Umbrella Stand

Bayang Magiliw: The Best FB EB Ever

2009-08-08T01:22:00.000+08:00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=109976&id=625992030&l=5bb16ba48a

The Best FB EB Ever

2009-08-08T01:20:00.000+08:00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=109976&id=625992030&l=5bb16ba48a

I'll be right back

2009-08-08T01:16:00.001+08:00

Just wait...

Sa Aking Pagtanda

2008-01-11T03:48:00.000+08:00

Noong ika-31 ng Disyembre, nagsimba kami ni inay sa kapilya ng San Sebastian sa lunsod ng Cavite upang ipagdiwang ang bagong taon. Sa homily ni Fr. Alden Alipin, binasa niya ang makabagbag damdaming tula na sinulat ni Fr. Ariel Robles. Ito ay nailathala sa mga pangunahing pahayagan sa Pilipinas at binasa rin ito sa himpapawid.

Kahit naglalambitin na ang mga unggoy sa aking pilik-mata at nagmistulang talukap ng alimango ang talukap ng aking mata dala ng mahidhing kapaguran at antok, ang tula ni Fr. Ariel ay nagbigay ng maliit na kurot sa aking puso ay ako ay nagising.

Karamihan sa atin ay hindi na kumpleto ang pamilya, dahil ang karamihan sa atin ay nangibang bayan na. Ngunit sa mga pamilyang lubos at buo pa, samantalahin natin ang pagkakataong ito upang ipamalas natin ang ating pagmamahal sa ating mga magulang habang hindi pa huli ang lahat.

Mapagpalaya at masaganang Bagong Taon sa ating lahat!

Nagmamahal,

Ige Ramos

==

Sa Aking Pagtanda
Rev. Fr. Ariel F. Robles

Sa aking pagtanda, unawain mo sana ako at pagpasensyahan.

Kapag dala ng kalabuan ng mata ay nakabasag ako ng pinggan o nakatapon ng sabaw sa hapag kainan, huwag mo sana akong kagagalitan.

Maramdamin ang isang matanda. Nagse-self-pity ako sa tuwing sisigawan mo ako.

Kapag mahina na ang tenga ko at hindi ko maintindihan ang sinasabi mo, huwag mo naman sana akong sabihan ng “binge!” paki-ulit nalang ang sinabi mo o pakisulat nalang.

Pasensya ka na, anak, matanda na talaga ako.

Kapag mahina na tuhod ko, pagtiyagaan mo sana akong tulungang tumayo, katulad ng pag-aalalay ko sa iyo noong nag-aaral ka pa lamang lumakad.

Pagpasensyahan mo sana ako kung ako man ay nagiging makulit at paulit ulit na parang sirang plaka. Basta pakinggan mo nalang ako. Huwag mo sana akong pagtatawanan o pagsasawaang pakinggan. Natatandaan mo anak noong bata ka pa? kapag gusto mo ng lobo,paulit-ulit mo ‘yong sasabihin, maghapon kang mangungulit hangga’t hindi mo nakukuha ang gusto mo. Pinagtyagaan ko ang kakulitan mo.

Pagpasensyahan mo na rin sana ang aking amoy. Amoy matanda, amoy lupa. Huwag mo sana akong piliting maligo. Mahina na ang katawan ko. Madaling magkasakit kapag nalamigan, huwag mo sana akong pandirihan.
Natatandaan mo noong bata ka pa? Pinagtyagaan kitang habulin sa ilalim ng kama kapag ayaw mong maligo.
Pagpasensyahan mo sana kung madalas, ako’y masungit, dala na marahil ito ng katandaan. Pagtanda mo, maiintindihan mo rin.

Kapag may konti kang panahon, magkwentuhan naman tayo, kahit sandali lang. inip na ako sa bahay, maghapong nag-iisa. Walang kausap. Alam kong busy ka sa trabaho, subalit nais kong malaman mo na sabik na sabik na akong makakwentuhan ka, kahit alam kong hindi ka interesado sa mga kwento ko. Natatandaan mo anak, noong bata ka pa? Pinagtyagaan kong pakinggan at intindihin ang pautal-utal mong kwento tungkol sa iyong teddy bear.

At kapag dumating ang sandali na ako’y magkakasakit at maratay sa banig ng karamdaman, huwag mo sana akong pagsawaan alagaan. Pagpasensyahan mo na sana kung ako man ay maihi o madumi sa higaan, pagtyagaan mo sana akong alagaan sa mga huling sandali ng aking buhay. Tutal hindi na naman ako magtatagal.

Kapag dumating ang sandali ng aking pagpanaw, hawakan mo sana ang aking kamay at bigyan mo ako ng lakas ng loob na harapin ang kamatayan.

At huwag kang mag-alala, kapag kaharap ko na ang Diyos na lumikha, ibubulong ko sa kanya na pagapalain ka sana … dahil naging mapagmahal ka sa iyong ama’t ina…

Jessica Zafra's Twisted 8 is Out!

2007-12-15T07:52:00.000+08:00

Publisher’s Note
Boy meets girl. Girl falls in love with boy. Boy makes sexual advances towards girl. Girl eats boy! Thankfully, this is not the plot of the book which I now compel you to read - the continuing Twisted saga that catapulted Jessica Zafra to success and acclaim as the “voice of Generation-X” and the displaced youth who read her in the mid 1990s (although she won’t admit to this). These same people have now evolved into the “establishment”, “middle-management” and “people with disposable income”—and now our target audience.

I first met Jessica about 10 years ago after I had written to her complaining about a shortage of cat food. That fan mail resulted in a friendship that has since evolved into a professional partnership, and I have subsequently designed The 500 People You Meet in Hell, four books in her Twisted series, along with other books and magazines she has edited. It was Jessica who gave me my first writing break via my column Ukay-ukay, which appeared regularly in her Flip Magazine.

"Twisted 8: The Night of the Living Twisted" is similar in design to a non-linear novel with the titles of the essays as sub-headings. It is possible to peruse this book like an iPod in random mode, containing as it does exactly what one expects from Jessica Zafra’s work: essays pertaining to cats, books, film, travel, tennis, and her personal diaries, plus 3 Bonus Tracks of previously unpublished short stories.

Zeus Books is the fulfillment of our dream to publish what we ourselves would want to read, and is our contribution to the campaign to reduce the amount of stupidity in the world.

Ige Ramos / Zeus Books

Twisted 8 is available at all National Bookstore outlets, PowerBooks, Fully Booked and A Different Bookstore. SRP Php250.00. Bulk discount available from Zeus Books.Get in touch with us at zeusbooks.twisted8@gmail.com.

The French, Rugby Union and How Pierre Cardin redesigned the Barong Tagalog

2007-10-27T20:53:00.000+08:00

On the evening of the ninth of September this year, my Irish friends, fellow volunteer workers in Lourdes, repaired to the lobby bar of the Solitude Hotel for a pint or two of beer while anticipating with unimaginable excitement the opening match of the Rugby World Cup between France and Argentina, which was being televised live from Stade de France in Saint-Denis a suburb of Paris.

Rugby union is a hazardous sport to say the least, being played by two teams of 15 players each, killing each other for possession of an oval ball. They are obligated to wear what can only be described as sexually arousing kits to help increase testosterone levels. The carnage lasts for 80 minutes, consisting of two halves of 40 minutes each. A single referee controls the game, together with two touch judges, and in most international matches, a television match official, commonly called the video referee. To those not so well versed in the sport, it would appear that the object of the game is for each team to score as many points as possible by rearranging the opponent’s muscular-skeletal system with graceful brutality. The team scoring the greater number of points and has a lesser body count and blood substitution is the proclaimed winner. The supreme irony of rugby is that it is a game played mostly by gentlemen and the upper crust, and is included in the curriculum of the exclusive boarding schools of England. No one within this particular social strata would be caught dead playing soccer, since this is considered a game for peasants.

It was apparent that Argentina had a clear strategy on how to slaughter the French, and the French had no idea what hit them. Perhaps it was because of their over-confidence that Los Pumas trounced them with a sensational 17-12 victory. The bloodbath bears a resemblance to Napoleon’s defeat in Waterloo, and while we were hooting for Argentina, the French were licking their battle wounds. Though the French have a strong rugby tradition, they were too mild and graceful to possess the necessary killer instinct. They may have been attempting to replicate their country’s triumph in the 1998 Soccer World Cup at the same venue, the Stade de France, but they failed to succeed even with the Bronze, as the Argentineans again took the thunder away from them.

Just a few minutes walk from the Stade de France, on 33 Victor Hugo Boulevard in Saint-Ouen, stands the veritable French success, The Museé Pierre Cardin. The museum exemplifies the realization of Cardin’s dream in order to leave a legacy of his life-long achievements and his contribution in the field of fashion, art and industrial design. Opened in November 2006, the exhibition retraces Cardin’s artistic periods. Earlier in 1971, he founded Espace Cardin, a cultural venue on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, which aims to promote new artistic talent from the field of music and theatre arts.

Pierre Cardin is perhaps the most famous living Frenchman in the world today. For more than a half a century he lent his name not just to haute couture but also to prêt-a-porter, fashion accessories, furniture and luxury household goods. Long before fashion designers recognized the importance of branding, Pierre Cardin had—with his logo that resembles a cresting wave forming his initials, P and C—proven his marketing prowess. Among his signature pieces are the collarless suit, and the ultra-futuristic dress, looking like something from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 Space Odyssey.

The Italian-born Cardin arrived in Paris in 1945 and worked with Paquin, Schiaparelli and eventually as a master cutter in the atelier of Christian Dior. Having been rejected by Cristobal Balenciaga he opened his own fashion house in 1950 and presented his first haute couture collection in 1953. Known for his visionary style, he ignored the female form, preferring instead to concentrate on geometric shapes. His work was deemed experimental though not always practical. In 1954, he introduced the bubble dress, which became an overnight sensation.

His first trip to Japan in 1959 marked his love for all things oriental. He was responsible for making Japan a market for high fashion. In the same year, Printemps, a department store in Paris, commissioned him to design a ready-to-wear collection in his own name. That act was deemed scandalous among the officers of the Chambre Sydicale, the most revered haute couture organization in France, and although he was expelled from its ranks, as a result, he was nevertheless duly reinstated soon afterwards. However, in 1966, thinking that they needed him more than he needed them, Cardin resigned from the Chambre Syndicale, and thus a new organization was created, the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture et du Prêt-à-Porter, that now includes belatedly, ready-to-wear. He had been an active member of the Maison du Haute Couture for over forty years, but since 1994, he has shown his collection only to an exclusive circle of selected friends, clients and journalists.

His acute foresight and imagination matched his legendary entrepreneurial skills; he was tenacious, driven and ready to embrace the world. Soon, he was opening up satellite shops and ateliers around the world, (including Manila) while lapping up licensing contracts to mass-produce his clothing line emblazoned with his iconic logo. Though Manila was probably flying below the fashion radar in the early 70s, Pierre Cardin nevertheless decided to open a small boutique catering to the well heeled and fashion starved Manileños. It was essentially a haberdashery, or what we would now refer to as a bespoke tailor. Situated along Mabini Street, in the then tourist belt of Malate-Ermita, it numbered among its clients, President Marcos, along with members of his cabinet, embassy officials, government functionaries, and top-ranking military officers.

The Prieto’s of Manila were known to own the local franchise of Pierre Cardin and were thereby single-handedly responsible for introducing his unique style to Manila. Among the notable designers who worked in the Pierre Cardin atelier were Giovanni Sanna (whose main patron was Chito Madrigal, later in his career) and later Jean Paul Gaultier and Master cutter Jun Calday, who eventually moved to work at Il Signore, another haberdashery of note and distinction in the 70s, which was run by Larry Cruz of LJC restaurant fame along with his business partner Impy Pilapil, who had recently returned from her art studies in Rome and who introduced the innovative use of silk-screen printing on the barong tagalog. On the other hand, a reverse osmosis was happening in Paris where a young Filipino designer by the name of Roy Gonzales was making his mark on the world of fashion while working as an apprentice at the House of Cardin. The Pierre Cardin boutique not only produced beautiful suites for its patrons, but was responsible for redesigning the barong tagalog.

The roots of the popularity of barong tagalog started In 1934, when the National Economic Protectionism Association (NEPA) was established to promote the use of native products. Its poster boy was the future president of the commonwealth Manuel L. Quezon whose rallying call was “Buy Philippines”. The ascendancy of Ramon Magsaysay in 1955 as the champion of the masses, made the barong tagalog softer and looser, the sleeves being folded to the elbow to signify plebeian sentiment. Only when Ferdinand Marcos donned the Cardin version in the early 70s with its French cuff, French collar, tapered bodice, with its rounded shoulder and sleeves “cut like a suit”, lateral dart manipulations with a button opening only down to the hypochondrium, just below the center of the lower rib, was the barong tagalog completely overhauled. It also served to counter-point the flamboyance of the terno worn by his wife Imelda—clearly it was elegant, worldly and most importantly the silhouette that defined power.

With the economic downturn in the later years of martial law, the Pierre Cardin Boutique in Manila could no longer sustain itself, and its doors were closed to its loyal patrons, thus leaving a vacuum in Manila’s sartorial needs, later to be filled by young, dynamic yet equally talented Filipino designers. Meanwhile Pierre Cardin’s relentless empire building acquired Maxim’s restaurants and soon opened branches in New York, London and Beijing. His assets now include a chain of hotels and licensing for a wide range of luxury food products under the Maxim’s brand. His home is a castle in Lacoste, Vaucluse that was once occupied by the Marquis de Sade.

How, I wonder, did Pierre Cardin feel when France lost in the Rugby World Cup and does he ever think of Manila at all, when, all those years ago, a little boutique along Mabini Street that bore his name, once served the vanity of the male species in these forgotten islands.

Festival of World Cultures

2007-08-30T22:35:00.000+08:00

Ngayon taong ito, may mahigit na 3,000 manlilikha mula sa 80 bansa ang lumahok at nakibahagi sa Festival of World Cultures na kakatapos lamang ganapin sa lunsod ng Dun Laoghaire, malapit sa Dublin, Ireland.

Mula sa indegenous hanggang sa classical, traditional, folk, electronic at tribal, ang pistang ito ay nag-alay ng iba’t ibang ekspresyon ng sining tulad ng musika, sayaw, panitikan, dula, sining biswal at higit sa lahat, sining ng kulinarya—iba’t ibang pagkain at pagluluto.

Ang “Think Global, Eat Global” ay isang Global cuisine demonstration / workshop na binuo ng comite de festejos sa pakikipagtulungan ng Cook’s Academy, sapagkat nakita nila ang kahalagahan at ang papel na ginagampanan ng pagkain sa komunidad at lipunan.

Dahil sa dami ng mga immigrants at migrant workers sa Ireland, minabuti ng kanilang pamahalaan ang maglunsad ng programa na tumutukoy sa sining, kultura at kabuhayan. Tinaguriang “Arts Strategy Plan” at “Anti Racism and Diversity Plan” ang dalawang programang ito ay may pitong taon nang ginagawa sa pamamagitan ng Festival of World Culture na may layunin na pagbuklurin ang lumalaking “multi-cultural” populasyon ng Ireland.

Sa dalawang araw na marathon, matapos nagsunog ng kilay at daliri sa kalan, nagkaroon ako ng pagkakataon na makapanayam ang guro at kusinero mula sa iba’t ibang sulok ng daigdig tulad ng Lebanon, Poland, Peru, Argentina, Ghana, Congo at Lithuania. At siyempre, hindi magpapahuli ang mga Pinoy, na sa katauhan ni Chef Arman Cahatol na nag pakitang gilas din sa larangan ng pagluluto.

Natuklasan ko din ang isang Pinoy sari sari store na nagbebenta ng produktong galing sa atin tulad ng panocha, instant gata, magnolia ice cream (ube-macapuno flavor) at mga pang sahog sa adobo tulad ng laurel, bawang, suka at toyo.

Nagmistulang Utopia ang Festval of World Culture, habang naaamoy ko ang usok na nagmumula sa higanteng ihawan ng mga irish sausage, naririnig mo naman ang mga himig at nakakaindak na tugtugin ng bandang mariachi ng mga mexicano. May mga batang naghihiyawan, habang nag-aagawan ng mga gawang-kamay na mga dulce at minatamis, binubusog ko naman ang sarili ko sa mga kulay ng paninda sa Global Village at sa Food Trader’s Market. Kung ganito lang sana pag-uwi ko sa Pilipinas.

Plane Food

2007-08-29T16:25:00.000+08:00

Lumipad ako patungong Inglatera kamakailan mula Manila hanggang Hong Kong lulan sa Cathay Pacific, at katuwa-tuwa kong natuklasan na ang sinisilbing pagkain ay adobong manok.

Hindi ko masyadong napakinggan ang sinasabi ng stewardess na taga Hong Kong. Ngunit ng papalapit na siya sa akin, malinaw ang kanyang pagbigkas ng “Chicken Adobo”. Sa unang paghusga, parang hindi ako sumasangayon kung tama ang pagkaluto nito, dahil sa ganang akin, ano ang karapatan ng dayuhang kompanya na magluto ng ating pambansang ulam?

Aking sininsin at sinayasat ng mabuti ang adobong handog ng Cathay Pacific, na sa kasawiang palad, hindi ako nagkaroon ng pagkakataong makunan ito ng larawan. Sa isang tray, naka latag ang mga kubyertos at mga sisidlang aluminum kung saan nakalagay ang maliliit na hiwa ng adobong manok, sa gitna nito ay kanin na umuusok pa at sa tabi nito ginisang gulay na carrots at habitsuelas. Sa isang plastic na lalagayn ay ang halo-halong prutas tulad ng pakwan, kahel, mansanas at dragon fruit na maliliit na hiniwa. Sa isang bahagi naman ay isang maliit na balot ng mantekilya at tinapay na mukhang pandesal.

Di gaanong maasim ang pagkaluto ng adobo, mas marami ang pagkatimpla ng toyo kaysa suka, at medyo manamis-namis ang lasa nito. Pero para sa katabi kong taga Quezon, hindi niya nakilala ang kinakain niyang ulam. Nang sinabi ko sa kanya na iyon ay adobo, hindi siya sumangayon sa akin. Talagang, mahirap espelengin kung ano talaga ang tamang pagluto ng adobo at sino ang nagmamay-ari ng tama at depinitibong resipi nito.

Pero para sa akin, pasado ang Adobo ng Cathay Pacific, dahil tinutugunan nila ang pangangailangan ng kanilang mga kostumer, na karamihan ay mga OFW na mawawalay ng matagal sa kanilang mga pamilya sa mahabang panahon. Naniniwala ako na ang pagkain ay may kakabit na emosyon. Kaya tama lang ang ginagawa ng mga airlines na tugunan, kahit sa huling pagkakataon na matikman ng mga OFW ang ginhawang dinudulot ng mainit na kanin at adobong manok.

Sa kabilang dako, ng papalipad naman ako mula sa Hong Kong patungong London lulan ng British Airways, kakaibang pagkain naman ang bumulaga sa akin. Ngayon, tila banyaga na ang mga seleksyon ng pagkain, ngunit dahil galing ito sa Hong Kong, mayroong kakaibang dating ang estilo ng paghahanda at pagluluto na ang tawag ng mga eksperto ay Asian Fusion o ang pagsasanib ng dalawang estilo ng paghahanda: kanluran at asyano.

