Pia sees, hears, thinks:

Our sleep in Arnhem was wonderful after the party last night. We could sleep in a bit because we had no assignments or meetings for the day, save for the evaluation at 4 PM at the Lokaalmondiaal office.

Us girls decided to go back to Amsterdam to buy some souvenirs. I took Gerwald’s tip and suggested we all go to Waterloo Market in Waterlooplein (plein means square), this outdoor market. 

The place had so much cool stuff! Aside from the always interesting fare of second-hand bric-a-brac, there were carpets, bags, table runners fro Egypt, India and Thailand (all overpriced of course), hoodies and anoraks from Nepal (probably woven by sherpas!), leather bags galore, hair pieces and jewelry from Africa and much much more. 

I bought a newsboy cap for myself (and Paris!) and a yellow leather bag. We visited the Van Gogh museum shop because Tita Gigi asked me to buy some bags for her. I bought a mirror with a Van Gogh painting of flowers as a design on the back for my mom. 

Jem and I went ahead to the train station to go to Arnhem for the meeting. Janna and Kai stayed behind so Janna could take photos of the I Amsterdam monument. Famished and a bit tired, Jem and I decided to eat for just a little while at the uber cheap and yummy New Yorker Pizza stand in the station. But we enjoyed our pizza a little too much. Kai and Janna had gotten on a train already! 

But we made it to the evaluation! It was a bit awkward because there were obvious rifts between Sir Sev and Boris. We were all a bit miffed about the many logistical and administrative mishaps and many were not afraid to show it. But all in all, the evaluation went smoothly and constructively. Dr. Valdez was there. So was Bartho of CHE. Stefan, dressed only in a dirty-looking t-shirt and looking like he just woke up, gave us a parting speech and distributed a coffee table book written by himself and two others as a souvenir. 

Afterwards, we followed him to a really nice and cozy underground restaurant. It was built inside the walls of a bomb shelter and looked really cool. We ate delicious Spanish finger food. After eating, we buddies exchanged gifts. Gerwald loved the miniature tricycle model. I remember how much he wanted to bring home a tricycle after the Manila leg of the program. The toy would remind him forever of the Philippines and its interesting automobiles. I also gave him dalandan juice, coffee from the Cordillera mountains and pastillas to share with Annemieke. I gave Annemieke a pink woven purse made from recycled tetra juice packs. 

It was a happy night but tinged with sadness at the inevitable final parting. I sat beside Gerwald during the dinner and I still couldn’t process the fact that we might never see each other again after the trip ends. Maybe it was because the dinner was too cheerful or because I knew I’d see him and the other buddies at the airport after Paris.  

Although I wanted to drink with the buddies, I knew we had to turn in early for Paris the next day. We couldn’t risk missing our train. So we said goodbye for the night, ready to greet our new adventure tomorrow morning.

Today was Johan Snel day. After a quick breakfast, frantic packing and running in rain, we each went our separate ways: Kai and Jio back to StayOkay Arnhem, Jem and Janna to their stories in Ede and Rotterdam, me to Ede for my interview with Mr. Snel. I decided to ride the train with Janna and Ans even if I’d arrive two hours earlier than my appointment. It would save me a lot of money (riding with Ans would give me a discount on the train ticket) and I’d have company on the way. Gerwald would meet me at CHE 10 minutes before the interview.

I easily killed the two hours by exploring a big warehouse store (wittily named, Restore) that sells second-hand items. It was every bric-a-brac hunter’s dream come true. There were shelves and shelves of old books, old clothes, plates, vintage tin boxes, toys, hats, binoculars, tea cups, coasters, appliances and many more, all for give-away prices. I was able to take home an adorable hand-painted and hand-carved wooden box with a Teddy Bear design which opened with a gold clasp and had hooks inside where Reg (the intended recipient of the gift) could hang her earrings or bracelets. I bought my mother a set of wooden hand-carved coasters for only 95 cents. It was a very productive two hours.

My interview with Johan Snel was an enlightening experience. He was able to put the right to offend into a historical context so that I could clearly see how it evolved along with how Dutch society evolved through the years. He trained as an historian during his undergrad years so he was in his element. It was just a bit funny because the whole time I was thinking that he really looks like Borat. It must be the hair and moustache. 

After the interview, Gerwald brought me to Utrecht. I had been craving for a chance to go around that city on my own ever since Gerwald and I spent a whole day there after the interview with Annelies. 

The charm of Utrecht is in its beautiful historic buildings and canals, the pleasant amiableness of its residents, the quaint cobbled stones and hidden gardens and the atmosphere of relaxed preoccupation that is busy without being hectic. Amsterdam is hectic. It’s a huge city that dizzies you with all the streets, sex museums, complicated tram bus system, crazy bikers and thousands and thousands of immigrants and tourists. Utrecht, in contrast, has no buses or trams, no sex museums, less immigrants and tourists and its residents generally don’t call attention to themselves.

So I was on my own. I walked through the beautiful streets with eyes full of wonder at how pleasant city living can be. In Manila, it is typically a health hazard to walk in the city. The air and noise pollution, the heat, the countless street urchins and beggars tugging at your arm for coins makes city walking a cringe-inducing prospect. It’s sad because 70 years ago, Manila used to be the “Paris of Asia.” I’ve seen photos of the Philippines in its golden age, when Marcos was still a clean president. The streets looked just like Utrecht, with shops lining cobbled walkways, trees everywhere, safe and clean. If we could only bring those days back! Everywhere in Utrecht or Arnhem, there are streetside cafes where it is possible to eat in the open air. In Manila, this can only be done within Eastwood or Serendra, commercial places closed off from the main streets. They are more like outdoor malls trying to simulate the streetside cafe experience.

My exploring paid off when I finally found myself in a street beside a canal lined with second-hand and antique stores. I went in every shop and was dazzled by all the vintage cameras, chinaware, vases, vintage jewelry and other bric-a-brac that teemed from the store shelves. The storekeepers were really friendly too. I saw LP record stores and a shop where you could choose beads and make your own unique necklace or bracelet. 

At the end of the day, I was very happy with my purchases which consisted of a pink vintage hat bag and five vintage matchboxes with matchsticks still inside! In total, the matchboxes cost only one euro. What’s really special about them are their unusually colored matchsticks. Some had orange heads, others blue or brown. My favorite box contained matchsticks with pink wood bodies and electric blue heads! I also bought a leather fish coin purse for my boyfriend, Dru. His original fish coin purse has a broken zipper so this one will be a very adequate replacement.

