A Year In The Life - 2016

Another year has come to an end which means it’s time for my annual look back at some of the major events and moments of the last twelve months; the ones I was directly involved in, the ones I witnessed personally and/or the national and global events that had a an impact on me. Good or bad, they made a lasting impression and may have even changed the way I think about and look at things as a man, as a husband and as a father.  Listed in chronological order, here they are.

1. Mini-College Reunion (January):  I had one of the best times of recent years in January and it came, best of all, on my birthday weekend. I met up with two college chums for lunch. One of them, Vaughn, I’d seen semi-regularly for an annual tennis match and meal after graduating from Rutgers in ’91. Unfortunately, fighting the nemesis called Life, those annual get-togethers ended in the late 1990s/early 2000s. The other friend, Heament, I hadn’t seen since before graduating and he was a year ahead of me. I became close with both of them but with Heament there was something extra special; no offense to Vaughn. I was already a US citizen by the time college started but I felt then–as I still do now–like a stranger in my own land. Maybe for immigrants, America never really becomes ours. Anyway, Heament is from Singapore and I am from Hong Kong; two historic, business, academic centres and cultural centres in Asia with similar backgrounds. As a result, Heament and I became fast friends and, to this day, I still look up to him as an elder brother of sorts or kuya, as we say in Tagalog.  So, when Heament contacted me that he was going to be in New Jersey and asked to meet up, I agreed with more than an ounce of enthusiasm. To add to it, I took my son along so he could see, again, the town where his dad went to college and so he could meet two of his dad’s dearest friends. We met in downtown New Brunswick and had lunch at a local restaurant/bar; a new place that wasn’t around when we went to Rutgers. As it goes with good friends, we picked up right where we left off, poking fun and doing so with ease. We talked about our families, joked at the lack of speed of the wait staff (in fairness only one waiter was on shift), shared work stories and had a great time reuniting. We left if that we needed to do it again, sooner than later and not after another twenty-five years or so. If we do, I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.
2. Asian Books Blog (February): Last year, Asian Books Blog came across my book, contacted and interviewed me on the writing process, my book and on self-publishing. That was three years after my novel, Back Kicks and Broken Promises, came out so it was with surprise and enthusiasm that I agreed to their interview request. As a result of this interview, my book became eligible for the 2015 Asian Books Blog Book of the Lunar Year Award. My book didn’t win but it did garner some respect. At one point, early on, Back Kicks was in the lead on votes. Either way, win or lose, this experience reminded me that there is an audience for my work. My writing won’t appeal to everyone but there are those to whom it will. Write on!
3. Commitment to Fitness (March): With no adequate place and lacking the proper equipment and partners to train in Taekwondo (a man can’t live on forms alone; well, at least this man, who’s been a forms champion, can’t), I made a decision this year to put Taekwondo on the back burner and get back into shape. That meant (still means) losing at least ninety pounds, getting back to structured and regular cardiovascular and resistance training, improving my diet, and regaining my flexibility. In March, I signed up for a 10K with three weeks to train. I trained, ran the race, albeit slowly but at the level of fitness I was at the time, and made a commitment to run the 2017 New York City Marathon. As a member of the New York Road Runners, the organisers of the NYCM, I could get guaranteed entry if I completed nine qualifying races and volunteered at one by New Year’s Eve. I was mentally, emotionally, and physically ready to regain my life.
4. Almost losing my son (April): I thought I lost my boy the morning of our final day in Boracay (an island resort–some say THE island resort–in The Philippines) in April. He was in the ocean, with my wife, about one hundred metres from the beach, and they were Paddle Boarding. My son veered into deeper, rougher water into a maze of moored and traveling motorboats. My wife sat on her board watching him, presumably ready to jump up and get him if she felt the need to. The guide from whom we rented the boards rescued him after he saw me enter the water and begin swimming out to him. Thank you, Lord for protecting him. There's nothing as wrenching like the emptiness inside when you see your child in distress and, potentially, fatal distress at that. I’m a competent swimmer with good endurance but I’m not fast by any means and I wonder if I would’ve made it out to him. From where I was, it may have looked worse than it did but, either way, as a parent, I was reminded not to take anything for granted when it comes to him. When he got back to the beach, the guide pulling him in by the attached cord, my son hopped off and took my hand. That touch was likely the most meaningful and best human contact I got all of last year.
5. My son’s First Communion (May): I wouldn’t say that I’m a Holy Roller but I still observe the basic tenets of the Catholicism I was raised with. As a result, my wife (who is also Catholic) and I are raising our son as one so he has some moral and spiritual foundation. So, my son going through his First Communion–and some months earlier his First Confession; both Sacraments that help define Catholicism from other religions and other forms of Christianity–did have profound impact on me this year. For one thing, it brought back some memories of my on First Communion. For another, it got me thinking more deeply about the meaning of things in the Catholic religion and my relationship to it. 
