Personal {Remembering World War II in a Small Philippine Island}

Tucked in the foothills of  Mount Talinis in Negros Oriental is a small wooden house that is hidden from the street by tall rambutan trees. This is the mini World War II museum in Valencia, kept open by  a local who has been collecting World War II relics since he was a little boy. The house is identifiable to passersby by the small white wooden sign that bears Japanese characters (which, unfortunately for me, I could not read).

Visitors who visit this mini museum will be greeted by two large relics of World War II bombs, more than 5 feet in height, standing guard beside one wall of the house. Stepping into the first floor of the home, one is immediately greeted by glass shelves containing everything from old pens to shattered Japanese bifocals to torn water canisters that World War II soldiers, Japanese or American, wore on their belts.

The curator is in his mid-40s or 50s and a man of few words, although he does give helpful answers when asked. He starts the day by wiping the dust off the displays, polishing the wooden dummy that holds up an old Japanese uniform, as well as the old brass oil lamps that have probably provided precious illumination for rebels and civilians in the forest. There is a small collection of katanas, some complete with their leather sheaths. Only   Japanese officers carried katanas, since the soldiers had to make do with bayonets, the sharp, pointed knives that they attached to their rifles when closer combat was inevitable. Also in the collection are two ivory katanas sheaths, covered in the most elaborate carvings of women in kimonos. 

Another interesting discovery would be the collection of metal water canisters, some with their sides torn off. It is not hard to imagine a young soldier wearing the canister when a bomb exploded near or under him, tearing him and the metal canister into pieces. There is a collection of grenades, lined in a wooden box as if ready for use. In one of the shelves, one can see empty sachets of soldier’s rations of coffee,  toothpaste, and sugar. 

The curator and owner is an avid history buff who has been collecting the items as a child. Today, his collection is so large that it takes up the entire first floor of his house. There is a donation box near the door, which makes me think that  donations are probably the only thing that keeps this little museum alive. This is unfortunate, since the island has also seen its share of significant World War II events. Japanese soldiers made their way to the mountains here, and people fled to the mountains for their lives, my grandparents among them.  I can still remember my grandmother talk about how she carried her sister on her back as they fled from the approaching Japanese, and how they spent days in the forest, eating nothing but camote.

The relics in this little museum bring that moment to life… at least a fraction of it. It made me realize that my grandparent’s stories were real. I forgot to ask the curator if he has made any requests to the local government for a grant to keep his museum going. It would be a shame if the museum disappears when he can no longer afford to maintain it.  

Note: For now, visitors are what keep the museum. So if you decide to pay a visit, donate anything you can.  Another  great article about the museum can be read here. 

How I Got Paypal to Lift My Limited Access Status in Five Hours

It is  every freelancer's nightmare. Paypal decides to limit access to your account for  virtually any reason, as long as they smell something fishy. In other cases,  there is absolutely nothing wrong with your account and Paypal decides to  limit access just  the same.  Having this status put on your account can be the death knell that heralds the fall of many a website. For one,  a lot of online merchants  buy  and sell using Paypal. In my case, the company  I work for only works with Paypal when it comes to sending out my weekly pay. So imagine my horror when I found the dreaded  red banner splayed over my Paypal homepage. At first I didn't know what it meant. Then I scrolled downward and saw  the  things that you can  and cannot do  when your account is limited, and  my jaw dropped. It was equivalent to having your account frozen-- you can keep receiving money but you cannot withdraw or send.  I almost burst into tears then and there, before I  realized that I needed to  comfort myself  in order to look back at this moment and say that I was no crybaby.

Why My Account Got Frozen 

Although  Paypal did not verify why they placed my  account on limited access, I think I have an idea. My home internet connection  was down (again, thanks to Globe) so I was using Globe tattoo and going online using a proxy.  While on this connection I  accessed my Paypal and transferred money to my brother's account.  I think the transactio triggered Paypal's alarms, hence the red banner. 

So I took a deep breath and started searching for posts on this sort of  thing, hoping to find  forums where someone successfully lifted the limit. But the more I read,  the more I got discouraged.  People all over the world were  swearing off  Paypal after the site limited their  accounts. Some  even advised  grief-stricken online entreps to close off their accounts since it usually takes Paypal 180 days to lift the limitations, especially if withdrawals were involved! The really unlucky ones may even have to accept the fact that they may never get to open their accounts ever again.