After, I made my way back to Utrecht Centraal Station to take the train to Houten for the party at Gerwald’s. 

It was a really nice get-together. Best of all, I finally got to meet Annemieke, Gerwald’s wife! She baked us some apple pie and served us frikandel and bitterballen with beer. Gerwald’s dad dropped by too. He’s a real serious fellow but you can see where Gerwald gets his sarcastic sense of humor hahaha. I just find it cool how he thought of dropping by a relatively young party. In the Philippines, it’s very rare to see parents hanging out with their kids at parties. Usually, they just say hello have a good time then retreat to their rooms or go out on their own parties. The attitude of Gerwald’s dad is testament to the very laid-back attitude of most Dutchmen and the very flexible and fluid division of age groups. 

I had a great day and night. It was productive but winded down to something relaxing and pleasant. 

What I love about this program is that it provides such a comprehensive experience of Holland. We’ve been able to visit many cities and towns. We’ve been exposed to refined culture as well as street culture. We’ve been able to meet a wide variety of people, from the most famous journalists to the sweetest Dutch kids. Today was no different. Even mroe, today greatly expanded this already diverse program.

Jolijn took us to Harten Hoeve, her farm in Geldermarten, one of the rural villages in Holland. It’s a far cry from the slightly claustrophobic and busy streets of Amsterdam with its seemingly endless stretch of grazing fields, apple or cherry orchards and charming small houses. No bikers here at all, but there are some Mini Coopers and family cars.

It was raining while we travelled. Although I generally don’t like Holland rain because of the cold it brings, the rain added a whole new dimension to my travelling experience. It swathed the entire country-side in this fine muslin-like curtain that just made the entire place seem so much more rural, precious and elusive. All of us had put on many layers of clothing but the cold was inescapable. It numbed our fingers and made our noses ice-cold buttons. One of the best things about the entire trip was the huge, rugged white van Jolijn picked us up in. Inside was a cavern-like space with bare, grey leather seats, stripped metal floor and rusty metal rods which you held on to during the slightly bumpy ride. The floor of the driver’s area was not metal but of a very worn out rug that was so dirty and old that at first I thought it was soil. I love that van. It made me feel like we were all going on an adventure. I love it also because it gave us a very much wanted taste of warmth amidst the rain all around us.

Finally, after riding through fields of grazing cows and sheep, orchards, forests, dikes and big farm houses, we got to a small bungalow belonging to the Van Hartens. As we got off the van, we passed through a small drive flankled by two short pillars bearing the grey heads of two cement horses. We bustled into a door that led to a small corridor. Jolijn told us to take off our shoes and make sure never to wear them inside the house. The house is a property of her family occupied by mentally-handicapped people they have taken in.

Jolijn showed us our rooms. The girls’ room was wonderful. Two bunker beds filled the space. There was a single rectangular window on top of a wall. Sitting below it, against the window pane awash with rain water, was a row of small stufftoys. On the left wall were drawings by children. The room must’ve been occupied by mentally-retarded children in the past. Climbing up to the bed that I claimed, I was delighted to see so many soft and comfy sheets and comforters.

Jolijn showed us the common room and kitchen. No room could be more pleasant. On the left side from the door was a small kitchen flooded by sunlight, to the right is a living room with very comfy sofas and pillows. On the far end was a small television that only played VHS tapes. Beside the door were bookshelves stocked with Dutch children’s books. Between the TV and one of the sofas was a rug on top of which was a wooden table with a stack of hard plastic cups of different colors and a plate of stroopwafels. We rejoiced. How hungry we were at that moment!

After a very pleasant snack,  we all got back on the Adventure Bus and drove to a cow farm. I loved it! We got to see an entire barn of cows and bulls, as well as baby cows or calfs. One was just a week old! The adorable thing sucked my finger as if it was a teet. It was a gloopy, sticky and sloppy experience. The calf’s tongue was so soft but when an adult cow licked me later on in the day, I was surprised at how rough their tongues can become. Must be from eating all the tough grass. The barn was really smelly though. Pungent, earthy and spicy at the same time.

The farmer, who couldn’t speak English, showed us his hi-tech milking machine. Apparently, cows can produce up to 40 liters of milk, 10 on a weak day. Cows can only be milked when they’re two and half years old. The machine had this hi-tech detector that sensed the udder so that the suction thinggy could find it easily. Pipes from the suction thinggy led all the way to a huge metal vat full of milk. We got to climb a short ladder to look into the vat. It was a swimming pool of fresh milk.

To make the Dutch cow farm experience complete, a sweet old lady came in to welcome us and offer us glass after glass after glass of milk. She was an old lady right out of a fairytale, with big, teary, pale blue eyes, an untroubled brow, almost transculent skin, a huge beaming smile and short curly gray hair. She wore small round glasses  and a red apron. To complete the look, she carried a plate full of slices of this extremely delicious apricot cake and a jar of fresh cow’s milk. She spoke in a very loud, shrill voice that would have been irritating if she wasn’t using it to constantly (even stubbornly) offer milk, cherry (?) juice and sapplesapsap (orange juice). She didn’t know a word in English but with her big eyes, smile and body language, we could tell what she was trying so ardently to express: that we should drink more and more milk!

She told us (in Dutch) how she had just adopted three children from Indonesia. Maybe she was really happy about us because she gave us an idea of what her children might look like when they grow up.

Then, Jolijn took us to the heart of Harten Hoeve. We drove in a big dirt courtyard fronted by a huge horse made of wooden boards. It reminded us strongly of the Trojan Horse. There were cars parked in the dirt courtyard and the bar-like establishment had people in rough outdoor attire sitting and maybe drinking (didn’t see that clearly).

Jolijn led us inside the house to the right. It was such a cozy, lived in place. I remember a lot of us stuff inside the cabinet that faced the door, coats, hats, scarves and the like. To the right was the kitchen and dining area. And what a sight it was for sore eyes, wet hair and cold hands! On the table, laid out beautifully, were two huge bowls of two different kinds of soup, mini pancakes, bread (that looked like big pan de sal) and ham. There was also fruit juices like sapplesapsap (orange and peach). That lunch is the best lunch I’ve had in Holland. It wasn’t just the good food. The warm cosiness, the feeling of being sheltered from the rain and cold, the knowledge that I was far away from the rumble and tumble of Amsterdam or any major city and the company of my friends added so many dimensions of pleasantness and happiness. To top it all off, a big black furry dog with a terrier face joined us at the dining area and started jumping on our laps to ask for food. His name is Yupi and he is adorable. He went to me first and I couldn’t help but pat his cute head despite the fact that I was already eating with my hands.

