IT has been more than a couple of weeks since the last time I wore my Bench or Giordano shirt outside the house. Because now I am wrapped all over. A simple cotton shirt just isn't enough to keep me comfortable; an undershirt, a sweatshirt and a jacket or any other combination of clothes worn over the other is demanded by a temperature that sinks to as low as five degrees Celsius.

It isn't even winter yet in the Netherlands as I write this. It's mid-fall, but the cold is enough to make me shiver, especially in the mornings. To me the cold seems to be unbearable as I have to leave my flat as early as seven in the morning.

Curiosity seems to be my constant companion. And it is this curiosity that has caused many unexpected things to come my way, including my being here, a Filipino wanderer.

I am a working fellow. In my company, the chance of traveling abroad is close to 100 percent. When the opportunity finally came barely a month ago, I knew my time had come.

Now I am a foreigner in this foreign land. Day after day, I am slowly being given the solutions to problems that have lain unanswered in my mind for many years.

The problem of traffic, for instance. Traffic jams are virtually unknown in this place where the highways have so many lanes, where traffic signals and lights are organized and drivers obey traffic rules. There are lanes for bicycles and motorcycles--even for pets! I haven't seen any officer in the middle of the road directing traffic or at the sidewalk watching undisciplined pedestrians cross where crossing is not allowed. I have seen none of these things so far, at least in the place where I am staying.

Where could all their street children have gone? Or is there not even one of them here? I have traveled to some of the bigger cities and not so famous towns, but I have yet to see an indigent child begging for food or asking for money. There are a few children on the sidewalks who expect you to give a small amount, but only after they have performed a remarkable exhibition of catching glowing sticks thrown into the air or they have sung a song you requested. The entertainment you get is certainly worth much more than the coins they get.

The people I have met are like us Filipinos, friendly and accommodating. The difference is that they are quick to say hello at every store counter or even in the street. And you don't have to worry if you get lost in the city and don't know your way home. Anybody you see would be eager to point out directions and you can be sure he isn't fooling you.

There is no reason for comparison, you might say. They belong to a First World country, we don't. Theirs is a world of money, in ours we ask where's the money. They are ready to serve, we like to be served.

I do love my country. My dad brought me up on all the principles of the Boy Scout movement, including loving God and country and obeying the law. He was the kind who would never say no to any scouting activity even if it would take me far away from home. I became a scoutmaster both in words and in deeds. And I had helped my troop members to become true citizens, loyal and brave and ready to defend the rights of all.

In high school, I joined the Citizens Army Training and became one of the top officers of the corps. I learned to do community service and perform my civic duties without expecting any compensation. I even considered dedicating my life to my country and our people. My friends told me I was destined to be a national hero, and I thought: Why not? After all I was named after Andres Bonifacio.

But what has become of me now? Slowly I forgot the things I learned in my youth. I do not worry too much when my country experiences one crisis after another or if there is rampant graft and corruption in the government. I tend to dismiss with indifference questions about the performance of the President and his Cabinet as well as their very low approval ratings. In fact, I hardly bother to think about these things these days.

I am in another country where there seems to be something beautiful to see in every corner and everything seems to be in order. I do not have to worry if the garbage would be collected in the morning, for instance.

What I worry about is that I am not staying here for good. I will be going back to the Philippines and back to my daily grind, including waiting for many minutes on a jeepney stop and inhaling all that smoke from smoke-belching vehicles. Things will surely be the same from government officials who don't fulfill their campaign promises to the unpaved roads in my hometown, from the demands of workers for pay increases to the street protests and rallies against government abuses.

I don't expect things to change overnight. I can't hurry things up. As some people say, slowly but surely. Slowly, so that nobody will be trampled upon and hurt; and surely, so long as promises made are ultimately fulfilled. I dream that when I return home the Filipinos will be one and united in the effort to build a better place for all.

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