March of Technology

Imagine floating in the void of space. There is no sun, moon or star just you, and, say another person equally lost, disoriented and baffled. You notice he is moving towards you – or is he. With no other point of reference it is very hard to tell who is approaching who.

When I was a grader I used to go to my parent’s downtown office. Since they owned the firm I sat around anywhere I fancy, including sitting unto the biggest swivel chair in front of an equally massive executive table. I wonder, way back, then why my dad’s got the biggest table with no other things on top except the telephone and its complimentary yellow pages while my mom’s table is cramped with folders and papers and all office stuff.

The office is a cacophony of gadgets that interests me more of how it works than its usage.

Take for instance, the analogue telephone. I marveled at how my tiny voice gets into even tinier wires that ran behind curtains and walls and into someone else office kilometers away. If it is someone in Manila we will call an office staff would call for the PLDT operator to facilitate a “long distance” call.

The electric typewriter. An Olympus model you plug it into a wall outlet and push on the power button. Immediately you hear the reassuring hummed sound telling you that it is indeed powered on. The letters and fonts are all embossed on a pingpong sized metal ball that strikes the paper in perfect sync of the ink ribbon that appears at that same instant. The drawback: no power no typing done and the office is literally in a stand still.

For the most part, these things went on unchanged until I got into college. And it gets exciting all over again.

Computers on CRT (cathode ray tube) start to proliferate but only to those who can afford and who has the patience to learn those cryptic commands. Remember those, “ctrl-s” for saving docs, “ctrl-p” for printing, but, I guess only the “ctrl-alt-del” survived to be still in use today.

The first gen mobile phones came with the size of a paper bound pocket book with fix antenna twice the length of the phone. Despite the supersized antenna, dead spots outnumber the service connection areas, and, to force your luck, you may find faint signal strength after climbing up a coconut tree – literally. Succeeding models are a wonder. They come with TV, internet browsing, GPS, 12 Megapix Cam. Some will even fix you your favorite cup of coffee.

Our generation has seen the roll of technology.

But what if we have taken the other path. What if we developed our right brain faster than out left brain. What if instead of analyzing a problem and forge a solution what if we simply imagine the solution like the right brain thinkers do.

That would mean the full display of our artistic and intuitive side. We would come up to solution based on gut feel. That’s how math wiz do when asked on live TV to compute the square root of 23. They don’t do mental calculations – they “feel” the answer.

In this realm, reason or natural physics do not hold. Just like floating in space one doesn’t know who is approaching who. My take.

The Great Divide

If one goes for the age-old catholic tradition of Biseta Eglesia and doing it just a little further than the comforts of your own city then go south of Cebu.

Southbound one might wrestle through the traffic of Talisay and Minglanila but that’s just about it. From the town of Carcar all the way down is a breezy coastal ride with lush greenery on your right meeting the expanse sea on the left. You’re like driving through the Great Divide. This experience alone gets you thinking, “How great Thou Art”.

SIMALA CHURCH (Sibonga, Cebu). This is renowned to be miraculous church of the Blessed Virgin Mary that sits magnificently on a hill.

Despite the scorching heat and long cues, throngs of worshipers steadfastly held their lines. My father once told me there can be no forgiveness without atonement. This version of sacrifice is atonement to most Filipinos.

And, yes, I see them all: young and old, teeners and those in between. To the young and the “young at heart” it is adventure, an escapade.

To those past their primes it is an activity of anything to ward off that torpid feeling of being left behind by a world that is no longer theirs. I remember Daddy walking really slow despite my effort of lagging to his cadence. I guess he must have felt the same.

BOLJOON CHURCH (Boljoon, Cebu). This is the oldest original stone and mortar church in Cebu. From afar nothing differs it from similarly comparable old Cebu churches but zooming in is a different story. It is massive!

The wall is made up of sea coral presumably lifted up from the ocean across the street.These are not just palm-sized stones, these are boulders intricately carved to fit snugly in corners and crevices. It’s like an organized brickwork puzzle (is there such a thing?). My two-arms stretched sideways are shorter than the thickness of the wall.

The pillars are so many I lost count. They are massive as well. If engineered well, cumulatively they can support a jumbo Boeing 747 with passengers on board.

OSLOB CHURCH, (Oslob, Cebu). A church with a belfry as big as the church. Hahaha! It is a church with lots of shaded parking space and well maintained covered basketball court on the side. A municipal police quarter and executive hall are conveniently within a few meters from one another. From across the street is the town’s marketplace and plaza. Suma-total it is the activity center of Oslob.

Sadly, behind all these massive structures are the vast majority of people living in makeshift squalid houses.  And, yes, we do not see "forced labor" upon us now as they were back in the Spanish era but I can still feel the ugly trepid feeling of being controlled like the puppet to a puppeteer.  Massive churches are now a thing of the past instead we see expensive schools of the likes of DeLaSale and Ateneo and breakneck rates they charge in first class church controlled hospitals.

I still see them both:  poverty and the Church.  Like the Great Divide.

My Ride

If there is something that feels like "bomber" to us cyclists, it's the rain. Not only does it call in the gloom, it also brings along mud and early evenings.

For this month I pushed for daily average of 40KM at 25kph on my mountain bike Mosso 680 XC (short for cross country) frame. To do this, I need to travel from Lapu Lapu City, Cebu to Danao City, Cebu and back.

Danao trip is a coastal ride and is better traversed on a road bike. The never ending sea breeze maybe a headwind curse but a welcome respite on the way back. The road is freshly minted asphalt all the way to Catmon though there are damaged sections apparently done by less responsible road repair contractors, nonetheless it is a biker’s paradise.

An hour into the trip I realize that something is missing, and, lo and behold, I am into the rolling mounds in Danao and Carmen.

Crawling up you feel your legs burn as it strains to mitigate the watt demanded of the climb. My muscles twitched out of my tight fitting chamois-spandex and I can almost see my heart exploding out from my chest. I went up two gears to an easier cadence and paced properly. After a few strides I found my rhythm. Sweat beads streak down my back like some kind of a sprinkler system.

I went home later to nasty tan lines, heavy legs and aching muscles.

Musing back I realized Danao wasn’t the destination it is just a marker of the trip. Cliche as it may sound but the destination is actually my ride.