We went out again, into the courtyard with the bar-like establishment. To my utter delight, a big black dog bounded from the little porch with a deflated and very worn out soccer ball in his mouth. I started playing soccer with the dog. He was very well-trained, playful and exuberant. I kicked the ball to him and he would catch it in mid-air with his jaws. He moved the ball around with his snout. I would kick the ball and dribble it to confuse him. Our little game tired me quite a bit but I was still ready for the next activity: horse-back riding.

After everyone had their turn with the horse (we got to wear real riding helmets), we all struggled to find and put on the perfect pair of farming boots. They are big rubber boots that can reach up to the bottom of your knees. 

We were off to play boerengolf or farmers’ golf! Jolijn drove us to the ranch of her auntie. As a hobby, her aunt’s family decided to make some of their land into a boerengolf field. She taught us some of the basics in her little pub. We grouped ourselves and created a team name. Jio, Kai, Jolijn and I formed the Cow Lekkers! 

The game was the most fun that day, and that’s saying a lot. Basically, the objective of the game is basically to use as little swings as possible to put in your team’s ball into all eight holes. Everyone took a turn swinging the boerengolfclub, which is basically a wooden rod with a piece of wood carved into a klompen on one end. You and your teammates would swing and swing until the ball went in the hole marked by a flag with a number. Then you moved on to the next hole.

Some restrictions: you cannot hit a cow (cows were grazing all over the field). If you do, three points or swings must be added to your score sheet. When the ball gets into a ditch, you can fish it out with your hands but you must set it down in a spot that is as far as the length of the club in any direction EXCEPT for that of the next hole.

It’s a simple game with simple rules. That’s what makes it so fun. I was getting quite competitive. I would gamely run to the next hole. Swinging the club and hitting the ball then seeing it go far is very satisfying. Jio was definitely our most valuable player. All his swings made the ball fly fast and far. We made a lot of progress in a short amount of time. From the onset, we were leading the game.

The fourth hole had a surprise. Marion, Jolijn’s aunt, prepared a little picnic there. She left us with a basket of tea and some other drinks. It was nice. We talked about our childhood. Again, another memorable drinking experience because we were in the middle of a field of grazing cows, under a line of tall trees, surrounded by the peaceful countryside of Geldermarten. 

But we had to resume the game after a while. We were still leading by quite a distance. In the end, we finished first. But speed is not the name of the game. You can finish first but have more swings than the slower team. So it was not yet a sure victory.

After the other team had finished, we went inside Marion’s place, specifically a terrace with tables and chairs, beside a garden courtyard. There, Marion’s husband would announce the winner and bequeath the prize.

The winners turned out to be us Cow Lekkers! The prize, a bottle of champagne for each of us. Awesome.

Feeling tired but very fulfilled, we all scrambled into the Adventure Bus. Jolijn drove us back to the house where we would sleep in. Gerwald, Ans, Heleen had arrived at last. We had another fantastic meal in the long dining table inside the common room. We had three types of mashed potato, bread and meat. We also met this guy named Sven who used to be a drug addict. We asked him some questions.

I was very interested in what he had to say because one of my closest friends used to be a drug addict and is now in rehab. While fixing up dishes, I asked him how he stayed sober, what motivated him to keep off of drugs. He said that it’s all about keeping your mind away from it, being busy, doing something else truly fulfilling. He cultivates his passion for graphic design and music. He helps around with the farm. He said he got into drugs because of boredom and because of his parents’ divorce. If you think about it, all evil comes from a domino effect that starts from a seemingly small and mundane thing, just like good. We all know the Parable of the Mustard Seed, don’t we? The trick is to spot that tiny instant when evil takes form and then kill it immediately before it gets any worse.

That night, some of us had beers and told some cultural jokes. I noticed that our jokes involved poking fun at fellow Filipinos or the idea of being Filipino while the Dutch jokes mainly made fun of other nationalities like Belgian. Self-deprecation is something Filipinos delight in. But it’s not a sad, despairing kind of self-deprecation. It’s cheerful, fun and light-hearted. We might be accused of avoiding the issue and not confronting our faults, but I think it’s just our way of dealing with our stereotypes. 

With boeren golf, horseback-riding and stomping around a huge ranch and farm, I was dead-beat that night. I tucked in early and savored the soft sheets and pillows of my upper bunk bed.

The Day of Rest did not really live up to its name today, but I’m not complaining because I had too much fun. 

What’s awesome about today is that we could have a break from working on our stories. No interviewees, no appointments. Save for one, the Keukenhof Flower Garden Tour. We definitely kept that.

We took a train to Schiphol then a bus to Keukenhof. It was early in the morning so most of us slept on the bus. The gardens were beautiful! I have never seen so many flowers in my life in a single park. The entire grounds was an intricate maze of flower hedges, square flower beds full to the brim with petulant tulips, wood and stone statues, glass gardens and many more. We all literally had a field day taking pictures, running around and just breathing in the fragrance of thousands of flowers. Sadly, the fields of tulips we were so excited for (us girls even took the pains of wearing dresses for the occasion!) were no longer in bloom. According to Ans who accompanied us, April had been so hot that the flowers wilted. Just another reason to hate global warming.

But we still enjoyed ourselves immensely! I finally bought cheese souvenirs for my family. I saw a man taking photos with these unbelievable cool vintage cameras. I’m a big fan of film cameras so I talked to him for a while and he explained to me the science of the twin-reflex camera. 

After Keukenhof, we all visited the World Press Photo in the Oude Kerk or Old Church. It was amazing! The photos blew my mind, as well as the fact that we were viewing them inside a beautiful, Gothic church. My favorite photos were that of historic places photographed in the present but with archival photos from the past juxtaposed accurately in front of the modern scene. What a quirky but intensely captivating idea! You could see so much in those pictures. The past and present within the same frame, telling two different stories that melds into one in the end. Those photos are two-dimensional time machines. It was a metaphysical experience looking at them. I’ll never forget them.

Us Filipino students next went to the Anne Frank House. It started on the wrong note for me. The guard asked me to wear my backpack in front instead of on my back. What a hassle! In addition to that, I still had all my souvenirs with me in one heavy plastic bag and there was no luggage counter. I was very irritated and had a hard time going up the steep stairs. 