Sinubukan ko ang Gravlax with honey mustard dressing, ito’y isang uri ng pinausukang salmon na parang pinaghalong tinapa, pero hilaw at kinilaw na pinigaan ng katas ng dayap at limon, na tinimplahan ng pulot pukyutan at mustasa na nanggaling sa rehiyon ng Dijon sa Francia.

Para sa aking main course, ang hiniling ko ay Prawns in light coconut sauce with fresh spinach aand penne pasta. Ito naman ay sugpo na niluto sa gata at tanglad na may sariwang spinach at mahahabang tubo ng pasta na ang tawang ng mga Italyano ay penne. Sadyang nagiiba na ang mga pananaw sa pagkain ng madla. Ang estilo ng paghahanda at pagluluto ng kaluran ay naiimpluwensyahan na rin ng silangan. At para sa akin ito ay isang magandang balita.

2006 National Book Award finalists

2007-08-09T15:31:00.000+08:00

The three books I designed last year was announced as finalist for the 2006 National Book Awards in the column of Isagani Cruz in the Philippine Star this morning, August 9, 2007.

Check the link for details: http://www.philstar.com/index.php?Opinion&p=49&type=2&sec=25&aid=20070808137

BIOGRAPHY / AUTO-BIOGRAPHY: Ballerina of the People, by Lisa Macuja-Elizalde; Editors: Angela Blardony Ureta and Susan G. de Guzman; Publisher: Ballet Manila Foundation

THEOLOGY & RELIGION: God Talk by Bro. Andrew Gonzalez, FSC; De La Salle University Press

COOKBOOKS / FOOD: The Governor-General’s Kitchen by Felice Prudente Sta. Maria; Editor: Maya Besa-Roxas; Publisher: Anvil Publishing

BEST DESIGN: The Governor-General’s Kitchen by Felice Prudente Sta. Maria; Design: Ige Ramos

Prinsesa ng Quesillo

2007-08-08T04:17:00.000+08:00

Ang quesillo ay ang natatanging katutubong keso na gawa sa Pilipinas. Kilala din ito bilang kesong puti. Dinala ng mga Mexicano ang teknolohiya ng pag-gawa nito sa Pilipinas noong panahon ng Galleon Trade. Nahahalintulad ito sa quesillo ng Oaxaca, Mexico, mozzarella ng mga Italyano at sa mga pangkaraniwang soft cottage cheese. Kumalat ang teknolohiya sa pag-gawa nito sa mga lalawigan ng Laguna, Bulacan, Cebu, Samar at Cavite.

Lubos na kilala ng buong madla ang kesong puti na gawa sa Sta. Cruz, Laguna, dahil ito ay natatagpuan sa mga iba’t ibang supermarket sa Maynila. Nakatulong din sa popularidad nito ang Keso Festival na ipinagdiriwang tuwing Abril. Sa kabilang dako, ang bersyon na gawa sa Cavite ay pawang mga Caviteño lamang ang tumatangkilik dahil hindi ito mass-produced. Ang kaibahan ng kesong puti na gawa sa Cavite kumpara sa Sta. Cruz, Laguna ay ang kakaibang lasa nito—manamis-namis na may kaunting bahid ng alat at hindi ito matabang. Malapad ang sukat at manipis at ang pagkahulma nito.

Si Winnie Papa ay nahahanay sa mahabang henerasyon ng mga gumagawa ng quesillo sa Cavite. Binisita ko kamakailan si Winnie sa kanyang tahanan sa Buenavista II, Gen. Trias, Cavite kung saan pinakita niya sa akin kung papaano ginagawa ang quesillo. Madaling araw pa lang, nagsisimula na siyang gumawa ng quesillo, tulong ng kanyang asawa at mga anak.

Gawa sa sariwang gatas ng kalabaw ang quesillo. Gamit ang kalan na de uling, ang gatas ay pinapainit ng bahagya, ngunit hindi ito pinakukuluan. Sa isang malaking kaldero, nagpapainit naman ng tubig na hinaluan ng suka hanggang sa ito’y maging maligamgam. Dito binubuhos ng marahan ang tinakal gatas at hinahalaw-halaw ang maulap na tubig sa pamamagitan ng mga daliri, hanggang ito ay mabuo. Ang nabuong quesillo ay nilalagay sa bilog na hulmahan at inililipat sa isang batyang may inasinang tubig at pag lubos na ang pagkabuo nito, ito ay binabalot ng maingat sa malinis na dahon ng saging.

Pagsapit ng ika-anim ng umaga, lumuluwas na siya sa Cavite City at ito ay nilalako sa pamilihang bayan. 20 pesos kada balot ang halaga ng isang quesillo, karaniwan, lima hanggang sampung piraso ang nabebenta niya sa isang mamimili. Pag-hampas ng alas-10, ubos na ang kaniyang paninda. Nagtitinda din si Winnie ng sariwang gatas ng kalabaw. Matagal na akong suki ni Wnnie sa kanyang quesillo.

Simple lamang ang pagkain ng quesillo sa Cavite, pinapalaman ito sa mainit na pan de sal na paboritong almusalin ng mga Caviteño. May mga restaurant akong natuklasan kung saan ginagamit ito. Isa na diyan ang Via Mare sa Makati at Café Adriatico sa Malate kung saan ito ay kanilang tinutusta ng bahagya at pinapalaman sa pan de sal.

Wala pa akong natutuklasang tradisyon ng Pilipino sa pag-gamit ng keso sa pagluluto, siguro dahil maikli ang shelf-life nito. Ngunit sinusubukan kong gamitin at sinasahog ko ito sa pag-gawa ng spaghetti at pizza. Hinahalo ko din ito sa rellenong talong at sa iba’t ibang klase ng omelette.

Look Ma, I'm on TV!

2007-08-02T18:32:00.000+08:00

Watch me answer these questions this Sunday at Pia Guanio's show "Ang Pinaka" to be aired on Sunday, August 5, 6:00 to 7:00 pm, QTV Channel 11.

Katakatakng Kwento (Urban Legends & Historical Hoaxes)

1. White Lady sa Balete Drive
2. Mananangggal/wakwak/aswang in the city
3. Taong ahas sa Robinson’s Galleria; that Alice Dixson was eaten by the snake
4. AIDS carrier na nang-i-inject ng syringe infected with AIDS virus sa sinehan
5. Tasaday Tribe hoax
6. Anak ni Rizal si Hitler
7. Bongbong Marcos is dead; that he has a clone
8. Burger na gawa sa earthworm
9. Siopao na gawa sa pusa
10. Child with a fish for a twin (may kakambal na dalag ang isang sanggol; tinampok sa Eye to Eye ni Inday Badiday)
11. Dugo ng mga nawawalang bata nilagay sa foundation San Juanico Bridge
12. Mga nawawalang bata sa Pampanga, kinuha raw ang body parts
13. 10 Bornean Datus & Code of Kalantiaw hoax (Jose E. Marco's historical hoax debunked by historians)
14. Princess Urduja hoax
15. Rizal is Jack the Ripper
16. Alien Abductions in Mt. Banahaw
17. Yamashita treasure

QUESTIONS:

1. Sa palagay ninyo, bakit mahilig ang mga Pinoy na magpapaniwala sa mga kataka-takang kuwento?

2. Sa pagkakatanda ninyo, paano nagsimula ang kuwento tungkol sa (ITEM)? Ano ang naging epekto o impact nito sa mga tao? Nadiyaryo ba ito? Nabalita sa TV? PInag-usapan? Ginawang pelikula? Kinatakutan? Pinangambahan?

3. Paano napatunayang hindi pala totoo ang kuwento?

4. Paki-rank ang entry from 1-15 batay sa naging impact nito. May gusto ba kayong idagdag sa listahan? Ano at bakit?

Calandracas

2007-07-30T04:53:00.000+08:00

Kapag may pagdiriwang, ang bacalao at calandracas ay bida sa aming hapag kainan at paboritong lutuin ng aking ina. Tampok ang bacalao tuwing kuwaresma, samantala, ang calandracas naman ay ginagawa tuwing bagong taon. Dahil sa hitik na hitik na sahog at malapot na sabaw nito, binansagan itong “Prosperity Soup” ng aming mga kamag-anak sa America noong nanirahan ang aking ina doon.

Nakakatuwa ang alamat ng calandracas. Ayon kay Jeffery Lubang, isang mananaliksik sa kalinangan, ng Cavite Studies Center ng De La Salle University, Dasmariñas, nagmula ito sa salitang “calandra” o patungan ng kabaong. Karaniwang niluluto ang calandracas tuwing may patay, kung saan mayroong dambuhalang kaldero na maghapon at magdamag na nakasalang sa de uling na kalan. Ipinamamahagi ito sa mga naglalamay at pinupunuan ng sahog kung kinakailangan. Ang kagawiang ito ay nagmula sa bayan ng Indang, Cavite.
Simple lang ang pagluluto nito. Hinihiwa ng maliliit ang kalabasa, patatas, carrots, celery, sibuyas, pechay, atay ng manok at karne ng baka. Samantala, sa isang malaking kaldero, ginigisa ang pinitpit na bawang, atay ng manok at karne. Pagkagisa, pinupunuan ng tubig ang kaldero at ilagay ang buto ng hamon saka pakuluan. Pagkakulo, ihalo ang mga sahog, dagdagan ng garbanzos at macaroni, hanggang ito’y maluto. Hinaan ang apoy at pabayaan itong sumulák. Mainam din kung ito ay niluluto sa de uling na kalan o dili kaya, sa apoy na atay atay lang.

May iba ring paraan upang maging malasa ang calandracas. Bago pakuluan ang buto ng hamon, maaaring ilagay muna ito sa pugon at ihurnó ng 45 minuto hangang matunaw at lumabas ang sebo nito. Ang sebong nalakap ay maaaring gamitin na panggisa sa bawang, atay ng manok o babaoy at karne. Ang resulta ng paghurhurnô ay magbibigay ng higit na malasa at malapot ang sabaw nito. Nahahalintulad ang calandracas sa minestrone ng mga Italyano.

Kung mayroon kayong katanungan o kaalamang nais ipamahagi tungkol sa pagluluto at pagkain, mag-text lamang sa 0916-526-6874, email, bandehado@gmail.com, o sumulat sa akin: Ige Ramos (Bandehado), G/F Casa Manila, 1B Plaza San Luis, Real corner Gen. Luna Street, Intramuros, Manila 1002. Ang mapipiling katanungan at kalaaman ay ilalathala sa Bandehado sa mga susunod na linggo at magwawagi ng mga sorpresang regalo. Ano pa ang hinihintay ninyo, sulat na!

Meryenda

2007-07-26T04:34:00.000+08:00

Isa sa mga katangi-tanging ugali ng mga Pilipino ang kumain ng meryenda. Hindi lang tayo kumakain ng “3 square-meals a day” ngunit lima, minsan anim pa nga. Karaniwan nagaalmusal tayo sa alas-siete ng umaga. Pag hampas ng alas-diyes, meryenda. Tapos, tanghalian sa alas-dose, meryenda ulit sa alas-tres ng hapon. Hapunan sa alas-siete ng gabi at pag-nanonood ng TV sa gabi, mayroon pa tayong kinukutkot. Minsan meron pang midnight snack, bago matulog.

Sino ba ang nag imbento ng meryenda? Ang meryenda ay galing sa salitang “merenda” ng mga Italiano. Ang ibig sabihin nito ay “afternoon-tea” o kaya “mid-day snack”. Galing ito sa salitang “meridio” na ang ibig sabihin ay “meridian” o gitnang hapon. Ang konsepto ng pagkain sa hapon bago maghapunan ay dinala ng mga Italiano sa España, tapos sa Mexico, hanggang umabot ito sa atin, na ating niyakap at inangkin. Sa Timog Katagalugan at sa ibang mga lalawigan na nagsasalita ng Tagalog, minindal o mirindal ang tawag nila sa meryenda. Ngayon, kahit anong oras pa siya, basta “snack” ang tawag natin ay meryenda.

Noong isang Biyernes, nagpunta ako sa Quiapo para magsimba, nagulat ako sa ingay, pagka-abala at dami ng mga ponda-ponda at turo-turo sa gilid ng Carriedo Street na nagbebenta ng meryenda. Makulay at nakapaglalaway ang mga bila-bilaong kakanin na nakadisplay doon. Bidang bida ang mga kakanin tulad ng iba’t ibang kulay na kutsinta, putong may keso sa ibabaw at putong Biñan, na binubudburan ng inad-ad na niyog. Mayroon ding iba’t ibang klaseng kalamay at bibinka, casava cake, butse, multi-colored na sapin-sapin, turon na saging na may lanka, banana-cue at camote-que.

Kung nais mo naman ang sa malamig at pampapresko, mayroon din silang guinumis na ang halo ay sago, gulaman, pinipig, na niluto sa gata at panocha, pinabango ng pandan at tinatakal sa baso na may kinaskas na yelo. Kung mainit-init naman, mayroon silang guinatan na ubod ng lapot at tamis ang sabaw. Ito may halong sago, gabi, kamote, langka at bilo-bilo. Talagang maaalis ang suya mo, lalong lalo na kung mainit at maalinsangan ang iyong kapaligiran. Iba’t ibang uri din ng pansit ay makikita mo doon tulad ng pansit miki, pansit bihon, pansit palabok at espesyal na spaghetti na may tamis-anghang ang salsa na may maliliit na hiwa ng mapupulang sausage.

Sinubukan kong bumili ng iba’t ibang klaseng meryenda at pinabalot ko na lamang ito dahil napahirap kumain ng nakatayo. Pero huwag ka, para sa mga gutom at nagmamadali, tabla-tablahan na ang pagkain gamit ang paper plate at plastic na kubyertos. Nagsisiksikan at nagtutulakan ang mga nanay na namamalengke bitbit ang mga chikiting, estudiyanteng naghaharutan, mga pahinanteng pawisan, at mga parokyano ng simbahan, na kahit naguumpukan at nagsisikuhan, doon ay maingay at masaya upang makabili lamang ng meryendang panawid gutom sa gitna ng mainit at maalinsangan ang panahon. Kung kayo ay magagawi sa Quiapo, para mamili at magsimba, huwag kakaligtaan na dumaan sa Carriedo para tikman ang sarap at sagana ng meryenda na ating kinagisnan.

Mapapahiyaw ka sa Asim!

2007-07-03T03:37:00.000+08:00

Ang suka ay isa sa mga pinakamahalagang sangkap na ginagamit sa lutuing pilipino. Simula’t sapul, ito ay tampok sa paghanda ng kinilaw, na ayon kay Doreen Fernandez, batikang food anthropologist, tinagurian niya itong “liquid fire”—kung saan hindi gumagamit ng apoy sa pagluluto ng hilaw na isda, ngunit sa pamamagitan lamang ng tapang at asido nito.

Likas na sa ating mga Pilipino ang mahilig kumain ng maasim na ulam. Kaya suka ang pangunahing sangkap sa pagluluto ng escabeche, paksiw, pinangat, at higit sa lahat sa adobo, ang ating pambansang ulam. Sa ilang probinsya sa Visayas, suka at asin lamang ang tanging sangkap sa pag-gawa ng adobo, at hindi ito ginagamitan ng toyo.

Bukod pa sa mga komersyal na klase na matatagpuan sa mga supermarket at palengke, mayaman ang ating bansa sa iba’t ibang uri at kalidad ng suka na ginawa sa tradisyonal na pamamaraan, tulad ng galing sa niyog, kaong, nipa, tubo at minsan sa mga prutas na pinahilab at pinaasim tulad ng pinya at saging.

Kamakailan, nadiskubre ko ang isang pamilya sa Cavite City na gumagawa ng suka na gawa sa saging. Tubong Butuan, Agusan del Sur si Reynaldo “Dodong” Bohol. Nag aangkat sila ng saging mula sa Davao at kanilang nilalako ito sa mga pamilihang bayan sa Cavite at sa mga karatig pook. Sa dami ng pag angkat, hindi maiiwasan na hindi maipagbibili ang lahat ng mga ito. Karaniwan, ito ay mga lagas, hinog na hinog at maitim lamang ang balat, ngunit, hindi pa ito nabubulok. Kaya naisipan nilang gumawa ng suka mula sa saging na kung saan natutunan nila ang teknolohiya ng paggawa sa tulong ng kanilang pinsan na dating nagtatrabaho sa isang malaking ketchup factory sa Bulacan.

Ayon kay Dodong, saging na latundan lamang ang maaaring gamitin sa paggawa ng suka dahil sa taglay nitong asukal at asido. Simple lamang ang teknolohiya ng paggawa nito. Sa isang malaking plastic drum, hinahalo dito ang binalatan at dinurog na saging at sinasalinan ito ng distilled at purified na tubig. Tinatakpan ito ng halos dalawang buwan upang maganap ang fermentation process. Pagkatapos ng dalang buwan, ito’y muling bubuksan at sasalain upang maging pino at dalisay. Hindi sila gumagamit nang anumang uri ng preserbatibo sa paggawa nito.

Sadyang maasim at may pahiwatig na tamis ang resultang suka na gawa sa saging. Hindi tulad ng ibang suka, pag-amoy pa lamang ay nanonoot kaagad sa ilong ang asim nito. Ang kulay nito ay puti na may bahid na rosas. Wala kang makikitang latak at mga lumalangoy na bagay dahil sa masinop na pagsala.

Pagkabili ko ng dalawang botelya, gumawa ako ng sinamak, ang sukang may halong tinadtad na bawang, sibuyas, luya at siling labuyo. Halos mapasigaw ako sa asim at anghang nito. Mainam na sawsawan ito para sa pritong isda, inihaw na liempo, kropek at chicharon. Guwawa din ako ng adobong manok at baboy na nagresulta sa tamis-asim na timpla. Matatagpuan si Dodong sa Ariston Sison St., Sea Breeze Subdivision, Caridad, Cavite City.

Portal of Glamour

2007-06-16T05:44:00.000+08:00

60 Years of Bob’s Studio

This year, Bob Razon, the foremost portrait photographer is celebrating his 60th year in the business. With digital technology now being applied in every aspect of photography, aspiring photographers can learn so much from him. For Bob, having a good camera is not the only pre-requisite; it involves other disciplines as well. Portraiture is not just about your subject sitting on a chair; the imperative result should always be spectacular—capturing the deepest essence and minute nuances of the subject in every frame.

Bob opened his first studio in 1946 beside the historic Grand Opera House on Rizal Avenue. Because of his amiable disposition, creativity, resourcefulness, and astute business sense, his studio attracted personalities from the rising middle-classes and the expanding social elite, including journalists like E. Aguilar Cruz, Primitivo Mauricio and Renato Constantino of the Sunday Times Magazine. The studio was soon to become the magazine’s virtual headquarters, as it witnessed the comings and goings of the famous and the almost famous in politics, society, art and entertainment. Not only did they come to sit and be photographed, but they were also a wonderful source of information ranging from harmless little pieces of gossips to the pressing issues of the day.

To understand and appreciate the work of Bob Razon, one must look at the Renaissance artistic traditions. Early in the business, he had already realized the value of make-up and had taken courses in Westmore Beauty Salon in Hollywood, where he learned studio make-up. It was this exposure that allowed him to perfect what he had long known was important—chiaroscuro—the playful use of light and shadow. Combined with contropostro, he achieved mannerist elegance through stylized poses; the tilt of the head counter pointing the shoulders and upper torso or by turning the negative at a certain angle before exposing on to the photographic paper, resulting in an asymmetrical composition that makes the otherwise static pose, become dynamic. His timeless works in the 50s and 60s were deceivingly uncomplicated studies in composition that created an aura of heightened sophistication.

