat yourself and your wife for a $100 per person dinner at the Beekman’s Top of the Tower hotel bar and lounge. Expect a check of around $250 including tax and tip. You can still meet-up with friends for a couple of Friday drinks at a nearby hotel garden bar by Grand Central. That would be another $50 for a good two- or three-hour of how-was-your-week talks before hopping into a yellow cab home to Queens ($40).

For the entire five days you should have spent $535.50, if your notes and math are accurate. Of course, this includes the $65 made-in-China sneakers that you will order online on the night of Wednesday and the $70 (half-the-sale-price) XXL 100% cashmere sweater that you will end up getting from Bloomingdales while checking out for sunglasses. It’s really a good buy and you can wear it next winter or give it to dad-in-law as Christmas gift.

You wake up late on Saturday and you are so hungry but no smell of food that’s cooking in the kitchen. You call Thai-Chin-Jap Fusion and order special lunch combos for delivery. That’s would be $40 including tax and tip. After dinner over leftover lunch, have a good 15-minute walk with your wife to the nearest UA Cinemas and watch “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” ($22 for two tickets including a dollar donation to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital). You felt so good about Saturday and you call it a night after the movies.

On Sunday, you go to church and feel proud of your $2 share in the offertory for a blessings-filled week. You still have a couple of quarters that you toss to the coin bottle for laundry and parking use. You are so done splurging your $600. The rebate came through you but not to you. You are just a transitory piece of the economic puzzle to keep this country and the rest of the world alive and running. Priceless, indeed!

It’s Monday again. You’re still employed. You are all set to face the daily grind with your plastic-packed lunch and your weekly MetroCard charged to your Visa.

Till next stimulus package… ‘Hope not.

It’s been hours past April Fool’s Day so the content of this blog should be taken seriously and an affirmative action in the end is extremely necessitated.

The quest continues for the next American singing sensation. There is certainly a level of enthusiasm from the American Idol fanatics that deserves high opinion. This competition before a live audience that is aired at Fox Channel creates a venue where young songsters showcase their talents and prove to the TV-viewers that they be worthy of superstardom. It is reasonable to say that all the finalists have a gift for singing in their own right as diversely packaged in their own music genre.

Simon Cowell made a fortune out the show. He’s the highest paid non-American in Hollywood for lambasting aspiring talents on the bases of voice quality, song choice and over-all performance. Since I don’t have an insider’s information about the show, this is my personal assumption of the judges’ criteria in giving critique on the singers’ weekly performances. It is a good thing because what Simon says gives the viewers an honest-to-goodness voice of what they hear and see on the TV screen.

Mr. Cowell gets countless jeers from the supporters and fans in the audience (while exacerbated by Ryan Seacrest’s candid wits) for his bite of tough-love treatment and advice but he speaks his apparent truth most of the time as highlighted by his British accent and get-real metaphors. The judges’ table is never complete without the experienced Randy Jackson’s ear for what’s hot in the music industry and Paula Abdul’s litany of conciliatory and morale-booster remarks in prelude for Simon’s belt. Ouch! In fairness to Paula’s indisputable all-sweet talks, I generally believe that what comes out of people’s mouth is the excess of their heart.

Well, the show owes it all to the fans and to the millions and millions of calls and text-messages sent after every show. This is definitely the reason why American Idol remains to be on top of the viewership ratings in its time slot. Yes, it’s the people who care to spare their valuable time and some cents “where standard airtime, roaming, long-distance and text messaging charges apply” for an hour or more of entertainment. Not bad at all for the cost of the amusement value put side by side to a Britney Spears’ “Gimme More” comeback performance at the Grammy’s. Seriously?

Why I am trying to be really really nice here? Well, I am always proud to see aspiring artists that are of Filipino descent emerge in a competition like the American Idol. Opportunities like this gives inspiration to young kids out there in the Philippines to envision the future in a very positive outlook. It’s not all the vanity of fame that binds with stardom. It is the “idols” sincerity and commitment to achieve their goals and strive to be the best in their craft. I see motivation in the youthful eyes of Ramielle Malubay. Ramielle has gone through this far to understate the power of the voice behind the diminutive body. She does not only capture the viewers’ hearts because of her modest claim to her roots and distinct features. She represents the youthful hope of a Filipino family crossing thousand miles to a fresh start and to follow the star in the (American) skies.

