

This might not be the typical expat blog, written by a German expat, living in the Philippines since 1999. It's different. In English and in German. Check it out! Enjoy reading! Dies mag' nun wirklich nicht der typische Auswandererblog eines Deutschen auf den Philippinen sein. Er soll etwas anders sein. In Englisch und in Deutsch! Viel Spass beim Lesen!


Actress Bela Padilla is currently at the center of controversy after rumors surfaced claiming that she has allegedly become a “headache” for the production team of her ongoing series “Blood vs. Duty.”
The issue was recently discussed by comedian and talent manager Ogie Diaz in his “Showbiz Update” vlog, where he shared several behind-the-scenes allegations reportedly circulating within the production.
Ogie first brought up Bela’s cryptic Instagram Story post, which read: “When you give it your all pero di man lang pala siya day ender.”
The talent manager explained that in television production, a “day ender” refers to the episode’s final or cliffhanger scene and that it is usually the most important moment meant to hook viewers into watching the next episode.
According to Ogie, Bela was allegedly disappointed after expecting her scene to become the episode’s “day ender,” only for it not to happen despite allegedly giving her all during filming.

The veteran showbiz personality questioned why the matter became an issue in the first place, saying actors typically do not interfere with decisions regarding which scenes become the highlight of an episode.
Aside from the alleged complaint, Ogie claimed that more stories regarding Bela’s supposed attitude on the set of “Blood vs. Duty” had reached him.
“Totoo ba na ikaw ay sakit ng ulo ng production?” Ogie asked in his vlog, while also mentioning alleged reports that Bela supposedly brought some of her concerns directly to top management instead of first addressing them with the production staff.
The talent manager also brought up rumors involving actor Baron Geisler, claiming there were whispers on set that Bela allegedly had issues with him.
The vlogger also mentioned rumors that the actress previously encountered issues with fellow celebrities including Carlo Aquino, Ria Atayde, and even her close friend Angelica Panganiban.
Despite the explosive claims, Ogie clarified that he is not keen on believing the rumors and that he would rather wait to hear Bela’s side before passing judgement.
But he ended his commentary with a blunt remark: “Kung feeling mo napakahusay mong artista… dapat ikaw na mag-produce.”
As of writing, Bela has yet to publicly address the allegations.