Floy Quintos, in his book Bob Razon: A Life Devoted to the Salon Style, wrote, “Bob never was and never will be, a ‘warts-and-all’ photographer.” Bob summed up his philosophy in an essay on his portraiture techniques. “Almost without fear of contradiction, I dare say that in a picture, all women should want to appear glamorous and younger, and all men would want to look handsome. Even if your subject has a face only a mother could love, never take away the illusion that your photograph will provide that dream. We are the only professionals in this world who can provide the fountain of youth to the ageing and without scalpel or knife, remove the eternal curse of wrinkles, pockmarks and blemishes.”

Such obsession for perfection led Bob to experiment and perfect such techniques as airbrushing and cosmetic photography (as Photoshop® was unheard of at that time). However, Bob, not being one to shun technology now employs photographers using digital cameras and computers, and to this day retains firm control of the custom photography business. The main studio in M. Adriatico Street in Malate is currently undergoing renovation, while the branch at Pasay Road in Makati continues to serve his clients. In earlier days a sign on the entrance door once read: “Through these portals pass the world most beautiful women.” The result of these sittings not only assured the subjects of a perfect image—but also perhaps a place in history.

Reyna ng Bibingkoy

2007-06-13T12:33:00.000+08:00

Kung ikaw ay nalulumbay, may mga bagay na sumasagi sa iyong isipan upang ito ay maibsan, isa na diyan ang pagkain. Ang pagkain ay may kapangyarihang mabago ang ating pangkalatahang kalusugang pangkaisipan. Kilala ito bilang comfort food, ang penomena ng pagkaing nagbibigay ginhawa na nag-ugat sa ating kinagisnan at kinamulatang kamalayan. Isa sa mga nagbibigay lugod at ligaya sa akin kapag umuuwi ako sa Cavite ay ang pagbisita ko sa carinderia ni Aling Ika na matatagpuan sa loob ng palengke ng lunsod. Ang unang-unang hinahanap ko ay ang bibingkoy! Sa bawat subo at nguya, nagbibigay ito ng dagliang ginhawa, sunod-sunod na tuwa at ala-ala ng kabataan.

Namumukod tangi at walang katulad ang bibingkoy. Sariling tuklas ito ni Aling Ika mula pa noong peace-time at bago pa dumating ang mga Hapon sa Pilipinas. Ngayong pumanaw na si Aling Ika, ipinasa niya ang kayang resipi at kaalaman sa larangan ng pagluluto sa kanyang anak na si Aling Lolit Alejo. Kahit si Aling Lolit na ang nangangasiwa ng carinderia, hindi na niya naisipang palitan pa ang pangalan nito sa ala-ala ng kanyang ina. Orig na Caviteña si Aling Lolit, gamit pa rin niya ang wikang Chabacano sa pagpaliwanag ng kanyang pagluluto. Ang Chabacano o Lengua de Tienda ay minsan naging primerong salita ng mga Caviteño.

Galapong ang pangunahing sangkap ng bibingkoy. Ito ay binibilog at sinisidlan ng minatamis na monggo. Ang hugis at anyo nito ay parang buchi, ngunit hindi ito piniprito. Nilalatag ito sa yerong patag at niluluto na parang bibingka sa pugon na may nagbabagang uling sa ilalim at ibabaw. Ang malaking kaibahan nito sa ordinaryong kakanin ay ang istilo ng pag-ahin nito. Ito ay tinatadtad sa tatlong bahagi at nilulunod sa salsa na gawa sa ginataan na may sago, langka at kaong. Gumagawa din sila ng iba pang kakanin tulad ng maja blanca, maja ube, maja kalabasa, pichi-pichi, biko at bibinka malagkit.

Kung nais mo naman ang meryenda, namumukod tangi ang kanilang pansit puso na niluto na parang guisado, sinangkutsa sa gulay at chorizo bilbao at pinaasim sa pamamagitan ng ginayat na puso ng saging na niluto sa suka. At kung tanghalian naman, tampok ang paborito ng mga Caviteño tulad ng kare-kare, adobo, paksiw na lechon, pinangat na isdang albakora, adobong hipon at kilawin (baga at mindonggo ng baka na may inad-ad na hilaw na papaya na niluto sa suka).

Halos 60 taon nang tinataguyod ng mga Caviteño ang carinderia ni Aling Ika. Dahil sa murang halaga, maraming parokyano ang naitawid-gutom nito. At dahil din dito, naitaguyod ni Aling Lolit ang pag-aaral ng kanyang limang anak. Isa na dito ang aking ka-batchmate noong high-school, si Fr. Bernie Alejo, na isa nang ganap na pari na naninilbihan sa Barcelona, Spain.

Babalik-balikan ko ang carinderia ni Aling Ika, dahil tinuturing ko itong haligi ng kultura at lutuing Caviteño. Siguraduhing maging maaga sa pagpunta kay Aling Ika, dahil pag-sapit ng alas-dos ng hapon, sarado na sila. Kung may katanungan, mag email lamang sa bandehado@gmail.com.

(Lalabas ang siping ito sa pahayagang Bandera sa Linggo, Ika-17 ng Hunio, 2007)

Biyaya ng Lupa

2007-06-11T08:50:00.000+08:00

Kakapanood ko lamang ng pelikulang Biyaya ng Lupa na kung saan isinalarawan ang masaganang pamumuhay ng isang mag-anak sa kanayunan. Ginawa ito noong dekada 50 ng batikang direktor na si Lamberto Avellana, Pambansang Alagad ng Sining para sa Pelikula. Maraming aral ang mapupulot dito dahil sinasariwa nito ang ganda at simpleng pamumuhay.

Habang naghahanda ako sa aking pagtulog, bigla akong nagkaroon ng inspirasyon at nagsimula akong mag-drawing ng aking pinapangarap na tahanan. Nais ko kasing magretiro sa isang lugar na halos doon ko na lamang kukunin ang aking kakainin. Kung hindi man matupad ito, nais ko parin ipamahagi ang aking simple, mayabong, at masaganang paraiso. Mayaman sa natural resources ang Pilipinas, magtapon ka lang ng buto sa kalye, tutubo na ito.

Food Security ang bukang bibig ng mga politiko ngayon. Dahil mahirap umasa sa mga pangakong napako, panahon na upang tayo ay mag-sariling sikap. Pamahal na rin ng pamahal ang mga bilihin at pagkain, kaya naisip kong gumawa ng plano na magagamit sa pang araw-araw na pangangailangan na kung saan makakapag-ani ng mga gulay at prutas, at makakapag-alaga ng isda, manok at baboy. At kung may sobra naman, maaari itong ipamahagi sa kapit-bahay. Sa maayos na pagpaplano, hindi mahirap ang pangangasiwa ng maliit na halamanang pantahanan.

Sa bakurang may 500 metrong parisukat, paligiran ito ng mga puno ng madre de kakaw, ipil-ipil, malungay at kawayan. Bukod na tipid ka na sa semento at hallow blocks, makakatulong ka pa sa kalikasan. Sa loob nito, tamnan ng mga bungang kahoy, tulad ng mangga, bayabas, papaya at saging. Sa paligid ay magtanim ng mga gulay tulad ng petsay, upo, kalabasa, kamatis, sibuyas at bawang. Dagdagan ito halamang gamot, herbs at spices na tulad ng oregano, wansoy, at siling labuyo. Hindi ka lang mapapa-kanta ng Bahay Kubo, meron ka pang pang-gisa at gamot sa kung anu-anong karandaman.

Maglagay ng maliit na palaisdaan na may tilapya, kangkong at azola. Ang azola ay isang halamang tubig na tumutulong sa paggawa ng oxygen at nakakain din ito ng mga isda. Sa kabilang dako, maglaan ng espasyo para sa kural na kung saan maaaring gumala ang mga baboy ay manok. Ang bahay manukan ay maaaring gawin sa paraang madaling ipalipat-lipat. Sa ganitong paraan magagamit ang lupang dating pinagtayuan ng bahay manukan para tamnan ng mga gulay. Ang lupang ito ay sagana sa pataba dahil sa dumi ng manok. Patuyuin mabuti ang dumi at bungkalin ang lupa bago ito tamnan. Maglagay din ng compost pit kung saan maaaring iimbak ang mga bagay na nabubulok tulad ng tuyong dahon, pinagtalupan at dumi ng hayop. Mainam itong pataba ng lupa.

Mahalaga din ang patubigan. Bukod sa malinis na tubig na panghugas, panligo at pang-inom, ugaliin din ang mag-ipon ng tubig-ulan at gumawa ng deep-well na iniipon sa balon. Magagamit itong pandilig sa halaman. Kung isasapuso mo ang planong ito, tiyak na sasagana ang buhay mo, tipid ka na sa pera at hindi ka na magugutom magpakailan man.

Meryenda

2007-05-24T15:15:00.000+08:00

Isa sa mga katangi-tanging ugali ng mga Pilipino ang kumain ng meryenda. Hindi lang tayo kumakain ng “3 square-meals a day” ngunit lima, minsan anim pa nga. Karaniwan nagaalmusal tayo sa alas-siete ng umaga. Pag hampas ng alas-diyes, meryenda. Tapos, tanghalian sa alas-dose, meryenda ulit sa alas-tres ng hapon. Hapunan sa alas-siete ng gabi at pag-nanonood ng TV sa gabi, mayroon pa tayong kinukutkot. Minsan meron pang midnight snack, bago matulog.

Sino ba ang nag imbento ng meryenda? Ang meryenda ay galing sa salitang “merenda” ng mga Italiano. Ang ibig sabihin nito ay “afternoon-tea” o kaya “mid-day snack”. Galing ito sa salitang “meridio” na ang ibig sabihin ay “meridian” o gitnang hapon. Ang konsepto ng pagkain sa hapon bago maghapunan ay dinala ng mga Italiano sa España, tapos sa Mexico, hanggang umabot ito sa atin, na ating niyakap at inangkin. Sa Timog Katagalugan at sa ibang mga lalawigan na nagsasalita ng Tagalog, minindal o mirindal ang tawag nila sa meryenda. Ngayon, kahit anong oras pa siya, basta “snack” ang tawag natin ay meryenda.

Noong isang Biyernes, nagpunta ako sa Quiapo para magsimba, nagulat ako sa ingay, pagka-abala at dami ng mga ponda-ponda at turo-turo sa gilid ng Carriedo Street na nagbebenta ng meryenda. Makulay at nakapaglalaway ang mga bila-bilaong kakanin na nakadisplay doon. Bidang bida ang mga kakanin tulad ng iba’t ibang kulay na kutsinta, putong may keso sa ibabaw at putong Biñan, na binubudburan ng inad-ad na niyog. Mayroon ding iba’t ibang klaseng kalamay at bibinka, casava cake, butse, multi-colored na sapin-sapin, turon na saging na may lanka, banana-cue at camote-que.

Kung nais mo naman ang sa malamig at pampapresko, mayroon din silang guinumis na ang halo ay sago, gulaman, pinipig, na niluto sa gata at panocha, pinabango ng pandan at tinatakal sa baso na may kinaskas na yelo. Kung mainit-init naman, mayroon silang guinatan na ubod ng lapot at tamis ang sabaw. Ito may halong sago, gabi, kamote, langka at bilo-bilo. Talagang maaalis ang suya mo, lalong lalo na kung mainit at maalinsangan ang iyong kapaligiran. Iba’t ibang uri din ng pansit ay makikita mo doon tulad ng pansit miki, pansit bihon, pansit palabok at espesyal na spaghetti na may tamis-anghang ang salsa na may maliliit na hiwa ng mapupulang sausage.

Sinubukan kong bumili ng iba’t ibang klaseng meryenda at pinabalot ko na lamang ito dahil napahirap kumain ng nakatayo. Pero huwag ka, para sa mga gutom at nagmamadali, tabla-tablahan na ang pagkain gamit ang paper plate at plastic na kubyertos. Nagsisiksikan at nagtutulakan ang mga nanay na namamalengke bitbit ang mga chikiting, estudiyanteng naghaharutan, mga pahinanteng pawisan, at mga parokyano ng simbahan, na kahit naguumpukan at nagsisikuhan, doon ay maingay at masaya upang makabili lamang ng meryendang panawid gutom sa gitna ng mainit at maalinsangan ang panahon.

Kung kayo ay magagawi sa Quiapo, para mamili at magsimba, huwag kakaligtaan na dumaan sa Carriedo para tikman ang sarap at sagana ng meryenda na ating kinagisnan. Kung may katanungan, mag email lamang sa bandehado@gmail.com.

Bravo! Indios Bravos

2007-05-18T12:08:00.000+08:00

In September 2006 while strolling the span of La Rambla in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter, my Partner and I chanced upon a handsome 19th century edifice that I knew to be the old headquarters of the Compañia Tabacalera de Filipinas. Upon entering it’s narrow foyer with vaulted ceiling, I discovered that this 19th century symbol of tobacco monopoly in the Philippines had been transformed into an elegant 4 star hotel—the Hotel 1898.

On further, into the main vestibule, its walls decorated with wide cream and black stripes of raffia and large-scale photo-murals of Ilocano ancestral homes, Cagayan Valley tobacco plantations and Ifugao granary gods, I was delighted to see fine examples of unmistakably modern Philippine-made furniture in rattan, woven bamboo and Cordovan leather. Determined to find out more about this unique find, I struck up a friendship with the concierge, who, having discovered where I came from exclaimed, “Señor, this hotel is dedicated to you. In your country, the year 1898 is a big victory, but for us, it is a reminder of El Disastro, which the majority of Spanish people wish to forget.”

Moving on to the bar, where we ordered Cervesa San Miguel. I suddenly felt an enormous sense of well-being. As a proud Indio, I began to think about Rizal and the Indios Bravos. The Filipino Diaspora it seemed had finally arrived into the 21st century, and of all places in Barcelona, where we are now celebrated and not condemned.

While sipping the cool San Miguel, I allowed my imagination to drift back to one of those mild Spanish winters in Barcelona, visualizing Rizal promenading the La Rambla, while perhaps carrying with him a book to remind him of home: that metrical romance with convoluted plots written in the sweetest Tagalog, Francisco Balagtas’s Florante at Laura. Was it this book that helped him shape an opinion about the Filipino Diaspora while working as a correspondent for the La Solidaridad? Being known as a propaganda newspaper, it is credited by many as having created a nationalist consciousness that eventually helped spark the revolution.

During Rizal’s time, the term Filipino was reserved for Spaniards living in the colony, whether they be creoles, insulares or peninsulares. The rest of the population was known as Indio, Mestizos (half Spanish-half Indio), Mestizo Chino (half Spanish, half Chinese) and Quadrecillos (a quarter of everything). So one is left to wonder what passport our national hero carried during his world travels. Indio perhaps?

Rizal was clearly burgis, not in the strict French bourgeois sense, but class and class struggle was something he always understood. Being artistic and at the same time logical and scientific, social traditions and new ways of thinking excited him. He was cosmopolitan, a man of the world, a seasoned traveler. He moved homes many times, but always wanted to belong—to an organization, a race, and to the global brotherhood of nations. When Rizal reached his teenage years, Calamba became too small a pond to sustain the intellectual stimulation that this big fish longed for, so his parents dispatched him, first to Manila and eventually to Europe to enable him to quench his thirst for the education and information he desired so much.

A century before Filipino overseas workers began peppering the European landscape, a band of “Filipino” students or illustrados had already demonstrated the first signs of collective activity, notably in Barcelona, Madrid and Paris. Their spirited youth, gaiety and pathos were reminiscent of Puccini’s opera La Boheme—totally immersed in romance, artistic triumphs, and political intrigues, complete with a tragic ending. These men, who by living overseas imposed upon themselves a life of veritable self-exile, had strong convictions but were inevitably homesick, always anticipating letters from home. In letters he sent to his brother Paciano, Rizal was known for his constant pleading for his allowance, and in his pocket diary he kept detailed accounts of his expenses for food, lodging and items such ink, pens, paper, candles and books. They conquered their vulnerability and sadness by channeling their energies into nationalist sentiments and creative pursuits in order to further the propaganda movement for the reform of the Spanish colonial administration in the Philippines.

In spite of a longing for family, friends and food from home, the accoutrements that accessorized their existence abroad were fully Western. They certainly had style, and dressed in the finest suites, hats and walking sticks, Rizal and his friends were known as Dandies as they elegantly did their paseos, as proud as any of their European counterparts. In their lighter moments they donned classical Greco-Roman costumes for fancy dress parties, disguised as a sitting in the atelier of Juan Luna. To stimulate their young minds, they engaged in lively debates and participated in fencing; a graceful sport reserved for gentlemen wishing to show-off their tactical psyche and agile physique.

One summer evening in 1884, Rizal who at the time had just turned 23, delivered a toast at a banquet in the Restaurant Inglés in Madrid honoring Juan Luna for winning the gold medal for his painting El Expoliarium and Felix Resureccíon Hidalgo for his silver medal for his painting Virgenes Cristianas Expuestas al Populacho at the Exposition Nacional de Bellas Artes de Madrid. In his rhetorical and florid style, which was fashionable in those days, he conveyed in his propaganda, veiled as a toast, a glowing manifestation on “…how the illustrious deeds of her sons are no longer wasted away at home...” He then compared the two artists to: “…the oriental chrysalis is leaving the cocoon…” The anticipation of the time when Spain finally embraces the Diaspora: “…the dawn of a long day ahead is heralded in brilliant shades and rose-colored dawns…” And he lionizes them to heavens: “…to you are owed the beauty of the diamonds that the Philippines wears in her crown; she produced the precious stones, Europe polished them…” Rizal would have used “world-class”, “our very own” and “yes, the Filipino Can!” if it were the mot du jour. Undoubtedly, Rizal in the beginning was a pacifist and all he wanted was Las Filipinas to undergo colonial reforms that would make it an Overseas Department or a Province. (The complete text of the toast in both English and Spanish can be found in 20 Speeches that Shaped the Nation. Selected and with introductions by Manolo Quezon.)

It was at the time of the Paris Exposition Universelle of 1889, held during the centennial anniversary of the French Revolution, that Rizal’s patriotism reached another dimension. Clearly, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables and the dramatic storming of the Bastille left an indelible mark in Rizal’s mind and he was fortunate to be in Paris at the time to take part in the celebrations. The main feature of the Exposition was the Eiffel Tower, which served as the entrance arch. An engineering masterpiece by Gustav Eiffel, it marked the end of the Industrial Revolution. Parisians initially loathed the tower but ironically it was later to become the icon of modern France. Across the Seine, the village nègre or the “Negro Village” where about 400 indigenous people were displayed in the form of a human zoo, constituted the major attraction. During this time, Rizal has translated more than thirty pages of Blumentritt’s Memorias on the tribes of Mindanao. At the Exposition, the French composer Claude Debussy was in the audience when an ensemble from Java performed Javanese gamelan music and for sure Rizal heard it too. It probably helped him find the connection.

Upon arriving in Paris two months before the Exposition, Rizal immediately founded the Kidlat Club, the progenitor of the Indios Bravos. In a letter to Mariano Ponce, he proposed that Marcelo H. del Pilar, Graciano Lopez Jaena, Ferdinand Blumentritt, and Julio Llorente should all convene in Paris. It was exacerbated when Rizal learned from Trinidad H. Pardo de Tavera who had arrived weeks later from the Philippines, that life in the country was becoming impossible. Tavera predicted that unless conditions changed, a revolution would occur in the Philippines within ten years.