MY prospects looked bleak.  I didn't know what to do. I contemplated going to the bank and opening a new acount, but that would not do me any good, since Paypal only allows one account per person.  I contemplated  contacting my editor to tell her that I needed my account frozen so that no money will be sent to Paypal, but I wasnt likely to get any response right away.

 I did rermember reading in the forums that you get a better chance of having someone from Paypal look into lifting your limited access status if you call them.  This was a problem for me, since I  live in the Philppines and long-distance calls can cost you an arm and leg.

My next option was  my boyfriend's Skype, since he had free credits and could make overseas calls.  When he told me that  the credits expired,  my heart sank. Again.  I was ready to bawl. I was ready to rip my hair out, and that is saying something because lately, I've been taking great care of my hair  since they got a severe beating with a recent hair relaxation  adventure that we  had  a few months back.

Then I saw this post. In it  the  posted details on how you can call Paypal through Skype. For Free!   I followed her instructions, and sure enough I got Paypal, but  it ws the answering machine.  Turns out  office hours starts  at 6 AM Central Time, and  it was thirthy minutes past 5:30 in the morning back in the States. I waited patiently, biting my fingers, crossing and uncrossing them, and generally feeling like I was grasping at straws. Two minutes after 6, I  rang Paypa through Skype again. The automated voice, after asking me to say my phone number, connected me to a real person. At last! A real, breathing, live person! A Paypal person! A person who answers phones for PAYPAL! I  was never happier to hear from someone who answered the phones, but this was a  PERSON!!!! A PAYPAL person!  Not a Paypal email address, not a  Paypal forum, not a Paypal notification. A PERSON!

Paypal actually had a voice. It was a guy's voice, and he actually sounded very sincere and friendly. I was half-expecting a grumpy voice with an Indian  accent, but it wasn't. The guy asked  about my Paypal info so  he could pull  my account off the database, so I provided my email, my phone number, and account number. Then he asked  if I could send him a photo of any valid ID, and call back once I'm done.  I scrambled to have my PRC ID scanned. Thankfully my brother was there to do the scanning for me.  A second call later, I was talking to a  woman.  She was equally sweet  and chirpy, which I attributed to the early hours of the morning... I was guessing the later the day, the more irate customers they talk to, the more irate  THEY get.  The lady  asked me  a few questions about my proxy server, and then told me to  log in to PAYPAL  using a connection from the Philippines. Since Globe was still down at home, I raced over to my cousin's house and connected to their internet there. I changed my PAypal password and security questions, as the lady had ordered, and made the third call.

 A third call later, this time I was talking to a young guy.   It seems like he already knew what my problem was, and  two minutes into the call, he told me that he had already restored full access to my account.  (MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR sigh of relief!) I couldn't believe it at first, so I asked him to repeat what he just said, and he did. I thanked him profusely, and not quite believing my lucky stars.  And that's how I got Paypal to lift my limited access status. In five hours, no less!!! :D
( this post is in no way an ad for Paypal, haha!)

The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget

I do not normally post reviews about books or articles I have read, but this time I'll make an exception. It's a Sunday morning, and one of my morning rituals is to browse through my reading list  of motivational blogs like ZenHabits and Thinksimplenow. I was browsing through the latter's list of past articles and The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget caught my eye. I remember reading it a few months back, but I couldn't recall the details of the story. So I read it again. A paragraph into the article and fat, large drops of tears were falling down my face. For various reasons, I guess. For the sad reality that there are some people who have nobody in this world, and some of these people are old and frail and could be anybody's grandmother or grandfather. For the sad realization that most of the time I let tiny frustrations ruin my day and I take it out on the people around me, and I end up being unkind and coarse and thoughtless, never realizing that other people are also silently facing their own battles. 

 (*sigh*) I still get teary-eyed thinking about the story. The story was told by the writer who spent some years as a cabdriver. There's a beautiful realization in this fact as well. To quote the author: 

"Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.

It was a cowboy’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.

What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry."

and as he neared the end of his story he said, 

"I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware – beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one."

I had placed myself in this mindset that you can only be great if you can do great things. And since only a few of use get to do that in our lifetimes, then we somehow must resign ourselves to the fact that our lives may never rise above the mediocre. But this story made me realize that great moments sometimes come cloaked in the guise of small ones, and the smallest deeds of kindness may be great to the one's receiving them. 

Happy Sunday everyone :)