Today I'd say I do (Wedding Day Story)

When I proposed in December 2010 (read my proposal here), I knew that wedding day (We-Day) would come soon.

Next year, why not?

But then, Prince William and Kate had their We-Day in 2011. So we thought that our wedding would have no chance to be the wedding of the year!

2012, why not?

But 2012 is a leap year. In the Philippines, there is a superstitious belief that any important event held this year is filled with omens. Not a good year for wedding, I suppose. And the next year is even more omenous with the number 13. I have not extended my imagination and thought on 2014 though. Too way too long to have her in my life, formally.

So 2012 remained the most viable option. We just had to leave the month that has the extra day, February.

Why not in January 2012? Talking about starting the year right. So it was January 2012.

January has 31 days. So many good days in January. But professional commitments made our options a little bit restricted. We were both occupied in the middle of the month. So we looked at the end of the month as a possible We-Day.

The last weekend was a strong choice. But there was yet another strong choice after that weekend. And so we decided to make our We-Day a gift to one important person in my life who celebrates her birthday on January 31. On that day, she would be 70 years old.

So it was January 31.

On the day, I kept telling myself, "This is it! This is it!" Convincing myself that the wait was over. It was time to let things be, to dwell in the moment, to breathe in the significance and magic of reality and exhale the illusions separating me from that reality.

I was unsteady, and yet her grip fixed me. She held my hand firmly to declare that we were into this together. That wiped off the beans of sweats rolling from my head, into my hand.

I was nervous, and yet her presence beside me was comforting. The reassuring look in her eyes, the constant smiles, those relieved me from the nerves that were uncontrollably killing me.

I knew she too was unsteady and nervous. Amidst those nerves, I tried to respond, grip by grip, look for look, smile upon smile; reassuring her that I would stand by you, here and now until tomorrow comes, grip by grip, look for look, smile upon smile.

"Yes, I do."

And so I got married, that day of January 31 in a leap year.

A big leap with her over omens, onto the promise of a wonderful life together.


(I would like to thank Liway and her crew for arranging things and making our wedding truly memorable and special. Contact the coolest crew here: http://carazuniga.multiply.com/notes).

Sheeps and lambs on my long slumber from singlehood ( Wedding day's eve countdown)

Tonight, I would like to see the night slipping away. I would watch the transition from night, dawn to day.

I would let my mind wonder, wander, and discover. I would let the mighty hand of time bring me to the dearest and fondest part of my life, and feel its moment with every tick; no closure, no end in sight. Just a man facing time and his future.

It's been a long time since I have this kind of moment. My senses are killing me. I see the darkness out there blurred by glowing lights from the ground. I feel the heaviness of parents' breathing due to the suffocating anxiety of the next day. I hear the silence of the night on the workers dotting the high-rise building construction from afar. I smell the drench of the waterways flowing underneath a dead stream. I touch the tinge under my soles from the cold floor to the lively perceptive soul inside. Outside, I plunge myself to the expanse of possibilities.

A lone airplane slicing the yawning distance between those left behind and those moving forward. I sit still, in a distant horizon.

I see a man, who has submitted himself to the trials of life. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses. But he has words for me.

"If you are going to get married, look for a woman who understands you, not necessarily understanding you every time; who accepts you, but not entirely accepting you; who supports you and stands by you. Look for a woman whom you can communicate with the ordinariness of the day, and whom you can believe in."

Yes Tatay (father), I have met and found that woman. And tomorrow, I am going to get married with her.

And sleep comes uninvited and unwelcome, like the night after a long joyous day, surrendering to the certainty and inevitability of the next day.

My Proposal (A Year After)

(Note: I have told this story many times to several people. And still, I get similar question; how did you propose? To answer the question, I write my side of the story.)

For quite some time, I kept wondering, when would be the best time to propose?

Friends suggested to do it in a romantic place. Others encouraged me to travel and go out of the familiar places, with her. I imagined it best when there is something special in that day (November 20 is very special to me).

All set (in my mind). November 2010 would be it in either Rome or Paris (where else is more romantic than these cities). Amsterdam and Brussels (Europe's capital) were also in the back-up plan.

She came to Amsterdam in the middle of November 2010. We took the comfortable train ride to Nijmegen, arguably the oldest city in the Netherlands, where my university is located.

As planned, we prepared to travel to Weeze-Rome-Paris-Brussels-Amsterdam-Nijmegen in 8 days.