6. My son earning his Junior Black Belt (June): As a long-time martial artist and Taekwondoist, any time someone I know gets their black belt I am very excited and I welcome them to the fraternity of black belts. I refer to it as The Officer’s Club and I can say that my son is, now, a Junior Officer. As a dad, I am very proud of him. As a martial artist, who still believes that getting involved in the martial arts in 1985 is still the best thing I’ve ever done, I am very supportive of him. I’ll admit, though, that there is a little bitter to the sweet of his accomplishment. As a Taekwondo dad, in addition to being tradition, it was also my dream to be my son’s teacher and to pass Taekwondo on to him. This is something that those who are not in the martial arts, at least not lifers anyway, don’t understand. Practice in martial arts is not a sport or just a physical pursuit. It is a way of life akin to a religion. Due to many different circumstances, sadly, I am not his teacher but I trust the instructors at the dojang he does attend. In a year or so, my son will test for his ‘regular/non-junior’ black belt and there’ll be two Taekwondo back belts in The Bas Family.
7. ‘Losing’ a Friend (June): I haven’t really lost a friend. No one died and I didn’t get into a relationship-ending fight with anyone. What did happen was that my friend, my work wife actually, got a job closer to home. With texting, mobile phones, emails and Facebook, it’s very easy to stay in touch; unlike when I moved from Hong Kong to New Jersey and the only accessible ways of communicating were handwritten letters and expensive long-distance phone calls. Nonetheless, I miss her greatly. I have other friends at work but this one was, and is, special. Of course, we worked. We supported each other, were in the same department and helped create and maintain aspects of our departmental curricula that are still used today. We worked but it was her friendship and knowing that I’d see her that made work that much more meaningful. Not since my teenage years in Hong Kong, hanging out with basketball teammates and my best friend Nabeel; not since the late 1980s and early 1990s, forming a friendship with Ron as Taekwondo students and black belts; and not since my undergrad years, joining the Rutgers Squash Club and making friends with students from Singapore, namely Heament, have I felt that I had a friend; a best friend. Lu was that for me for twelve years and, while I am very happy for her and her family, it was bittersweet to walk through the gym and exit our school together for the last time in June. In addition to teaching together, having each other’s backs and making each other laugh, we coached volleyball together from 2004-2006. We were part-time running partners. She was one of the most supportive people around me when I published my debut novel and she’s seen me at my worst and at my best. So, if you haven’t gotten the gist yet, Lu was my bestie, my BFF. She’s right up there with Nabeel, Ron and Heament, the other people who’ve been and are best friends. I’ve met and known many people in my forty-seven years but none will be or have been as close to me as Nabeel, Ron, Heament and Lu. I love them all and, at least with regard to my daily work grind, I will miss Lu in abundance. 
8. Mother-In-Law Scare (July):  In 2015, my father-in-law passed away. He’d been sick, off-and-on, and in-and-out of the hospital a few times over the previous years. In July 2015, he got really sick, was hospitalised and died the following month. This past July, we all got a scare when my mother-in-law didn’t feel well and had to go to the hospital herself. She’d had a medical condition, without any resulting debilitation, and is doing well now but, a year after her husband’s death, it was with bated breath and stopped hearts that we-my wife, her brothers and sisters and I–received every text and phone call. It wasn’t the best month of our lives but, once again, it showed the power and love of family to rally and stick together. 
9. Getting Injured (October): Well, I was on track, registered in all my races and ticking off one race after another. After about four races and five months, my left knee started to act up. I have a history of knee injuries but I figured the low-key walking/running I’d been doing would be fine. Well, to make a long story short, I ran my final race of 2016, hobbling and in pain, on October 30. For some weeks before that, I’d developed a limp, the pain had gotten worse and I feared for knee surgery. After the race, I finally (yes, I’m stubborn; I’m part German after all) went to see an ortho. I got a cortisone shot (my new fave!), did a stint of PT. Things are better now. I’m doing the PT on my own, I had a follow-up with the doctor after New Year and have been doing some very light cardio training and squash with my son. Running is out of the cards for now, as is full-on Taekwondo training. Instead, it’s rehab, get back to fitness, lose weight and then we’ll see. I was gutted not being able to finish my NYCM qualification and to get this injury setback. I’d lost over twelve pounds by the time I had to stop training and I’d cut my mile time by over a minute and a half. I know there are ways to bounce back. I knew better than to approach things the way I did. Next time, I’ll be more respectful of my body, more humble in the effort it takes to race (of which I do have some experience) and to remember that everyone has their own experience. There are individuals who’ve lost two or three hundred pounds after starting a walking/running program and drop down to, say, 180 or less. That worked for them and I thought it might work for me, as it has in the past, but it didn’t. Instead, I got injured and sidelined. 
10. Trump (November): Well. What else is there to say, other than I’m hoping and praying that he doesn’t screw up the country, ruin families, turn us into a nation of fearful haters and that the next four years go by very quickly and that he doesn’t get reelected. It’s unsettling, though, that in 2016 someone who lobbied on a platform of division and fear got elected president. When I woke up the following morning and discovered that he was elected, I felt fear and uncertainty like I’d never felt before. I believe in the system that elects presidents in this country and I hope and pray Mr. Trump does a great job. If he doesn’t, he screws up this country and as an American citizen that affects me. However, with all of Mr. Trump’s brutish attitude and divisive rhetoric and hate mongering, I truly felt fear. And that fear hasn’t fully subsided. Those feelings have subsided but just a bit) but I still count down until we have someone else more sensible–Republic, Democrat or Independent– in The White House. 

