Home Thoughts From Abroad

The guest house where we are staying in Baguio has the most comfortable foam mattress. That is my excuse for sleeping past 6 am, something I almost never do. We had a leisurely breakfast and a quick look at the shower setup before taking a pass for a warmer time of day to give it a try. So by the time we had found the center of town and got parked it was coming up for 9, just in time for the start of a parade to celebrate the centenial of the founding of Baguio.

Filipino people are among the sweetest we have ever met, and quite eager for us to have a front row place so they could show off their culture to what must be the only tourists in town. The parade was quite the deal, with floats and dancing dragons, lots of music and marching bands and some great national costumes. We stayed right up to the horses (always the last thing in a parade for obvious reasons), then took a hike through the park to the shopping mall at the top of the hill for a spectacular view of the hills and a chance to get online at Starbucks.

I managed to completely wrench my ankle on the treacherous curbs and had to buy a crutch to get me through the rest of the day. No big deal; my brother has accused me of using my religion as a crutch for years! We drove around town and over the hills through white pines as stately as anything you would see in Canada, and even got a walk through an ecological reserve that smelled sweetly aromatic. The shower proved to be no trouble at all, despite its idiosyncratic appearance: essentially a bucket with holes in it hooked to a hose. All of that exercise wore me out, and I slept soundly, thankful for lots of blankets in this remarkably temperate city.

 
I make no apologies for my love of driving. I come by it completely honestly, having being raised by a father who learned to drive from Raymond Mays, the Formula 2 pre-war racing champion, for whom he worked for a while. Dad was quick, but he was also an extremely capable driver, who taught me much about driving defensively. “Think of the most irresponsible and unpredictable thing another driver or pedestrian would do,” he would say, “and drive accordingly.” I do, and aside from an impetuous and nearly fatal mistake when I was 16, I have never had an on road accident. Don’t talk to Pam about parking lots. That’s another story!

We had every intention of taking the bus from Angeles City where we landed to Baguio City, where we are now. But a quick look at the public transport situation here in the Philippines changed my mind in a hurry. I did a brief survey of the options and rented a Toyata Vios for 8 thousand pesos for the week, or about 160 bucks Canadian. We downloaded a couple of maps from Google and pasted them into Paint for future reference. It was a good thing that we did, as the term ‘map’ has very little currency in a part of the world where the next town is a foreign country, and we ended up relying on our memories and quick glimpses at our computer to get us here.

We plotted out a route that took us through the flat land and along the coast to Agoo, one of the earliest Spanish settlements on the islands, founded in 1578.   From there it was all uphill to Baguio, and what an uphill it was! Switchback doesn’t do the hill justice. The road was positively tortured, crowded by buses and trucks passing each other on totally blind corners in a torrential downpour that limited visibility to about 20 feet. Downshifting constantly between second and first on every corner on what must have been 30 degree grades, the forty kilometers tooks us well over an hour. Over two thousand people died building the first road into this town. Not the most dangerous road I have ever been on, but definitely in the top five.

Fortunately we had managed to buy a map of Baguio back in Angeles, so we had some idea of where the guest house was in town. Baguio was at one time considered the summer capital of the Philippines. It is a little off the beaten track for most tourists, so what you get when you arrive is pretty much entirely indiginous and quite delightful. The air is cool and much like what you find in Canada in Haliburton, Ontario. We can’t wait to do a little exploring.

Asia is a strange eclectic mix of cultures. We both love the diversity of it and wish our own “home and native land” was a bit more welcoming of the richness that foreign cultures bring to a country. Here we are on the first night of our stay in the Philippines eating at a Bavarian restaurant, complete with bratwurst and weiner schneitzel on the menu.

Not that we would necessarily recommend a quick trip to Angeles City to check it out. Air Asia flies to the old U.S. army base at Clark Field just outside town as they cannot get landing rights to Manila or Cebu in the south. This suits us just fine, as we are headed for the Asian Theological Seminary in Baguio City to the north. Unfortunately Angeles is everything you would imagine a town that grew up to service the U.S. army might be; full of karoke bars and massage parlours. Being hustled by Asian hotties who should still be in school is bad enough. Being offered Viagra on every street corner, I take that as a personal affront!

This hotel – called the Swiss Chalet, of all things – is nestled in the heart of this district, but it is strangely welcoming and secure, a European outpost in an Asian cosmopolitan mix. We have rented a car, and tomorrow we head out for the cool clear north to meet with the TWR staff and establish some contacts. We have some concerns regarding our safety on the roads in a strange country, and we are counting on the Lord to keep us safe. We will keep you posted.

I have been house bound for three days this week while Telecom Malaysia has been working on repairing our “very, big problem” with our phone line, by which we access the internet. It seemed like a great opportunity to get started on the task of scanning in all of our old photos.

