Amsterdam, located in the province of “Noord-Holland”, is one of the more popular destinations in Europe.  And for good reasons.

Our travel on a starry starry fortnight after our trip to Berlin took us to this northern part of the Netherlands (once upon a time, Holland).

In the early 13th century, Amsterdam was a bustling fishing village on a river bed. Today, it is the centre of commerce, tourism and culture.  If Barcelona is home to Catalan Modernist Antoni Gaudi, Amsterdam is home to the Van Gogh Museum where the works of its tortured native son Vincent are found.

And, if you’re not yet “nauseated” with the cultural heritage that Europe has to offer, make sure you drop in to more museums like the Rikjsmuseums filled with Rembrandts and Vermeers or the Stedelijk Museum where Matisses and Mondrians fill its modern stocks. And of course, one should not miss the house of Anne Frank (Anne Frank Huis, author of The Diary of Anne Frank).  There is a long queue to this museum alone (drawing more than a million visitors each year).  The focus of the museum of Anne Frank is the rear house, also known as the “secret annex”.  This part of the house is a dark, airless space where the Franks and other people observed complete silence during the daytime. Its somber and eeriness is the perfect match to the jigsaw trip, after Vienna and Berlin.

Aside from deep historical culture, there are many other places to enjoy in Amsterdam.  The Jordaan and the West was a former worker’s quarters teeming with cozy pubs, galleries and markets.  And of course, there’s the infamous red light district as well, that’s well, so touristy.  I suggest that before you go, make an itinerary of where you want to visit in Amsterdam, as you may miss the neighbourhoods that have their own stories to tell.

Amsterdam is also home to a gastronomic experience.

And if you’re wanting for tulips (make sure you go in the spring), take a bus ride to Keukenhof gardens.  It’s one trip you shouldn’t miss, as these pictures alone speak volumes for why it is worth the side trip.

Jet lag.

Who was it that once said

After a vacation, one will always need another vacation to get over the hangover.

On the flight back, I was already contemplating on where our next travel destination would be.

More importantly, is the when.

Traveling on a vacation isn’t a spur of the moment decision. This decision is based on the factor of resources. I peg an actual vacation budget, then try to look for bargain destinations and airline fares that fit this. Agoda.com or Trivago.com comes in helpful as well when you want to look for bargain and discounts on hotels to your destination.

Thorough research is done (that’s where the fun is) so that you can maximise your trip. Where to go. What to do. When is the best time to be there without being too burdensome (e.g., traveling during the winter may entail carrying so much luggage for winter clothes that it’s really not fun traveling during the winter season of your plan is to go shopping). Timing of events (e.g., SALE, concerts, dining privileges and more).

On my return flight, reality had begun to sink in as my tired weary body was returning to its physiological stage of reasoning on why the vacation has ended so quickly…

Upon arrival into Manila, you get a sense of being back home and not wishing it was home. Don’t get me wrong! It’s just that you get to wonder why our airport (that alone being the showcase window to the world) is not at par with the other airports where we came from? The customs counters were super efficient this time around (and kudos to that).  Then there were just 3 baggage belts working (2 were being fixed) and we came in with 5 flights almost one after the other. So you know what that meant. When you go out of the airport, the mayhem at the arrival area tells you that you are in Manila.  It’s such a let down that you’re trying to manoeuvre your baggage carts in the rain with a crowd of relatives that have flocked to the airport.  It’s a disappointment that you end up comparing our disorganised airports with those where we travel to.  The reality check is – I am back home.

The traffic.  The weather.  The work.

A few hour after arriving, I receive a call.  It is back to work.

Because, I owe, I owe…so off to work I go.

…there was you and I.

We knew each other.  Your parents and my family were once close. We went to the same school.  Attended the same birthday parties.  We knew each other’s likes and dislikes like the back of our hands.  We fought the same ideals.  We were on the side of truth.

After every election, we’d talk about how a new government could provide better opportunities for its people. Every time the subject matter of politics came up, you’d always tell me that if so on and so forth became president or senator or congressman, you’d migrate.  Thirty years later we’re still both here in this country.  Trying to make ends meet.

Two years ago, things changed.

It wasn’t only the political landscape that did.  The story of our friendship took a twist as well.