Paris was undoubtedly the center of the universe at that time. Think of Bas Lurhman’s film Moulin Rouge. It’s bright lights continuously shone and the grand party unyielding. It was teeming with people of all nationalities and races, and Rizal badly wanted to be a part of that global community. In his room at 45 Rue de Manbenge, with unrelenting inspired madness, he continued annotating Morga’s Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, which he painstakingly copied by hand from the British Library. When he sent his annotations to Dr. Blumentritt for printing in Germany, he requested that the publication of the book be kept secret so as to surprise his compatriots. Dr. Blumentritt lent the illustrados his distinguished scholarship in support of their noble efforts whose aspirations were in complete accord with his liberal spirit. In his dispatches to La Solidaridad, he was urging his compatriots to purchase and read books published about the Philippines and to learn European languages, so they could themselves decipher what Pigafetta and Morga among others had written about Las Islas Filipinas.

It always strikes me as somewhat delusionary (Lourd, is there such a word, from delude, transitive verb) for people to perceive our national heroes as perfect, idealized individuals. As historian Ambeth Ocampo has always espoused, they are not made entirely of stone and bronze. Our textbooks glorify our heroes by venerating them as golden calves, thereby confusing respect with idolatry. For sure their heroic efforts were truly remarkable, but we must never forget that they were human too. With compelling emotions they cried, laughed and loved. They were young, exuberant and passionate, and by embarking on something that was bigger than themselves they eventually succeeded in creating a lasting impression.

If Rizal were alive today, he would undoubtedly frequent the bar of Hotel 1898 and along with Pedro Paterno and Juan Luna would also order Tapas and Cervesa San Miguel. They would perhaps discuss a concept for new magazine, a painting, or a book to be written by Rizal, and designed by Luna, while Paterno would do the business plan. They might even prepare to participate in the Frankfurt Book Fair and who knows, Blumentritt might just show up and pick up the tab. As for the Indios Bravos, I long to gate crash their party at 45 Rue de Manbenge and party all night long.

Roxas Boulevard, The Unbearable Kitschness of Being

2007-05-05T15:14:00.000+08:00

Every day I drive to and from work along Roxas Boulevard. Respectful though I am towards the general order of things, I don’t really like what I see. I find the unbearable kitschness of the Sputnik influenced light spectacle all too much for my aesthetic sensibilities. Bad enough that I have to endure the traffic whilst returning home, but that giant Pop Art inspired Coca Cola bottle along with the huge Styrofoam coffee cup, complete with their almost human figures, and the life-size cement dinosaurs, which reminds our children of their Jurrasic past are nothing but an anomaly and surely the crudest form of public art.

True, forward-thinking urban planning is imperative for a city to survive. It is also true that lighting the streets can deter crime. Don’t get me wrong; I fully commend Mayor Atienza’s efforts to develop the area, but why push the envelope so far as to have a plethora of lights that must surely be visible from outer space? And now, not to be outdone, we have Pasay City also wishing to bask in similar reflected glory by installing its own hideous diamond shaped lamps, half of which are now out of action.

Roxas Boulevard offers so much art and a seemingly endless source of historical trivia wherever you look. The boulevard gracefully traverses in a crescent-like form along Manila Bay. From it’s southerly end it commences at the tip of Coastal Road in Tambo, Parañaque and terminates in the north at the Katigbak Drive on the edge of Rizal Park. Known in ancient times as Lagyo, a quiet seashore where the current western boundary of Malate / Ermita District stretches out, its reclamation began during the American Period when urban planning was high on the political agenda, and with that the shoreline was gradually altered to form its present geographical contour.

Widely known for its illustrious past, the crowning glory of the boulevard is the slightly faded Manila Hotel. Once called home by General Mc.Arthur during the war years, one of its suites has been fittingly named in his honor. Built in 1912 in the tropical American style, it nestles on three-and-a-half hectares of land on one of the earliest reclaimed areas of the boulevard.

Wanting to create a “new” architecture for the Philippines, the American government, during the early years of its benevolent assimilation, constructed several landmark buildings along Roxas Boulevard. These included the Army Navy Club, now converted into a museum, the Museo ng Maynila and the Elks Club, which now houses the Museo Pambata, and the Quirino Grandstand, where military parades were reviewed and presidents of the republic took their oath of office. In the 1930s, the residence and offices of the American High Commissioner, now the American Embassy, were once termed “the most perfect on American soil”. Designed by an architect with no experience of life in the tropics, it resembles a federal prison rather than an Embassy. Built, as it was, on a landfill, the surrounding vegetation, once a mere collection of scraggly trees has now matured into majestic banyan trees.

Also worthy of note is the street-naming diversion of the government of that period. Before the reclamation of Manila Bay, the boulevard du jour that traverses the shoreline was named Harrison Boulevard, but was later renamed Dewey Boulevard as a fitting tribute to the hero of Manila Bay—Commodore Dewey. As a result of some minor reclamation in 1912, a strip of dirt road from the edge of Bagumbayan to Baclaran was aptly called Cavite Boulevard, being as it was, a natural access road connecting Manila to the province of Cavite. In 1915, following further massive development Dewey Boulevard reverted to its former name of Harrison, and Cavite Boulevard gave way to the name of Dewey Boulevard.

During the Second World War, the Japanese occupiers renamed it Heiwa Boulevard (Heiwa in Japanese ironically means “peace”). Due to its strategic location, with Bataan and Corregidor in its proximity, Kamikaze pilots used it as an airstrip, the backdrop for the most fearsome battle theatre in recent memory. After the war, Dewey was rechristened Roxas Boulevard, in honor of the first president of the third Philippine Republic, Manuel A. Roxas.

In the mid-thirties craggy boulders also known as “breakwater” topped the embankment of the boulevard. A promenade favoured by lovers and families alike were used as ringside seats to history, as they watched the boats anchored in the bay. In 1571 the bay had been blackened by the burning palisades of Raja Sulayman’s wooden fort, while later it was to become the backdrop of the La Naval battles of 1646, marking the demise of Dutch ambitions on these shores. In 1762 the bay also witnessed the little known invasion of the British. On a single day in May 1898, during one of the world's most decisive naval battles, Commodore Dewey's fleet sank the Spanish Admiral Montojo's armada, while in the summer of 1942, one could again see the smoke of battle from across the bay that signalled Manila's darkest hour…WWII.

With the advent of peace and continuing urban expansion, Roxas Boulevard saw the burgeoning growth of seaside mansion estates and beachfront bungalows. Its former glory can still be glimpsed on Roberts and Williams Streets along the service road of the boulevard. From the late 50s through to the early 70s, the boulevard was given the moniker “the strip”, exemplifying the prevailing lifestyle that reached its zenith in the 1960s. Being home to fashionable nightclubs like Bayside, and restaurants like D’ Aristocrat and Casa Marcos it became the hippest place in Manila and competed with the premiere downtown street of the period, Avenida Rizal.

During the conjugal dictatorial reign of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, high-rise hotels, condominiums and office blocks such as the Magsaysay Centre irreversibly altered the boulevard’s skyline. Thanks to their aggressive tourism ethos, Manila was soon propelled to the forefront as the destination of choice for international conventions and conferences. However, this also gave the Marcoses carte blanche with prime infrastructure projects, the most notable of which was the controversial Stonehill reclamation project on the edge of Roxas Boulevard, later to give rise to the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP).

The Cultural Center of the Philippines became a showcase or for that matter a veritable shoebox for the self-promotional ambitions of Imelda Marcos. Its uncanny shoebox shape may even have helped define the former First Lady’s sartorial preference. Dubbed as the “sanctuary of the Filipino soul” it was designed by National Artist for Architecture Leandro Locsin. Built along the lines of the modern, international look of the 60s, the edifice is made entirely of cold grey reinforced concrete. Although windows are featured on the top most-floor on the western side of the building, it can nevertheless be anxiety inducing due to it’s almost total window-less feature. Inaugurated on September 8 1969, and with Senator and Mrs. Ronald Reagan as guests of honour, the epic musical Dularawan opened a three-month long festival.

The Cultural Center has been witness to the worlds best and brightest performing artists. Van Cliburn, Dame Margot Fontaine, The Royal Shakespeare Company, the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra and the Boston Opera Company were all feted by the Marcoses and the glitterati of Manila, and it soon became the South-east Asian showcase for the best that western art could offer. Post the EDSA revolution of 1986 however saw the Cultural Center moving closer to its grassroots by featuring more home-grown talent and productions. A veritable witch-hunt soon ensued and anything considered Imeldific was treated with a sense of suspicion and disdain.

Twenty years on, and following several leaderships, the CCP still stands as the nurturing force that promotes the Filipino aesthetic, national identity and artistic excellence, while striving to create cultural values towards a humanistic global society. The current management is implementing a business and master development plan that is poised to make the CCP a Mecca for arts and culture in Asia. Resident companies representing dance, music and theatre offer regular performing seasons at affordable ticket prices. There are four resident dance companies: Ballet Philippines, Philippine Ballet Theater, the Ramon Obusan Folkloric Group and the Bayanihan Philippine National Folk Dance Company. Tanghalang Pilipino is the resident theatre company, featuring original Filipino plays and translated classics, while music is represented by The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, The UST Symphony Orchestra, The Philippine Madrigal Singers and The National Music Competitions for Young Artists Foundation. Recently, the CCP once again hosted its annual Pasinaya festival, a daylong smorgasbord of art and culture, featuring free sneak previews of the resident companies forthcoming season.

CCP also houses the best museum and art galleries in the country. Bulwagang Juan Luna is the main gallery where thematic exhibitions are held. Named after one of the greatest Filipino artists and personalities of the Philippine Revolution, Juan Luna, whose most famous work is the majestic Spoliarium. Organized by Art Sentral Manila and Art Sentral Asia. Bulwagang Juan Luna will this summer feature “Through the Palettes’ Eye” a cornucopia of paitings on palettes by contemporary Filipino visual artists, from the collection of Rico and Melanie Hizon.

Bulwagang Fernando Amorsolo or the Small Gallery was named after Fernando Amorsolo, National Artist in Painting who popularized the image of the beautiful and modest dalagang Filipina, bucolic landscapes, and rural norms and festivals. The gallery highlights experimental works by contemporary artists. Currently on show is a group exhibit entitled “Re-view: Pasang Masid” organized by Tutok Karapatan, and presented as a component of the TutoK project, an initiative of visual artists, which aims to offer diverse perspectives on the subject of human rights. The theme of the exhibit revolves around the CCP, which, having been established during the martial law years, is both venue and subject of scrutiny in this exhibit-cum-documentary about a cultural institution playing a double-edge role: both as an instrument of state power and as platform and nurturer of artistic excellence.

A virtual stones-throw away from the CCP is the Star City Complex. A theme park right in the city centre, it also functions as the headquarters of the Elizalde family’s business enterprise. Within this complex one can find the studios of the Manila Broadcasting Company (MBC) and DZRH, one of the first radio stations in the country. It is from here that the venerable Tia Dely Magpayo, the ‘First Lady of Philippine Broadcasting’ continues to broadcast her daily evening show, Ito Ang Inyong Tiya Dely. Considered by various style police and heritage conservation advocacy groups as yet another eyesore on Roxas Boulevard, one cannot help but notice the station’s radio tower, which for some inexplicable reason has been transformed to resemble a giant Santa Claus!

Also within this overtly commercial complex however lies one gem in the form of Aliw Theater, the home of Ballet Manila. Founded twelve years ago by the late Eric V. Cruz and prima ballerina Lisa Macuja-Elizalde, Ballet Manila has grown into one of the most creative and respected classic ballet companies in the country. The young company had a vision to introduce classical ballet to the masses by performing in malls, basketball courts, and other non-traditional venues throughout the country. Their sheer determination and hard work has paid-off and a growing subscriber base enjoys a regular theatre season offering four to six full-length ballet productions annually. Apart from this, visitors to the theme park are also offered regular free shows held at the complexes smaller Star Theatre.

Having trained at the Leningrad Choreographic School in St. Petersburg Russia, and later becoming principal ballerina with the Kirov Ballet Company, Lisa Macuja-Elizalde returned home to the Philippines in 1986 to share her expertise by mentoring hundreds of aspiring ballerinas. Within the Aliw Theater complex is the Ballet Manila School where students are trained to the same Russian standard attained by Lisa. She regularly invites her former Russian teachers Serguei Vikolov and Tatiana Udalenkova to conduct master classes and to stage full-length ballets. Among its many productions, Ballet Manila has staged the Nutcracker, Giselle, Don Quixote, and La Bayadere. Most recently their Romeo and Juliet was received with critical acclaim. To experience ballet in its purest form, a trip to the Aliw Theatre is a must.

Diagonally across from the CCP sits the Metropolitan Museum of Manila. Established in 1976, its architecture reflects the CCP’s box-like style. The Met was originally conceived as a museum for foreign art that sought to increase the Filipinos’ awareness of the cultures of the world by providing them the opportunity to view it in its original form. More than 100 exhibitions of non-Philippine art have been held at the museum, among them works by Pablo Picasso, Paul Klee, and Walter Gropius. Ten years after its inception, the Met expanded to include Philippine art in a groundbreaking bilingual approach. For the first time, publications, exhibition notes, invitations, labels, signs, and posters were formatted in both Filipino and English.

The Basement Gallery houses a permanent exhibit of classical Philippine gold work and pottery of the 8th to the 13th century and is well worth a visit. Featured here are gold adornments, ritual practices, and barter rings— evidence of a flourishing pre-colonial Filipino society actively engaged in local and international trade.

Monuments are a fundamental part Roxas Boulevard, the most famous being that of national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal. Not just a symbol of Philippine patriotism, where visiting dignitaries lay the customary wreath, the Rizal monument also functions as the “zero” kilometre marker where the distance from Manila to any point in the country is measured. The monument is guarded 24 hours a day, 7 days a week by soldiers from the Philippine Marine Corps. Rizal’s famous poem, “Mi Ultimo Adios” (My Last Farewell) allegedly written on the eve of his execution is inscribed on the memorial plaque. Long considered among the most famous landmarks in the country, the bronze and granite monument was designed by Swiss sculptor Richard Kissling.

Controversy surrounded the building of the monument due to the fact that Kissling was only the second placer in the international monument design competition held between 1905 -1907. The first-prize winner was Professor Carlos Nicoli of Carrara, Italy. His scaled plaster model “To the Martyr of Bagumbayan” bested 40 other entries. Among his plans were the use of Carrara marble from Italy and the incorporation of more elaborate figurative elements. Kissling’s model on the other hand was lambasted in the local press, satirized in a cartoon and called vulgar. The all-American Awards Jury, none of whom were artists, architects or engineers, was headed by the then Governor General James F. Smith.

Another controversy ensued when during the hero’s birth centenary year of 1961; a stainless steel shaft was superimposed over the granite obelisk of the monument to increase its height from 12.7 meters to 30.5 meters. The project, undertaken by the Jose Rizal National Centennial Commission, was doomed from the very start, as the design resembled a futuristic rocket ship about to take off. Many found the shiny steel shaft incompatible with the sombre granite base, while others abhorred the idea of tampering with a popular icon immortalized in stamps, currency and postcards. The shaft was eventually removed two years later upon the request of the then Secretary of Education Alejandro Roces and the Director of Public Libraries Carlos Quirino. For some years it stood on the central reservation of Roxas Boulevard, across from the Redemptorist Church in Baclaran, to mark the Pasay-Parañaque boundary. Its present whereabouts however are uncertain.

Another notable sculpture on Roxas Boulevard is the statue of the Muslim leader of old Manila, Raja Sulayman. Designed by Eduardo Castrillo, it is situated in the aptly named Plaza Raja Sulayman, which paradoxically fronts the Baroque style Catholic church of Malate. The monument was immortalized in the Ishmael Bernal film “Tisoy” where Maribubot, played by an 18-year old Charo Santos was seen polishing the bronze statue wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt emblazoned with a Kabataang Barangay logo. As part of Mayor Atienza’s revitalization of the city, the area surrounding the plaza has now been pedestrianized and a large fountain installed.

Perhaps Roxas Boulevard’s most enduring, yet natural attraction is the sunset across Manila Bay. This truly beautiful sight serves as a fitting backdrop for the many hundreds of families and lovers who still flock there each evening to enjoy precious moments together. As the garish artificial illuminations of the baywalk take over at dusk, they surely pale in comparison to the enduring grandeur and magic and God’s own lighting design for Roxas Boulevard, as it slowly descends behind the Bataan peninsula in defiance of the unbearable kitchness of being.

Mr. Palengke Seven Rules

2007-02-19T14:29:00.000+08:00

I've decided na palitan ang tema ng aking blog. Dedicating it to Food, Cooking and General Culinary Culture Blog, at higit sa lahat, isusulat ko ito sa wikang Pilipino o Taglish. Ngayong panahon ng election campaign, I would like to dedicate this post to Senator Mar Roxas, na kilala rin sa bansag na Mr. Palengke.

Malaking pakinabang ang matalinong pagpaplano at pamimili ng pagkain. Bukod sa makakatipid ka pa sa pera, ay may panahon ka pang gumimik. Nasa diskarte lang iyan.

1) Clip and Save. Sa Amerika ang hobby ng Ate ko pag Linggo ay bumili ng Sunday Newspaper at ginugupit niya ang mga supermarket coupon na may special offer. Ako naman, nangongolekta ako ng recipe na kursunada ko. Nag-iipon ako ng ng mga recipe na gumagamit ng mga ingredients na seasonal, mura at masustansiya. Makatutulong ito sa masusing pagpaplano ng meals para sa pamilya.

2) Chart and Navigate. Gumagawa ako ng three-week cycle menu chart para hindi mo na huhulaan kung ano ang kakainin mo sa susunod na mga araw. Sinusulat ko kung anong mga sangkap ang kakailanganin based sa binabalak kong lutuin. Planuhin ang portions ng mga ito at pagsama-samahin ayon sa uri (meat, vegestable, spices) upang madali ang pamimili.

3) Knowledge is Key. Kung natatandaan mo ang programang Ating Alamin ni Ka Gerry Geronimo at Knowledge Power ni Ernie Baron, ang bukang bibig nila ay “knowledge is power”. Kung alam mo ang iba’t ibang katangian ng sariwang pagkain, makakatiyak ka sa pagpili ng mataas na uri ng bilihin, dahil ang mga ito ay higit na masustansiya at malinamnam.

4) Buy in Bulk. Karaniwan na sa kultura natin ay ang bumili ng tingi, kaya maraming multi-national companies ang nakikisakay sa “saché-culture” na nadevelop sa nakaraang 20 taon. Ngayon, hindi lang shampoo at conditioner ang mabibili mo na naka sache, kundi pati na rin ketchup, mayonnaise at toyo. Bukod na mas mahal ito, ay hindi pa tayo nakakatulong sa environment dahil sa kalat na idinudulot nito. Ang dapat ay bumili ng maramihan kung may sapat na storage space upang makatipid. Lumalabas kasi na mas mahal kung patingi-tingi ang pagbili.

5) Discern and discriminate. Maging matalino sa pamimili ng canned and bottled goods. Basahing mabuti ang nakasulat label tulad ng ingredients, nutritional value at expiration date. Kumparahin ang presyo at bigat, at kung merong kang nabasa sa label na matatagpuan lamang sa Chemistry textbook noong third year high-school ka, huwag itong bilhin. Sa ganitong paraan matitiyak mo na mataas na uri ang inyong bilihin.

