Nestor “Nono” Felix worked in various capacities for an international NGO for more than 25 years before retiring in 2011. From 1997 to 2010, he was the corporate planning and M&E (monitoring and evaluation) manager covering Bangladesh, Cambodia, China, India, Indonesia, Laos, Nepal, the Philippines, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Timor Leste and Vietnam.
As a Filipino national with a keen observant eye, his perspective is firmly rooted in his culture and heritage, but profoundly enriched by the myriad experiences across continents. He is never at a loss for words to make an incisive commentary about the day’s moments. In this his fifth of a series of five articles, he vividly recounts his travels around Asia, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and being mistakenly taunted as a Hmong individual in the US. Each destination has left an indelible mark on this traveler from Bicol.
The featured image is an aerial photo showing lanterns at the Tang Paradise in Xi’an, northwest China’s Shaanxi Province. The city of Xi’an welcomes tourists with colorful lights and lanterns (credit: Xinhua.net/Liu Xiao)
Travel “chucherias”
During my sojourn in Xian, China, serendipity led me to witness the city’s annual festival of lights upon my arrival. The city center transformed into a mesmerizing panorama of lights, with neon illuminating both sides of the highway as I approached. The bell tower, bathed in the soft glow of flickering lights, presented a surreal spectacle. Each hue seemed to guard its authenticity—red, orange, yellow, and more, no shades or blends. It was sheer luck, not intuition, that had guided me to this nocturnal marvel.
In Yogyakarta, Indonesia, I joined colleagues from diverse backgrounds to explore the famed Borobudur. Curiosity about the emperor with over a hundred wives occupied our thoughts. Little did we know that a week after our departure, a powerful earthquake would strike Yogyakarta, causing damage to Borobudur. Jakarta’s capital offered a comforting routine of plain rice and oxtail soup, reminiscent of the delectable Bulalo from my home province in the Philippines. Despite the aging hotel, its safety, security, and the unparalleled courtesy of the longstanding staff lingered in my memories, especially during moments of savoring Bulalo.
Vientiane, Laos, unfolded an unexpected proposition during a riverside dinner—a Thai village just across the river, reachable by a first-class bus to Bangkok. Tempted by the idea of a weekend adventure, I contemplated, ultimately discarding it for fear of disrupting my planned itinerary and heeding advice about the potentially perilous boat ride on the Mekong River.
Siem Reap in Cambodia, known for its international workshops, didn’t capture my enthusiasm for the ancient temples of Angkor Wat. The frenzy of posh hotel construction along a stretch of the highway intrigued me more. Angkor Wat, always teeming with tourists, presented challenges navigating crowded alleyways, where I cautiously preserved the ancient statues from any inadvertent mishap. Cambodia’s burgeoning modernity in Phnom Penh, evident in new traffic lights, road networks, and SUVs, marked the country’s transformation.
At Amsterdam’s Schipol airport, a prolonged layover beckoned me to seek tulips in bloom, recalling childhood memories. However, transit restrictions kept me within the airport, unlike in Bangkok and Singapore, where transit passengers could explore selected tourist sites for free.
In the midst of the UK’s harsh winter, I braved half a kilometer of thick snow on my daily walks to and from the workshop venue. Frequent stumbles were attributed to my lack of exercise. So the snowy escapades became a fitness regime followed by hearty meals and restful sleep.
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, offered a unique cinematic experience, with the front yard of the American embassy packed for a screening of Armageddon. A chance encounter with a fellow Filipino and town mate, a guard at the embassy, led to animated conversations about Bicol politics, revealing a tale of an honest mayor who ended up penniless.
Khon Kaen, Thailand, welcomed me with scorching heat that felt like an inferno, making the short walk from the plane to the airport entrance an ordeal. The intense heat seemed to burn the hair on my arms, and even with a cap, my scalp felt toasted. Unusual temperatures were overheard as I navigated through the searing climate.