I was not a fan of PNoy (or for any president for that matter.  To me, every president is paid to do their job.)  On an unbiased note, I gave him a passing grade during his presidency.  There were noises in the background, particularly when the presidential sister would be in the picture. In hind site, she had her own bragging rights.  There is not much you can do for being born into a family of politicians. He had his faux pas moments.  From the botched hostage attempt at Luneta at the beginning of his term, to the Mamasapano slaughter towards the end of his presidency.  Death hounded him from beginning to end. There were also allegations of placing friends in formidable positions.  As any politician would, friends would always be your first choice. This is made on the premise that because they are your friends, they will protect you rather than harm you.  But some friends will have their own vested interests at hand.  It is, after all, not an easy position to be in.  A hallmark, however, of his governance was the fact that he did get the “best and the brightest” to steer the country from where it was at the time Macapagal-Arroyo left. And while he had good decisions, he had unpopular ones as well. (Name me one president that didn’t.)

Growing up, we had various opinions on the performance of each and every president. We grew up knowing Marcos for quite some time. Gloria’s father was Philippine history in our classroom.

Back then, there was no social media.

We took to writing, with hopes that a legitimate press would pick up the pulse of the masses and that government would listen and act on the issues at hand. When this did not happen, we took to the streets to fight for our rights and freedom. And the future generation of Filipinos.

We fought for truth. Democracy. Independence. Moral values. Life. Decency in public service. Trust. Even when at times the stakes were high, we protested against corruption and inept government officials.

In spite of the odds, we believed that competence was essential to every public servant. We believed that truth, honesty and accountability were the hallmarks of hope in bringing change to a country we grew up in and raise our loved ones. More than 30 years after we gained back our democracy, we fought alongside each election to sustain the gains of independence so that our children and grandchildren would have a better future.

That was why the debates before the elections was highly viewed.  Well, by the more educated.  The rest of the land were still busy hanging on to their telenovelas – in both reel and real life.

That was merely two years ago.

After an election.

Something happened.

There was a political divide. You were mired in defending your political stand.  And I respected that. Those who did not agree with the current administration were called “dilawan” (Yellow).

While I went to the polls, there was one position I did not vote for. I was unimpressed at the candidates. Whoever won, I would respect. Because that is the way a democratic country works.

But for indecency to now find difficulty understanding why it needed to be rationalised in this changing world of politics, baffled whatever is left of my senses.

The lies. The scandals. The fake pictures and news. The empty promises. Even when they were blatantly wrong, you defended it.

I did not say a word. I only wondered.

Why?

Your rabid desire to be a follower of whoever won was your choice to make. Who was I to stop you?  After all, we’re almost the same age. Señor-itos already. Entitled to make the right or wrong choices at this point in our lives. The last I remembered, we lived in a free country.

I have never spoken about the political sphere because there were more credible people who knew what to say. About the economy. Crime. Drugs. Policies. Foreign matters. Health. Traffic. Employment. War. Peace. Life. Death.

I am not a politician.  I do not have political affiliations.  Only a sense of pride and love for a country.

My friend, I watched you from the sidelines. Commenting like an economic expert or ranting at matters of foreign policy when dealing with China, Russia and the US. Even when I disagreed, and shook my head when you desperately tried to explain the many whys and hows on social media, it was with a heavy heart that I knew that I began to lose the friend I once knew.

The person I shared many ideas with.  The man who stood by his principles on ethics, morals, values, life and liberty.  The father who made his children proud because they knew that this was the man who would fight all forms of evil and false communication. And I asked myself and your family – what happened?

I still gave you the benefit of the the doubt. And myself as well. Who knows. In 2022, when he is no longer president, I may be wrong. You may be right.

But the noise in the air is too heavy to bear. The trolls who continue to patrol social media like loyal soldiers was the first big disappointment of this government.

The signs were there.  With social media being used to slowly erode the very core of humanity. Chipping away at the little human decency left. The troll patrols used vile languages and incomprehensible reasoning in order to provide chaos and sow hatred and confusion at the opposition. I thought they were invisible. Not real people. Just paid nobodies. Living inexistent lives. Earning a pay by day, destroying a country by night.

The idea of creating trolls was to bring into mainstream social media, real people who’d believe these lies and incredulous stories of deception, of dubious fiction, of a story gone awry.

But mainstream news became a slave to technological advances as well. That was the second big disappointment. Rappler was the firm believer of “real time” news reporting.  Here, the news reporters would report on real time and the news would be posted as a “live” VLOG.  The problem with this was that wrong information may not have been double checked before it was reported.  I should know.  I’ve been in the shoes of the person the reporter who did not know what she was writing about until after the smoke had faded.  But the harm had been done.  The story had been written.  There were no apologies from both Rappler nor the news writer. I am not writing this to ask for an apology nor to reveal what is true (as what they claim to furiously fight for). Or to have a cheap columnist in a popular newspaper write fairy tale stories and whodunnits from Lala-land because it is her means of livelihood. I don’t know if her children know how their mother makes a living, but I am sure she will never be able to look them in the eyes and say that your mom is a decent human being.

