Failed Trip

This was the second time I and my family joined URSC’s educational trip. Last year’s trip was, sad to say, more leisure and recreational than educational. The “conveyor belt” viewing of that reconstructed old house somewhere in Bulacan (it’s so insignificant that I can’t even remember its name) annoyed rather than informed me. We didn’t even get the chance to read the inscriptions on that old-new house. The Barasoain Church was also a disappointment. I was looking or rather waiting for that feel of history, nationalism, and patriotism to infuse my spirit (the damned church look a lot better on the ten pesos bill), but what I got was a nose itch (from all those smokes from the tricycles), and sleeping legs (sleeping legs is torturous especially when your bladder is full, I mean, I almost peed on the floor when my wife accidentally nudged them) from sitting Indian style while watching the primitive audio-visual presentation. Of course the climax of last year’s trip was the swimming that my daughter really enjoyed.

All I got from that trip was a head ache and debts. Now, this year’s trip, from my perspective, was also a bummer. I mean, it was the same bus, the same coach captain (captain na, coach pa! Heavens…), and worst of all the same tour guide, Kuya Egy or is it Edgy, or Egay, whatever. What’s the problem with this? Hearing a bad joke told once was bad, hearing it told twice is worse, hearing it told twice by the same person, in the same manner, in the same bus, with the same audience was… I don’t want to be blasphemous. And what was worst was that the audience who heard these jokes a year ago reacted as if this was the first time they heard the stupid jokes—made me want to grab the steering wheel from the driver and drive the damned bus into the Pasig river and drown the whole lots of them. Of course, I couldn’t do it my family was with me. If it’s not for the antic of Omeng, he was the comedian from technology, I would have wept uncontrollably (or I would have grabbed the steering wheel and drove the damned bus into…)

I have nothing against the tour guide. I am assuming that he’s a nice guy, educated. He is a civil engineering graduate. He is knowledgeable. Although I have doubts on the historical accuracy of his stories, or the correctness of his geographies (Luzon is 100,000+ sq km not 300, 000+), or the reliability of the sources of his conspiracy theories (I don’t know where he got that SM, Sy-Marcos blah, blah, blah, all I know is that SM means Shoe Mart.). It’s just that those jokes of his were a year old! In the name of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo he had a year to gather new materials but instead what he did was to retell his stinking, stupid, stale jokes. How many tours does he guide in a year, and he only got a set of jokes. Makes me wonder why the guy is still alive. If next year this happens again, I don’t know what I will do, promise, I might end up killing somebody.

The first itinerary in this year’s tour was Rizal’s ancestral home in Calamba. And just like the Barasoian Church, there was no historical aura that permeated the air. And just like that old new house somewhere in Bulacan, we were also subjected to the “conveyor belt” treatment. We didn’t have enough time to read all the write ups on the walls (I thought I acquired viral dyslexia or some neurological symptoms as a result of exposure to stale jokes because I can’t read what was written on the walls. Letters are missing and sometimes even whole words. I asked my wife if she was seeing what I’m not seeing. She told me that letters were really missing from the write ups. Thank heavens.)

Rizal’s house is a reconstruction, the furniture is imitation, and the environment is urban. This is sad. Historical sites should be given enough buffers or acreages to at least preserve that aura of history. But Filipinos have no sense of history that’s why bad things kept repeating itself here in this sad country of ours. I could list all the defects in the reconstruction (is there modern paint in Rizal’s time, or electric ceiling fans, concrete hollow blocks…etc…) and the error in not preserving the historical buildings in the neighborhood, but I would only be wasting my time. Filipinos love imitations and pirated goods and it reflects in their sense of history—they have pirated historical sites.

I love nature. I’m not the romantic nature loving type with all those poetry and philosophy. Although sometimes I get sentimental looking at beautiful sceneries but that’s as far as it goes. I love nature for the simple pleasure it brings me colorful flowers, refreshing greeneries, beautiful creeks and brooks, butterflies, bees, sounds of birds and insects, falling leaves, fresh air, cool humidity, and the general atmosphere of life. So, when I found out that UPLB was our next destination, I was elated because at last we would go to a place that I could and would really appreciate. I was not disappointed when we got there. The majestic trees, the wet damp feel of the place, the mosses and algae on the buildings, I mean this is it the whole place is literally a living organism. I could live in solitude in this kind of place. Mt. Makiling is beautiful and we were just at the foot of the mountain, how much more if we were in the interior. The botanical garden, where we had our lunch is romantic. The natural pool is wonderful. The place is an Eden. This was the first time I saw flowers in their natural habitats. There were indigenous exotic plants, rare hardwood trees, and other natural beauties that my daughter may never see in the future.