The ’80s was a wonderful decade for our family starting with Jon’s birth in 1980, Dave in 81 and Liz in 83. During that time we also celebrated four family weddings and welcomed several new nieces and nephews. There were summer vacations at the cottage, major anniversaries and Christmas celebrations in various family homes. Each picture I scanned was an opportunity to relive the joy and excitement of those experiences that were so very precious.

I know that passport pictures are generally not the most flattering but these photos taken for  our kids first passports, in preparation for our year in Bangladesh are among my favourites.

Pam and I married what in our day was considered relatively late. I was 28, she was 26. Most of our friends were married when they were 21 and were making sympathetic clucking noises about our tardiness. We ignored them until we found each other. Thirty years on we are both glad we waited.

But not everybody does. Pam’s cousin Sandra, a regular visitor to our site, has been with her husband Larry from the get go, and I think they are coming up for 40 years together. My Mom married Dad when she was 21 (after an engagement of two weeks!) and the marriage lasted better than 50 years before he passed away. People are different, that’s all, and age is no determiner of commitment.

So when our son Jon and his girlfriend Nicole, both 20 at the time, sat us down and explained to us that they were determined to get married and did they have our blessing, we gave it without hestitation. Jon was mature when he was five and always had a very clear idea of where he was going in life. He and Nicole had been a steady item for three years, and it was obvious that they were ready for the next step in their relationship.

The wedding was beautiful, and it was a great blessing to Pam and I to see our son and new bride so happy. But it has been an increasing joy to see how the Lord has filled their young lives with friends and family and children of their own to nurture and raise. The Bible says that he who finds a good wife, finds a good thing. This has certainly been my experience, and it is obviously our son’s experience as well. So Happy Anniversary Jon and Nicole. May you live long enough to see your joy replicated in your children’s lives.

I was delighted to learn from the TWR Philippines team, that they had recieved a letter from a TWR listener in Malaysia and then to find that she actually lives in Kuala Lumpur. I am sure there are many others in this country but I have yet to meet them.

Yesterday I went to visit with this lovely lady who daily listens to the English programs from the Philippines, broadcast via shortwave from the island of Guam. She is a single, retired Midwife and for eighteen years her only source of spiritual teaching and encouragement was through her radio. Two years ago, Mary had a chance encounter with a former co-worker whom she had not seen for thirteen years. This lady invited her to attend church with her so now Mary has regular fellowship and Bible study to provide support and encouragement.

There are many other programs that she enjoys so she keeps two radios, one of which is always tuned to the station that recieves the TWR broadcast. She doesn’t want to risk losing that frequency and being unable to locate it again as it can be tricky.
Here are some excerpts from the letter that she sent:

“I have been listening to KTWR since 23rd April 1989. Yes, 20 years ago, accidently I tuned into TWR. I have been enriched, blessed and more closer to the Almighty. Thanks to TWR. Though the length of the broadcast has been shortened tremendously but life changing radio is my daily companion.”
“Please convey my gratitude to all the Pastors and missionaries and employees and their families for bringing the message of the Almighty through the radio especially to those who can’t afford an internet service like me. Many Pastors whom I am very grateful for Dr. Charles Swindoll, Dr. Adrian Rogers, Stewart Briscoe, Luis Palau and Erwin Lutzer and others whose names I have not mentioned. I pray for them daily.”

We love to meet new people, in fact that is one of the highlights of our current life. Everywhere we go we have the opportunity to meet the most amazing people whose lives have touched a large part of the world.  At People’s Church in Toronto, I met Mrs. G, of whom I had heard wonderful stories and she really is as sweet as her picture would suggest.

 Mrs. G—Kitty Anna Griffiths, of Toronto, Canada—is loved worldwide for her warm, captivating style. A British high-school teacher turned storyteller, she has served with her husband, Gerald, in churches in Britain, South Africa, and Canada, and has told stories to children in many countries. In 1991 she received the degree of Doctor of Literature from Biola University, California.

Her Bible stories are broadcast in English on hundreds of weekly releases in North America and worldwide by shortwave, satellite and internet. Believing that “all scripture is inspired by God”, Mrs. G studies the text to make sure her stories bring out the meaning of the scripture. As part of her research, she has visited Israel six times, three times as a guest of the government of Israel.

The stories combine accuracy with modern appeal. Mrs. G has made the Bible come alive for thousands of children—and adults—at home, in church, in schools, camps, cars, hospitals, in all kinds of places. The stories are for children of all ages—3 to 103! Right now, the youngest correspondent is 3, the oldest 105! Entertaining and educational, the stories are full of spiritual instruction.