Nevertheless, it was an unforgettable experience. I read the Diary of Anne Frank when I was around 12 and I loved it. I felt a connection between me and Anne Frank because I too felt trapped in my own home sometimes and resorted to writing as a release. My torment can never be compared to what she went through, but the affinity I felt for her could not be denied. It was like stepping into a fairytale (without the happy ending) for me. I was actually in her house, where it all happened. I was staring at the magazine cut-outs she had pasted on the walls of her parent’s room to make the place more cheerful. I was staring at the actual pages of her actual diary. I was looking out the same window she looked out from and was seeing the same things she saw. 

I bought two postcards from the souvenir shop, one of her pretty red diary and the other, a series of Anne’s portraits. 

I cannot forget to mention that today, Ajax, the Amsterdam football team, won against Twente’, another Dutch team. So while walking through the streets of Amsterdam, we were hearing loud cheering voices all over the city and nervously but excitedly observing Ajax supporters (basically everyone in the city) at the peak of their football fervor. Once, on the way to the Anne Frank house, we even found ourselves walking in the middle of a victorious parade of Ajax hardcore supporters. They were hooting, drinking beer while walking, shouting, cheering and booming out an Ajax jingle or song, “Blahblubliblufootballfan, blablubliblu Amsterdam!” From afar, we could see another huge crowd. In the middle of it, someone had lit a torch and the crowd moved with it. 

It was a very cold day. On the way to Mcdonalds, I decided to skip instead of walking to create body heat. The others started following me and so we all had fun skipping and hopping on the cobbled sidewalks of Keizerstraat. Even Jio joined in at one point!

At Mcdonalds, we ordered to our hearts’ content. On the line, I smiled at a sweet-looking Latina girl. After that, she kept looking at me because I kept making funny faces. We said goodbye to each other when her dad had finished ordering.

I never ordered so much Mcdo food in my life. I had chicken nuggets with curry sauce (Gerwald-inspired), tempura (yes they serve it in Mcdo Amsterdam), fries, Lipton Iced Tea and Mcflurry Stroopwafels which I shared with everyone. It was a classic bonding moment. We all dipped our spoons inside the cup of icecream full of tiny chewy bits of stroopwafel. It is definitely an unforgettable Amsterdam moment.

I met another dog today! His name is Dino. He’s short-haired and white with the features of a pit pull. I saw him by a souvenir store on Keizerstraat with his master. Adorable. Dogs always manage to make my day so much brighter. Here in Holland, there are always so much of them. 

Tomorrow, we go to Jolijn’s farm in Deil. I’ve seen the urban side of Holland, now it’s time for countryside living. 

Has it been eight days already? Amazing and utterly unbelievable.

Today was an unforgettable day. Us four girls woke up early to go cave-biking in Maastricht. We had no idea what we were in for.

Jolijn, awesome girl that she is, accompanied us  and even got her equally awesome boyfriend, Joost, to take us there by car. It was a good idea because Maastricht is very far and expensive by train and Valkenburg, the village where the caves are, can only be accessed by walking for 45 minutes if you take public transport. Joost’s car would take us directly to the caves with little stress on our minds and our wallets.

Joost is a funny guy. He is playful and pretty game about everything, a good companion for five adventure-hungry journalist girls. We rode in his Volkswagen car that had his name and company branding on it because he owned his own irrigation-digging business. We dropped by a gas station for a while (Shell even, I think) and ate a bit of breakfast. I remembered I had brought six sachets of San Mig three-in-one coffee mix but put all of them in my rolling luggage. Luckily, one stray sachet found its way to my backpack. I enjoyed my Filipino coffee very much. It woke me up instantly. I am now utterly convinced of the powers of coffee.

But us girls REALLY woke up when Joost and Jolijn casually asked if we’d want to eat dinner in maybe Belgium or Germany. Our jaws were hanging open. We’d been fantasizing about crossing the border since we found out that Maastricht is right along the outskirts of Netherlands and those countries. We all resolved to go, after of course, resolving the issue of passports (no need to show anyone because we were in a car) and Sir Sev (Jolijn invited us anyway so it wasn’t like we were running away). 

Along the way, we played Dutch music. Apparently, there isn’t any Dutch rockstar. All of them are either pop or folk singers. Strange.

Finally, after whizzing past the most charming of Holland rural scenery, complete with spotted cows, sheep, quaint brick houses with chimneys, we were in Valkenburg. We were right on time for our 12nn appointment.

We were joined by a group of really funny, loud Canadians. We were all surprised when we got to the “mouth of the cave.” It was more like the “hole in the ground.” Apparently, the real “mouth” was inside the village. This hole was drilled to lead to the same tunnel system. We went down 163 spiral steps to the abyss of the caves below. Some parts of the spiral steps were lit up by blue, red and purple lights so I sort of felt like I was going down to a rave bar instead of a dark and scary cave.

When we got to the bottom, I was full of wonder. I could’ve been in one of the tunnels leading to Tutankhamen’s tomb! The walls, floor and ceiling are completely made of a brown stone covered by a thick later of brown chalk-like sand. The stone is marlstone or chalkstone according to the guide. The ceiling is quite low and the tunnel perhaps only as wide as ten people side by side. That’s the entrance of the cave system. Deeper in the tunnels, things get a bit more complicated. The ceiling goes so low you have to duck while biking and the tunnels so cramped that a single file is necessary. The ground dips and climbs sharply. Some parts are so bumpy that you have to get off the bike and walk the distance.

We used bikes specially-made for cavebiking. The main difference is they have no chains. Instead, the pedals move the wheels using an axle inside a protective encasing at the sides of the bike. Chains would’ve been a weak link to the cavebiker because it would rust and get broken because of the sandy and rough terrain.

It was extremely enjoyable for me. It was such a novel thing to bike underground, with only a small lamp at the front of your bike to fight the endless darkness, within a line of fellow bikers that joked around despite the gloom. The tunnels looked so surreal and haunting. I expected to see hieroglyphs or mummies. The best part was when the guide made us walk our bikes to this small part of the system with a high ceiling. Apparently, the place had once been part of an old quarry. He gestured towards the high ceiling. He pointed out to us a shark tooth, shells and the skeleton of a fish that are all 300,000 years old. Then, he told us to close all our lamps and cameras so we could experience the natural darkness of the cave. Pitch black and impenetrable. No natural sunlight has ever touched the dusts of this part of the cave. I felt so alive the moment all the lights went out. So this is what nothingness means.   

I was a bit sad when I had to leave my bike after the tour. I had formed a close bond with it during the last hour and a half.