I am writing this to tell you that between you and I, I know what it feels to be in the right and yet have no one stand up for you.  Because everyone is afraid. To them, these are chapters in their lives which they will move on from.  But these are stories in mine that will never make me forget how painful it is to live with made up lies.

The irony here is that in the two years that has passed, our 30 years of friendship has  completely drifted apart.  The bonds. The laughter. The stories over lunch or dinner.  The tears.  And when we bump into each other, it’s an awkward moment.

We greet each other with “hi” and “hello”, but that’s about it. Like two long-time lovers who have drifted completely apart.

Before Mocha and Drew, you and I shared a sense of reasoning.  I am writing this for you, not because I want to influence your political belief. I am writing this to tell you that I am missing my friend.  Someone who on my worst days made me laugh and on my best days, patted me on my back. And to tell you that I saw your name commenting on various posts in social media.  Unabashedly using words that I never knew you’d use. It was then that I realised that perhaps I really didn’t know you at all.

I will never compromise my principles in life.  It will take more than a friend or family to change my mind on why I believe fighting against all these lies, fakes, and indecency is the right thing to do in my declining years.

We are not young anymore.  We have fought the good fight.  We need to return decency and honesty back into society, where our children and grandchildren will be the generation that will benefit from our actions today.

Our friendship has nothing to do with politics.

There will be no epitaph on our tombstones reminding us how we drifted away from one another as friends when we were still alive.

After the dust settles with Mocha and Drew, I hope we remain human beings who respect the value of decency and dignity of every human being. We owe ourselves that much.

Being a tourist in a foreign land, one cannot help but observe fellow Filipinos who are OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers).  I have a lot of respect for them. They are hard working. Kind. Generous. Friendly. Law-abiding. Frugal. Loving. They are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, grandchildren – family members who sacrifice in other countries far from their loved ones – if only to make a better life for their loved ones. They are heroes in their own rights.

Over breakfast the other day, I saw a Middle Eastern family of 5. There was one added person eating with them.  Their au pair.  A Filipina woman of not more than 35 years old.  Quietly feeding their youngest daughter.

This, is the general life of many of our OFWs.

Those who have migrated to other lands and have made lives of their own are not considered OFWs anymore.  If they have renounced their Filipino citizenship they are citizens of other nations. Let’s get that straight in this blog.  They are not OFWs.

An OFW (overseas foreign worker) is, by definition, “a person from the Philippines who is living and working in another country, typically in a temporary basis.”

I have high regards for OFWs.

It’s not an easy sacrifice to be out of your country far from your family so that you can provide them with better and easier lives. My profession takes me to the stories of the families I care for.

For those of us who are able to go on grand vacations year in and year out, we meet OFWs in every corner of the world. On the plane to their country of destination.  On the airports of other countries as employees.  On the ships during our cruises. In the taxis they drive in some other part of the world. Where we are, they are there, too.  Serving us and other people so that they can send money home to their families.

I remember one Sunday at the Orchard Road MRT in Singapore, I was on my way home from a meeting and happened to take the train going back to my hotel.  There were two OFWs at the platform waiting for the train to arrive.  When it did, and the doors of the train opened, they were right in front of me.  Blocking my path to the door.  I recall saying to them, “excuse me, are you going inside the train? You’re blocking the doors.”

Both of them had gone in.  As I was standing beside them, one of the women told her companion in Tagalog, “ang sungit ng mga intsik dito” (the Chinese here are grouchy). I tapped the woman on the shoulder and told her “ate, Pilipino ako. Baka kasi maiwan tayo ng train.” (Sister, I am a Filipino.  The train may leave us [if I waited for you to decide when to get in].) And the three of us had a good laugh.

I write about our OFWs as a dedication to the many unsung heroes of the economy of the Philippines.  We are, after all, a major exporter of menial labor. And we are all dependent on the economy of these workers who sacrifice being away from their loved ones so that they can put food on the table of their families back home, send their children to school, and plan a better future for their loved ones.

I write about our OFWs because they are a source of pride to our country.  They deserve better governance and direction from the leaders of our country.  Not just some rah-rah boy or girl or actors or actresses who gyrate on stage to give them a sense of “home”.  Home is thousands of miles away from where they toil each day in order to drive away the loneliness from families and friends.

I write about our OFWs because they don’t have the same privilege as some of us who bring our families on vacation because our children or parents or spouses have an occasion to celebrate.  They have missed birthdays and graduations.  Some have missed even burials.

