On April 18, a book titled Migrants and Their Families Living Through the COVID-19 Pandemic was launched, examining transnational communities across China, the Philippines, Vietnam, and Japan. Edited by Professors Saihanjuna of Nagasaki University and Sachi Takahata of University of Shizuoka  the publication includes my contribution in Column 5: Under the Blue Skies: Power Beneath the Wings of the Airline Industry: Memoirs of a Former Philippine Airlines' Osaka Branch Manager. The piece draws from an earlier article I wrote for my column “On the Road” in the March–April 2021 issue of Jeepney Press, featuring the memoirs of former Osaka Branch Manager, Mr. Raphael Romualdo.

At the height of the pandemic, when the world stood still, quiet heroes emerged in the aviation industry. Among them was Mr. Romualdo, then Area Manager in Osaka, who worked tirelessly alongside his senior executive, Mr. Tomoyuki Nagao, PAL’s Country Manager in Tokyo. Mr. Nagao’s commanding presence—marked by both stature and charisma—can be traced back to his earlier days as a flight attendant with British Airways. During his time in Osaka, he was deeply involved in promoting the Philippines in collaboration with the Department of Tourism and the Filipino community in Western Japan.

I recall a deeply personal moment from over two decades ago: when my aunt passed away, and I urgently needed to return to the Philippines. Though we barely knew each other, Mr. Nagao personally ensured I was able to board a flight the very next day. That quiet act of kindness, extended during a moment of grief, remains unforgettable.

The plum blossoms I see along the streets on my way to the station seem to defy the lingering winter of mid-March, with temperatures dropping as low as 1 degree. White, pale pink, and fuchsia blooms dance gracefully, unfazed by the intimidating cold breeze. Come what may, they are truly the harbingers of spring—awakening in us a renewed zest for life.

We had a deeply meaningful graduation ceremony this March. The student council leader was overcome with emotion as he thanked his parents, recalling the struggles he endured during the entrance exam season. For many jukensei, the days can feel long and uncertain, as they hope to gain admission to prestigious universities.

A decade ago, I wrote about one of my former students, Yosuke Shohara, a graduate of the Philippine Studies Department at Osaka University’s Minoo Campus. Today, I am featuring him again, in the hope that his “ikiru chikara”—his strength to live—will inspire many.

We met him again this year. He sent me and Noemi a message in Filipino: “Puwede po ba tayong magkita? Gusto ko pong ipakilala ang aming sanggol.”
We were pleasantly surprised. Expecting an infant, we were amazed to meet his one-year-old son!

In his third year, he enrolled in a long-term study program at the University of the Philippines in Diliman. My brother Louie picked him up at the airport.
“He looked so frail,” Louie recalled, “but I could sense how sincere he was in pursuing his dream of becoming fluent in Filipino.”

After a few months in the dormitory, he moved to a house in Philamlife Homes with the help of my friend Noemi. Perhaps missing his family in Japan, he became a regular presence at Noemi’s Missha shop at SM. There, he would often ask the staff for help with his Filipino homework and eagerly practice the language.

Like a carousel, Yosuke’s experiences in the Philippines became a significant part of his education. He was pickpocketed several times, lost his luggage and cellphone, and was even hospitalized—but none of these setbacks deterred him from continuing his studies at UP.

“Napaka-charming ni Yosuke kaya tuwang-tuwa kami sa kanya. He brought sunshine wherever he went,” Noemi fondly recalls.

He was even appointed organizer of the “Japanese Night” at UP Diliman, which turned out to be a great success.

After completing his program at UP, he returned to Japan for his senior year—where he once again found himself in the same class as Natsumi-san. Love quietly blossomed between them, though they kept it a secret. They eventually graduated together, with Natchan receiving the award for Best Thesis.

Years passed. They worked in different companies, and in 2019, they were married, surrounded by their classmates and teachers.

In January 2026, they traveled to the Philippines with Natchan's family, revisiting the places that held special meaning in their lives as students. Yosuke and Natchan hope that their son, Rei, will one day meet the people who helped shape their journey.

And perhaps, in time, Rei-kun will choose to walk the same path—guided by his own strength to live, and with an even greater zest for life.

News from Osaka

PCCC Welcomes New Consul General in Osaka

Consul General Donna Rodriguez received a warm welcome from the Philippine Community Coordinating Council (PCCC), led by Chairperson Katrina Fujikawa. Also present were Vice Chairperson for Public Relations July Bartiquin, Treasurer Delia Nakashima, Auditor Rose Kasai, and Founder Neriza Saito.

During the luncheon meeting, Consul General Rodriguez was briefed on the council’s objectives and past activities. The PCCC, founded in 2000, serves as an umbrella organization representing around 24 Filipino community groups across the Kansai region.

In response, the Consul General—accompanied by Cultural Officer Ms. Anna Liza Alcantara—emphasized the importance of continued cooperation and collaboration with the Filipino community under the Philippine Consulate General’s jurisdiction. She also noted that this year marks the 70th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between Japan and the Philippines.

I hadn’t been feeling well throughout the holiday season and almost thought I wouldn’t make the trip. Worried, my son personally saw me off at the airport. I was relieved to be greeted by the warm smile of Mr. Kanuka, PAL’s KIX Manager, at the boarding gate. The flight was smooth and relaxing, and my excitement grew at the thought of seeing family—and indulging in all the food I had been craving.

The scorching heat at the airport pickup area felt kinder to my body than Japan’s bitter winter. Since it was my birthday, we celebrated with my favorites: a huge crab, pampano fish, and kangkong—Surprise No. 1.

Surprise No. 2 came in the form of a bouquet of flowers from a cousin in the US, a heartfelt birthday message, and a cake waiting in my room. I’m not one who enjoys being feted, but I felt deeply loved. I had a feeling my sister Alice orchestrated it all.

The next day, I prepared for a late-afternoon meeting arranged by my brother with a school official. There was a light drizzle and moderate traffic when my brother casually mentioned that the venue had changed. We drove to a retro-style restaurant in San Juan.

As I entered, the room was dark. Then—suddenly—the lights came on.

I froze.

Why were my other brother and his wife there when they had said they were dining elsewhere? As I scanned the room, I recognized familiar faces—relatives I hadn’t seen in years, a university classmate, and friends all the way from Osaka.

Then I saw two men in Barong Tagalog, standing beside their wives.

Hallucination?

No. My two sons were right there.

They had taken an early-morning flight to make it in time for a surprise party masterminded by my brother Louie, in joyful connivance with my sisters, brothers, nephews, and nieces. My son later told me they had been planning it since October.