So, what now? I hope I’ve convinced you enough to lift your phone and to cast your votes for Ramielle Malubay.

Mr. Cowell: Please take note of my kind words as opposed to the popular notion vis-à-vis public outcry that you’re standoffish. That is highly not true, right? Be nice to Ramielle, ok?

Finally, this is my first account about traveling abroad.

My wife and I recently visited Costa Rica for the first time. Our dear friends, Fruzsina and Aaron, wanted to tie the knot in a setting by the beach and conceived the plan for this getaway.

We begin the trip on an AA flight from JFK Airport in New York departing at 5:30 a.m. and stopping for an hour at Miami, Florida then arriving at about 11:30 a.m. (+2H US/ET) at Aeropuerto Internacional Daniel Oduber Quiros (a.k.a., Liberia International Airport) in Guanacaste. The moment I paced out of the Costa Rican immigration, I looked for moneychanger since I wanted to know how much my one-dollar bill would amount to the country’s currency. After changing 20 US dollars, I became an instant “thousandnaire” (1 US dollar = 493 CR colones). Next mission: How much would a bottle of Coke cost in colones? This query has always been my own international standard for measuring the strength of the country’s currency. The whimsical undertaking had to linger since the hotel car service is already waiting at the airport entrance. By the way, I have to mention that a friend on same flight with us lost his luggage so I had to pass the time familiarizing with colones bills and coins as we all waited for the airline personnel to do the paperwork and launch a (routine) bureaucratic intercontinental luggage-hunting process.

After hitting the smooth then rough, rocky and hilly road for an hour and a half, we arrived at our final destination – the Hotel Sugar Beach. This Pacific shoreline is located in Playa Pan de Azucar in the Guanacaste Province of Costa Rica, also known as the Gold Coast. At the hotel information and check-in desk, I was very glad to find out that a bottle of Coke costs about 600 colones (at hotel/beach price I supposed but least I could put a mission to rest). As a warning, never say “soda” when buying soft drinks if you don’t want strange looks from the waiters, bartenders or storeowners. For the ticos y ticas (the term Costa Ricans call themselves), “soda” means small restaurant.

While waiting for our beachfront room to be ready for use and greeting our friends who came a day or two earlier before us, I had the first taste of the typical Costa Rican dishes in the open-air restaurant overlooking the view of the ocean from the table. The seafood rice and the mango shake was so good and such a perfect combo that it turned out to be my staple indulge for rest of my entire stay at Sugar Beach. In the same restaurant, we got to hangout with herons and iguanas that were trying to join us for a feast. It was fascinating that such wild animals are so comfortable being around hungry and drunk humans. This simply reflects the cordial interaction of the native folks with wildlife and nature.

After lots of sprays of Banana Boat SPF 50, hours of sun exposure, boogie boards and dozens of Imperial (la cervesa de Costa Rica) that were kind of predictable, I have to return to the main event – the wedding. Yes, the wedding was very well coordinated and synchronized in perfect timing with the sunset that the natural “backdrop” of the pacific horizon looked like choreographed. Just like the newlyweds, we were so overwhelmed by the moments… and every moment that followed… every sip of mango colada, vino blanca, mucho mucho cervesa and then the dinner party. It was never a doubt that the food would be delicious. Every single course was yummy. O hell yeah! I was reaching for every single plate that invited opportunity for a taste test. And then the rest of the marriage rituals followed. Wait. The fun continued to the neighboring beach where we went to hit the local hotel bar. To the indignity of myself and of the people who love(d) and raised me, I had my share of “the drunken moves” (I say, this was also very predictable! HA!) on the dance-floor and rest of the night is history.