But the day had more in store for us. Joost drove us all to a place called the Labyrinth and Three Country Points. It had a garden with hedges shaped like a labyrinth and best of all, the point where the borders of Germany, Holland and Belgium meet. In short, we could be in all three countries at one without even moving a leg!

The labyrinth was fun. We kept getting lost. There were cool parts where your way would be barred by three water spouts that would turn on and off intermittently. Joost ambushed us at one point and I screamed really loud. We kept bumping into this little boy with his family. The little boy kept smiling at us and seemed to love having his picture taken. We didn’t mind because he was so adorable.

Hungry and feeling adventurous, we crossed the border to Belgium to look for Belgian fries or frittes. Apparently, Belgium is a sort of mix of Holland and France. Their language is a mixture of French and Dutch but in the villages we went to, everyone spoke pure French. It was obvious we had reached a whole new different country., The houses were different, the roads were worse (these are Joost’s words) and the landscape had hills at long last! We passed by the most beautiful country-side landscapes I have ever seen. Rolling hills with clumps of dense forests, brick houses, cows and horses, sprawling orchards and vineyards and the occasional castle. This has always been my vision of Europe and it came true today!

Intrigued, we stopped by a beautiful old church called the Abbaye Du Val-dieu. Stunning. Smaller than Notre Dame perhaps but definitely with the same majesty as any ancient cathedral that has seen history pass by its doors. Such a place makes it easier to find God. 

Finally, we found a snackbar. I ordered sausage and Belgian fries. The fries lived up to their reputation. The best fries I have EVER tasted, including the fries I had in Amsterdam just two days ago. That’s saying something.

On the way back to the Netherlands, we played my iPod and Jem’s MP3. It was so much fun! The first song that my iPod could come up with was “Party in the USA” by Miley Cirus. It’s definitely a very mainstream song that’s too Hollywood and New York for Europe, but it fit the moment just right. The girlish exuberance, the feeling of excitement and just letting things go could all be found in the song. We played “Overdrive” by the Eheads from Jem’s MP3 too. Surreal experience hearing Tagalog being sung on a roadtrip across Europe. Made me miss home.

We made it back to Hans Brinker safe and sound, I am glad to say. Though the sun was barely set as our train slowed down in Amsterdam Centraal, it was already 9:15 PM.

Cheers to such a day. And may there be many more such days.

May 13, 2011

Today was a relatively light day. I had only one interview and there was no other group activity but the Chinatown and Red Light District tour.

I interviewed Ms. Marike, owner of Society Service and Interact Service, a high-class escort service that caters to disabled people as well. Out of all the interviewees I had, she chose the most expensive place to hold an interview, the bar of a five-star hotel in Rotterdam called Manhattan Hotel. Needless to say, I didn’t order anything. The venues where people decide to be interviewed really tell much about who they are, or, as Gerwald astutely added, who they want to be.

The interview was interesting.  Marike adamantly used the term “companions,” refusing to call them “prostitutes” or “sex workers.” She had a lot of taglines under her sleeve like, “We don’t provide a service, but an experience,” despite the fact that “Service” is in their company name. But the goal of my article is not to critique the sex industry, but to understand more the trend of paid sex for disabled people.

After the interview, Gerwald and I ate at McDonald’s. I was really keen on seeing how different it is here. To further my education on the matter, Gerwald told me that the short term for it here is “The Mac” instead of “Mcdo.” 

They don’t have rice in The Mac, only burgers, fries and chicken nuggets. I ordered chicken nuggets with BBQ sauce and it was fantastic. I tried them with Gerwald’s curry sauce and it was mind-blowing. I wish there was curry sauce in Mcdo.

What I really want to try is the Stroopwafel McFlurry. 

In the evening, us Filipinos were toured around Chinatown and the Red Light District by Boris and later on, Reinilde and Ans. Ironically, this part of town is right beside the Old Church or Oudekerk, once the gathering place of the religious and conservative. 

It was definitely an eye-opener. We simply turned a corner and suddenly, we were staring at blonde, heavily made up girls wearing practically nothing inside small glass rooms. Red curtains fell to the floor behind them and through gaps between them, one caught a glimpse of a small bed with neon sheets. Customers could just stroll along the tiny alley (so small you can’t spread your arms sideways), pick from the array of girls, knock on her glass door and have sex with her behind the curtains.

At first, all the girls we saw were fat and ugly. But as we walked deeper and deeper into more alleys, the girls became sexier and prettier. All races seemed to be represented: white, black, Indian. I had seen no South East Asians.

We had dinner at a Chinese restaurant. I had never expected to eat siomai or rice in the Netherlands but there I was! Sir Sev and Tita Gi were very happy about it. 

The young people went to eat in one of the bars by the Oudekerk. As usual, it was dark, full of people and very comfortable. I ordered a frozen margarita. We were all amused to see San Miguel in the menu. 

Feeling adventuruous, we went to a coffeeshop to try out what everyone back home told us to try out (or cautioned us against). The scary black man at the counter told us to try two joints first to see how “far” we could go. We went upstairs and lit them up but only Jem and I gave it a try. Jio puffed it once and said he was satisfied. Because there were only two of us trying it out, the night was cut short. 

Talking to the black man selling the hash told me something about drugs I had taken for granted before. It really is a “level up” game, meaning, it works like a video game with levels you, the player, want to finish so you can move on to the harder, more advanced level. Perhaps that’s why some people get really hooked. It’s not so much the addictive chemicals in drugs, it’s the need to test your limits, to transcend your boundaries. The same addiction that possesses anyone who’s competitive or adventurous. 

Today’s the day I came face-to-face (quite literally) with all the negative stereotypes of Amsterdam. I talked to the owner of a prostitute ring, walked around the Red Light District and smoked a joint in a coffeeshop. 

My conclusion? They are just stereotypes. It’s sad that when you walk in a souvenir shop here all the things for sale are all connected to sex workers and weed. Those two things are not what has made Amsterdam so meaningful to me. If I had to buy something, it would probably be a paper-weight of those square Amsterdam houses with square white windows or a windmill. 

We were taken to the Red Light District and coffeeshop by Dutch nationals, but I could tell they are ashamed of such places. Reinilde and Ans, who came with us to the coffeeshop, have never smoked up in their lives. 

Both stereotypes got me excited about Amsterdam, but now that I’m actually here, they aren’t as awesome as they are cracked up to be. The RLD was depressing, the coffeeshop was stinky and full of weird people. 