A health setback in Hanoi, Vietnam, prompted my return to Bicol for medical procedures. A colonoscopy to address abdominal pain revealed the need for polyp removal. Despite suggestions to remain unaware during the procedure, my insistence led to an unexpected, albeit painful, revelation. As I winced, Chari, in the room with me, beamed with pride, making a thumbs-up sign.
Bangladesh
Traveling from Manila to Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, posed a challenge due to the absence of direct flights. My usual route involved taking the evening flight of Thai Airways from Bangkok landing in Dhaka in under three hours. Taxis were readily available during periods without airport pick-ups.
My initial visit faced setbacks as I battled a stomach ailment that confined me to a hotel for days. Subsequently, I opted for guesthouses instead of hotels during my subsequent trips. In my preferred guesthouse, dinner typically consisted of plain rice and grilled king prawns, a culinary delight I eagerly anticipated each time I visited Bangladesh. I would often muse about missing this delectable dish upon returning to the Philippines for good.
During the late 1990s, I noticed a sparse number of guests. However, business experienced a surge in the early 2000s, marked by a construction boom with multi-storey buildings springing up across the city and its environs.
In the 1990s, Bangladesh stood as one of the poorest and most densely populated countries globally. International development organizations saturated the country with aid. However, by the 2000s, Bangladesh showcased commendable progress in poverty reduction, with much credit attributed to Grameen Banking. Microfinance empowered idle poor women, especially mothers, enabling them to earn sustainably through small businesses.
My frequent visits to Bangladesh were motivated by a remarkable country director, a visionary and development maverick. He championed a child-centered approach adopted organization-wide. Under his leadership, I conducted process documentation research, a top-tier qualitative research methodology. The director prioritized obtaining a ringside view of ground realities for informed program decision-making and improvement, irrespective of the high cost and work disruption.
On a trip to the northern tip of Bangladesh during the monsoon season, my Bangladeshi colleagues and I traversed waterlogged rice fields and marshlands. Despite the overcast sky and lack of rain, we stayed wide awake during the long car journey, taking advantage of the opportunity to doze off at lunchtime in a roadside eatery. The unfamiliar surroundings prompted a craving for pork adobo, reminding me that I wasn’t in my favorite Quezon kitchenette en route to Manila.
Staying in a staff house that served as a meeting venue, I couldn’t help but draw parallels with the bunkhouse from my past. The ambiance, the scent of food wafting from the kitchen, the windsong, and the winding wooden stairways triggered memories of my days as a process documentor in a university in the early 1970s.
In the early 2000s, Bangladesh faced an unprecedented wintry cold spell, causing deaths from hypothermia, particularly among the elderly. During this period, I accompanied the health coordinator on visits to remote villages, witnessing the harsh conditions faced by grade school children in damp classrooms.
Back at the country office, group lunches provided an opportunity to unwind. We embraced the Bangladeshi tradition of eating with our hands, relishing fried freshwater fish, lentils, and vegetables. Despite the bony nature of the fish, its taste paired perfectly with aromatic rice. Post-lunch, we enjoyed tea or coffee with sweetened condensed milk, poured ceremoniously from a thick glass.
Kandy
My travels to Sri Lanka occurred during a tumultuous period. Tamil rebels were carrying out bombings in various parts of the country, and confrontations with the military were becoming frequent. Despite these challenging circumstances, the world-renowned Temple of the Tooth in Kandy continued to attract a steady stream of foreign tourists.
Among all the countries I had the opportunity to visit, Sri Lanka left the most lasting impression. While there were numerous exotic locales, one, in particular, stood out for its uniqueness to the country. The vast expanses of flawlessly manicured tea plantations covering the undulating hills of Kandy were nothing short of magical. The journey along the winding uphill roads held a charm that surpassed even the renowned experience of touring the Temple of the Tooth.
During one of my trips, I chose to stay in a hilltop hotel, surrounded by tall trees that housed a troop of monkeys. On a fateful day, a room in the hotel fell victim to a monkey raid. The refrigerator was emptied, and an array of toiletries such as shampoos, lotions, perfumes, and shaving creams were strewn across the floor. The monkeys displayed remarkable intelligence, even managing to open windows – a feat that left me both bemused and impressed.
