Mar

28

Pinoy Friend

Filed Under Consumer Concerns, Family & Friends, Migrant Life, Society & Culture | 11 Comments


Two weeks ago, I went to the spring market in Reiden, a small village in the district of Willisau in the canton of Lucerne. I was there not to shop but to see a Filipino friend, whom I met in our town last summer during the monthly market. I brought with me two folding chairs, some snacks, and lots of personal stories.

It was just great to see Ate Linda once again after a long, long time. Meeting her in her natural habitat (the outdoor market or tiangge) may be stressful to some degree — selling stuff in open-air markets, after all, is not for the sickly or weary, what with the packing and unpacking — but it’s always therapeutic. It’s like drinking a hot chocolate drink on a wintry day or reading a good book in bed.

My friend looked happy despite the collective fatigue she was telling me about on the phone prior to our rendez-vous. And that was a nice sight to behold. Well, that was to be expected. Because, come to think of it, she has never been the whiny type. She has always kept a sunny disposition despite an overwhelming workload, both on weekdays and weekends.

Ate Linda works full-time as a cleaning lady in a reputable secondary school in Bern, where she has been living since 1972. On weeknights and even on weekends, she religiously visits her paralyzed son (who figured in a car accident somewhere in Switzerland a long time ago) at a nursing home situated a few tram rides away from where she currently lives.

While she never finished school (she married young), she has lots of knowledge and wisdom to impart to others, after graduating from the School of Hard Knocks with honors. The things she has been through — and that would be a lot, including the murder of her daughter who was shot by a madman in Bern years ago — makes her the deep and compassionate person she is now.

I may have known her for only a few months, but I can tell this early that she’s a gem of a friend. I truly admire her work ethics (she’s the epitome of hard work), her positive outlook on life (she pursues her dreams despite the odds), her energy (she’s already 59, but still going strong), her sense of humor (she’s naturally funny), her determination to improve the lot of her countrymen back home (she manages a foundation), her generous spirit (she has a genuine giver’s heart…there are no strings attached when she gives), and her ‘ungossipy’ nature (we talk about ideas, and not about other people and their dirty laundry). I respect her because, in my humble opinion, she’s respectful and respectable.

I’m so blessed to have Ate Linda as a new friend. I wish I could have met her a long time ago when I first arrived in Switzerland and was struggling to meet the right people worthy of my trust (I later managed to meet some Filipino and Swiss friends in our international Christian church in Zurich). Moments with her are always wonderfully heartwarming…and expectedly quirky (I’m drawn to eccentric people for some reason) — it always makes me light-hearted, inspired, and more appreciative of my so-called “Swiss life.” You learn a lot of important life lessons from an unassuming Life 101 veteran like Ate Linda.

We had loads of fun that Saturday in Reiden. I assisted her in selling her beautifully crafted rings, bracelets, necklaces and earrings from the Philippines in my “improvised High German” (my German still sucks, unfortunately). In between “entertaining” arriving customers, we exchanged personal updates and anecdotes non-stop till it was time to pack up and leave the market place.

On our way to Bern, we met a posh and gay Leonardo DiCaprio lookalike sitting on a steel bench at Reiden’s train station. In jest, I told Ate Linda how thrilled I was to be in close contact with a “Hollywood celebrity.” Aboard the train, we both listened to the angst-ridden story of this Bosnian guy with a pretty face (Hollywood material), plucked eyebrows (he made me feel insecure about my Incredible Hulk eyebrows), and crooked fingernails (he showed them to me to prove a point about Britney Spears) till we reached Olten, where many passengers change trains. There, we parted ways with Bosnian Leonardo (”We’ll meet again in this lifetime….” he told me almost hypnotically). We then took a connecting train ride to Bern, where we later dropped off all the jewelry stuff in Ate Linda’s balikbayan box-infested apartment. She remarked how well our talk with Leonardo went.

After a hard day’s work, Ate Linda insisted on treating me to a real good dinner at a Chinese restaurant, where we could talk in a more relaxed atmosphere (the outdoor market stall is definitely not the place to have some quality chit-chat). I graciously accepted her invitation after some initial struggle. We hied off to the main train station in Bern, where the Chinese restaurant was located. Over a sumptuous serving of rice with sweet and sour pork and beef with mushrooms, we had some good laughs and some pensive moments as well. We discussed plans, indefinite as they may be, and we also discussed dreams.