Top Ten Books Of 2016

My Top Ten Books of 2016

And, here it is. My list of the top ten books I read in 2016. If you follow my blog, you’ll know that I do this annually and that my list is based on the books I read that year, regardless of the year in which a book was published. Interestingly, 2016 saw me read more recently published books (mostly 2015 and 2016) than I usually do. This year also drew me towards reading more non-fiction books as well.

What gets a book on my top ten is the following criteria: whether it changed a part of me or my life or how I look at life, the book’s emotional impact on me, how unique and creative I though the book was. Each book’s level of entertainment, education and ‘page turnability’ also determines if it makse the list or not. And, again, as I say every year, this is purely my subjective list. You may not like it and some of the books may be the kinds of books that don’t normally draw you to them but they called to me and I gladly shared a good part of my 2016 with them.

So, without further ado, here they are.

1. The Latinos of Asia: How Filipinos Break The Rules of Race by Anthony Christian Ocampo, Ph.D. Stanford University Press, 2016.

2. The Wild Robot by Peter Brown. Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, 2016.

3. Incensed by Ed Lin. Soho Crime, 2016.

4. Arsene Wenger by John Cross. Simon & Schuster (UK), 2015.

5. Dog Man by Dav Pilkey. GRAPHIX, 2016.

6. The Sandwich Thief by Andre Marois, Patrick Doyon (illustrator). Chronicle Books, 2016.

7. Descender, Volume One: Tin Stars by Jeff Lemire, Dustin Nguyen (illustrator). Image Comics, 2015.

8. Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights: A Novel by Salman Rushdie. Random House, 2016.

9. Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits by David Wong (Jason Pargin). Thomas Dunne Books, 2015.

10. The Thank You Book (Elephant & Piggie #25) by Mo Willems. Disney-Hyperion, 2016.

Honourable mentions:

One-Punch Man, Volume One by One, Yusuke Murata (illustrator). VIZ Media, 2015

Captain Awesome and the New Kid (Captain Awesome #3) by Jim Kirby, George O’Connor (illustrator). Little Simon, 2012.

Carrie Fisher

Carrie Fisher 

21 October, 1956 - 27 December, 2016

I didn’t fully process Carrie Fisher’s death until a couple of hours after I’d heard the news. When I first heard of her heart attack en route from London back to The States, I prayed that there wouldn’t be any news of her death for a very long time.