In another instance, I found myself in a predicament where I was unable to inform the Colombo country office of my revised travel schedule. Arriving in Colombo at midnight, I urgently needed to be in Kandy, approximately 100 kilometers away, the next day. Faced with no pick-up arrangements, I opted to charter a van at the airport. The journey was protracted due to the prevailing civil strife, marked by military checkpoints in nearly every town. Nevertheless, the driver skillfully navigated the checkpoints with a mere whisper, promptly gaining clearance from the soldiers. Midway through the journey, a colossal black dog with menacing blood-shot eyes narrowly avoided a collision with our van, leaving the driver visibly shaken. In that tense moment, I instinctively made the Sign of the Cross and whispered the Lord’s Prayer. I sensed that the driver, likely in prayer as well, was uttering his supplications in Sinhala. To my relief, when I looked again, the formidable creature had vanished. An eerie silence persisted until we reached Kandy. As the driver maneuvered the van for his return trip to Colombo, he smiled at me and revealed that he was a Catholic, creating a moment of unexpected camaraderie.
1988
In 1988, I completed a short course on Development Project Evaluation at the University of Minnesota in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. While I no longer recall the details of the course, I still remember that it culminated on the 54th floor of a city center skyscraper. As I rode the elevator, a strange popping sensation occurred in my left ear, and a buzzing persisted throughout the activity. It would be decades later, during my retirement, that my left ear’s health concerns would come to the forefront. Perhaps the extensive air travel I made in those years delayed the manifestation of this issue. And now, grounded on Earth, it is a source of most of all irritation. Even the simple act of listening to my favorite song like “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” has become a challenge.
During that time, the prestigious American Evaluation Association encouraged governments and NGOs worldwide to send participants to the course. They promoted the idea that evaluation was only useful when its results informed project decision-making and improvement—a mantra that the global development sector would eventually embrace. This emphasis on learning encompassed derivation of lessons learned and the establishment of good or best practices.
The short course was designed to equip participants with knowledge and skills in cost-benefit analysis, logical framework analysis, and other project design and evaluation tools. It also convinced me to specialize in development project evaluation. A field then known as a “near group” rather than a profession because it was new and esoteric. It emboldened me to think outside the box during my over two decades of work in development.
Back in 1988, a Filipino family of six earning Ps 2,709 per month lived above the poverty line, with less than half of the population reaching this threshold. Today, a family of five in the National Capital Region requires Ps 25,091 per month to maintain a decent standard of living above the poverty line. An exponential increase of 826% from the 1988 figure. In 2018, about 17% of the population lived below the poverty line, a number expected to decrease to 14% by 2022. However, the pandemic-battered economy has rendered this reduction an impossibility, setting the poverty situation back by 20-30 years. Millions of families have returned to poverty, while many more have fallen into it for the first time.
During that period, development projects by governments and NGOs were relatively straightforward. The primary goal was improving socio-economic conditions through discrete projects in health, education, livelihood, infrastructure, and more. Only later did new dimensions emerge in the development landscape. Projects began incorporating sustainability mechanisms to gain approval, aiming to ensure that beneficiaries could maintain development efforts after external funding ceased. Ironically, this approach proved unsustainable and unrealistic, as beneficiaries couldn’t sustain the projects independently. This led to the introduction of capacity building, also known as empowerment, which has proven effective in various ways. Today, the development sector, in collaboration with governments, has embraced new themes and advocacies, including equality and inclusion, gender equity, climate change, child rights, and social protection.
Because of the Covid-19 pandemic, the poor can become trapped in poverty indefinitely. And the non-poor are also vulnerable to falling into it because of reduced incomes resulting from diminished economic activity. It is imperative for the Philippine government and NGOs to bear this in mind and take action accordingly.
“Go Home Hmong!”
