I sat watching the future unfold.
Three well-dressed Filipinos sat near me at Coffee Groove Cafe in Valencia. The adults were glued to their iPhones, while their bored young son begged for attention. Without looking up, his mother hissed at her son to be quiet. She then ordered him to play with his laptop. So the three of them sat silently at the coffee shop, oblivious to each other’s existence.
This is one example of many regrettable experiences that happen daily worldwide, as technology silently transforms traditional society.
Look around next time you’re in Robinsons. Whether walking around or sitting in Sans Rival, you can observe the vast numbers of iPhones, tablets, and laptops with transfixed humans ignoring their companions who are also ignoring them, while all are glued to their technological drug.
A few have begun to grasp the molding of society into mindless, automated robots at the expense of family and genuine social interaction.
Perhaps nobody cares. We never do until it’s too late.
As a child, I used to worship the Olympics with its principles and exciting performances. The 1964 Tokyo games provided my first vivid memories.
Money through sponsorships came later, and a terrible beauty was born, with enhanced performances and mind-boggling feats of endurance and speed being created, partly because of the use of illegal drugs used by the athletes.
Once the games formally became professional, money became the goal. Out went ethics, laudable values, and what perhaps had been a naive sense of purity.
In the current winter Olympia in Beijing, the first gold medal winner was Therese Joaug, a convicted doper in her sport but who was still allowed to compete — and eventually win!
Russian teenage sensation Kamila Valieva failed a drug test prior to the Olympics, but was allowed compete. The journalists in Russia who broke the story are being persecuted for causing national dishonor. Seriously.
I’ve become so disgusted with the vulgar commercialism and drug infestation of the Games, I no longer watch them, and never will.
It’s all about money, politics, nationalism, and individual glory used to gain commercial endorsements.
The ideals that founded the Games back in 1896 are now considered old-fashioned nonsense. For them, money is God. God is money. Ethics no longer matter. Wining at all costs is the new ideal.
What is left in our world today that is absolutely pure? Perhaps the smile of a baby looking up at its mother. Unfortunately, the child grows, then becomes us.
The federal government, in its wisdom, has decided effective Feb. 16th to lift the ban on fully-vaccinated foreign tourists entering the Philippines.
In many ways, that’s good and necessary news for the millions here depending on tourism for a living. Many have gone out of business, while others could take years to get back on their feet financially.
Since less than 50 percent of the Philippine population have had two their vaccinations, and a few booster shots, there’s still much opportunity for the C19 virus to spread unchecked.
Countries whose population have highly vaccinated populations in excess of 90 percent, such as Ireland, England, and Denmark have now re-opened their countries to pre-C19 conditions.
The opening is partly for political reasons, with the populations exhausted from the past two years of restrictions.
It’s possible a regression may happen, but most scientists are cautiously optimistic that if it happens, it will not be severe. Let’s hope so.
Let’s also hope that more people in the Philippines, including conspiracy-obsessed expats, will find a way to stop being superstitious, responding to irrationality, and finally recognize the wisdom of vaccinations, their societal obligations, and get fully-vaccinated so our host country can get back on track, and rise against the damage done by this cursed virus that so far, has claimed millions of lives worldwide, and obliterated small and large businesses with incalculable economic and social fallout.
It saddens me to confirm that the delightful Coffee Groove Cafe along the Bacong-Valencia road will permanently close on Feb. 28th.
The proprietors, Norman, Angeli, and Marivic came to Negros Oriental with a dream of providing a relaxing, informal environment to work, read, or study.
Their premises in Valencia is surrounded by a cornucopia of multi-colored flowers, with different shapes, sizes and delightful fragrances. The freshly-prepared food served at Coffee Groove never varied in its high quality. The building is aesthetically- and environmentally-respectful. It blends effortlessly into its surroundings. Service is professional and always friendly.
Unfortunately, Coffee Groove is yet another victim of the pandemic. After struggling through the past two years with no new foreigners coming to the area, the owners reluctantly came to the conclusion the venture is no longer economically viable.
I’ll really miss these good folks, their friendly staff, and my almost-daily visits to enjoy all they offered.
Their presence has enriched our community. Their loss is our loss.
I wish the owners and staff best wishes in their collective futures. They are good people who deserve, but unfortunately didn’t receive a favorable outcome.
When the owners return to Manila, they will open another business there, and it could be successful there.
An old Irish saying says, “May the road rise up before you, May the wind always be at your back, May the sun shine warmly on your fields, And until we meet again, may God hold you safely in the palm of his hands.”
I wish such favorable outcomes for Norman, Angeli, and Marivic.
I’ll soon be returning to Ireland for a brief visit. Since leaving at age 19, I’ve only gone back for obligatory funerals.
I’ve since lived in many countries, and hope the Philippines is my final stop on my interesting life journey.
This visit will be my final one to Ireland. I’ll be visiting the places there that formed the adult I have now become: My school where I was molded by the Jesuits from age five to 17; the family home that I’ll only be able to view from the outside; Kilkee, where innocent summers were comfortably passed; Derry, where one experience changed me forever; and more, many more.
Will I occasionally surrender to nostalgia as I look back fondly on my life, while ignoring the darkness I also experienced? Probably.
When the Aer Lingus flight lifts off from Shannon airport heading east towards London, I’ll look down one last time on wildly green pastures, the elegant Shannon river meandering towards Foynes, and compose myself.
That’s where my life began, and where my post-life is supposed to begin and end. Plans are in place for the ashes from my cremated body to be thrown into the sea in Ireland, taking me back to where I came from.
Unless the always- pragmatic Vhie, horrified by the high FedEx charges to Ireland, instead impulsively flushes my ashes down the toilet in Valencia. (The latter option is most likely to happen.)
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Author’s email: [email protected]