As it was, my wife was checking her Facebook account and announced the news today as I was parking at an AMC movie theatre for the 1:35pm showing of Passengers. Not until we pulled into a Dunkin’ Donuts back in our town that it truly hit me. I was reading a post on Facebook from Entertainment Weekly sharing the reactions of her death from many of her co-stars, family members and friends. As I read their tweets and posts, waiting in the car for my wife and son who had popped into Dunkin’ Donuts, tears formed in my eyes and I instantly got that empty, lost feeling in my gut. The last time I recall feeling this way for a celebrity and someone I didn’t actually know was when Brandon Lee died in 1993. The first time I’d ever witnessed anyone tearing up and feeling the impact of a celebrity’s death was in 1977 when Elvis died. After that, it wasn’t until 1980 when I watched my sister breakdown when she heard that John Lennon had been gunned down in New York City.

For some, Carrie Fisher may not have been as iconic as John Lennon or Elvis Presley. For others, however, she may be a larger one. For me, she’s right up there with the iconic of the icons. Carrie Fisher was a symbol of my generation. In an era that saw a added push for ‘girl power’ way before The Spice Girls, with movies like 9 to 5, with Sandra Day O’Connor becoming the first female justice in the US Supreme Court, and Sally Ride becoming the first women in outer space, Carrie Fisher was cast as Princess Leia in what would become one of the most beloved, watched and successful film franchises of all time. More than her success in the Star Wars movies, Princess Leia became a role model for the young girls of that generation. Here was a character that was confident, strong, beautiful, intelligent and badass. In many ways, Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia was the precursor to many of the badass heroines that have followed since. For the boys, well, who doesn’t like an attractive woman who can kick ass? And there’s always that slave girl outfit from Return of the Jedi. In the same way that Sophia Loren and Ursula Andres influenced a young man’s adolescence of their generation, Carrie Fisher did so with mine.

More than this, however, there was Carrie Fisher the writer–an insightful, thoughtful, intelligent and witty individual. She wrote Wishful Drinking, which became a one-woman HBO special, based on her troubles with substance abuse and her consequent recovery. Postcards From The Edge is hers too. That was adapted into a highly successful movie starring Meryl Streep. More recently, there is her recently published memoir, The Princess Diarist. She script-doctored as well for films such as Sister Act and Hook.

It’s with sadness that I write this blog post. I wonder, too, how Carrie Fisher’s death will impact upon Episodes VIII and IX of the Star Wars triple trilogy. If Princess Leia’s death is to be written into the saga, it can’t happens between movies. That would be irreverent. She has to have an honourable one, a noble one in the way Obi Wan and Han Solo had. But, then again, who says Princess Leia has to pass on among the stars? With what they did in Rogue One with resurrecting Peter Cushing’s Admiral/Grand Moff Tarkin, it wouldn’t surprise me (and it would please me, too), if Princess Leia didn’t just show up in Episode IX but had a major part to play. She is Luke’s sister, after all, and has yet to fulfill her Jedi destiny.

Rest in peace, Carrie Fisher. May the Force be with you.

The Best Me

The Best Me

My running career is on hold. To be honest, it’s likely on retirement. My Taekwondo career is pretty much the same way and so is my squash enjoyment. You see, a left knee injury has resurfaced and is causing pain to the point that I was limping everyday. I’ve seen an orthopedic surgeon and he’s prescribed sessions of physical therapy, given me my first ever cortisone shot and I’m seeing him in two weeks for a follow-up.

I’ve always had knee issues. I had Osgood-Schlatter Disease growing up. In April 1996 (or was it 1995) I was knocked out at The Big East Taekwondo Championship and landed on my right knee. That freak landing resulted in a partially torn ACL. I never had surgery but I did go through several weeks of PT. The day before my final PT visit, I blew out my left knee playing a football (soccer) match with friends at Brookdale Park in Bloomfield, New Jersey. I was dribbling the ball into the final third when my leg, from the knee to my foot, didn’t move forward. The rest of my me, from the knee up, went forward after the ball tearing the joint’s meniscus.