DAVAO CITY—The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) on Friday said it is considering the suspension of a sanitary landfill in Barangay New Carmen here, which collapsed on Wednesday, burying one person, injuring two, and leaving two others missing.
In a statement, the DENR called on the city government to “accelerate stabilization measures at the site,” where a mountain of trash slid past 1 p.m. on Wednesday following days of rain that also submerged parts of the downtown area.
As of Friday, search and rescue teams from the Bureau of Fire Protection, 911 Urban Search and Rescue, the City Engineer’s Office (CEO), and barangay responders were deployed, but their efforts were hampered by unstable ground conditions.
The CEO’s declaration of the area as “unsafe for full entry” prompted a temporary suspension of waste disposal operations at the landfill. It has also sent technical teams to assess the extent of the waste movement to guide remediation measures for the facility.
According to the DENR, the landfill has been under close monitoring by the Environmental Management Bureau (EMB) in the Davao region since January.
In March this year, a notice of violation was issued against the facility “for operating without a discharge permit, failing effluent standards, and maintaining an inadequate leachate treatment system,” the DENR said.
Last month, the city government committed to drafting a pollution control program for the landfill.
The DENR said earlier inspections “documented steep slopes, a collapsed leachate pond, and the presence of informal waste pickers and makeshift dwellings near the landfill perimeter.”
“These findings formed the basis of DENR recommendations for slope stabilization, partial closure of certain sections, and relocation of households within the 200-meter buffer zone,” the agency said.
Environment Secretary Juan Miguel Cuna said the trash slide underscores the urgency of completing corrective measures.
“Every life lost is unacceptable. The DENR and the local government have been working together on the technical and regulatory requirements for months. This incident reinforces the need to accelerate slope stabilization and the safe closure plan,” he said.
An average of 786 tons of waste is dumped into the landfill daily, and the sheer volume has brought it close to full capacity. A new landfill site being developed nearby is still halfway completed.
Cuna said that once suspended, operations at the landfill will not resume until the site is declared safe.
“This is a moment for collaboration. We are committed to ensuring that Davao City’s waste facilities are safe, compliant and resilient,” he said.
According to Barangay New Carmen chief Jerry Ceballos, residents living near the landfill had long been urged to relocate due to the rising danger posed by the accumulating trash.
A city government report said 15 houses were destroyed, mostly buried under the debris, while 11 others were damaged. Several motorcycles were also buried.
Ceballos said more than a hundred families, or at least 500 individuals, have been evacuated to gymnasiums in the village and the health center.
The Office of the Vice President has mobilized a food truck to provide meals for evacuees and rescuers, who continue to slowly dig through the collapsed garbage mound in hopes of finding two missing elderly women.
We have our own culture, so it’s natural for us to have our own ways of expressing love.
For example, Filipinos are VERY family oriented, so our idea of love is tied to our familial roles and relationships. Dating is practically the first step to meeting your spouse and starting your future family. When you’re in a relationship with someone, it’s also kind of expected that you should be on good terms with their parents and siblings.
When we love you, we ask about your family. How is your mother? Is your tatay still working abroad? Are your siblings still in school? In the Philippines, love means working hard for your family and making your parents proud.
We’re also predominantly Catholic, so love can be very religious. When you love someone, you pray for them. You invite them to go to church with you. You give them a rosary as a gift.
Filipino love is also tied to labor and acts of service. In fact, there was a survey
last year that showed 67% of people in the Philippines show their love through acts of service.If a Filipina loves you, she will cook for you.
If a Filipino loves you, he will spend the night with a pamaypay (a hand-held fan) to make sure you’re comfortable while sleeping when there’s a brownout (power outage).
If a Filipino family loves you, you will always be invited to all the fiestas.
When people in the Philippines love you, not a day will go by without you laughing over something silly. You will also never go hungry. They will put a roof over your head during a storm, they will carry your house (This is literal. Look up Bayanihan.), and they will walk on their knees from the church doors to the altar to pray for your eternal soul.
Footnotes
Meingel Damayon
I woke up choking on blood.
I barely made it out of bed; a thick, watery clump just poured out of my mouth. Red. So much red. My head spun hard, legs shaking, scared I’d collapse right there on the floor with my own blood staring back at me. I’m scared of seeing my own blood. I glanced at the wall clock: past 1 a.m.
Two hours until I had to leave for practice teaching.
Suddenly, the blood didn’t scare me anymore. What scared me was the thought of standing in front of class half-sleep, voice cracking, dizzy, blanking out while students watched. I was more afraid of being late, teaching ineffectively, than the fact that I just puked a scary amount of blood.
I know I’m not sick. I feel no pain anywhere else. But at that moment, my body spoke in a language my mind had been refusing to hear. There’s no time to be tired, no time to be broken, I don’t have time to fall apart. So I wiped my mouth, rinsed the sink, and went back to bed as if nothing had happened.
That morning, I learned the first real lesson of teaching: sometimes the blood comes out of your mouth, and you still have to smile by 5:50 a.m. and pretend you are whole.
I’m still learning the same lesson, in slower, quieter ways. Not a single day has passed that I haven’t asked myself: What does it truly mean to teach?
Is it just ticking boxes on a curriculum guide? Marching through lesson plans like a soldier on parade? Is greatness measured in titles, ranks, extra duties, the dryness of your throat from back-to-back classes, and exhaustion in your bones? These questions will not leave me alone. Some nights I beg them to stop.
I am sick of teachers being called heroes, of the profession dressed up in gold stars and martyrdom quotes. I am tired of pretending the exhaustion is holy. I am sick of hearing “This is just how teaching is” when everyone knows the pay is pitiful, the classrooms are ovens, the paperwork is endless, and the system could be fixed but isn’t—because it counts on our patience, on our guilt, on the fact that we will keep showing up anyway.
Teaching demands pieces of your body and soul, and the system knows exactly how to take them. We hate ourselves for still walking through the gate every morning, because somewhere inside, we still believe one child might be worth the cost. I know one person cannot fix a broken system, cannot rewrite policies written, cannot carry every child across every finish line. And still, I bleed.
Three months of practice teaching felt like three lifetimes. Before they pinned the “Pre-Service Teacher” badge on me, I sat through the seminar like a convict waiting for the sentence. I had fought this degree for years, convinced teaching had chosen the wrong heart. I was tired, broke, just trying to survive the program. Deep inside, I was desperately and quietly begging the universe to change my heart and mind. I was pleading, or at least to make this path make sense, to let me feel, for once, that I belonged here. That, maybe, this is my calling after all.
I walked into those classrooms carrying that fragile hope like a lit candle in a storm. Every day I taught, I bled a little more—quietly, willingly, hopelessly—praying at least one student absorbed something from the lesson I had lost sleep preparing. The raw, burning dryness in my throat after five straight periods, the nights my mind raced while I prepared every slide, the dread that it still wouldn’t be enough.
My professor once said, “A learner must learn from their teacher, but a teacher must also learn from their learners.” This idea resonated deeply with me, becoming a personal mantra for the educator I aspire to be. I once asked each class about their dreams. I’ll never forget how their eyes lit up as they told me what they wanted to be and why. In those moments, I saw my younger self in them—full of color, hope, and a wide-open view of the world. Yet every time they spoke, a quiet part of me ached, knowing that in this broken system, many of those dreams would fade or become almost impossible to chase. The old battle between passion and practicality waits for them, too. Still, in that classroom, I let them dream.
And there were days it physically pained me because I couldn’t protect them enough. I’m only one person, and I’m not nearly enough. Some nights, I wished I were selfless enough to dedicate my entire life to them. I would, if I could. I’m not selfless enough to sacrifice everything this path demands.
To teach is to be wounded every day by a system that piles on impossible workloads; to teach is to stay passionate and dedicated enough to make sure real learning happens. It demands the sacrifice of your very soul—your time, your sanity, your identity. Teaching isn’t just exhaustion; it’s a slow, agonizing bleed—your mind, your emotions, your spirit dripping away.
And the final, rotten truth I learned: to teach is to bleed, it’s inevitable.