The stories have been translated into Spanish, Portuguese, Japanese, Mandarin, Rumanian, Norwegian, Farsi, Khmer, Amharic, and Russian. Bible Stories Alive are “you are there” stories. Things of long ago come alive and you feel part of the drama. One little girl says, “I feel I am with Jesus,” and a medical doctor says, “You make the Bible people become family”.
http://www.biblestoriesaliveministries.org/

Mrs G’s connection to TWR goes back a long way as her stories have been broadcast by TWR for over fifty years.

It is a wonderful thing to live in a multi-cultural society. I noticed this morning that the malls are once again filling up with stalls selling Moon Cakes.

We are just heading into the first in a series of celebrations that will take us all the way through to February with plenty of decorations and amazing food. This is the third major festival of the Chinese calendar, which is celebrated on the 15th day of the eighth month and has to do with the union of man’s spirit with nature in order to achieve perfect harmony so that the contemplation of nature becomes a way of life.

This festival is also known as the Moon Cake Festival because a special kind of sweet cake (yueh ping) prepared in the shape of the moon and filled with sesame seeds, ground lotus seeds and duck eggs is served as a traditional Chung Chiu delicacy. Nobody actually knows when the custom of eating moon cake to celebrate the Moon Festival began, but one story traces its origin to the 14th century. At the time, China was in revolt against the Mongols. Chu Yuen-chang, and his senior deputy, Liu Po-wen, discussed battle plan and developed a secret moon cake strategy to take a certain walled city held by the Mongol enemy. Liu dressed up as a Taoist priest and entered the besieged city bearing moon cake. He distributed these to the city’s populace. When the time for the year’s Chung Chiu festival arrived, people opened their cakes and found hidden messages advising them to coordinate their uprising with the troops outside. Thus, the emperor-to-be ingeniously took the city and his throne. Moon cake of course, became even more famous.  (en.wikipedia.org)

The last two days, I have heard many stories of antics that took place more than 60 years ago at Morrow Memorial Church on Queen St in Toronto. Not sure of how this was all set up but a number of young people lived in rooms and apartments in various parts of this huge old church. There many marriages and lifelong friendships began.
Amongst that group was a married couple, Barnie and Helen and two singles who were later to marry and become my parents. Somewhere in there, Mom’s youngest brother Archie, still high school age, came and stayed for a summer. When Mom and Dad got married, it was Barnie who played the organ and Helen who supplied the tablecloth and sandwiches that comprised the wedding reception. Forty years later, Steve and I had the pleasure of having Barnie play the organ at our own wedding.

Although Barnie passed away twelve years ago, Helen, at 85 still enjoys a very active life, living in a lovely granny flat at her granddaughter’s house near Kingston. Since Uncle Archie is in Kingston as well, Dad and I took a road trip to visit them both. Although their bodies are beginning to fail them, all three enjoyed reliving memories of the days when rebellious, young people did unthinkable acts like placing a grape in the hat brim of a gentleman on the streetcar and laughing hilariously as it rolled around with the motion of the streetcar. How precious is the knowledge that a day will come when bodies are healed and these faithful folk will rejoice for eternity with their Lord and their life time partners.
We even found time for a drive to Gananogue where Dad and I took a cruise through the Thousand Islands and and ate fish’nchips along the shore. Although it was a long drive through Toronto, Dad is a great travel companion and never turned down an opportunity for food and a Timmies along the way. I will long treasure these days I have had with Dad while I have been home.

Often attributed to the East, this phrase is probably no more Chinese than the hundreds of sayings attributed to Confucius when we were growing up. But it has a certain inscrutable air to it, so the Chinese get blamed. As far as I can tell it can be traced to pre-war Britain, and connotes the kind of foreboding that was gathering in Europe at the time. However it came about, the phrase is an apt one for Malaysia’s troubled political scene.

As one of the least fragile democracies in South-East Asia, Malaysia has experienced the kind of economic growth that other countries in this region admire and envy. Only Singapore has developed more rapidly following independence in this part of the world. But unlike Singapore, Malaysia has the beginnings of a genuine democracy, and in the last election the opposition parties gained the control of several states, including Selangor, the state in which Kuala Lumpur is located, and the most prosperous state in the country.

The response to this growth of political maturity has been mixed, with some relishing the political vitality, and some genuinely fearing for the perks that now appear threatened by an opposition victory. It is in this context that the death of a young aide to the opposition party must be cast. Teoh Beng Hok died in the custody of a quasi-police organization, the MACC, his body broken from a fall from the building where he was being detained and questioned. The political fallout has been swift and unavoidable.

The opposition party has called for an independent investigation, and the parents are refusing to buy the official version that their son somehow went missing from MACC custody for several hours. A new twist was added today when a leading member of the ruling coalition crossed the floor to the opposition benches stating that his conscience would not allow him to remain in the government any longer. The government controlled media are understandably supportive of the official line, but the internet is abuzz with rumours and accusations. Interesting times indeed.