Recently, with nowhere to train properly in Taekwondo, I decided to put Taekwondo on the back-burner and started running again; in the hope of qualifying for the 2017 NY City Marathon and to lose weight and, once and for all, get back into fitness. Generally, things were looking good until about two or three weeks ago when my left knee started hurting. The pain subsided and I continued to train and play squash until, after a four mile training run, I was laid up the rest of the day. I took a week off before doing a three-mile taper. My knee flared up so I took the rest of the week off before running my scheduled race – The Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff, a five-miler that starts the New York City Marathon week of activities and events. The resulting pain was sharp and forced me to limp. It was so bad that whenever I had to get up and walk, I’d have to stand up slowly, allow blood to get to the joint and then inch my way onward.

Now, having seen the doctor and gotten my meds and shot, I’ve been given the green light to do some elliptical training and stationary bike riding but nothing with impact – like running and squash and Taekwondo. Being in this condition - able to walk and not limp, thanks to prescribed anti-inflammatories and the cortisone shot, but always fearful of my knee giving in, I’ve been forced to accept a number of things.

First, I have to accept that I’m simply getting older. Even if I weren’t injured or out of shape, I am older than when I last seriously trained for a marathon and put everything else on hold. Even then I was full of recovering injuries! Second, I need to be more humble and respectful of the marathon distance; something I am horrified to admit because I’ve always been respectful of it. Even though I’m heavier and not in any kind of running shape, I eased into base training and into my proper training plan like I’d done it all before. In some way, I have done it all before but, this time, I relied too much on muscle memory and my own grit and my Taekwondo-inspired indomitable spirit and my high pain threshold to forge ahead. Full speed ahead and all that! Stupid. Third, and finally, I have to find a different path. Maybe I can still run again and train in Taekwondo and play squash. Maybe I can’t. If I can, I have to be the best I can be of the me I am now and not the me I was twenty or thirty or even just ten years ago. Life goes forward and not backward. And so must I.

At forty-seven, this is a lesson I should’ve probably learnt years ago. Instead, I’ve held on to the past and tried to be the best of the ‘me’ I was then. When I became a husband, and then a father, my life ceased being my own. If I’m going to be completely honest, it never truly has been just mine. It has and always will be God’s, my family’s, my friends’, my students’, my athletes’ and others’. After all, whenever we enter someone’s world and they enter ours and we do so sincerely, don’t we become part of that person and he or she becomes a part of us?  

Today, while I am still trying to lose weight and get back into fitness, I am starting to try and be more accepting of whom I am and what I am. I do this for my sake and my own piece of mind. I do it, for wife and my son because, you see, they’re who my life belong to now and they need me; the best me of today and tomorrow.

The Latinos Of Asia - A Response

I came across Dr. Ocampo's book via a Facebook post and I finished reading it about a month ago. And, I thought it was an amazing book. Absolutely excellent! For one thing, I think it's a great start - or, perhaps, a great continuation with a larger and more mainstream reach - in discussing the Filipino's role in the multicultural landscape that is the United States of America. Too often, Filipinos are forgotten; either lumped in with other ethnic groups (be it Asian or Latino) or altogether ignored. So, kudos and thank you to Dr. Ocampo for conducting his study and sharing his findings and opinions in a succinct book that was easy to read. It wasn't full of academic mumbo jumbo. Instead, I felt like I was sitting in a room and listening to him share his findings with me. 

Before I continue, let me say clearly, I liked this book and admire the work and praise the discourse it has started. So, when I discuss my response to it, I am not disregarding it or discrediting it. Some of you who read this might take it that way. My intention is to offer other insights and even suggestions into future study on the Filipino American.

Dr. Ocampo's research and findings were revealing and insightful. This type of anecdotal research won't produce any definitive results and Dr. Ocampo says that himself in the appendix. There are no right or wrong answers here. The conclusions presented in this book are based on the very personal experiences of the subjects and each one is unique. Dr. Ocampo clearly states also that his research subjects were few and from very specific communities in California and of a specific age group. He interviewed eighty-five second generation Filipino Americans ranging in age from twenty-one and thirty. Most of them came to the United States when they were very young (under eight) or were born in the United States and they were taken from Eagle Rock and Carson; two middle-class, multiethnic neighborhoods in Los Angeles. 

What I found interesting throughout my reading of  The Latinos Of Asia was that no interviewee brought up the geography factor - that The Philippines is in Asia, therefore, coming from there at an early age and/or being ethnically Filipino, they would, by definition, be Asian. Since coming to the United States in 1985, I've often been asked "What are you?" or "Where are you from?" Growing up in Asia, I was never asked that; at least not in an accusatory way that I have been here in the United States. And, even when I answer, I'm often contradicted with a statement like "Filipinos aren't Asian" and many of those contradicting me are other Asians of Chinese or Korean heritage. 

