“If I can make it there
I’ll make it anywhere
It’s up to you
New York, New York.”
EVERYBODY may not be able to sing New York, New York in its entirety. But anybody can sing the above stanza.
When I first set foot here in New York City a week ago, I wondered, “Can I still make it here at 68 years young?”
I repeated the question to my New York-based friend and fellow journalist Alex Vidal, who had already made it here.
“Yes Nong Bert,” he said, “Old people may still work here.”
I remembered that Annabel Java-Petinglay had shared a tale about a retired government employee working as hotel doorman in his 80s.
On second thought, I don’t need to work here. In another sense, I had made it in “the city that never sleeps.” Not every Filipino has achieved that.
I am convinced that circumstances may pave the way for anybody to reach an unexpected destination. In my case, it’s the yearning to see my New York-based son, whom I had not seen for 14 long years.
In January this year, I thought of applying for a US visa despite hesitation. Some of my friends and relatives had lined up for an interview at the US Embassy after paying a fee (now pegged at P8,400), only to come out “disapproved.”
It was then that “eureka” flashed in my mind: New York hosts a yearly Philippine Independence Day celebration with a parade and cultural show on Madison Avenue, New York City. As in the past, the reigning Dinagyang tribe champion would be there. But since I was no “tribe member” I had no business joining them.
Iloilo City Tourism Officer Junel Ann Divinagracia suggested that I fly to New York as part of the Iloilo City Trade Mission, provided that I pay for my own plane fare. I also proposed to help in the publicity of the trade mission aimed at promoting Ilonggo products in New York City, Washington DC and Fairfax, Virginia, although two fellow journalists, Florence Hibionada and Tara Yap, had already been assigned the task. It would be more fun travelling to a foreign land with familiar faces.
It was already on a May day this year when I managed to be one of them, visa applicants. I prepared to answer whatever questions the immigration officer would fire. Surprisingly, he fired only two.
First, “How long have you been a journalist?”
“Forty-eight years, Sir,” I answered.
“Very good,” he said. “How’s your son?” He sounded as if he had already known about my son living in New York from a reading of my application form.
“Sad to say, Sir,” I immediately answered. “I have not seen him for more than 10 years.”
Assuming he is also a father, that truthful answer must have convinced him to quip, “You will get your visa in one week.”
Now let me share my first memorable experience in New York when Alex Vidal asked Tara Yap and me to eat noodles in a Chinese restaurant. We ordered two bowls to be shared by three. At 12 dollars per bowl, that would cost Alex $24 plus a 10-percent traditional tip.
I wondered how much would that cost in pesos at P52 per dollar. Betcha by golly, wow! Excluding tip, that would cost P1,248. The same amount would buy three buffet meals in Iloilo City.
The moral lesson I imbibed and which I am now sharing: Spend your dollars in the Philippines. (hvego31@gmail.com/PN)