6) Canned or Fresh. Paghambingin muna ang quality, quantity, weight at price bago bumili ng sariwa o de latang pagkain. Tulad ng asparagus, may mga imported na galing China na matatagpuan sa supermarket na super mura. Minsan, mayroon ding fresh asparagus na matatgpuan sa mga supermarket at sa mga Saturday Organic Market, makakamura ka pa at sigurado ka pa sa quality nito, lalong lalo na kung ito’y napapanahon o harvested within the season. Tandaan, hindi porque imported ay magaling na.

7) Weight for a while. Pag-aralan ang paggamit ng timbangan at ang iba’t ibang units of measurement. Laging tiyakin na tama ang sukat, bilang o timbang ng mga binili. Makakatulong kung marunong ka mag-convert ng English at Metric system. Dahil karamihan ng mga imported na de lata at bottled goods lalong lalo na ang mga galing sa America ay sinusukat sa pamamagitan ng pounds, oz. at gallons. Sa Pilipinas, ang pamantayan o standards ay metric system tulad ng kilo at liter. Ibang usapan naman kung ikaw ay nasa palengke, meron silang ibang lenguahe at jargon sa paggamit ng metric system. Ang tawag nila sa grams ay isang guhit, at ang ¼ kilo ay actually 250 grams. Huwag papadala sa madudulas na dila. Bantayang mabuti ang pagtitimbang, pag bibilang o pagtatakal ng mga binili. Para makasigurado.

Aphrodisiac

2007-02-13T18:13:00.000+08:00

Dahil likas na romantiko ang mga Pilipino, ang Valentine’s Day ay may puwang sa puso nating lahat. Kahit binura na ng simbahang Katoliko ang pangalan ni St. Valentine sa litanya ng mga santong pinangingilinan, pinagdiriwang pa rin natin ito tuwing ika-14 ng Pebrero. Kahit palasak na komersyalismo ang ibinunga nito, para itong national holiday na inaabangan taon-taon ng mga lovers in paradise.

Maaring mag-ahin ng mga kahindik-hindik na putahe para sumuko si Papa sa sarap nito. Napapanahon ang mag-ahin ng mga pagkain na may aphrodisiac quality, na nagbibigay sigla sa mga hangaring karnal. Ang salitang aphrodisiac ay galing sa pangalang Aphrodite, ang diyosa ng kagandahan at pag-ibig ng mga Griego.

Noong unang panahon, ang aphrodisiac ay pinaniniwalaan na nagbibigay lunas sa iba’t ibang uri ng sexual anxieties, tulad ng takot sa ‘di magampanan ang lubos na pagkalalaki. Nakaktulong din ito sa fertility sa mga kababaihan. Kaya sa kasaysayan ng lahi, masusi ang paghahanap ng mga iba’t ibang pagkain na may ganitong katangian.

Tawag ng mga Aztec ng Central America sa abokado ay Ahuacuatl, pag sinalin sa wikang Ingles, ang ibig sabihin ay testicle tree. Ayon sa mga Aztec, parang testicles kasi ng lalaki kapag ito’y nakasabit sa puno. Karaniwang ginagamit natin ang abokado sa panghimagas, dinudurog ito at hinahaluan ng yelo, gatas at asukal. Maaari din itong gawing salad. Hiwain ng pino, wisikan ng olive oil, suka, at paminta. Ginagawa din itong guacamole ng mga Mexicano, isang uri ng salad na hinahaluan ng katas ng lemon, tinadtad na sibuyas, kamatis, bawang at wansoy.

Ang saging ay mayroong hugis na phallic o parang ari ng lalaki. Nagtataglay ito ng potassium at vitamin B, mga pangunahing sangkap na nakakatulong sa nervous system at paggawa ng sex hormones. Ang potassium ay nakakatulong laban sa pangingimay ng paa at kamay, constipation at mababang presyon ng dugo.

Natuklasan din ng mga Aztec ang bisa ng chocolate at ang tawag nila dito ay nourishment of the Gods. Nagtataglay ito ng theobromine, isang sangkap na nahahalintulad sa caffein na nahahanap sa kape. Ito ay nagtataglay din ng Phenylethylamine and Seratonin, isang mood lifting agent na nagbibigay ng karanasan na para kang nasa alapaap at kaligayahan na maihahambing sa mga taong umiibig. Nagbibigay din ito ng lakas at kakaibang istamina. Kaya paboritong regalo ito ng mga Papa sa mga prospek nila.

Ang honey ay nagmula sa bubuyog. Noong unang panahon, ang mga Ehipto ay gumagawa ng gamot na gawa sa honey laban sa pagkabaog. Ang tamis, lapot at lagkit ng honey ay sumisimbulo sa tamis ng pagsasama ng bagong kasal.

Ang oysters o talaba ay kinikilalang aphrodisiac ng mga Romans noong ikalawang siglo. Ayon kay Juvenal, isang manunulat na Romano, inilarawan niya ang mga babaing parang trumpong kankarot pagkakain ng giant oysters. Inihalintulad din ni Juvenal ang hugis ng talaba sa pudenday. Ngunit may higit na dulot ang talaba. Ito ay masustansya, mayaman sa protina at Zinc. Ang mineral na Zinc ay tumutulong panatiliin ang sexual potency ng mga kalalakihan.

Tayo na sa palengke at mamili na ng mga pagkain na may aphrodisiac quality. Huwag kalimutang bumili ng chocolate flavored condoms. Kung may kataanungan tungkol sa pagkain, mag comment po lamang.

Fruit Salad

2006-12-19T12:58:00.000+08:00

Christmas season is here once again. Of course, in the Philippines, it came three months ahead of its schedule. But what the heck, it’s here now and might as well enjoy it. As the old adage goes, Christmas is inevitable like death and taxes. Avarice and gluttony is the order of the day, as people forget the real essence of the season as they race to the malls spending their bonuses and thirteenth month pay.

When I was growing up in Cavite City in the 70s, the family Christmas party in our compound was always marred not just by greed and excess but by ignorance and stupidity. Instead of highlighting the most important aspect of the season, which is sharing, my relatives would borrow money or usurp the resources of other members of the family on who would offer the best spread for the Noche Buena.

From what I understand about giving and sharing that our teacher thought us in school, the phrase “little things means a lot" was always hammered in our skulls. So in my incorruptible childhood innocence and purity of heart, I resolved to share something different and delicious. I decided to make my very first culinary experiment, a fruit salad, for the grand family Christmas party with my relatives as the guinea pigs.

I suddenly felt a fire in my belly because of the prospect of creating something different. With little savings taken from my bamboo alcancia, I went to the market and bought the ingredients for my fruit salad. I couldn’t sleep the previous night because of the anticipation and thrill that was about to unfold. Below is the recipe of the fruit salad, which I thought would propel me to great heights as the wunderkind of the Ramos family kitchen. I was 11 years old then.

Fruit Salad

Ingredients

Dozen ripe señorita guava, peeled, pitted and shells quartered
Half a dozen chico, washed, and quartered
Half a dozen lakatan bananas, sliced in quarter inch thickness
4 medium sized chesa, pitted and cubed
4 large mabolo, pitted and cubed
4 medium sized dalandan, membranes removed, sectioned
1 small pineapple, cut into tidbits
1 small papaya, peeled, cut into tidbits
2 cups shredded buko (young coconut)
1 cup kaong, cooked and sweetened
1 cup honey
half a cup, calamansi juice
1 cup cream

Procedure

Blanche the buko in boiling water, drain well, and set aside. Mix all the fruits in a large bowl and fold in the buko, calamansi juice, honey and cream. Keep in the refrigerator for at least six hours. Serve cold.

Never in my youthful life that I was tormented, humiliated and rejected by my own relatives as I marched towards the buffet table bearing my gastronomic gift. My fruit salad did not made any dent in their stomachs at all, as it was hi-jacked on its way to the buffet table. A cousin simply said that my fruit salad has no place in the table because it was not a traditional dish and no one will eat it. She in fact said that she was doing me a big favor for it not to be included in the buffet, because I would be a laughing stock if I insist on serving it. So I listened to her advise and I went back to our house and ate the fruit salad myself until I got sick.

Later on in life, I discovered that a proper fruit salad shouldn’t be made with native ingredients like chico, chesa and mabolo, but with imported canned fruit cocktail in thick syrup with grapes and maraschino cherries. The local canned fruit cocktail is not good enough because it contains kaong, nata de coco and papaya. It should be made also with imported cream and condensed milk. I just hope, wherever my relatives are, especially the ones who tormented me, I wish that their glycemic index shoots up to unthinkable proportions and their children choke on the maraschino cherries. Happy holidays.

Prison Swap

2006-12-09T14:12:00.000+08:00

The recent news that Daniel Smith was to be incarcerated in the islands brought rapturous cheers into the humdrum sweet little lives of Nicole, Atty. Ursua and the leadership of Gabriela. But the National United Noranians Amnesty League or NUNAL is taking away that glimmer of happiness from them very soon. NUNAL, an international organization composed of fans and supporters of the jailed Philippine superstar Ms. Nora Aunor is filing a recommendation for a prison swap, where Daniel Smith is to be repatriated back to America in exchange for the return of the Philippine superstar, back to the loving arms of her fans. Ms. Aunor is serving a sentence in a form of a community service in Los Angeles for possession of drug paraphernalia with traces of meta-amphetamine hydrochloride, locally known as shabu.

Ms. Aunor has been notorious for portraying marginalized characters in films such as the politically awakened nurse in Minsa'y Isang Gamu- gamo; star-struck production assistant in Bona; incestuous mother- daughter love triangle in Ina, Anak, Kapatid, wronged domestic helper in Atsay and Flor Contemplacion Story and disenfranchised sales girl in Annie Batungbakal. These roles enabled her to obtain several acting honors from various award-giving bodies and film festivals here and abroad, notably the Ulaan Bator Film Festival in Mongolia.

There are rumors that she might portray the life story the current Philippine president Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo as a propaganda material for the forthcoming 2007 elections. There are spurious reports that the principal photography of the biopic has commenced within the Los Angeles jail, in anticipation of the president's political fate.

On a lighter note, the Concerned Homosexual Union of the Philippines Alliance or CHUPA is also writing to the DFA and the Embassy of the United States of America to repeal the Terms of Reference of the Visiting Forces Agreement. The group requested that erring members of the visiting forces be handed over to the group for re-education through force labor so that they can become useful citizens of the society. Among the modules included in the "re-education" are: The Yin Yang of Gender Sensitivity: Acknowledging One's Female Qualities; Beyond Bondage: The Intrinsic Values of Boy Scout Knot-tying; and Achieving Orgasm through Auto-asphyxiation.

Second-Hand Happiness from Repurposed Memories

2006-11-14T11:03:00.000+08:00

I was shocked when I went home to Cavite on All Saints Day. It is not the Cavite that I knew from my childhood. What was once a well-designed city is now a picture of derelict and neglect. There is so much poverty and ugliness. All the old buildings and landmarks are gone. San Roque Church for the last 10 years is undergoing renovation to and to this day remains unfinished. The Perla Theater, a fine example of Art Nouveau architecture was burned down recently. The area where the old palengke is now the site for the itinerant karnabal that used to be at the reclaimed land at beside the isthmus of Porta Vaga, the draga, which we Caviteño refer it to as PN. The draga is now the site of the Cañacao Campus of San Sebastian College. As for the new palengke, it is still disorganized, dirty and repulsive. I hate to say it, but the panchong malaki is also a victim of neglect. A few meters away where my relatives are buried is a dumpsite that one can only be best described as filthy, very much like the Payatas and Smokey Mountain.

P. Esteban, the street where I grew up is no different from the current state of affairs. Although there are new houses in the area, built mostly from capital infusion coming from America and OFW new-money from the Middle East, yet there are still pockets of decay and homes in advance stages of decomposition, our so-called ancestral house included. Because of desperation, I can only think of the fond memories while I was standing in front of ‘ti Ciliay’s house at the looban. I tried to recall from memory how P. Esteban looked 34 years ago.

From where I stand, I could still see the alatires tree in front of the house where May Legazpi lived. The alatires tree is abundant with its red and green fruit berries that it became the official nerve center for the tropa and the kraturas. Someone built a bench under it because of its lush, verdant leaves, creating a shade suitable for resting after a game of numero ocho, alagua or tumbang preso. This spot is also where Gigi Crescini and I had catfights and bugbugan, where I normally lose to her incessant beatings. But those fights were just juvenile form of marking one’s territory.

Across from the aratiles tree is the looban or the compound where the Gonzales clan lives. It is composed of six houses belonging to the children of Ñol Paco. I grew up in one of those houses. The Gonzales’s are known for their loud mouth and argumentative nature. If you listen closely, one might think a quarrel is taking place, but actually they were just having a conversation. The matriarch of the clan is ‘ti Ciliay, the oldest of the brood. Though a Gonzales, she is the most soft-spoken. He has a son, Manding, who is a homosexual and a transvestite who runs a bar in PN called D’Aquarius. Beside ‘ti Ciliay’s house is tiny esquinita or a driveway that leads to Aling Pili’s house, my mother. Yearly, with her siblings she organizes the Santacruzan, a cherished tradition in our street where girls and boys are dressed in their fineries walking in a procession around the block singing “Dios de Salve Maria”.

It was in May 9, 1972 when the katapusan was being held. Katapusan is the 9th day of the Santacruzan where the madrina and the entire community prepare for the grand finale of the novena of the holy cross. All the young girls had their pang-sagala made by their mothers and grandmothers, or by ‘ti Choleng, an aunt who is a seamstres. The young boys go to Magpoc Tailoring or Lallana’s Beau Brummel for their americanas. It was a fun and hectic day. The poor and ugly ones are relegated to moro-moro, bumbong or hasag carriers, or palaro coordinator. The games after the procession are the highlight of the evening: agaw-bitin, palo-sebo, karera ng sako, ubusan ng tabako, sinong unang makaka-pito pag-kakain ng puburon, are most anticipated. But the most enjoyable of all is the food: kalandrakas, dinuguan at puto, pancit, menudo and fruit salad (should be imported canned fruit cocktail and condensed milk from the PX).

Since the opening of the school is still a month away, the children of P. Esteban have so much time in their hands. We would invent games and change rules of certain games. We would play other than the games mentioned before. Eskwela-eskwelahan, luto-lutoan, chato, bending, piko, Chinese garter, playing with dolls and dressing them up with retaso taken from the neighborhood dress shop owned by the Quilatan family, 2121. Somehow there is a skipping-rope game that up to this day, I couldn’t understand the rhyme and reason behind it: terebolt / terebolt / pick your feet / run and ran / dance and dance / go away. And sometimes in San Roque, where chavacano was still widely spoken, the verse changes into chavacano, thus: terebolt / terebolt / gara la piedra / gara tu pies / sali ya vo / sali ya vo. Then it became Tagalog as children in Caridad prefers: terebolt / terebolt / hawakan ang lupa / hawakan ang paa / umikot ka / lumayas ka. It defies the logic of language but we engage and enjoy them.

During summer, all the kids in P. Esteban have bungang araw. So it is normal for one to see kids running around with gawgaw powdered all over one’s body. The morning usually starts with breakfast of champorado and tuyo, to the blaring commentary of Paeng Yabut or Johnny de Leon on AM radio. Then at 9 or 10 am, the kids limber and visit the neighbor’s house thinking of what to do. At this time, Mang Alex, the kartero in his blue uniform and leather satchel goes around in his bicycle delivering letters and the much awaited pension. At exactly 12 noon, one has to go home for lunch and watch noon time TV show mostly old Tagalog movies like Dance-o-Rama or Dolphy classics like Kalabog n Bosyo, Silveria or some mindless pseudo James Bond films of Tony Ferrer. After that, siesta is soon to follow. My yaya, Ate Ofelia will bathe me and douse Johnsons Baby Powder all over me including my nuts and I then retire to my favorite duyan, where I listen to the lagatok of the abaca rope while the duyan swings and the smell of burnt banana leaf under her plancha while she is doing her almirol, puts me to sleep.

At four in the afternoon, rested and wide awake, I wait for the wailing of Aling Lourdes the pichi-pichi and palutang vendor or Aling Letty with her kariton of merienda consisting of pansit puso, lumpiang sariwa or ginatang totong. After a substantial merienda, I would go out again and go to the house of Leo, the apo of Aling Anching or Bodgie and Ricky, the sons of Aling Kuring (who always make a very irritating psssssssssttt sound every time she summons her kids) or Joan and Jenny, the apo of ‘ti Chaliling or Harry Soer, the house next to Gigi and Ethel, the apo of Aling Meding to bike around the block. I hate it when we reach the kanto of P. Esteban and Magcauas because there is a kanal there and the pusali is always making ampyas when we speed through it. We would go around Magcauas, then to Mabini, to Ronquillo and back again to P. Esteban. At dusk, we would walk to the kanto and look through the fence for the bruha or aswang who allegedly lives under the Home Economics building of Ladislao Diwa Elementary School. Then somebody shouts “ayan na ang bruha” we all then scamper away running with fright and laughing at the same time.

But the real aswang is news from America from an uncle who was writing to my mother about the impending danger in the following months to come. My parents were talking in codes until I blurted out: “What is Martial Law?” My mother was mortified and told me not to utter those words especially in the presence of strangers. My uncle sent all the papers pertaining to our immigration to America, but my mother refused, since she was due for a promotion. My father was disappointed and resorted to drinking. I couldn’t understand the situation. There was so much confusion. Four months later, in the second week of September, the classes were suddenly suspended for no apparent reason. No one was explaining to us what was happening. There were no typhoon or inclement weather that classes should be suspended. In fact there was drought and we had to go to Ladislao Diwa to collect our rice ration. All the adults were worried and their silence was frightening. Even the regular television programs were suspended, the only thing that was showing were cartoons and Uncle Bob's and we were over the moon! We became numb, mindless and childhood innocence prevailed. I now think that Marcos wanted it that way. Meanwhile in P. Esteban Street, tuloy ang ligaya. As if nothing happened. When the classes resumed, I was transferred to San Roque Elementary School, where my mother was appointed as the new principal. Everyday, I was under her watchful eye. As the days go on, the span of my universe grew. P. Esteban Street was no longer the center of my universe and since I commute everyday to school, I had little time left for playing with the kids my neighborhood. They eventually became strangers since I had nothing in common with them anymore. I was sad and I resented the fact that I wore a school uniform different from them. That was the saddest thing that ever happened to me. I lost a sense of belonging.

The only thing I can do now to ease the pain that was inflicted on me 34 years ago is to seek second hand happiness from my repurposed memory. And as for Cavite, I hope the future leaders would have a heart to make this city come alive again. Hoping for greatness is a lost cause.

I dedicate this piece to Gigi Crescini who gave me my first black-eye and to Elco Maravilla, my friend who lived in San Roque. Cavite is so different without you.

Your Majesty

2006-10-06T17:12:00.000+08:00

Queen Elizabeth 2: Supreme state of luxury provided by the most famous ocean liner in the world

Sailing on the QE2 has always been one of life’s great adventures. Even in these days of super cruisers, she continues to make her grand entrance at each port of call. Her majestic size, classic lines, grand interiors, gastronomic offerings, and a legion of highly trained staff, define the ultimate in luxury sailing. The Queen Elizabeth 2, or QE2 as she is commonly known, was the flagship of the Cunard Line for more than 30 years and yet she does not show her age.