It just goes to show that there’s always more to say and know about any place on this Earth and beyond.

Two interviews today. I’m starting to get the hang of actual journalism. This is how it’s going to be. You’ll be writing articles that won’t be graded with any letter or number, but by actual publication. The grades have been replaced by that which they were meant to stand for in the first place: competence, quality, marketability. 

I interviewed two people for the right to offend: Floris Van de Berg in Utrecht and Bert Brussen in Amsterdam. They both are passionately in support of the right to offend. They both gave very intelligent interview answers. Floris even gave me a poster of his virtual museum. Bert Brussen was kind of a surprise. I imagined him to be much more obtuse, aggressive, rough and maybe even a bit abrasive. But he turned out to be mild, playful but quite diplomatic about his views and very approachable. He chose a good pub for the interview too. Taste in bars or restaurants can say much about the person.

Best of all, today I met Gerwald’s mother, all his aunts, his two brother-in-laws and his niece and nephew. They are all wonderful people. Gerwald’s mother is so sweet-looking. He has an aunt called Pya and Ria. They were amused by how I pointed out that one of the stop lights in Utrecht was in the shape of Neintjie, the rabbit cartoon popular in Holland.

Then, Gerwald and I went to Houten, where he lives with Annemieke. Their apartment is so awesome. It’s really colorful and clean but with just the right amount of yuppy “messiness.” It was full of cards and pictures and just random pretty or witty things that they posted on the walls and front door. They had a whole wall of books. The furniture was tasteful and playful. Best of all, there was a lot of vintage furniture! Old radios, old suitcases, old bicycle and motorcycle helmets and even old documents (there was a 19th century newspaper and novel). Gerwald is into bikes and so there were miniature bike models and a bike frame painted a bright orange-y red on a table. He was making a new bike out of it. I loved the poem entitled “Thuis” on their window. The word means home in Dutch. There was a clock in the form of a stack of books given by Annemieke.

I imagine Dru and I would have the same kind of house but more Filipino-nized. Perhaps more brown, narra wood instead of white furniture. Perhaps a type-writer in the corner, more books, bigger television. 

He put on a Dire Straits record while we ate Frikandel in bread (which reminded me of pan de sal), curry sauce and cranberry juice. Spectacular lunch! Then, we visited his brother-in-law and his kids in a nearby part of Houten. I rode the back of his bike (which is about 50 years old) and the pleasant trip to parks and lots of kids coming home from school lasted only five minutes. 

Peter, his brother-in-law is charming with big blue eyes who told me a bit about Paris. His niece, Sarah, is divinely cute and pretty and very smart and witty too. She can’t speak English but she was so cute and playful. Levi, who is two (a year younger than Sarah) is shy but also very smart. He didn’t talk much but smiled a lot. Eva, just four months old, is a pink ball of cherubic cuteness. I realized then how different Filipino babies are from the Dutch babies. Just seeing Nowee in my head, alongside Eva or Levi, makes me gape with wonder at how diverse humankind can be.

The one thing I regret about meeting them is that I didn’t bring my camera!

Then, Gerwald and I ate a pizza dinner with Reinilde and Jio. It was very chill and pleasant. The restaurant served delicious pizza (Jio and I shared a pepperoni one). The walls were painted with images of an Italian harbor or beach but as if the wall was old and torn and you can see the brick “underneath.” On the top corners of two walls, there was even a fishing net that had cleverly caught a wooden lobster in its embrace. However, the wooden boards on the floor had hieroglyphs.

On the way to Reinilde and Jio, Gerwald and I passed by the Red Light District, quite by accident. I saw my first window prostitute! And I had my picture taken in front of a sex shop. There were so many of them around! There was a shop window full of hanging penises in front of a black background. I think the shop owners were going for a Penis Solar System effect.

After the dinner, we met with Sanne, the JOIN editor-in-chief, in an even cooler bar with Indian and vintage pop culture design to talk about our stories. She is a really impressive girl. She’s so small but has a very commanding and intelligent presence. You feel like she can mix with anyone and get her way no matter what. Yet, she was really helpful and not at all snooty at us. She worked as a journalist in Uganda for three years before being the EIC.

A lot of the establishments here do an awesome job blending cultures or styles together. There was one shop that sold kebabs and Indian food as well as very European pastries. Talk about eclectic!

Now, I must close my laptop once again to another event-filled day. So long! ‘Til tomorrow’s adventures!

Everyday in the Netherlands is a full day. Times for a breather are short and far between. We are constantly moving, talking, interacting and observing. I find this the most important characteristic of the whole program. I guess, in a way, it reflects the real world and work of a journalist. There really is no time to rest, because something new is always happening. New stories have to be told all the time.

Take today, for example. Gerwald met us at the Hans Brinker lobby at around 11 AM. We took a tram and walked to Museumplein where the famous “I Amsterdam” installation stands, as well as various museums and cultural centers. We went inside the Concert-Gebouw (that literally translates, “concert building”) to watch a piano concert. It’s a really fancy place that isn’t snooty at all because it holds these regular concerts for free and anyone can enjoy them. While waiting for the doors to the auditorium to open, I went to the in-house cafe and ordered a hot chocolate for 2.55 euros. It was really good, perfect for the cold morning.

Back in the waiting area, the others had made the acquiantance of Dr. Mariones, a Filipina in her 60s (perhaps) who trains surgeons in one of the best hospitals in Holland. She goes to the Concert Gebouw often for the concerts. It was so nice to see a Filipino so well-adjusted to Holland. Better than that, she proved that the Pinoy can be at par and even exceed Europeans at such formidable fields as medicine. She was curious about us too. She asked what our surnames are (lots of old people find this very important for some reason) and what we were doing in Amsterdam.

The concert was magical. The auditorium was gorgeous. It was small, could probably seat 100 people, but the walls were creamy white with gold carvings. On golden plaques were etched the names of the famous Dutch pianists such as Bach, Beethoven and more. Gerwald said normally, only the really rich can enter the auditorium but it is made open to the public for free concerts. I felt like a young, wealthy lass from the 19th century.

After, we walked to the stall that sells the best french fries in Amsterdam. This time, we had Rosa with us. The fries lived up to their reputation. Munching on them made me miss Dru badly because I kept wondering how he’d find them. Then, we went to the center of Amsterdam, the literal center. Ironically, it used to be a cloister. Nuns used to live in the old houses there to get away from the bustle and noise of the rest of the city. All houses faced a quaint grassy square where stood religious statues. How ironic is it that the heart of noisy, rowdy, vibrant, modern and hip Amsterdam is a quiet, traditional and religious place?