Content creator Awra Briguela is pushing back against derogatory and allegedly transphobic remarks made by an individual reported to be a professor at the Universidad de Manila.
The issue began after the supposed teacher allegedly posted a malicious comment on Awra’s social media post, sparking online backlash.
Awra then addressed the matter on social media, publicly calling out the professor and stressing the responsibility of educators to uphold professionalism and respect.
“As a professor, you are expected to uphold professionalism, respect, and basic human decency. Educators should serve as role models and create safe spaces for students, not contribute to online bullying, humiliation, and discrimination. What he did was completely unacceptable and disappointing coming from someone in a position of authority,” Awra wrote.
Following her statement, Awra also met with officials from the Universidad de Manila and the Youth Development and Welfare Bureau to formally raise her concerns.
Awra shared a photo from her visit to the office, explaining her decision to speak up.
“I chose to speak up and take action because what happened was not just a simple misunderstanding,” she said.
She added, “It was discrimination, and staying silent about it would only allow this kind of behavior to continue.”
Awra stressed that her goal was accountability not only for herself, but for other students who may have faced similar treatment.
“I wanted accountability, not only for myself, but also for every student who has experienced the same treatment, or even worse, and felt too afraid to speak out,” she said.
She also emphasized that schools should be safe spaces for all students.
“No student should ever feel humiliated, invalidated, or discriminated against inside an institution that is supposed to be a safe space for learning and growth,” Awra said.
Calling for responsibility from educators, she added: “This is not normal, and it should never be normalized especially when it comes from people who are expected to guide, educate, and protect students.”
Awra thanked the Youth Development and Welfare Bureau and university officials for their response.
“I am deeply thankful to the Youth Development and Welfare Bureau for listening, acknowledging this issue, and extending their assistance,” she said.
“I also want to thank the School President of Universidad de Manila for taking this matter seriously and allowing conversations about accountability and inclusivity to happen.”
She clarified that her action was not about conflict but advocacy.
“This step was never about creating drama or conflict. It was about standing up for myself, my dignity, and for those who still do not have the courage, platform, or voice to defend themselves,” she said.
Awra ended with a message for others facing similar situations:
“I hope this becomes a reminder that discrimination in any form has consequences, and that every student deserves respect regardless of gender identity, expression, or appearance.”
“Education should be a place of safety, respect, and equality never fear, shame, or discrimination.”
“And to those who have experienced the same situation, or even worse, please know that your voice matters too.”
“Feel free to directly raise your concerns and complaints to the Office of the President. The President is all ears and willing to listen to every student who seeks justice, accountability, and a safe environment within the university.”