On September 20, 1967, the ship was launched and christened by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth ll. Cunard executives opted to use the Arabic numeral “2” to be placed after the ship’s name in place of Roman numerals, which are only accorded to royalty. The cord that released the traditional bottle of champagne was cut with the same gold scissors the Queen Mother used in 1938 to christen the QE2s predecessor, the RMS Queen Elizabeth.

It was in May 1969, two months before Apollo ll landed on the moon, that the QE2 made her maiden voyage to America. At an average speed of 28.02 knots, it took 4 days, 16 hours and 35 minutes. While New York welcomed the liner with the traditional fan-fare, most people realized that this was the last time a new ocean going liner would steam into it’s harbor. That same year, a prototype for Concord was revealed at an air show in England, and for many years, the partnership of QE2 and Concorde became the unsurpassed dream holiday. Passengers flew out of London’s Heathrow airport, landing three and a half hours later at JFK, where they were transported by limousine, to the vessel for a six-day passage to Southampton. It takes an extraordinary ship to become a legend in her own lifetime. Like the elegant Concord, QE2’s classic lines remain one of the 20th century’s design icons. A triumph of engineering and design, even when compared to today’s colossal cruise ships.

I had always held a mental image of this vessel possessing dark, cavernous chambers, dressed with velvets in deep, melancholic colors. However, in the summer of 2003 when my partner and I joined the QE2 during her Farewell Trans-Atlantic season, I was enchanted upon boarding to discover the richly decorated and well-appointed reception area. It was dominated by a circular atrium paneled with burled wood and a stunning mural depicting the history of the Cunard Line and many of its distinguished passengers. This set the tone for the entire ship which was punctuated with an impressive collection of Cunard memorabilia, ephemera, vintage posters, and a large model of the RMS Mauritania, built in 1907.

While viewing the memorabilia, I chanced upon an old photograph of the original lobby design. It was made with modern materials, including chrome and glass, very high-tech but functional in appearance. Its concept was decidedly minimalist, as represented in films like 2001:A Space Odyssey, which linked the promise of the future with the style trends of the time. Although travel trends changed, with the overwhelming majority of people preferring to crossing the Atlantic by jet, the QE2 nevertheless offered a respite from all that hassle and speed and retained a certain old world charm for those who still remembered the ‘golden age of travel’.

A fine European boutique hotel comes to mind when taking in the layout, décor and beautiful proportions of the ship, especially the fluidity of the public areas, which unfolds calmly and quietly before the eye. Good taste dictates that you will not find scenic elevators decked in Tivoli lights, aboard this grand dame. During daytime, most public areas are bathed in natural light, while at night, chandeliers and soft-toned lighting illuminate the ship. The mood is always light and airy, with plenty of corners to hide in with a good book or a game of backgammon with a fellow passenger whilst gazing out to sea.

We were billeted in an ocean-view stateroom, with The Caronia, one of QE2s four main restaurants, as our corresponding dining room. The Caronia depicts the grace and gleam of an English country house, with its rich mahogany wall paneling, quaint table lighting, crystal chandeliers, and richly upholstered cabriolet armchairs. The table setting was pure elegance: crisp white linen tablecloth and napkins, with silver and bone china containing the QE2 monogram. All this was matched by the flawless service of our assigned waiters: Laszlo, from Hungary and his assistant Rakesh, from Mauritius. Impeccably dressed in well-tailored uniforms, they were to serve us breakfast, lunch and supper for the duration of our voyage. On our last day at sea, Laszlo presented us with a most ingenious gift, an album of our menus for the entire trip.

The QE2 is famous for its tradition of culinary excellence. Officially ranked as five-star it boasts of 5 chef the cuisine and 101 chefs, all of whom are responsible for creating a range of international fare to delight the most discerning palate. As each new delicacy is unveiled, a sommelier is on hand to share his expertise, with a recommendation from over 200 labels from the largest wine cellar at sea. One unforgettable meal served during the voyage was a recreation from an August 1953 menu. It consisted of the following: Starters: Hors d’oeuvre Varies, Consommé Souveraine; Entrée: Pan-fried Fillet of fresh Sea Bass “Bonne Femme” in White Wine Mushroom Sauce with Parsley, Roast Duckling a l’Orange with Grand Marnier Sauce, Braised Red Cabbage, Broccoli and Croquette Potatoes; Desserts: Pouding au Liqueurs, Hot Soufflé with Drambuie Liqueur. This menu is just one example of how our meals for the next six days turned into a major epicurean event. One of the great joys of cruising at this level is the glamour of evenings at sea. In keeping with the high standards of elegance aboard the QE2, passengers inevitably dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. For those wishing to go less formal however, the Lido Restaurant, with its buffet facility, is certainly an adequate alternative.
The central meeting area of the QE2 is the Queen’s room. With its mahogany wall paneling, royal blue carpeting interwoven with gold Tudor roses, and a highly polished wood parquet dance floor a big band plays ballroom favorites here every night. But in the afternoons, at four pm on the dot, it is transformed into a quintessential English Tea room. An enduring tradition on the QE2, mouth watering finger sandwiches, English scones and a variety of pastries, are served individually on elegant china by white gloved stewards and stewardesses, all this to the accompaniment of a string quartet playing Mozart and Vivaldi.

One could be forgiven for wondering what you do for a whole six days on a ship? Well, extended meals aside, a plethora of activities are organised by the cruise director, details of which are circulated each evening to individual cabins via the in-house newsletter. On our voyage, there were art auctions, with accompanying seminars, lectures on opera, and classes in painting, all held in an auditorium that also serves as a cinema. The ship’s Chaplin also held a Catholic Mass here each evening. For those with the Jewish faith, a Synagogue is also available. A popular area for many passengers was the casino, which is open till the early hours. Outdoor activities included basketball, swimming, and mini golf. However, our favourite part of the day (apart from all the eating that is!) was undoubtedly the evening shows held in the ship’s theatre. For sheer talent and spectacle this was always a great way to finish each day. While less than a century ago, communication from a ship crossing the Atlantic relied on Morse code; today one can send and receive e-mail from QE 2’s business center. The six-day non-stop crossing between New York and Southampton also affords any bookworm the luxury of time for catching up on best sellers in one of the largest libraries afloat. Beauty treatment is available in the salon and spa, while those with deep pockets can shop at Harrods—the London-based luxury department store—the first boutique at sea.

As we disembarked at Southampton on a sunny English morning, I came across a poster with a caricature of an old captain and a ship. It read: “A ship is always referred to as ‘she’ because it costs so much to keep in paint and powder.”—Admiral Chester Nimitz. Yet another fond memory of that unforgettable summer of 2003, when, as a 40th birthday present from my partner, I was fortunate to have experienced the supreme state of luxury and historical ambiance that is the QE2.

Endnotes:

Almost about QE2 is superlative; she is the fastest passenger liner in service; she is the only ship to be awarded five stars by the RAC; she has steamed over 4.8 million miles, completed over 1,250 voyages. The following information on the hotel store of the ship was taken from a fact sheet published by Cunard, which can help people gain a better appreciation of everything that goes on to make up the last of the Great Ocean Liners.

• The amount of tea bags used each day on the QE2 would supply a family for an entire year.

• To eat QE2s daily consumption of breakfast cereal, two people would have to eat at least one packet a day for more than a year.

• Enough fruit juice is used in one year to fill up QE2s two swimming pools nearly eight times.

• Enough film foil is used per year to go around QE2 over 731 times.

• Approximately 600,000 liters of beverage are consumed annually.

• Heineken and Becks together account for 50% of the beer consumed in QE2.

• The most expensive item in the Hotel Stores is saffron, at two and a half times the value of Beluga Caviar

• QE2 carries 203 different kinds of wine, 171 various spirits and liqueurs, 37 champagne labels and 21 brands of cigars.

Malthus' Nightmare

2006-08-08T22:00:00.000+08:00

Sequel to Dyesebel Syndrome.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to characters and events in this story is purely coincidental. The author is not responsible for any injury or mass poisoning that may result from trying these recipes. However, he will nominate you for a Darwin Award.

Population, when unchecked, increases in a geometrical ratio. Subsistence only increases in an arithmetical ratio. - Thomas Robert Malthus

After decades of political turmoil and natural catastrophes, the citizens of the Philippines became indifferent to the dramas that unfolded before their eyes on a daily basis. Their primary and only concern was Survival. Basically, they just wanted something to eat.

The great storm of March 2015 had caused severe flooding in the Central Plains, destroying the greater part of the crop that was due to be harvested in a few weeks. In November 2016, parliament cut the farm subsidy by 75 percent and diverted it to the privately-owned National Food Corporation, which then used the funds to import rice from Vietnam and Cambodia. Local farmers reacted by barricading the main routes into Metro Manila, preventing the transport of food from the provinces to the capital, and triggering two months of food riots.

But the food security crisis had begun even earlier, in 2011, with the founding of the Asean Union (AU) and the ratification of the Kota Kinabalu Treaty, which lifted border controls between the member states, allowing AU citizens to travel and trade freely within the region. The Philippine Government headed by Shanghai University-educated Prime Minister Marvin Roces Gotomco, had enthusiastically lobbied for the ratification of the treaty, which was signed in under three hours. The young prime minister had little choice—he had virtually sold his country to China and South Korea, allowing them to dominate the market with their cheap products. Under his leadership Mandarin Chinese had become a required subject in Philippine schools, although it was pidgin or "Palengke Mandarin" that had caught on, especially among small children. This was due in large part to the popularity of Taiwanese telenovela starlet Cori Kom Sung, the prime minister's paramour. Ms. Sung was also responsible for the bird flu epidemic, which had wiped out the entire balut (duck egg) industry in Pateros—the dreaded H5N1 virus had arrived with her smuggled collection of exotic birds.

Prime Minister Gotomco had no comprehensive food program for the country. Famine and mass migration depleted the Philippine population from 110 million in 2009 to 60 million in 2019. Only those who did not have the skills or education to relocate abroad remained in the country. That they managed to survive at all is amazing, considering the number of potentially fatal toxins in the little food they lived on. Apparently constant exposure to harmful microorganisms had rendered them immune to disease. These are the people who constitute the current labor force. They speak Palengke Mandarin, but as they cannot read or write Mandarin, their prospects for economic advancement are nonexistent.

A survey conducted in January 2020 by the Department of Nutrition and Food Security of the Asean Union University, Los Baños campus, shows that marginalized Filipinos have managed to survive through resourcefulness and what could only be termed "culinary innovation". Traditional Filipino dishes such as adobo, kare-kare, and afritada disappeared at the end of the 20th century, and were replaced with comestibles made from noodles and peanuts.

Noodles are the main source of carbohydrates, while peanuts fill the protein requiremnt. The noodles are made of common plants and weeds, and their preparation is an art and science in itself. Soya flour (Fabaceae glycin max) is mixed with makahiya leaves (Mimosa pudica), tree bark, and flowers from the banaba tree (Lagerstroemia speciosa). Soya beans contain antioxidants which protect cells from damage caused by free radicals. These free radicals are believed to cause many cancers and premature aging. Soya beans contain natural plant hormones known as isoflavones. These isoflavones are also called phytoestrogens. The phytoestrogens are similar to the estrogens that our bodies produce naturally.

The dried Soya beans are boiled together with the makahiya leaves, tree bark and banaba flowers until the water evaporates but the mixture is not completely dry. The slurry is then forced into a sieve to further smoothen its consistency. The resulting paste is spread thinly over a tarpaulin sheet—stolen from the billboards in the metropolis—to air-dry. After three days, the pasta—which is of a slate gray color similar to a dead squid’s tentacles—is ready to be cut into ribbons with a pair of scissors. The pasta is kept in an airtight bottle or boiled straight away. Refrigeration is not needed.

Pesto has become the sauce of choice, again thanks to the popularity of Cori Kom Sung’s telenovela, The Secret Life of Cris Yaquino. In it Ms. Sung plays Margot Forbes, the celebrity chef who seduces Cris Yaquino's husband by feeding him her secret recipes. Every episode features a new recipe between the melodramatic hair-pulling and slapping sequences. The show's formula for success is simple: whenever Margot starts to make pesto, it means a torrid love scene is soon to follow. The telenovela's popularity peaked when Cori Kom Sung, escorted by the Prime Minister, attended the Bituin Awards for Television wearing nothing but a layer of green paste smeared over her body. The entire nation went berserk. The sensational photograph of Ms. Sung in pesto landed on page two of the UK's Daily Telegraph and became the most downloaded image on yagoogle.com for months. Thus did pesto make its way into the hearts and stomachs of the Filipino people.

Of course, the Filipinos call it pesto, but it does not utilize the ingredients traditionally associated with the sauce. The local version looks like nuclear waste swamp water, and it tastes like nuclear waste swamp water. It does not matter, as the important thing is to recreate the drama that surrounds Margot Forbes on The Secret Life of Cris Yaquino. The preparation of the pesto begins with the gathering of gumamela flower (Hibiscus rosa-sinensis) and bugambilya leaves (Bougainvillea spectabilis). The flowers and leaves are washed, mixed with pork drippings and kerosene, and subjected to severe maceration with a mortar and pestle. Since the gumamela flower is related to okra, once pulped, it yields a sticky mucous substance that gives the sauce the right body and consistency. The bugambilya leaves provide the herb flavor, thanks to their high chlorophyll content. Dust is used as a substitute for pepper, and since salt is widely available, one uses it sparingly. The magic ingredient, kerosene, causes the diners to become giddy and lightheaded, encouraging them to pledge their red-hot passion for each other until death. Which follows soon enough. To complete the meal, there are ground peanuts for protein, and ant eggs as Parmesan cheese substitute.

Not everyone was enamored of Cori Kom Sung. Her most vocal critic was Melchor Macapangpang, scientist and visionary, who condemned her for destroying the balut industry in his native Pateros. Macapangpang attempted to revitalize the balut industry fusing DNA obtained from a duck feather with his own sperm. The result was a mutated balut—a half-duck, half-man embryo in a shell. Following this failure, which was widely denounced as an abomination and a crime against nature, Macapangpang fled to the Netherlands. There he developed a lasting solution to world hunger using tulips and wooden clogs, and was awarded the Nobel Prizes in Biology and Peace. He now resides in Oslo with his wife Liza Wittgenstein, who is half-Danish and half-Doberman.

At the height of the mass migration which seriously reduced the population in the 2010's, a few rich people opted to stay in the country. Rather, they were too stoned, drunk, inbred-stupid, disconnected from reality, or all of the above, to notice that everyone was leaving. Today these rich people are afflicted with Affluenza, the unbalanced and dysfunctional relationship of rich people towards their money. Its symptoms include feelings of insecurity and emptiness, unfulfilled sex lives, and general stupidity. When low self-esteem and status anxiety set in, there is a drink they whip up in order to end their suffering. Literally. This marvelous beverage is the Luxe Sarsaparilla Float.

45 grams of cocaine, sulfanilamide, and lysergic acid diethylamide are blitzed with a shot of Stolichnaya Vodka, Sarsi and egg. This is poured over two scoops of the most expensive imported Belgian Chocolate Ice Cream in a large goblet. For the sprinkles, strips cut out of Manolo Blahnik shoes and a handful of Swarovski crystals are immersed in water and mixed with plenty of raw sugar until sticky. The resulting mixture is baked in the oven for 40 minutes at 350 degrees Centigrade, until the leather and crystals smell like burning rubber. There have been reports of horrific esophagial damage following consumption of this dessert drink, but these reports are all unconfirmed, as the drinkers are dead.

Peanuts have replaced rice as the main produce of the islands. Since it is a sturdy root crop and a major source of protein, subsistence farmers cultivate it on the few remaining lands that have not yet been converted into export processing zones. With their usual sense of culinary innovation, Filipinos developed a new recipe using peanuts, the Choc-Nut Super Yema. Before long, the manufacture of Choc-Nut Super Yema became the most popular cottage industry in the country. When the government realized the viability of this industry, it quickly moved to control and regulate peanut production and processing by creating the National Cottage Industry Regulatory Administration (NACIRA). NACIRA organized a national trade fair at the Boom na Boom Cultural Complex on Estrada Boulevard in Pasay. “Ang Mani ni Inay: Kasagutan sa Gutom ng Bayan” (Mother’s Peanuts: The Answer to the Country’s Hunger) was the first national convention of peanut farmers and Choc-Nut Super Yema manufacturers. More than a thousand Choc-Nut Super Yema manufacturers from Batanes to Tawi-Tawi contributed to build the world's tallest Choc-Nut Super Yema Tower within the Boom na Boom Cultural Complex. Measuring five kilometers in height, the Choc-Nut Super Yema Tower was cited by the Guinness Book of Records as the tallest man-made structure ever build entirely of food.

During the opening rites of Ang Mani ni Inay, the National Commission for Culture and Information conferred the National Artiste Award for Culinary Arts, to Aling Rosita Maloloy-on, the 103-year old grandmother from Miag-ao, Iloilo, and the alleged inventor of the Choc-Nut Super Yema. Aling Rosita, a retired nurse and overseas contract worker, concocted this famous recipe while she was working in Dublin, Ireland. “It was purely an accident," she recalls. “I asked my sister to send me some Choc-Nut, because I missed it so much and it reminded me of home.” One day she was assisting an Irish patient who had problems lactating when the milk pump attached to the patient's breast suddenly exploded and torrents of breast milk gushed all over the place, including the sterilizer, which contained lukewarm water and vinegar for cleaning. As Maloloy-on was cleaning the sterilizer, morsels of the Choc-Nut she was eating fell in, and the breast milk and crumbs of Choc-Nut started to coagulate. She scraped out the gooey substance with her fingers, and it smelled so good that she had to have a taste. Thus the Choc-Nut Super Yema was born. Maloloy-on packed her bags and returned to the Philippines to establish the first Yema Factory in Iloilo. Prior to her National Artiste Award, she was given the Ricky Reyes Foundation Award for Entrepreneurship. She has also been on the covers of many magazines, notably the Spanish food magazine Sabor and Manila Envelope, for her exemplary commitment to the promotion of the Philippine Culinary Tradition.

The following recipe is courtesy of Aling Rosita's blog (www.superyema.com). Leave five cups of freshly squeezed mother’s milk overnight to ferment. Heat water in a large earthenware pot on a charcoal stove. Do not boil. As soon as the water reaches a comfortable warmth, place two tablespoons of vinegar. Slowly pour a cup of breast milk into the solution, along with half a cup of Choc-Nut crumbs. With your bare fingers, help the breast milk and the crumbs coagulate and form it into balls. Immediately transfer the balls into a vat of salted brine. Continue the process until the breast milk and Choc-Nut is all used up. Meanwhile, in a separate pot, boil a cup of water and mix it with two cups of molasses, one cup of sugar, 100 ml of Methylene Chloride and three teaspoons of Psilocybin, the main psychoactive compound found in magic mushrooms, which will serve as a preservative. Once gluey, flambé the mixture with aceite de manzanilla and high grade Ginebra San Miguel and fold in the balls of breast milk and Choc-Nut. Shape them into little breasts and paint the nipples with burnt amber acrylic paint that resembles melted chocolate. This recipe yields 50 pairs of tiny breasts. This magical dessert has become so famous in Italy that they have adopted it as their own, calling it Monticello del Venus or the Mound of Venus.

