“Mabuhay Philippines”, a Filipino Tourism Authority campaign, has echoes of a similar slogan from the depressed Ireland of the 1950’s. The Irish version has gotten a little tired now, championing a “poor but hospitable” vision of ourselves out of step with our new-found sophistication. The Filipino version, if anything, rather understates the vitality of the welcome that awaits tourists there. Mabuhay (Welcome) only hints at a culture of enduring obligation to the visitor that makes the Irish version seem limp by comparison. This traveller found the reception a little hard to take at first, but ultimately was totally disarmed by it. The quiet insistence hidden behind the shy smiles leaves one with no option but to accept the sincerity of the overwhelming hospitality and let go of the nagging feeling of it being completely underserved. Not being a tourist, this Mabuhay cocoon could not, however, insulate one from a sense of pervading unease that comes with my visits to the Philippines. There are complex realities hidden by the “Mabuhay Philippines” advertisements and having friends here from all walks of life allow one to see a sadness behind the smiles. Continue Reading »
Tags: Beijing Diaries
The sound of 120 seminarians chanting the psalms, (beautifully, I might add) was the main attraction, and helped overcome my serious objections to Lauds and Mass beginning at 5.45 AM! The feeling of being part of a community at prayer in the morning brings me back to my own seminary days and the innocence of one’s first halting steps towards priesthood. It is a quiet joy to be able to join the faculty and student body for the daily celebration of the Mysteries from time to time, but, increasingly, it is the mood that descends on the place as Mass ends that draws me back, despite the ungodliness of the hour. Continue Reading »
Tags: Beijing Diaries
The Hebei countryside is not pretty. A seasonal covering of snow might help but we are deprived of even this consolation. Hebei Winters are very dry and the bitter cold withers the few bits of greenery that survive the harvest. We are left with an earthen landscape that seems to have given up the ghost and decided to wait for spring before making any effort to titivate itself for the occasional tourists. The villages provide not relief. There are no Cotswoldian chocolate box stone cottages with associated tea shops. Instead there are collections of homesteads grouped together in an approximation of order. Each home is a veritable castle, protected by such high walls and forbidding gates that the overall impression is very unwelcoming. These villages were never more than home to poor farmers and little or nothing of visual interest ever emerged in them. The word quaint can be safely dropped from one descriptive vocabulary when applied to the landscape of this corner of China’s northern plateau. Continue Reading »
Tags: Beijing Diaries
My primary school teacher in the sixties was already quite strong on the subject of putting “Christ back into Christmas”. “Xmas” being one of Miss. Ruddy’s sign’s of those who had fallen away, I remember fearing for the salvation, Come the Day, of even my own family when I saw my mother, ordinarily no slacker in matters of religion, trace “Happy Xmas” on a just completed Christmas cake. Had Miss Ruddy been in China this Christmas, she might have reason to be more indulgent of my mother’s confectionery shorthand. Everywhere, even in early New Year, there are still signs of Xmas; department stores are Christmas themed to the gills, with glistening tree tops and jingling sleigh bells at every hands turn. Starbucks and McDonald’s are all pumping out their Christmas messages and even the more humble eateries made some attempt at putting up a decoration or even a half hearted Christmas tree, against the chill of a Beijing winter. Continue Reading »
Tags: Beijing Diaries