Rosa, Jem, Jio and I travelled by tram to De Volkskraant, the leading newspaper in Holland. Sven toured us around the place and introduced us to many important people. We got to talk to the sports writer and foreign correspondent. Best of all, I got to interview the adjunct-editor-in-chief. It was another interesting conversation. He gave really smart answers which managed to be direct, brief but informative and enlightening nevertheless. It also helped that he is really handsome and commanding, haha!

Afterwards, we went on the canal boat tour with some Lokaalmondiaal and JOIN people. Boris was there. As a token of his new fatherhood, he served these biscuits with white icing and bitter-tasting Nerds-like sprinkles. Gerwald later on will tell me that he served those biscuits with blue sprinkles because his baby is a boy. If the baby is a girl, he would have served ones with pink sprinkles.

Our buddies were there as well as the owner of the boat, Sir Sev, Tita Gi, Nikki, Lexa and some JOIN writers who were set to go to South Africa next year.

I talked mostly with my fellow Filipinos, Lexa, Rosa and Gerwald. It was fun talking to them and doing so amidst such beautiful scenery made it a moment to remember. Slowly floating past the Amsterdam houses, which from the level of the canal, looked positively humoungous, brought home to me the idea that I was truly, body, mind and soul, in Amsterdam, THE Amsterdam.

Though we were warned about the cold weather and were asked to bring warm clothes, we Filipinos froze on the boat. At first, the temperature was fine. But when we got to wider waters and as the day progressed into night, the cold got too much. We were shivering like mad. When we got back “on shore,” we Pinays did a giggly, chattery group hug in hopes of sharing body heat.

We took a tram home but then wanted badly to eat in KFC for dinner. We walked thinking that KFC would be just around the corner. It turned out to be around five corners more. It was kind of stressful walking towards it because it was cold and we were all sleepy and tired. Us students hurried up and so left Sir Sev and Tita Gi behind. They didn’t like that too  much and so when we all got to KFC, long intervals of waiting in between, he scolded us and went to eat in Mcdonalds with Tita Gi. After a very quiet and sad KFC dinner, we students walked to Mcdonalds and said we were sorry. He had calmed down and so accepted our apology. We students learned then that we should really stick together as a group no matter what.

Another full day in the Netherlands. I can see a couple more to go. 

Today was a day full of mishaps, all made worth it  by how close it made our group and the fact that I went to the most beautiful city I have ever seen today: Utrecht.

We got up at 5 am to take a bus to the Arnhem Centraal Station. Stefan met us at the hostel lobby but only walked with us to the bus station. He gave us instructions which weren’t all that clear. Ten minutes before our train was supposed to leave, we were still outside trying to figure out how to get to the right platform. We had got down in what seemed like a bus parking station even if the bus driver had announced Arnhem Centraal Station. But in the end, we got to Platform 6, only to find out that the train to Utrecht and The Hague had met an accident and wouldn’t be operational until after some hours. We each had appointments and couldn’t afford to reschedule. Good thing, Heleen bought tickets to another train that would go to the Hague. The group would be just a bit late. We took a train to Ede to meet Heleen. The group would take another train to Utrecht/The Hague. But the train that came in whas jam-packed. No space for nine people to squeeze in. I had an interview in an hour, the trip would last for an hour as well. So I asked permission and got in the jam-packed train. Then, I was off!

All the breath, smells, sweat and skins of everyone in the train intermingled and aggregated in that tiny space. I was strongly reminded of the MRT and LRT lines back at home. It’s cool how the Dutch are so friendly. During the ride, random strangers chatted with each other and a man made a joke that everyone in the carriage laughed at. The vibe was just so laid-back and cheerful. What a pleasant place to live in. But there was one Middle Eastern-looking girl who wasn’t enjoying herself very much. She looked like she was going to hyperventilate. The claustrophobia and lack of air probably caughtt up to her. She was really sweaty and looked about to faint. People made way to give her some breathing space.

I enjoy travelling alone. I can observe people and just ruminate. After being in the constant presence of my friends, Sir Sev, Tita Gi and the Dutch people, it was nice to be alone for a while.

Also, I surprised myself by not going gaga with my camera and shooting every mundane aspect of the Dutch cities I sped past. Before the trip, I had resolved to take snapshots of everything, because who knows when I’d be back? But I didn’t. I discovered that I didn’t mind swapping photos for a chance to feel like I was part of the scene, that I blended in, that this was a normal day for me just like everybody else on that train.

I met Gerwald in Utrecht. After my alone time, Gerwald was the perfect companion. We trudged around very cold Utrecht in the very early morning, (shops were still closed and there was no one around) looking for the Rutgers WPF office where we would meet Annelies Kuyper, my intervieweee for the Sex Care story. It started to drizzle. I felt my first Holland raindrop. 

Going around the city was wonderful. There were many old buildings (some have been standing since the 15th century) and we passed by the oldest canal in Holland. It was beautiful despite the dreary morning. I must admit my mind at that moment wasn’t just on the interview. The city was too beautiful.

Finally, we found the office and the interview was fantastic. Annelies is the best kind of interviewee. She’s talkative, deep, open and just plain good-natured. She’s a great story-teller and you can tell the issue at hand means a lot to her. She had many quotable moments. Gerwald took pictures while we talked. I used MT’s awesome interview recorder. 

I loved doing the interview. I felt I was in my element and was asking the right questions. As the interview progressed, I began to understand more and more the plight of young disabled people when it came to love and sex. I felt confident and in-control, but also at the mercy of the emotions and thoughts that such a compelling interview inevitably instigated.

After, I gave Annelies a pencil case made out of woven pandan leaves. We shook her hand, thanked her and left.

Then, Gerwald and I explored Utrecht. It was the most fun I’ve had so far. Utrecht is his favorite city. He had his wedding photos taken here and he and his wife studied at the Utrecht University. He showed me around, showing me statues, buildings, ancient walls, churches, cool stores and places to observe people. I learned a lot. I was also able to pose for a picture in front of my first windmill!

The highlight was the old church with the garden inside. The garden was beautiful and the church was just majestic. Inside, I saw an old couple walking their dog. I took tons of photos.

We went around some more, poking our noses into bookstores, bike shops and other places. I found this cool book entitled, Atlas of Remote Islands. I wanted so much to buy it but it was 24 euros. Gerwald and I picked up a snack at Hema. I got a flat croissant-like thing with cheese inside and orange juice. Hema is this huge department store where you can buy everything. It’s convenient and classy at the same time.