This is just a survey of the state of the Philippine culinary art in the year 2020. Like all great cuisines, the evolution of Filipino food is entwined with its culture and politics. Politicians, popular celebrities and foreign influences play vital roles in its development. If Prime Minister Gotomco had not been a rapacious, horny idiot, the people would not have had to experiment with non-traditional food sources. If Cori Kom Sung had not smuggled in the H5N1 virus with her exotic birds, Melchor Macapangpang would not have garnered his two Nobel Prizes. Were it not for the massive popularity of Cori Kom Sung, the Filipino masses would not know what pesto is. And if Aling Rosita Maloloy-on had not been chewing Choc-Nut when the breast pump exploded, the world would have been deprived of a culinary masterpiece.

Repast from the Past

2006-08-08T10:31:00.000+08:00

The Governor-General’s Kitchen: Period Recipes and Philippine Culinary Vignettes, 1521-1935 is an interesting book about our forgotten food heritage

The Governor-General’s Kitchen is a very difficult book to design. I was visualizing its form even while it was still being edited. When I first read the raw manuscript, I felt apprehensive because it covers almost four centuries of information, much of which is unfamiliar to graphic designers and publishers. It was a daunting task—sifting through the scanned images and perusing so many vignettes. But the book presented a very exciting prospect, because it required a unique editorial design solution.

The manuscript has been tucked away since February 1986 in the closet of the book’s author, Felice Sta. Maria. Suddenly thrown into active duty as a cultural manager and policy maker, she had no time then to finish the book. The accumulation of culinary data began as a hobby. When she started her writing career in the mid-1970s, she began collecting vignettes from primary and secondary historical sources about the production, consumption, and etiquette of food. The vignettes were intended for her commissioned food articles, but more so cursory asides scribbled down hastily while in the midst of research into non-culinary concerns.

The stories and data were sourced without any research framework. “It was simply fun to collect,” says Sta. Maria. But as data increased it was obvious that there were natural groupings for the information. The result is a cornucopia of popular themes that might inspire professional historians and fastidious hobbyists to venture writing a much-needed national food history, she says. For anyone curious about how and why Filipinos relish mealtime, the vignettes make fine reading.

The voice of the book hints at naiveté and youthful exuberance, owing to the fact that Sta. Maria started writing the chapters in her late twenties through early thirties, during spare moments. If she were given the same data today and a blank page, the now nationally and internationally awarded writer in her mid-fifties, would approach the subject differently. But a new treatment, she says, would not capture a sense of the late 1970s and early 1980s when consciousness of culinary culture was just starting to become popular. A major spark that created a sensation locally was the publication in 1976 of The Culinary Culture of the Philippines, the first coffee-table book about Philippine food culture, edited by celebrated fictionist and columnist, Gilda Cordero Fernando, and included articles by people like restaurant critic Doreen Fernandez on her way to becoming the country’s pioneering food anthropologist.

The book’s achievement can be attributed to the corpus of textual and graphic information that Sta. Maria provides. The book, after twenty years of silence, remains a harmonic choir of voices almost forgotten. Old recipes and menus, like ancient chants and old arias are once again sung and celebrated, recognizing the provenance and the source of the cuisine that we now cherish and enjoy. The book’s cover was inspired by the 1920s art deco style of the eminent French illustrator George Babier while the inside layout was predetermined by the voices and multi-layered text. The baker-accuracy and cook-instinctive editing of Maya Besa, gives the book its final form like an assortment of various flavored soufflé in tiny ramekins—easily eaten and digested. And finally, the vision of Anvil Publishing’s Karina Bolasco provides the discriminating taste to produce a book about the forgotten heritage of Philippine cuisine.

In this book, you will meet Ah Sing, cook of governor-general William Howard Taft at Malacañang palace in 1901, and Asing, Jose Rizal’s cook in his Hong Kong home in 1892. One can also learn about how champagne is manufactured through a flyer squirreled away by Rizal in his pocket diary, or make bologna sausage following a handwritten recipe found among his personal papers. Enjoy the florid poetry of an 1861 Tagalog fiesta invitation card, the silly antics of crockery’s best friend, Agapito Makapinggan, and the serious efforts to teach good manners through classroom drama. Discover how nuns, loyal to the vows of silence use carabao-horn spoons to maintain silence during meals. Find out how the well-heeled and the noble prepare their elegant banquets and balls in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century.

Also featured in the book is the hand-size Philippine flag-inspired menu card from the famous Malolos Congress celebration, perhaps the only one to have survived from the 1898 dinner! And the original menu card used at the 1907 crowning of the statue of Our Lady of the Rosary, known popularly as Virgen de la Naval enshrined today at Sto. Domingo church in Quezon City. Read about the circumnavigation’s first picnic in the Philippines, efforts to stem hunger in a pioneering Spanish colony. Unmask the mythical pygmy Dinahon who introduced kalan and palayok. Uncover the origins of the carinderia, early lumpia and how pancit came to these lands.

As for the recipes, one can compare an 1851 adobo recipe with the contemporary preparation. Turn a boar’s head into Hure de Sanglier a l’Imperatrice, the decadent Cabeza de Jabali. Prepare Gateau Sans Rival the way they did in 1932, and Food for the Gods in 1922. Experiment with a tamales recipe from 1834, and lechon sauce from 1790. Mix over 24 cocktails and temperance drinks from the 1920s and 1930s, including the famous Lintik, which is to Manila what the Sling is to Singapore.

These are just one of the few interesting and little-known curiosities culled from historical sources about the Philippine’s culinary culture from 1521 to 1935. The Governor-General’s Kitchen is a must-have for all who enjoy cooking, eating, and conversing about food. It will eventually satiate the hunger for the historical dimension of Philippine cuisine, and prevent serious cultural amnesia.

Dyesebel Syndrome

2006-07-15T14:35:00.000+08:00

Lisa Wittgenstein is NOT a Jew. She is Serbo-Croatian. When she was born, General Tito seizes power and forms the nation of Yugoslavia. Her parents immediately put her up for adoption and fled to Siberia to join the other members of the family who escaped persecution earlier.

Her adoptive parents were rich Spanish Jew sardine merchants living in Seville. When she was a little girl, she was surrounded with sardines, not just regular sardines, but Kosher sardines. She developed an aversion to these comestibles that she contracted Dyesebel Syndrome, a non-malignant disease, with symptoms include developing scales on both legs and her sexual organ turns into a gill and becomes an underwater breathing apparatus.

No wonder, at a very young age, she excelled in swimming. Her parents, realizing her potential in this activity, seize the opportunity in utilizing her for their business gains. She was dispatched as the advance party whenever there was a sardine expedition. Dyesebel Syndrome also causes one’s brain to rewire itself and enable the person to communicate with sea creatures and lower life forms like planktons and amoebas.

The Jewish parents thus developed a clever modus operandi where is sent as an envoy, communicates with the sardines and able to deceive them to the boat’s massive fishing nets and meet their inescapable doom. That is how her parents become richer and richer. Unfortunately, she was not rewarded for all her efforts.

One day, Lisa developed a diabolical plan to take vengeance for all her resentment and the suffering her parents imposed on her. She related to them that she discovered a massive jamboree of sardines in the North Atlantic and they should dispatch all the vessels to the area. So cunning were her parents that they were able to calculate the profit for the expedition and persist with the colossal venture. Her parents in return, promised her a bigger fish tank where she can invite her friends for her eighteenth birthday. For Lisa, it wasn’t enough.

The day of expedition commenced. The Wittgenstein Sardine Merchants dispatched one hundred seventy six vessels to the North Atlantic for the greatest sardine chase of the century. Little that they know, these vessels will never return to Seville and so does Lisa. A big fiesta was planned in the town center to mark the occasion of the planned voyage. In spite of being Jews, the parents kept their options open and commandeered the Catholic Church to mount an elaborate ritual and a procession participated in by two hundred thirty seven statues of every known Spanish Saints to make the occasion memorable. Vats of Paella were prepared and the streets were festooned with little flags. The local synagogue wasn’t happy with the travesty that unfolded in their very eyes. The local Rabbi, Jacobo Eisenberg sensed danger and spoke to the Wittgenstein urging them to abort their plans. They never conceded.

Hundreds of vessels left the Seville harbor at exactly three o’clock in the afternoon to the sound of muskets fired by the Guardia Civil. At that point, Lisa was progressing towards the North Atlantic having left Seville six hours ago. Three hours later, when the expedition reached the alleged site, the boats dropped their nets to the eerily calm waters of the ocean. But there were no sign of sardines, complained Capitan Alfonso Pez, the fleet captain. Suddenly, a humped back whale appeared on the horizon, blowing torrents of water from the top of its head. Capitan Pez thought it was a good omen, until another three appeared, then twenty, hundred, then, five hundred! The boats were in their rudimentary circular formation in a ten-mile radius, when one whale juts out from the center. A second one appeared immediately and then, third and fourth, like a beautiful fountain spectacle. The crew was fascinated with the display not realizing that the fishing nets were all set under water. Until one of the members of the crew realized the danger, he radioed the captain immediately, pleading to him to raise the nets back in its original position.

It was too late the whales are now in their hundreds performing acrobatic stunts inside the circular formation formed by the boats. All of a sudden, the vessels found themselves in the eye of a storm. The whales were incessantly performing their duty as admonished by their comrade, Lisa. All one hundred seventy six vessels and its three hundred forty eight crew sank and drowned in the depths of the North Atlantic. It all happened in less than twenty minutes. Suddenly the waters were calm again. No traces of boats, people or whales can be found. The tempest was so sudden that the captain never had the chance to radio Seville Harbor. News reached Seville days later about the sudden disappearance of the vessels and the crew. Rumor abounds that they were abducted by aliens or swallowed like the Bermuda Triangle. No one survived to tell the tale and no one in Seville will know what actually happened. Lisa Wittgenstein never saw her adoptive parents again.

After the malevolent episode, Lisa Wittgenstein swam across the Atlantic for days, thanking her marine friends for all their support of her cause. Upon reaching the coast of Cancun in Mexico, she was spotted by the Coast Guard. Not realizing she is actually a human being, she was handed over to the Gran Compañia Tienda Tipo Domo de Cancun, a traveling circus troupe. Having swum across the Atlantic for days, her blond hair became a receptacle for red algae and her entire body became a passive breeding ground for green moss. Barnacles and deep-sea oysters attached themselves to her. Having admitted to the Gran Compañia Tienda Tipo Domo de Cancun, she was welcomed with open arms by the bizarre denizens of the circus troupe. Cholo Nicotino, a chain-smoking, tobacco-chewing, ringleader of the troupe, immediately handed over to Lisa the score of Ariel’s Theme from the Little Mermaid for her to learn in a few days. She said in her Sevillana accented Spanish that she knew the song by heart and in Spanish. Cholo was delighted, and as a superstition, he spat three times on his brass spittoon. The die is cast and they have a new star.

Gran Compañia Tienda Tipo Domo de Cancun was tasked to perform at the closing night of the International Marine Biology Convention hosted by the Mexican Department of Oceanography and the Cancun Hilton. The troupe will perform Leoncavallo’s Il Pagliaci but the score, plot and characters were altered. Instead of ending the Act One with the Aria, Vesti la Giubba, Lisa will sing Ariel’s Theme from the Disney musical The Little Mermaid. The spectacle is a combination of Ballet, Opera, Circus, underwater acrobat and accompanied by a Mariachi Band. Cancun Hilton built a massive aquarium that can fit a cast of 500 humans and underwater creatures that will serve as props and set accessories. Lisa Wittgenstein’s talent for communicating with the marine animals was utilized as she was also appointed assistant director and choreographer for the sea creatures. The show was a roaring success. There were plans for touring the show to Broadway and West end. But it never materialized.

Melchor Macapangpang, a scientist and visionary, is the sole Filipino delegate of the convention. Fugitive from the law and on the run for more than five years, he attempted to revitalize the balut industry fusing DNA obtained from a duck feather with his own sperm. The result was a mutated balut—a half-duck, half-man embryo in a shell. Following this failure, which was widely denounced as an abomination and a crime against nature, Macapangpang fled to Mexico, where the Philippines have no bilateral extradition treaty.

Melchor was enamored with the natural beauty of Lisa Wittgenstein and when she was singing Ariel’s Theme at the closing of Act One of the performance, he was overcome with emotion and dove into the aquarium, joined Lisa in the singing and proposed marriage, which she readily accepted. The curtain closed with thundering applause from the audience. The audience thought the acting, the singing and the entire spectacle was out of this world. Act Two never happened as Melchor and Lisa eloped and they are on their way to the tiny Cancun Airport boarding Melchor’s private jet.

Cholo Nicotino was furious. He set out his bizarre troupe to run after them. Armed with nothing but nightsticks and Doberman dogs, they sniffed out their trail and a dog ran after them and attacked Lisa on her face mutilating it completely. Scream of horror emanate from Melchor’s larynx. Without thinking twice, he reached out for his medical valise and stunned the canine with his tranquilizer gun. At once, he carried the dog and Lisa—with her completely destroyed face—inside the aircraft and demanded the pilot to fly immediately to The Netherlands.

Lisa was losing blood at a very fast rate. If Melchor doesn’t take action, he will lose his true love. Lisa’s face was disfigured beyond recognition. His well-appointed private jet had a small laboratory where he can perform complex procedures. Having little time left in his hands, he replaced Lisa’s face with the face of the Doberman's. He was very pleased with the result and loved Lisa even more with her new face. She is literally a bitch with a dog’s face. Leaving no stone unturned, Melchor conducted a binary DNA test on the compatibility of Lisa’s DNA with the dog’s. He discovered that Lisa is indeed a human being and not Serbo-Croatian nor Spanish as it was written in the Programme of the show.

The operation was so successful that when they landed at the Schipol Airport, a group of international press was waiting for them at the lounge and soon enough a press conference was held. They eventually became the first human and half-dog, half-human cover of the UK magazine Horse and Hound. It was their wedding portrait. Eventually the Dutch Government granted them a temporary asylum. Where Melchor developed a lasting solution to world hunger using tulips and wooden clogs, and ultimately was awarded the Nobel Prizes in Biology and Peace. Melchor and Lisa now reside in Oslo. Lisa continues her career as the first half-Danish, half -Doberman member of the Royal Oslo Opera Company. She now dabbles in poetry and knitting. They haven’t been blessed with children. Thank God!

Il Babbo und Free Willy

2006-07-11T08:09:00.000+08:00

As we all know, Il Babbo is Free Willy's best friend. They grew up together in a Jersey neighborhood, which was the prototype for the mini-series The Sopranos. When they were in their teens, as a hobby, they competed as who can pack more lard under their skin. As fate would have it, they went to school together, at Columbia and London School of Economics, taking elective courses like Creative Accounting in the tradition of Medici’s Renaissance and Observing the Mating Habits of Marsupials in Southern Tasmania. They traveled to Tuscany on one of their summer breaks where Il Babbo discovered his culinary roots. Meanwhile, Free Willy was researching and collecting materials for his thesis on St. Catherine of Sienna, for reason that totally escapes me. Both have the same temperament and disposition, but the similarity ends there. Il Babbo is amoral while Free Willy is immoral. Il Babbo, in spite of his pact with the devil, shines in his chosen path and reaps accolade from his peers. His restaurants and television shows a critical success. While Free Willy, in spite of his partnership with the devil, remains a minor beast relegated to the outer circle of hell—as a gargoyle, guarding one of the spires of the Notre Dame Cathedral—but that doesn’t make him less evil. He is a sad, failed and inconsequential factory owner that deserves to be forgotten. Free Willy's wife coughed out 10 million Euros so he won’t annoy her and their children. Meanwhile the man is still at large, spreading havoc and obliterating gene pools to willing victims. He was last seen along Via Contini dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirt with a three-foot, ten-inch mongrel—his mini me. Apparently the 10 million Euros went to fund his new venture: heroin, human trafficking and devil worship. I hope Free Willy chokes on his bisteca alla fiorentina.

Blackmail

2006-06-06T14:22:00.000+08:00

Have you received a brochure for Anti Virus software with your latest PLDT bill? You will notice the letter on the reverse of the form, which is reproduced in the form of a blackmail note. My business is totally dependent on computers. Naturally, I was shocked and alarmed upon reading it. I really thought that somebody had tampered with my mail. I am absolutely appalled that PLDT would associate themselves with this type of “marketing by fear”.

I would urge all of you to protest in the strongest terms to PLDT marketing department and Pacific Internet (918 5288).

I called PLDT customer service, but the agent informed me that she was “unable” to transfer my call to their marketing department. However she assured me that my comments would be passed to them and that they would call me back. Likewise when I called Pacific Internet, I was informed by a recorded message that they only operated Monday to Friday, however as requested. I left by telephone number for a return call.

Please pass this message on, and in the meantime I would be interested to hear your comments.

Design wise, I think, they succeeded in instilling fear and terror to their target market, but to subscribe to their product? I think not. If this was an ad from a magazine, yeah, it's clever, I would accept it, but inside the mail, much less a billing statement? No way. It reeks of poor taste, very offensive, and it is outright bad.

Alien Definition

2006-05-16T17:28:00.000+08:00

I recently had the pleasure of meeting Bruce Curran, a British expatriate living in the Philippines. The event took place during the reception for the Philippine-British Chamber of Commerce in the courtyard of Casa Manila, Intramuros. It’s not that I was gate crashing their party you understand, I simply had no choice but to pass through the area when leaving my office. A common friend, Jennifer Wallum who was also at the party, introduced me to Bruce as I was closing my office for the night. Jennifer runs EVAC, an NGO working with the Aetas, while Bruce runs a Banca Safari in some far-flung islands of the Philippines. Bruce is also a writer and recently published a book of short stories. During the party, I discovered that complementary copies of ‘Manila A City Reborn’ were being distributed to the guests and I proudly mentioned to him that I was responsible for its design. Being impressed by this, he asked me to autograph his personal copy. He then conveniently produced another book from his rucksack and presented it to me. The book was called ‘Urban Stew The Manila Menu’. Polite conversation and flattering words were exchanged in a very British manner until, glancing at my watch-less wrist, I bid him farewell.

‘Urban Stew’ is hilarious. It is such an enjoyable read, and I read it from cover to cover that same night. It is far removed from the writing of ‘Manila A City Reborn’, which was pure, to put it mildly, propaganda. I confided to him that I thought the photographs in my book to be too sleek and sanitized, as demonstrated by its heavily PhotoShoped images—courtesy of my own studio—wherein Manila ceases to look like Manila, and becomes more like Singapore. On the other hand ‘Urban Stew’ is refreshingly honest in exposing the true colors of the city and its denizens, but at the same time is brimming with wit and irony. His black and white book contains stories with a very strong sense of what is really happening in the city, but without offending the reader. Hopefully, when local people read ‘Urban Stew’, they will understand the incongruity between what actually happens and what should be expected to happen in our community, especially when this disparity can be so amusing. The problem is however, many of us Filipinos do not have a sense of the absurd, we don’t see it because we live in the very heart of it.

In spite of it all, Bruce, being a polite Brit and a well behaved guest in our country, enjoyed my book, notwithstanding its ‘beautified’ photos of Manila. He feels good being a part of the newer Manila, and particularly appreciates the changes in and around the Baywalk area. He is also very much impressed with the Post Office Building with its new park out front, and still hopes that the Metropolitan Theatre will be returned to its former glory. I also recommended to him ‘Manila Envelope’, another realistic, tell-all tale of the true Manila. In this magazine's original blurb, as written by Jessica Zafra, she describes the spirit of the magazine: "Manila - don't come here for culture because we're not exotic enough. Don't come here for the history, because most of us don’t know what's happening. Do come here because what you know is not true." Finally, I took the opportunity to share with Bruce some of my observations on expatriates living in the Philippines.

