My ‘Navillera’ moment
Is my life all that I hoped it would be? Such romantic introspections fleetingly crossed my mind as I began to watch my first Korean series, recommended by my son, Rob, who’s been locked down with me for a year now. When it comes to certain types of movies, I’ve learned to trust his picks, although they aren’t the usual choices, like the movie “The Dig” and the documentary “The Octopus, My Teacher,” both of which I loved.
Actually, friends hooked on romantic Korean TV series had been trying to recruit me into their club, but somehow failed to arouse my curiosity—of all the Asian countries, I knew least about Korea, although Vergel and I had always loved Korean food.
Second thoughts
In 2019, before pandemic, we went on a cruise for the cherry blossoms but missed the height of its bloom in Tokyo, but Korea more than made up for it, in Busan, itself a stop on the cruise. We noticed their Korean pride of country and fierce competition with Japan, their old cruel conqueror, as our own in our more recent history.
I knew not much else except through feedback of long ago from my daughter, who briefly worked for an obscure Korean company, and Rob, who for a longer time, some years, worked for Samsung. They both agreed Koreans could be hardworking and self-sacrificing, to a fault.
Also, after our morning pool exercises, I’d overhear over breakfast exchanges between my fellow exercisers about how they lost sleep watching the current Korean series on Netflix.
But, funny, when I finally got into it, I was initiated with one not in the same romantic sense as the ones they enjoyed. It also had a rather un-Korean title, “Navillera”—it sounds Spanish, but if there’s any such Spanish word it’s a mystery to me; “Butterflies among the stars” is supposedly a rough translation, from a Korean poem and a popular hit song. As ridiculous as the plot sounded, I took up Rob’s suggestion. He and I seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to movie genres, anyway.
It’s the story an old retired mailman who didn’t do badly, considering he came from a family too poor to give him an adequate education. He has a dutiful and pleasant wife and his children are more than okay; in fact the youngest is a medical doctor. It is set in the 1970s.
Our retired mailman is bothered by his close friend’s suicide. He is having second thoughts about his own happy, if passionless, life. An old aspiration, to be a ballet dancer, begins to reoccupy his mind. It’s a dream doomed at the start; it went against the Korean false sense of machismo and his own father’s wish and beyond his family’s means.
As late in the game as it is, it haunts and pushes him, almost desperately. He finds a way to study it, under the most unlikely teacher, a truly gifted 23-year-old, who aspires to become a great ballet dancer himself. It’s the most unlikely partnership and friendship, dogged by the harsh realities of their lives.
To be me
The drama is slow, maybe only appropriately, like a typical ballet dance, a serious matter of both technique and emotion. It seems to allow time for reflection. I love the subtlety of the theme and the acting and the absence of overdramatization, such as our own teleserye can’t seem to get past. I feel I’m watching real people and not actors—it helps that their names are unfamiliar, even unpronounceable on the marquee.
Will the old man fulfill his dream of dancing on stage? I almost hope not, but it’s no longer the point. As in life, it is no longer about arriving, but about journeying.
the young man bag the first prize in the competition? In his case, I hope so. But, as we know, there are many ways of winning in life. In fact, it is in defeat that we become the better for. The sweetest victories are the moral and spiritual ones, usually against oneself. The TV series, as far as I’m concerned, can go whichever way. The people in it have by now become real to me; I have begun to care.
This Korean series has made me look deeper, in case a dream may yet be waiting there to come true. I once dreamt of living in a rustic farmhouse surrounded by flowers and fruit trees, with several dogs, and a brook. I almost bought one in Lipa, just a few years ago, built by a German national who was going back home. At 81, I’m done chasing rainbows. My retired mailman is only 70; suppressed passion has yet left embers in him.
I had a dad who was ready to support any ambition or passion I might have had; instead, I did everything expected of me. Five days after college graduation I married a doctor, would have four kids. After 20 years, I shocked and disappointed everybody by separating from my “prince” and the “good” life, an act of madness I couldn’t even explain rationally, even to myself.
I wanted be alone, to get my bearings, to be me!
It was my “Navillera” moment! Not long after that I did find my passion, and I’m living it now. It’s no rose garden, but, with deep apologies to all those I hurt, this feels so right.
Friends hooked on romantic Korean TV series had been trying to recruit me into their club . . . When I finally got into it, I was initiated with one not in the same romantic sense as the ones they enjoyed