In Rome, there were so many things to see and do. As a Catholic, Rome connected me to a self in awe and adoration of a faith so close and real. It was personal.

Together traveling, we discovered more our differences which led to arguments, and more arguments. For example, there was a difference in the way we viewed the trip. For me, it was a holiday wherein I could relax and sit back. For her, it was time to visit as many historical places as possible, especially the "bocca della verita." This kind of difference and argument caused me to forego the plan, in Rome.

Next stop was Paris. It was a short stop but worth every time in it. It was chilly in the city. I sensed a vibrancy in the city itself and I just let myself have a taste of  life the city was offering. We rode the Paris breeze.

We ended up in Brussels in the next stop. We met my cousin and she toured us around Europe's capital. And then, Filipino dinner was served. (Thanks to Salva and Eng). Again, the plan was shelved to give way to food attack.

On the way back to the Netherlands, we almost missed the last connecting train in Antwerp. In that massive Antwerp train station, we got 5 minutes to look for the train to bring us to Roosendaal. Just in time, we did it.

Back to Nijmegen the following day, I had a meeting with the research team at Radboud University Nijmegen. After the meeting, we roamed around the university. And then we biked to the German border near Kranenburg in the afternoon.

The next day, we went to Amsterdam. I told myself that it could be the P-Day. Anne Frank house came as the priority of the day. And then, Amsterdam central. Hushed most of the day, we rushed home to save us from freezing in the cold. Again, the plan crushed to the sounds and sights of a moving train.

Last day together came, before she returned to Singapore for work. It was November 27, 2010. Talks about Sinterklaas (a Dutch celebration) and the atmosphere that went with it were all hovering in the air in the Netherlands. I was told by my host parents that prior to the coming of Sinterklaas on December 5, children put their shoes near the chimney or heater for Sinterklaas to place his gift.

I thought about it for a moment. While in the shower, the idea came and enveloped me with its warmth. The spontaneity defied all plans in my head. I just imagined things happening. It was a now or never moment, and so I thought.

As I placed the ring inside her shoe, I imagined scenarios. Ahhh.. Once she put on her shoes, she would feel something inside. And there, she would scream. I would come to her and see what in the shoes, kneeling. Then, I would pick the ring and show to her with the magic words. Perfect, was it?

What happened was that when she put her shoes on, she walked two or three steps farther. And when she noticed something, she grabbed her shoe and turned it upside down. There went the ring rolling in the kitchen, near the basement door.

Shocked, I shouted, "where is it?"
She responded, "what is it?"
I kept asking, where is it? Where is it?
And she kept replying in question, what is it? What is it?

I found it underneath the cooking range. She was beside me on bended knees. And there I said (something like this or to this effect), "In such a short time together (2 years), you have made me feel better and loved. You have made me do worthy and crazy things. You have made me believe in the ideals and noble causes of life. Ms. Noriko, I want to live a life with you for the longest time I can in this world. I want you and me in this wonderful life and world together. Would you be part of this life with me? Marry me."

In the unexpected and yet most romantic place in the world at that time (kitchen in Groesbeeksedwarsweg, Nijmegen), she hugged me saying, (what else), yes, yes, yes, many times, yes.

I was the happiest man, and still am.

Biking through the Woods in the Netherlands

Coming out of the house, I met my landowner as he obviously just arrived holding his bike by his side. He asked, “Where are you going?”

“Biking.”

He smiled and said, “Enjoy the day!” as he positioned his bike to rest on a wall bordering our neighbor. He has never missed to say something every time we meet.

I unlocked my bike which was chained beside a metal fence, and replied, “Thanks, sure I will.”

It was five in the afternoon of Saturday. I started to move towards the south where my university and the forested area of Nijmegen are located. I passed rows of similarly-designed houses on both sides of the road. 

I did not really have a plan where to go.

Nijmegen, as in all other places in Holland, has a specially designated lane for bicycles. It makes biking safe, practical, recreational, and pleasurable to everyone. Adults and children are riding side by side on various sizes of bikes.  Biking is more than a transportation means; it a lifestyle in Holland.

As a Filipino studying in Holland, I welcome this lifestyle. Although not entirely new to me, biking is something that I am not used to doing everyday. Now I bike to go to the university and                                                                                                                                                                                   supermarket, to visit friends around the city, and tour around the city that would be my home until the duration of my studies.  Oftentimes, I bike with a destination in mind.