I wish I could accurately chronicle every single minute of our short yet exhilarating Costa Rican escapade. There was the pre-wedding BBQ party where the scent of grilled tuna and vegetables never felt so jovial as the local (steel-drum?) percussionists serenaded the evening with Spanish melodies and reggae beats. There was also the sunset cruise at Flamingo Beach that included snorkeling and more drinking at the boat where bonding with nature overweighed motion sickness. The locals were generally pleasant especially at the hotels, the restaurants, the bars and the airport. I have to especially mention that cab drivers were so polite and honest, too. My wife and I enjoyed this trip so much and we felt very safe. On our departure from Hotel Sugar Beach, I can’t help but be thankful of this very memorable Central (Latin) American experience.

On a final note, the (lost) luggage was found and was delivered to the rightful owner just in time for the wedding. A happy ending for one and all, indeed.

Pura vida! (Pure life!) Costa Rica. Gracias!

Last week… Iowa. Today… New Hampshire. The battle for the country’s bipartisan presidential nomination continues!

Change1 would probably be the most overused word that deserves a place in Guinness World Records for this year’s campaigns. As we all know, the same word has a number of meanings and is very relative in the English vocabulary. Since the real issues are overshadowed by the popularity of the word, allow me to share my reflections on this very important jargon of the times.

I always associated change with activism. No person can claim as an advocate (at the least) of change, if he or she has never lived a life as an activist. Again, there are a number of synonyms associated with the word “activist” but I will settle from its root word “act” and its qualifier “active”. Change always gains popularity during the campaigns in whatever elections at any levels but very few accept to be an activist… and remain as one. The rest develop selective amnesia right after the election or when enjoying the seat of power and temptation. Being an activist is never popular because people don’t want to accept change. Candidates would always talk about change but they are never activists or plan to be activists. This is not a good brand for a politician because again, it is not popular. Change is a sacred word that should never be shrouded with charisma and popularity. The clamor for change should not be popular. If it becomes popular, this means that change has been achieved.

There are some reformists out there trying to hide themselves under the magical cloak of change but then again they have no track record to show their activism… their actions. More treacherously, there are some opportunists out there who are just trying to gauge what what’s hot before launching a momentous speech and thereafter joining the blabberdom of change. Most gravely, there are also trigger-happy and hero-worshiping extremists out there who desperately need a mother to love them and perhaps make them bacon and eggs for breakfast. There is definitely something wrong with reformists, opportunists or extremists standing as activists while blasphemously claiming and advocating for change if they have no credentials to support it. Deal with the issues and show the voters your records of actions and explain your inactions. The US presidency is the most powerful position in the world. There should be no room for bogus actions and for raw plan of action. Enough of castles in the sky! I suggest that every candidate must take a break (Use your carried over (unused) PTO’s2 from 2007 or lose it!) and reflect about this question – Am I sincerely an authentic activist?

I am neither a political scientist nor a Dr. Phil (It would be nice to stop over at BritBrit’s but let’s leave her alone and enough of exploiting other people’s emotions and misery for the sake glamorized profit while leaving the writers starving in the picket lines. Hello?). I am a citizen of the world. I listen. I think. I feel. And to the last wave of carbon dioxide-oxygen exchange in my lungs, I will try to do my best and change for the better for the sake of my children’s children. But this is not about me. This is about the Hillary’s, the Rudolph’s and the Pedro’s in the course of history. Come election day, I pray that the voters would think about the ailing healthcare system, the displaced families in the war zones and the monkeys learning the laptop while there are children in the far-flung villages who haven’t even seen what book looks like. Forget about the popular jargons! Forget about global warming! Maybe when the emperor penguins rule Japan, countries will be more committed to the Kyoto Protocol.

To my beloved readers, here are some of my pun moments (I tried!) for the frontrunners’ campaign banner:

Hillary Clinton – Why settle for change if she has a Bill.
Barack Obama – The name with a small letter c (for change) and a capital letter O (for O, you know).
John Edwards – Change is sweeter the second time around.
Rudy Giuliani – Changing ring tone to silent mode with speed dial 911.
Mike Huckabee – The 3 G’s – God, Glory and Gold Change
Mitt Romney – Investing some loose change wisely.
John McCain – A choice of change. (No further comments. Smiles!)
Mike Bloomberg – It’s not to late to change mind.