On Sunday, my friend flies to Manila to attend her grandson’s high school graduation. She’ll stay there for a month. Gosh, I miss her already.

(Note: For non-Tagalog speakers, Ate means “big sister.” It’s quite common in the Philippines to call a non-relative an “Ate” or a “Kuya”/big brother as a sign of respect.)

Mar

20

Shrink Suggestion

Filed Under Career, Faith & Values, General, Life & Leisure, Migrant Life, Society & Culture | 12 Comments


A couple of people I know had said that I could make a living in Switzerland as some sort of “pseudo-therapist” because I’m a very good listener (or so they say).

“You may not have the formal training to work as a therapist, but you do have the gift to make people better simply by listening to their stories of personal struggles.”

“Do you know that therapists in Switzerland are all booked up? What would happen to those who need to unburden themselves to someone else, in their personal quest for that sense of peace, serenity, or even sanity? They need someone like YOU!”

“You seem to be a great listener. Why not make money out of it?”

Look, guys. I’m not a shrink, and I don’t have a couch. But thanks for your affirmations. Your ideas are crazy, though. Besides, I’m not the type who would charge money for something that I would glady give to someone in need, emotionally or even spiritually: my time and my ears. (This whole work-as-a-listener idea was all brought up in jest anyway.)

Funny, even before these wacky suggestions from my friends cropped up, I saw this rather unique ad posted on an expat website. The ad read something like this: “I charge 50 Swiss francs an hour to listen to you.” I thought that was very enterprising of the person who wrote it.

Well, if we go by this hourly rate, I could have charged 50 Swiss francs to the jobless Moroccan guy who ranted about his perennial unemployment in Switzerland, another 50 Swiss francs to the bohemian Swiss teacher who confessed that he didn’t have a happy childhood, and yet another 50 Swiss francs to a Bosnian guy who talked about “an empty life despite a 10K monthly salary” (in Swiss francs, of course), and then a whopping 150 Swiss francs to a Swiss graduate student who confided about his love life gone awry.

They were all strangers to me, these people. I met the Moroccan guy and Swiss teacher at the local outdoor market downtown; the Bosnian lad, aboard the SBB train; and the Swiss economist, in my blog comments box.

And there was this elderly Swiss lady, probably in her eighties, from whom we asked for directions when we got lost during our biking sojourn last year. Our chat with her on the street could have ended with a simple “Thank you for your help” line. But when we were getting ready to leave, she suddenly blurted out that she was lonely. She had no family and no friends to talk to. I thought that was sad. So we stayed on and listened to her story, out there on the street…on a very hot and humid summer day.

I firmly believe that people just need to be listened to in an atmosphere of trust and understanding. A pair of willing ears is all it takes to help someone who’s bursting with feelings of pain and suffering or what-have-you deep inside. We don’t have to shove pieces of advice down people’s throats all the time; we just need to listen — well, unless advice is solicited and that’s a different story.

Maybe it’s time I buy a couch. But not for my “future clients.” For me. I need one as I dump all my unprocessed feelings of expat angst unto my very own pseudo-therapist: my husband.

Mar

11

‘Old Life’

Filed Under Career, Family & Friends, General, Migrant Life | Comments Off

When I was still living and working in Manila as a newspaperwoman for a leading daily and an in-house writer for a Christian broadcasting network, I had a very hectic schedule, meeting deadlines here and there. I was awfully busy. There were times when I would even sleep in the office just to get the job done on time.

But despite the busyness, I was happy. Happy to be with like-minded people. It felt great to hang out with writers, photographers, videographers — people in the creative field — and exchange ideas with them. Talking with them inspired me and propelled me to improve my craft.

I terribly miss those days now that I live in Switzerland. I miss my fun-to-be-with workmates. I miss the stimulating interactions. I miss listing down story ideas. I miss the press conferences and the out-of-town editorial coverages.

I guess what I’m saying is, I miss my old routine.