I was so enthralled by the city that I didn’t notice how tired I was until Gerwald asked if we could sit down for a while. We went to a set of stone steps where Gerwald says he used to hang out a lot to observe people. I told him about how you can imagine what underwear the passersby are wearing to kill time. He laughed. Maybe he’ll try it one day.

Another great Utrecht moment was when Gerwald and I bought pizza from a side-walk stall run by Italians and ate them, along with Cherry Coke and Dr. Pepper, beside the oldest canal. The weather at this moment was perfect. The rain had stopped and the sky was very blue. Tree branches hung above our heads, boats full of old people passed by and ducks and pigeons clucked at our feet. I fed them some vegetable bits from my pizza.
 

Then, we went to CHE with the others where we watched an interesting but tedious BBC documentary about the Internet.

Then, came the second mishap.

Someone was supposed to rent a car to bring our luggage straight to Amsterdam. Gerwald agreed to drive but thought Nikki would rent a car because his was too small. But Nikki and the rest of Lokaalmondiaal thought Gerwald would rent it. So in the end, our luggage was brought to us in Ede and we had to lug them around all the way to Amsterdam! To make matters worse, Sir Sev and Tita Gi went ahead to Amsterdam so we had to bring their luggage too. They had two to three rollerbags each and Janna’s rollerbag had a broken wheel!

It was very difficult to travel with so much stuff. Gerwald and Sven helped out but Gerwald had to get off before Amsterdam so Sven was left. So we Filipino students and Sven had to roll all our luggage out onto the busy, cobbled streets of Amsterdam in the dead of night. But night is never dead in Amsterdam so there were still some people about being rowdy and loud.

The hostel there did not meet our standards. Hans Brinker hostel is dirty, full of vandalism and rowdy guests, cramped and definitely not secure. A sign in the corridors told us to never leave valuables in the room and if we really wanted to keep something safe, we had to rent space in the lobby safe. Holy moly. How we wished we were back in StayOkay.

But, we had to live with it. With a stoic aura, we rolled our luggages in our tight and claustrophobia-inducing rooms and went out for dinner. We ate in Wok to Walk, a restaurant run by Filipinos! Somehow, dinner table talk turned to love lives. We cheerily walked back. Looking ahead at our hotel sign, I laughed because the “OT” in “HOTEL” blinked off and so it spelled, “HEL.” Hilarious.

I took a bath and after a looooong day, went to sleep.

I’ve been hearing a lot about this school for the past few months so imagine my curiosity earlier this day when we got to visit the Christian School of Ede at last!

We took an early morning walk from the train station of Ede to the school and passed by a village. What interested me were the houses with titles on their walls. One house had the word “CUTE” painted on a board hung on the front wall. Many more had words I did not understand displayed in this manner. Did people name their houses? I have yet to ask a Dutch person this question.

The walk hurt my feet because I had unwisely chosen to wear heels on that day in order to look more formal and proper. I didn’t know we had to walk quite far from the station to CHE.

The school is not as big as Ateneo but it’s definitely as hi-tech and comfortable. I discovered that they keep whole wardrobes and cabinets of costumes and props inside the library, making it more fun and youthful. It’s a place that makes you want to be creative.

We had a nice welcome at the lobby and a message flashed on a TV screen greeting us. We got to meet Bartho, the co-director of the Journalist Program in Ede; Alma, the director of the school and some other students. 

We listened to Mr. Johan Snel, a professor and one of my interviewees, give a lecture on two dominant world views: the End of History and the Last Man by Francis Fukuyama and Clash of Civilizations by Huntington. It was a very interesting talk. At first, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to understand anything but I found myself nodding in agreement so many times or thinking critically about the stuff he was talking about.

The highlight of the day is definitely the Holland Journal game. We Filipino students had to make a short news broadcast about a typical Dutch item which we were to report in a way that was different and interesting. Our Dutch buddies would help us out, guiding us through the library and other facilities and helping us get interviewees inside or outside the school.

I chose the klompen or Dutch clogs to be my topic. As a twist, I would discuss klompen in high fashion and report Dutch views about it. 

Gerwald and I researched and found out that Victor and Rolf transformed klompen into haute couture heels for their Fall 2007 collection. Further down the road, we discovered something more interesting: klompen made into Nike rubbershoes.

I made my script, we printed out photos of the cool klompen and headed to the TV studio. We were the earliest. When it came to choosing who would go first, Gerwald, ever the jolly and supportive buddy, raised his hand. I went along with it because I was pretty excited about it. 

It turned out to be really really fun! I really liked my topic and was excited to report our findings. Gerwald pretended to be a klompen expert who I interviewed on the show. We did a good job. Best of all, we had fun. My initial nervousness soon gave in to my enjoyment.

The other presentations were eye-openers as well. Jem reported on Dutch happiness. Jio actually visited a “coffee shop” to report on marijuana among the youth. 

I was so pleased when Alma announced that I was the winner! Gerwald and I went up to receive the prize, which turned out to be a coffee-table book about Holland. 

Then, we attended a classroom lecture of Mr. Snel’s, this time with his International Journalism class. There were Dutch, Hungarian and a Bhutanese in the class and it was given in English. 

I learned some interesting things in the class and found the format interesting. Mr. Snel assigned a text book for the class to read. Every class time, a group of two students discuss a chapter of the book, a commandment of journalism. They cite examples of real cases or journalistic piececs which exemplify the commandment. Then, in the end, they present the class with a thesis statement which people can agree or disagree with. The class debate then begins.

I wish we could incorporate this system to the journalism program. I think our current program has the application down-pat. Journ students in ADMU get sent on assignments, have to do interviews and write real stories. But I think we lack in theory. I don’t think many Journ students are familiar with the huge controversies and landmark cases in the field of journalism, such as the Watergate Scandal or the BPA Scandal. We do journalistic pieces but don’t really talk about journalism. We don’t have debates and don’t analyze its principles that well. At best, principles are defined. We lack a history of journalism, an analysis of key events that have shaped the field.

The debate part of the class was really fun. We Filipinos spoke up often and according to Jolijn, one of the outspoken students in the class, we were very impressive and intelligent. The actual presentations were not that lively, however. I had a distinct feeling that the students didn’t really enjoy presenting. The thesis statements of the second group were also rhetorical and not very interesting.

It was a full day in CHE. It has made the trip so much richer and is a great start to the journalistic work we must now begin.