News about discrimination against Asian Americans in the USA reminds me of my first experience in the “Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave” in 1988. I was among monitoring and evaluation (M&E) staff of international non-government organizations (NGOs) worldwide selected for advanced training in “Development Project Evaluation.” The world-renowned evaluation guru, Michael Quinn Patton, led this prestigious training program at the University of Minnesota in the USA.
While in Manila to secure my US visa, I stayed at a posh hotel opposite the US embassy. To ensure I was among the first in line at the embassy, I woke up at the ungodly hour of 3 am. Every day, there was a long queue of visa applicants. And I was one of the fortunate few whose visas were approved with remarkable ease. This was in contrast to the heart-wrenching stories I overheard from my fellow applicants.
My travel itinerary included stops in Seoul, Seattle, and St. Paul, with United Airlines. The trip proceeded uneventfully until my arrival in Seattle. In Seattle, I found myself within the sprawling expanse of a massive airport. As I navigated through immigration, my foremost concern was locating the gate for my connecting flight to St. Paul. I continually scanned my surroundings, marveling at the airport’s towering roof that seemed to touch the clouds. But luck was on my side when I encountered a Filipino pastor from Mindanao (not Quiboloy) also bound for Minneapolis via St. Paul, its twin city.
Upon arriving at the St. Paul airport in Minnesota, a pre-arranged taxi awaited me. The driver, sporting a toothy grin, held up a sheet of paper bearing my name. It was a brief journey to my hotel, where I met several co-training participants from various countries for the first time.
Every morning, I boarded a letter-coded bus that passed through the University of Minnesota campus. I had to pay the exact fare consistently. I deposited it into a tall metal box beside the driver, which fascinated me no end every day. The bus schedule operated like clockwork, with neither delays nor disruptions. While waiting, I found myself engrossed in counting the squirrels scurrying in a wooded area behind the bus stop. My only discomfort was the biting chill in the air.
One evening, I decided to break from my routine and dine at a nearby pub. The items on the menu were unfamiliar to me, but I ordered Ravioli out of sheer curiosity. To my surprise, when the plate arrived, it was as heavy as the training materials folder for the day. The enormity ruined my appetite. Following that experience, I refrained from venturing outside until the eve of my departure. A Filipino acquaintance from the university showed me his rented flat. On my way back to the hotel, I made a brief stop at a small shop to buy mementos from the Minnesota Twins, the 1987 World Series Champions. After a few minutes, I strolled leisurely back to the hotel, only to suddenly hear the roar of a motorcycle approaching from behind. When I turned to face it, the back rider dismounted and angrily shouted at me, “Go Home Hmong!” (Hmong is a member of a mountain-dwelling people inhabiting remote parts of China, Vietnam, Laos, and Thailand. Many of them have found their way to the USA as immigrants.) He repeated this taunt several times while advancing toward me. But upon realizing that I was prepared to defend myself with my bulging bag, he hesitated. It seemed he had known that I could overpower him, and he retreated to rejoin his companion. Later, at the hotel, I discovered that rowdy teenagers had confronted not only me but also other Asians outside. Strangely, it appeared that neither the hotel front staff nor the people outside found anything wrong with such encounters.
Upon my return to Manila, my cousin, who had picked me up from the airport, was smiling while shaking his head. Aside from my checked-in RCBC (Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation) bag, I carried nothing but a discolored Manila envelope. The one he had seen on the day we took a taxi to NAIA when I departed the previous month.
About the author
NESTOR “NONO” FELIX worked in various capacities for an INGO for more than 25 years before retiring in 2011. From 1997 to 2010, he was the corporate planning and M&E manager covering Bangladesh, Cambodia, China, India, Indonesia, Laos, Nepal, the Philippines, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Timor Leste and Vietnam.
He contributes commentaries and opinions to the Philippine Daily Inquirer (bylined Nono Felix). He also writes poems for the Philippines Graphic. He is a recipient of the 2024 Nick Joaquin Literary Awards’ Graphic Salute Award bestowed by the Philippines Graphic in the poetry category, an award he also received in 2023. He lives with his family in San Felipe, Naga City.