I write about OFWs because they deserve more than empty promises every three years from local elections and every six years from the national polls.  They deserve leaders who will not politicise their causes in order to get votes in the upcoming elections.  Leaders who will work inclusively for their welfare and the welfare of their families back home.

There has been no time in history that has had record breaking number of OFWs than today.

Because there is little to hope for back home.

We were walking along the streets of Copenhagen and three OFWs were sitting at the park comparing those little pairs of shoes which they bought during a sale, for their kids. It would be a few months of buying a few more stuff to send home in a BalikBayan Box.

A thousand miles away from where an au pair is feeding someone else’s child, I am sure she is thinking of her own children back home.

Part of the fun in a vacation is the eating.

No, I don’t mean pigging out.

But enjoying what the locals eat.

Packed meals

Yes my dear readers.  This is for real.

I have friends (and sadly relatives) that pack instant noodles or canned goods so that they can scrimp on having to spend for meals.  Unless the place you’ve booked is a Condotel or Apartment or airbnb, filling your luggages with bottled water, Spam and other canned goods, juices in tetra paks, bread and peanut butter, and instant noodles is an absolute frown.

The bottomline is – why do you even want to go on a trip if you’re packing your three meals a day.

I even know people who are on a business trip and yet bring packed meals! It’s not because they’re not given a daily allowance for meals and sundries.  It’s because they will save that money to buy goods and souvenirs.

Spend when you must. Particularly when you’re on vacation.  If you want to live like a pauper, you might as well bring a can and a fiddle and peddle on the streets where you go for a vacation.  You may get lucky.

Fast food

One alternative is when you’re really not sure about the food in your destination of choice, look for a fast-food restaurant.  There usually is one in your neighbourhood (unless your lodging is really isolated from civilisation that you’re forced to eat only in Michelin Star restaurants or the only restaurant in your hotel).

A fastfood joint usually provides you with a variety of choices of food from the local community.

With the presence of various food chains worldwide, you should be able to bump into McDonalds, Starbucks, KFC, or Burger King somewhere around the corner of your hotel. Question is, why would you want to eat in a restaurant that you find in your own country and at a cheaper price?!?!?  It’s insulting to me that I have two chickens and mashed potatoes for 10euros (P625.00) when I can actually get it for less than P125 in Manila! Imagine paying P500 more for KFC chicken in Madrid and being served by a Filipino OFW…Seriously?

When you’re on a budget, opt to go to local food joints that serve the local cuisines.  In Europe, most (if not all) cities have Markets (Mercato) where you can have a good meal at a reasonable price.  This is where the locals meet, eat, exchange stories and just let their hair down.

Michelin Stars

We’re not all rich and have cash to burn.

And yes, I have dined in Michelin Star restaurants in some of my vacations.

Is it worth it?

Not really.  For the price that plunges deep into my credit card, some of the food is hardly appreciated especially after a 5 km walk! I mean, when you’re dead tired from the tours or the shopping, eating becomes a necessity.  And anything that fills that grumbling stomach won’t matter.

But do look out for highly recommended Michelin Star restaurants when given the time.  Singapore, for example, has a whole list of Hawker Stalls that have made it to Michelin’s Bib Gourmand list for 2018.  Fifty – 50 – yes, fifty hawker stalls and restaurant, up from 38 last year! Liao Fan Hawker Chan serves one of THE BEST Cantonese Roast Meats for less than P350!  And deserves the Michelin award for being one of the best Hawker Stalls.

Can you imagine Bismillah Biryani serves street food and is a Michelin awardee?!?!  Now who said, Michelin needs to be fine dining? If you bothered to do a bit of research prior to going to your destination, I’m sure you’ll find the best finds are those we bothered to look for.

Concierge recommends…

While some recommendations from the concierge at your hotel may help, it’s important to remember that many are biased. That’s because they get paid for recommendations made.  They will call to make reservations for you.

In my experience, 80% of the concierge recommendations range from very good to excellent.  100% of the concierge recommendations are pretty expensive.  Unless the concierge asks your budget, or you let them know your budget and the kind of food you want to eat and how far off from the hotel you’d want to have dinner, they’ll usually give you a restaurant that’s $$$($).

But when you’re out of options or just plainly are clueless on where and what to have for dinner, the concierge is rarely wrong.

Remember, part of the trip is enjoying the food in the country you’re visiting.  It’s like when your friends come to the Philippines.  You’d want them to try the Lechon, Halo-Halo, Pancit Palabok, Adobo, Max’s Fried Chicken, Rellenong Bangus, Leche Flan, Balut…to name a few!

It’s like introducing them to a new friend.  Perhaps, they too will make friends with their newfound friend.  Food.