To further Dr. Ocampo's discussion, I would like to see follow-up research but with subjects who came to the United States either as a teenager (like I did) or adult. In both cases, a sense of identity will have already set in. In my case, I came to the United States when I was sixteen and I already considered myself Asian. My wife, who is also from The Philippines, came here when she as already an adult and also considers herself Asian. So, too, do our adult friends from The Philippines who have relocated and settled in the United States. I also have a friend, born in The Philippines but who came here when he was very young, and he considers himself Asian. He is, however, in his forties and not in the same cohort group as Dr. Ocampo's research subjects. So, perhaps there is an age factor that determines how one sees him or herself. Although not in the United States, all of our (my wife's and my) family and friends back in The Philippines (my in-laws, my parents and brother, my wife's former classmates) all consider themselves Asian. So, too, does my sister who lives in England.

Another follow-up study that would be worth seeing is how third culture kids, to borrow the phrase coined by David C. Pollock and Ruth Van Reken, identify themselves. I am a third culture kid, which is someone who is or has some combination of growing up in different cultures other than his or her parent culture and who is often also multiethnic.

To clarify with my own experiences, I am primarily Filipino. My mother is half American and half Filipino. My father is three quarters Filipino and one quarter Chinese. My mother's American side is of German origin and her father's parents was the generation that came to the United States from Munich. On my father's side, his mother was half Chinese (Manchurian) and half Filipino. You can also trace our surname, Bas, directly to a priest from Madrid who, during the Spanish colonization of The Philippines, spawned the first Filipino members of The Bas Family. So, you can see how, from an ethnic standpoint, I am a third culture kid. There's more. I moved from The Philippines to Hong Kong when I was nine months old. I moved back a few months later then moved back to Hong Kong some time after that. From then on, I've called Hong Kong home. However, I wasn't ignorant of The Philippines and its culture growing up. I was exposed, although I don't speak it well, to Tagalog on a daily basis and to other Filipino languages also. We cooked Filipino food as a part of our daily meals. We would go on extended vacations back to The Philippines to visit family and friends, giving manong and manang (a sign of respect to older males and females; taking the elder's hand and touching the back of their hand to  your forehead) to my lolo (grandfather) and lola (grandmother), riding Jeepneys, eating Halo Halo and Balut. Growing up in Hong Kong, I learnt to speak some Cantonese, was exposed and grew to love Chinese cuisine and folktales, like Journey To The West, and I've even adopted some of the mannerisms of my fellow but native Hong Kongers. As I mentioned earlier, Hong Kong is where I call home, not The Philippines. However, I don't look stereotypically Asian, my German American genes winning that battle. If you look carefully, you'll see the Asian in me but at a quick glance I'm often taken for straight up Caucasian or I get the confused look and the eternal question - "What are you?" Going back to Dr. Ocampo's book, it would be interesting to see how other third culture Filipinos who ended up in the United States see themselves. 

A final follow-up suggestion, would be to duplicate Dr. Ocampo's research with the same conditions (second generation Filipino Americans, mostly born here or who came here at age eight or under and from middle class, multiethnic neighborhoods) but from other parts of the United States; a cohort group in Hawaii, a cohort group in the Northeast, a cohort group in the Midwest, etc.

Again, I admire Dr. Ocampo's work and I thank him for doing it. So, please don't think I'm hating on it but I think it's just the first step. I hope he and others are already working on the next ones and, in doing so, maybe we'll see anecdotes and data on the populations I mention here - older Filipino Americans, Third Culture Filipinos and Second Generation Filipino Americans in other parts of the United States. The implications to truly understanding the often neglected Filipino American population across the country are valuable and abundant from educational opportunities to public office representation to employment opportunities.

​Either way, whether you're a Fil Am who identifies as Latino or a Fil Am who identifies as Asian, as I do, don't neglect the Fil part. Filipinos are a proud, brave, kind, generous and driven people. We're survivors, adaptable anywhere and we're strong of limb, sharp of mind, quick of wit and stout of spirit. Lakas ang Pilipino!