After 20 minutes of several intersection stops and leisurely biking, I could see ahead the green tops of trees closing in on me. I was heading to the direction of Malden, a village just outside Nijmegen.

As I approached the forested area, a stream of refreshing breeze blew on my face, ear and hair. The gusts of wind went through every pore of my skin slicing away the weight of worries and concerns in my body and mind. There was a sudden heightening of senses, of life. I felt that my body opened up to perceive this awakening moment of being present in a particular time and space. My body, as it were, expanded to embrace those things that came along the ride.

Inside the woods, every pedal, left and right foot, synchronized with my heartbeat and breathing. The greeneries of the surroundings brightened the way deeper into an arching dome of trees. Tree trunks peeped from afar while those closer simply stood like guardians of the woods. Dried leaves scattered on the ground. Decaying, some leaves seemed to be part of the soil, thus feeding the earth’s soul.

My bike swooned to the twittering of crisscrossing birds from the branches. I saw another biker several meters ahead of me. He was moving slowly. I moved past him and looked at his face smiling wryly. There was a certain questioning look in his eyes.  But he smiled back. Then, the straight road stretched my sight forward.

As I pedaled down the road, I recalled the biker after me. The man could be in his 50s.

That look, “Why are you rushing?”

Those steady and easy pedals could be signs that he had been to the woods several times. For him, it might not be about getting in and out of the woods. It might not simply be passing through the woods. That forested area is itself a destination. 

When I looked back, I thought I lost him. Then, a tiny colored figure emerged from a distance. He seemed to add colors to the shade and tapestry of the woods.

Upon seeing the end of the road, I decided to go back, retracing the same road. This time, there would be no rush. Deep into the woods, I reached my destination. 

"Find and Get A New One"

Rainy days made my five-year old pair of shoes really look worn out and old. They have done me great service. Their loyalty is beyond measurement. They were with me in every step of my way, literally. Now, it is with heavy heart that I am considering their retirement from active use and out of my traveling feet. I intend to keep them for sentimental reasons. But I know I will have to face harsh comments and reactions. Why can't I just keep them?

Our society has become used with disposing what is not working and actively in use, and acquiring new things to replace the disposed one. It has become a habit, very close to becoming a rule. It is now increasingly embedded in the mentality of many in our society. The consumerist attitudes demand to keep the production, distribution, and consumption of goods going. From electronic gadgets to material goods, we easily dispose the old familiar possessions, and replace them with hippie, fashionable, and cool stuff.

Many repair shops have folded up due to this dispose-and-replace mentality. From tailor and dressmaking shops to radio/TV repair shops, they slowly have faded in our utilitarian existence. Many of us tend not to repair something old and bit damaged, instead we tend to buy and replace it with new or second-hand one.

In Bicol, there were men who roamed around calling out, "irahay payong!" (repairing umbrellas).  For less than 50 pesos, they would personally and immediately fix any kind of problems of umbrellas in front of one's house. That was in the past. When I visited Bicol lately, I was unable to hear that familiar call of irahay payong. Cheap umbrellas proliferate in the local market of dry goods. Many of us do not simply care to keep an umbrella for more than two rainy and sunny seasons. Once it is broken or just a bit damaged, many of us prefer to have a new one to be our companion in the journey under the rain and sun.

Sadly, this kind of mentality has slowly sipped in our attitudes towards relationships. The recent debate on divorce bill in the Philippines (the lone country without a divorce law) may be an indication of this.

More often, we hear stories of break-up of relationships than new or make-up relationships. This is probably the reason why most of the best-selling songs and most requested songs are the sentimental heartbreak songs.

During a heated argument, we say things that hurt others. Although we do not mean to hurt the feelings of others, words can pierce and break the spirits and emotions of others more than we thought. Emotions fly high above our heads.

In my experience during these intense exchanges, I was told twice to find and get a new partner who will be perfect for my individuality. And twice I decided to ask my partner if she would be willing to take a new one in the old me. In the end, both of us decided to find and get a new partner in the old us.

Some say it is metamorphosis or transformation of sort to repair the damages of the past hurts and fix the problems of individual, gender, and cultural differences. We say it is defiance and standing up against the urge and pressures of easy way out - a mentality and disposition that demand replacements every now and then.

We say it is renewal of commitment, of the decision to journey together in life.