At the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with a change of mind (a.k.a., “flip-flop”). A change of opinion simply means that the brain is functional (but may not always be sound).

Vote with your conscience my friends! Vote for the genuine activist!

_________________

1 Change – (ch ā nj) pronunciation
2 PTO – paid time-off

I am about to reach the brink of a bottle of aquavit and I cannot help but share a neophyte’s journey to the almost last sip of the said alcoholic liquid. This may not be new to Norwegians and most Scandinavians but the experience is definitely a first for me.

As I cleaned the clutter in my apartment some weekends ago, I was spiritually pulled towards my humble bar and checked the bottles of wine and liquor lined on the floor. I noticed a very interesting bottle with a name that reads LINIE AQUAVIT. As I continued reading the fine prints, it revealed the words DISTILLED AND BOTTLED IN NORWAY. Ah, this must be from the Viking! Vidar was very charitable to share a bottle of aquavit on my birthday last month. I’d like to try it as I was finishing with my weekend servitude but the concoction of herbs seemed very suspiciously dangerous (Yeah, I have trust issues since the “I was poisoned!” incident.) so I called my friend (yes, the same Viking who also happens to be very familiar with the poisoning incident) for some safety advise on how to drink such a persuasive mixture. Of course, the universal precaution “Drink moderately!” is always on top of my head. I was advised to take a shot over dinner or after anticipating a good relaxing time as a reward for my guts. As the next mealtime was a couple of hours away, I admitted defeat to the human in me over spirit (smiles!) and it was a surprise to be on familiar terms with the drink not chilled.

Well, to expand my knowledge on this very timely concern, I had to consult everyone’s source of information and (to others) frustration. Sure, I am just like you who wish I could have been one of the wiz kids who thought earlier in their lifetime to stay away from the notion that “high (and broke) is cool” and started the million-dollar-search-engine called google. Following a link to Brittanica, it reads:

Aquavit

- flavoured, distilled liquor, clear to pale yellow in colour, dry in flavour, and ranging in alcohol content from about 42 to 45 percent by volume. It is distilled from a fermented potato or grain

- the drink takes its name from the Latin “aqua vitae,” meaning “water of life.” It’s a potent drink with an alcohol content around 40 percent.

Method of production

- Swedish and Norwegian aquavits are sweet and spicy and of straw colour. Sweden is the largest producer, manufacturing about 20 brands. Norway’s production, comparatively low, includes Linie Aquavit, so called because it is shipped to Australia and back (across the Equator, or Line) in oak containers to produce mellow flavour. Finnish aquavit has a cinnamon flavour.

Also, clicking a link to an interesting excerpt from a certain Dave Fox’s article, he narrates:

“The concept of linie aquavit happened by accident in the 1800s. Jørgen Lysholm owned a distillery in Trondheim, Norway. His mother and uncle sent a batch of aquavit to Asia on a large sailing ship, hoping to market it there. It didn’t sell, however, and five barrels were shipped back to Trondheim. When the aquavit arrived back in Norway, Lysholm noticed it had a richer flavor. At that time, Norway was shipping dried cod around the world. Lysholm began loading barrels of aquavit onto freighters that carried the cod, and retrieving them at the end of a long round trip.

Most Norwegians store their aquavit in the freezer and drink it ice cold from stemmed cordial glasses. The stem on the glass prevents your hand from warming the liquor. Many people sip it with a pilsner beer chaser, which accentuates the caraway flavor. It’s consumed year-round, particularly on special occasions such as birthdays, Christmas, and Constitution Day.”

Now, can you tell what else is missing from all of this knowledge? If you’re with me on a Friday night drink, you’ll probably enjoy learning the right Norwegian accent. For this purpose, you might be interested to practice “stating” while fronting a mirror the couple of words below:

1. Linie – pronounced “LINN-yuh”
2. Aquavit – pronounced “AH-keh-veet” (and sometimes spelled “akvavit”)

Have a funtacular hangover!