Of course I know that UPLB was not the climax of the trip. It was just our stop for eating lunch just like we did last year--we ate lunch in the butterfly garden. We eat at beautiful places and leave our trash there—we pollute them. I was just beginning to enjoy the scenery-- we went down to the creek-- when it was already time to leave. I was imagining the evenings at UPLB. It must be wonderful to see fireflies and hear the nocturnal orchestra of nature. God, how I love places like Mt. Makiling and it is painful knowing that they are fast disappearing.

I don’t know how tour agencies organize their itineraries, or what system they use to determine what is educational and what is not, or how they determine the suitability of itineraries to the academic levels of their clients. I mean, for all I know they may be consulting the stars! But I think Filipino academician should take a look into these so called educational trips. This years URSC educational trip is a good example of a good study.

Here is a little introductory analysis.

1. A visit to a pirated version of the national hero’s house. Not enough time to read all the historical write ups in the walls because of the “conveyor belt” system of viewing—time of visit: less than an hour.

2. A visit to UPLB, the natural history museum and the botanical garden—one and a half hour including lunch. Not enough time to enjoy nature and to digest the food. These four itineraries were done after lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent in—

3. Enchanted Kingdom--an oversized perya.The question is which of these destinations are really educational and which are not, which can contribute to the intellectual development of the students and which can not, and which of them could instill values, responsibility, and altruism and which could not. The logic should be the more educational the site, the longer the time that should be spent there.

The tour guide, Kuya Egy, or is it Edgy, or Egay, whatever; was entertaining us with his knowledge of Laguna’s geography and famous citizens when he announced that “we are now entering the entry point of the Enchanted Kingdom’s entrance gate.” I’m not critical of other people’s English, mine is very imperfect too (obvious in this essay), but after all those lectures on syntax and semantics, I became conscious and critical of other people’s English. If, before my rule is “as long as I understand you it doesn’t matter”, now the rule is accuracy, and after hearing Egy, or is it Edgy, or Egay, whatever, my English alarm went off. I tried shutting it off but it was useless, “please make sure that you are certain you didn’t leave behind anything that is valuable in your bags, don’t forget to bring your cell phone and jewelries.” I can’t turn off the damned alarm. “In behalf of Valencia Tours we are grateful and we appreciate being of service to you, thank you and see you next year.”

I understood my classmates’ enthusiasm, they are young and innocent. But for me (I saw sir James and Jonathan and they share my sentiments) it was a waste of time to fall in line under the sun, for minutes, just to get a ride that lasts a hundred times shorter than what you spent queuing for. I didn’t have the energy for that, so it’s a carousel ride for me, my wife, and my daughter--short line and no shouting. We also watched the 4D cinema and we really enjoyed it.

To tell the truth I hated Enchanted Kingdom. The place was hot, the concrete pavement was hot, the air was hot, and the general feeling was that of heat (not sexual of course). There’s a lot of machinery, artificial trees, and a lot of masochistic people waiting for their turn to get scared. If UPLB was heaven for me, Enchanted Kingdom was hell. There was no life in there--just machine and concrete.

So what did I get from the trip?

1.Head ache. I slept one o’clock in the morning (I’m an insomniac) and woke up at four to prepare food for the trip.

2. Debts.

3. Pirated Buko pie--Buko Pies that has no buko in it the damned pies deflates once pricked.

4. Sugarless espasols or rather flourful espasols.

5. Dish washing nightmares—all those greasy plastic baunans. I want to throw the damned things away but they are Tupperware and they belong to my sister in law.

Of course what is more important is that:

1. I had the chance to see UPLB, and someday I may comeback there.

2. I had the chance to bond with my classmates and instructors.

3. My wife, daughter, and I had a rare family outing.

4. I enjoyed seeing my energetic classmates had fun.

5. I really enjoyed Omeng and his jokes.

So, the good balanced the bad. I just looked at the trip from a different perspective--I just pretended that my wife and I were accompanying our daughter on her preschool field trip.

I always imagined educational trips as educational. Like a visit to a dumpsite to show the effects of pollution to people and the environment, or a tour of the mental hospital to see the pitiful state of the insane, or a visit to drug rehabilitation facilities to observe the effects of drugs on sanity, or a nature tour, etc.

These are true college educational trips destinations, of course, they are not as enjoyable as Enchanted Kingdom or Eight Waves but they are more beneficial for the students’ intellectual development and the promotion of social awareness. But anyway, we are a democracy and what the majority wants the majority gets—Enchanted Kingdom it was.

Now, what would next year’s itinerary be?