Billy Nomates, the indifferent. This expatriate lives in a condo or a gated community. He lives his life as if he has never left his country of origin. His home “there” is an exact replica of his home “here.” His rigid routine is such that when the clock turns 6:32 AM, he just has to have his tea, toast and marmite. This man is oblivious to what is happening around him. He is totally ignorant of the local culture and has no desire to learn. His TV has four channels: BBC, CNN, ESPN and Pay-per-View Playboy channel. He never looks out of his car window while being driven to work because his eyes are glued to the locally printed International Herald Tribune. He only knows two addresses: his home and his office. Phone snatcher’s salivary glands activate abnormally at the sight of his hugely expensive cellphone. He works for the embassy of his country, an offshore bank or a multinational drug company. Because the sweltering heat and humidity make him sweat so profusely, all he wants to do is finish his two-year gazillion bucks consultancy with the minimum of fuss. He thinks his work mates are all pricks.

Charlie Superiority, the prick. He also lives in a condo or a gated community, but keeps a bamboo hut in Boracay. He tries hard to embrace the culture of his host country, except there are conditions. He questions almost everything and anything. His favorite opening sentences when complaining are: “In my country...” or “You know, back home...” His letters of complaint to the local newspaper always find a space in the opinion section and his penchant for posing with starlets, fallen politicians, et al, exposes itself in the photo spreads of the society columns. In order to prove his cultural sensitivity to his fellow expats, he has attempted, at least once, to eat: balut, dog, and a monitor lizard. He loves to wear a Barong Tagalog (despite his inappropriate body) thinking it’s so very practical. He keeps a large group of “native” friends, (including a local girlfriend or boyfriend), despite the fact that they expect him to pay for everything, including their loyalty. But what the hell!..it makes him feel and look like the ‘top cat’. He’s abusive and likes to be abused. Billy Nomates, the indifferent thinks he's a prick.

Indiana Jones, the prophet of doom. He is fun loving, adventurous and compassionate. Whatever he does it should always be for a cause. He is what’s called the ‘salt of the earth’. He is a pot smoking former Peace Corps member, an ex-hippie or a beach bum. Billy Nomates and Charlie Superiority describe him as “white trash”. He abhors multinational businesses and everything that has anything to do with globalization. He embraces his host country's culture unconditionally. He laughs at his own misfortune but never forgets the lesson. He lives on a trust fund set up by his rich parents. He is so tanned he could be mistaken for a driver or bodyguard. He not only speaks fluent Tagalog, but also Hiligaynon and some obscure Visayan dialects, which endears him completely to the locals. He carries the nickname “Puti”, which means white. He can start a fire by rubbing two bamboo sticks together. He treats the “natives” as equals and defends them from the abuses perpetuated by his own kind. Local girls want him as a sperm donor to improve the gene pool of the island. He plans to use his wealth to set up a foundation for the preservation of the sea cows. When he dies, the “natives” will erect a concrete monument in his likeness and perform pagan rituals in his honor. Some may even go as far as renaming an island where he once lived to perpetuate his memory. The likes of Billy Nomates and Charlie Superiority, nauseate him.

There's Something About Marie Claire

2006-05-13T10:52:00.000+08:00

What right thinking parents would name their child Maria Clara? With a name like that she will surely attract bullies from every quarter, resulting in hatred of her parents for the rest of her life. If you really love your child, please don’t give her a name that sounds like a character from a Mexican Telenovela.

Maria Clara carries with it so much colonial excess baggage. It signifies two things: One being a Mestiza, spawned from the sperm of a Spanish friar with fat sausage fingers, the other a tragic virginal character from Jose Rizal’s novel Noli me Tangere who was a Mestiza, spawned from the sperm of a Spanish friar with fat sausage fingers.

In Rizal’s novel, Maria Clara exemplifies the virtues of chastity, grace and religious fervor. When she lost her true love, she entered the convent and joined the Order of Sta. Clara (what a coincidence!) and became a cloistered nun. Later, when she discovered who her biological father was, she was overcome with shame and consequently committed suicide. To this day, the soul of the virginal Maria Clara resides in that pseudo territory invented by the Catholic Church known as Limbo. Whilst not exactly Hell, no amount of prayer or ‘indulgences’ will ever release her soul from eternal suffering. Limbo, in spite of its bad press, might be a nice place to live. You would be sharing this virtual space with all those un-baptized infants, black babies and pious pagans. If I were Maria Clara I would open a day care center immediately upon my arrival, and hire the pious Filipino pagans as care givers.

It was during the American Benevolent Assimilation that ‘Maria Clara’ became the term ascribed to the overly decorated clothing in honor of Jose Rizal’s heroin. Known throughout the Spanish period as ‘traje de mestiza’ (dress of a half-caste), it was the ‘couture du jour’ for Filipina women in the 19th century. Doña Victorina, another character in Noli Me Tangere, chooses to wear the ‘traje de mestiza’ for its transformative attributes. In spite of her vertically challenged stature, darker hued complexion and bulbous nose, she uses it as armor and not as a piece of elegant clothing. She feels it totally alters her race.

I have not yet had the pleasure of actually meeting someone named Maria Clara, although I have encountered the name in the society columns of major broadsheets. (One being a politician whilst the other is the wife of a former cabinet minister). I am not about to mention their surnames however for fear of retribution. (Remember this is a work of fiction.) The politician, a Mestiza, and once governor of a southern province carries a surname similar to that of a famous train station in Barcelona. Perhaps an ancestor was a Catalan sugar baron or a cattle rustler. The other lady with the same name is the wife of a former cabinet minister. An art dealer by profession, she now lives in one of the more progressive cities in Southeast Asia. Whenever they appear in public and their names are called, repressed sniggers can be heard among the gathering. In fairness to the two Maria Claras though, they never asked to be saddled with such a burden, nevertheless, being named as such exposes them to untold teasing and mental suffering, since their name carries with it such unenviable connotations.

To make matters worse, the famous Spanish ‘plonk’ preferred by “hammers”, (women working in the hospitality trade in Manila), is called, ‘Maria Clara’ Sangria. By imbibing this beverage of questionable provenance, they assume that they have achieved the height of sophistication. How totally incongruous, laughable and absurd! My friends from the Bloomsbury set would no doubt agree.

Year of the Dog Day Afternoon

2006-01-28T15:28:00.000+08:00

Today the Chinese Diaspora celebrate the eve of the Lunar New Year, commonly known in the west as Chinese New Year. To mark the occasion I have chosen a mascot for my blog. Meet Lyka, the Sputnik firedog. Only those of you over the age of 40 will remember Lyka the dog cosmonaut. Poor Lyka was the first animal casualty ever recorded in aerospace history.

I don't know what the New Year [of the Dog] will bring, but TV chat programs are busy featuring feng shui experts, and fortune tellers. Since I don't believe in this feng shui (voodoo) crap, I’m insulating myself from all that bad mental diet the so called feng shui experts serve up merely to instill fear and panic. "Oh! you must place a six bar metal chime on the western part of you room, said one expert. Otherwise your husband will betray you!" Gimme a break!? You mean to say, a six bar metal chime is going to prevent your husband from cheating on you? Tell that to my neighbor who is the mistress of a minor government functionary.

The only things I can associate with dogs are the following: dog food, dog eat dog, hot dog, bitches, dog day afternoon, life as a dog, its a dog's life, doggone days, underdog, puppy love, dog eared and of course, Lyka my animated gif mascot.

I don't really like dogs. I mean, real dogs. They are attention seekers and emotionally needy. I like eating them though. They have the most delicious meat, and it doesn't taste like chicken. I have a relative in Meycauan, Bulacan who ran a restaurant that served dog. Its been closed for more than 20 years, since there is now a law prohibiting the killing of dogs for eating. But they still do in Baguio, eat dogs I mean. That was the last time I had a dog for supper. Its name was Runo. There was an awful Filipino movie made about 3 years ago called "Azucena" it's all about canine cuisine. I thought it would be violent like the 60's Italian cult film "Mondo Cane." It wasn't, but it was terrible.

Twice a dog has bitten me, the first time was when I was five years old. It was a Pinoy Askal. I remember it all--the blood, the pain and the screaming. The last time was on Jan 1, 2002. It was an ugly mongrel, half golden retriever-half pit bull. It was a nasty bastard called Saddam. A half-crazed, psychotic owned it, drug-addict bitch that used to be my friend. For four months, I had to go to San Lazaro Hospital for my rabies shots. It altered my life. I wish I had the chance to put the dog down. I threatened to sue the owner who eventually coughed up something to pay for my medical bills, which I then blew on codeine (hey, it was really painful. you know!). I still carry the scar on my arm to this day.

I don't like dogs or animals in general. I used to own 2 cats, but my parenting instincts failed me. I fed them canned sardines with tomato sauce in the absence of real cat food. I mixed up their genders. I called the girl kitten Bono and the boy cat Isabel. I also despise films with talking animals. It's ridiculous seeing animals having conversations like human beings, especially dogs. Not my idea of entertainment.

Even if I'm not Chinese, I will greet all of you nevertheless: Kung hei Fat Choi. May you have a prosperous new lunar year. Welcome the year of the dog.

Bryanboy: Blog Envy

2006-01-24T19:20:00.000+08:00

Do you know Bryanboy? You don't know Bryanboy? Le Superstar Fabuleux! He's so famous that all the pseudo-sophisticates are trembling with fear. Bryanboy was “virtually” introduced to me by my friend Glenna, while catching up on the latest gossip involving the Lumieres, the von Traps, along with the entire Manila circus and the small pond within which they wallow. Over a breakfast of Vigan Langgonisa and Kamaru (Crispy Field Crickets) at Cafe Adriatico, we laughed until the coffee shot out of our noses.

Bryan boy is a slap in the face of those arrant peculators that infect the vapid pool of PR, Eventology and envelopmental journalism. Why? because he is loaded, that’s why! Not with gift certificates and pathetic PR loot bags, but with real money, new money that allows him to buy anything he wants: (Product placement here.) The funny thing is he has neither a monosyllabic name nor a European pedigree, and is not endowed with fair skin. In fact he celebrates his brownness, his onion-bulb nose and his waif (ish) 24”-waistline figure. I hate him!

My "virtual introduction" to Bryanboy was made through the Internet. I was directed to a portal called: http://www.bryanboy.com/ and there it was, in its full Fabuleux splendor, the goddess himself, in the department of self-promotion and self-fulfilling prophesy. The header reads: “Bryanboy: Le Superstar Fabuleux. Adventures of the new-moneyed classless bitch from hell. Vulgarity is the new discreet. Trash is the new exclusivity. Third world has never been this *burp* chic. You just have to scroll down as in down!”

It was like entering a Pandora’s Box, total chaos, without doubt a social climber’s paradise. (Note to name droppers: this is the place where you can read all the brands that are imperative to your social climbing skills and capacity-building and eventual acceptance from the rich and the fashionable. But make sure you take those vital elocution lessons, courtesy of Wilma Cruz-Tapalia or John Robert Powers, before you drop those tongue-twisting terms, otherwise you will become a laughing stock and lose the opportunity to sit beside the Infanta, Baronesa or the Condesa at the next Red Cross Ball). It was like reading the script of the entire eight seasons of Absolutely Fabulous. Edina and Patsy would turn green with envy. Ruby Wax, AbFab's script supervisor might just hire him.

Adored and abhorred at the same time, Bryanboy has amassed a fan base of global magnitude. From Tucson to Tbilisi, fans of all color and creed send him snapshots of themselves with an ‘I love you Bryanboy’ note either written on post-its, tattooed on their bodies or by other various forms that are creatively expressive. This lad really knows how to work the medium. Technology simply flows through his veins, to his fingertips and on to the keyboard with panache and wit. Bryanboy is the new IT merchant (capital "IT", and not lowercase "it"). Beyond doubt, he knows what branding is all about. He hits his target with accuracy every time. I’m so impressed.

If Andy Warhol declared in the 70’s: “Everybody will have their 15 minutes”, then I declare, “Bryanboy will have unlimited access.” Wish I were 20 years younger so I could kick-ass with Bryanboy. Bryanboy, whoever you are, keep up the good work, the world needs you.

Below are snippets from Bryanboy's blog:

"I spent a couple of hours tanning myself yesterday with cans of Lancaster self-tan that I got at Sephora in Paris. Here's the result. I think I look good. No? Photographer Mark Nicdao certainly knows how to make people look good. Hahaha!”

“Cashmere t-shirt by Marni, shorts from ShoeMart (US$8!!!!!!!!!!), John Galliano tights, Balenciaga bag, Chanel dog tag necklace.”

“Can someone please fedex me a cowboy of my own from rural America? If you can't fedex one, tell him to email me and send me a picture. Please be younger than 35. Email bryanboy@gmail.com”

“For the first time ever, I looked good under the influence of alcohol.”

“Trust me... based on some of my old pictures, THIS is far too good to be true. Hah!”

“I love my bangs!”

“And I definitely love my onion bulb nose. I don't give a flying fuck even if you tell me that my hideous nose occupies a quarter of my face... I ain't getting rhinoplasty done.”

“My friend even got her Moto pink razr... with her name engraved on the front of the phone! OMG. How cool is that?”

“Bryanboy loves people from Omaha, NE, Newton, MA, Uvalde, TX, Torp, Sweden, High Wycombe, UK, Pudu, Malaysia, Eufaula, AL, Phoenixville, PA, Bayern, Germany, St. Paul, MN, Skurup, Sweden, Huddinge, Sweden, Tbilisi, Georgia, Ryde, NSW Australia, Tampines New Town, Singapore, Liberec, Czech Republic and of course, my homies who live in Hangenmeilingen, Germany. Bryanboy loves yo all. Identify yourselves bitches by saying hello.”

Vulnerable

2006-01-24T16:54:00.000+08:00

My emotions are a bit vulnerable today, and I find it hard to find shelter from the storm. My umbrella is feeling a bit too drafty and water seems to be leaking in from the top.

I'm trying to comfort myself by finding my center and I plan to enjoy a quiet evening at Carvajal Tea House in Chinatown. (Comfort and finding one's center is synonymous to putting something warm in your mouth. i.e. food).

I mustn't let other people's unsolved problems infect my space. I can now differentiate between issues that have to do with me and issues that are simply beyond my control.

New Look

2006-01-24T16:39:00.000+08:00

I decided to change the look of my blogspot. It is cleaner, leaner and no adverts. I hope you like it.

Blood thirsty

2006-01-23T18:56:00.000+08:00

It's blood-thirsty in the morning here in Manila. Sunday, Bloody Sunday. There is not a single vehicle to be seen along Roxas Boulevard. Every street is empty. Driving home to Cavite to attend the wake of a friend's mother is not my idea of an idyllic Sunday trip to the countryside. But I suppose I've done my corporal works of mercy for the day, and yet, I'm half asleep behind the wheel.

Blaring on AM radio, which helps to keep me awake and entertain me at the same time, is a pre-match program for the "Laban para sa Bayan": Pacquiao vs Morales. Prior to the fight, the anchorman was interviewing every Jolog on the street as to what they expect the fight to be and who they are betting on. The Pinoys had done it again. Confusing bloodthirstyness with nationalism. There was a great deal of money exchanged during the day. One of the revered institutions that profited from this ghastly affair was SM Cinemas, where at 300 pesos a ticket, one could see the full spectacle beamed via satellite in full cinemascope and Dolby sound. I can't imagine the stench and the noise created by those bloodthirsty machos. Cinemas turned into cockpits!

When I got home I decided to take a nap and not passively participate by watching it on TV. When I woke, my partner told me that Pacquiao had won. I was having a worse case scenario playing on my mind. What if he hadn’t? Would there still be a Coup? (as per the ominous newspaper headlines two days prior to the match) Nah, the mutineers were too busy watching the fight and betting amongst themselves. Meanwhile, there are tons of bloodthirsty politicians doing Vegas, not singing or dancing, but gambling and betting. So, who's running the blasted country?

Well at least we have a new hero to celebrate in the person of Manny Pacquiao--another testament of the pinoy's warped sense of values. The punches, the pain and all that bloodletting that Pacquiao had to endure (and the new Manny Pacquiao single that we also have to endure), was well worth it. And as for Eric Morales, I don't give a shit. Let him eat burritos. He's got 2 million dollars anyway.

The Kiss of the Spider Woman

2006-01-16T04:58:00.000+08:00

My last blog was posted on the 29th of December. And it was not a real blog, but an exercise in cut and paste; it was cheating, for lack of thing to say.

Thanks to the kiss of the Spider Woman, suddenly, the frozen, atrophied mind thawed and started to function again. After 20 days, the crystalline ice that entrapped my brain started to melt, as the Spider Woman hurriedly weaves the network of web that Me, the former “sleeping beauty” will be threading on, in the next few days, if not weeks and months and never to sleep again and enjoy all the wonderful opportunities.

The Spider Woman in her sweet voice, sings “Nessun Dorma” to me. “Never Sleep,” she sang in a manner of an alarming quality of a trumpet used by the angels in Revelation. The sweet sound had an enabling resonance that urges people to take action and go to war. War against indolence, procrastination and mediocrity. I, the Sleeping Beauty, no longer sleeping but still beautiful, is now fully awake. Slowly threading the tightrope, with all the obstacles removed; gently and gallantly pursuing what I really desired.

This is my bliss.

Thank you Spider Woman. You know who you are.

DARWIN AWARDS 2005

2005-12-29T17:27:00.000+08:00

The last 4 days was a blur. Christmas just went passing in front of me like a speeding bus. After opening my gifts on boxing day, the fog started to clear. But I can't think and can't write still. I wanted to write something spectacular but the fingers / brain refuses to cooperate, so I'm not forcing the issue. In lieu of a spectacular blog to end the year, I'm posting something that was sent to me by an acquaintance from America--The celebration of human stupidity in its greatest splendour: The 2005 Darwin Awards.

The attached photograph was taken in 1969 with my parents in Cavite. The man in the Santa costume had an unbearable B.O. and he was drunk as a skunk, hence my facial expression. I was very very frightened of him. I wonder if he's still alive?

--G.R.

Yes, it's that magical time of the year again when the Darwin Awards are bestowed, honoring the least evolved among us. Here then, are the glorious winners:

1. When his 38-caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked...and now, the honorable mentions:

2. The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat-cutting machine and, after a little shopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company expecting negligence sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and he also lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.

3. A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. Understandably, he shot her.

4. After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.

5. An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

6. A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20 bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer...$15. (If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?)

7. Seems an Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly. He decided that he'd just throw a cinderblock through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinderblock and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinderblock bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.

8. As a female shopper exited a New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called 911 immediately, and the womanwas able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes, officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."

9. The Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti, Michigan, at 5 a.m., flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast. The man, frustrated, walked away.

******A 5-STAR STUPIDITY AWARD WINNER*****

10. When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a Seattle street, he got much more than he bargained for. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said that the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline and plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges, saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had.

In the interest of bettering human kind please share these with your friends and family ... unless of course one of these 10 individuals by chance is a distant relative or long lost friend. In that case be glad they are distant and hope they remain lost.

Ding Dong Merrily on High

2005-12-23T15:02:00.000+08:00

(tunog ng kampanang maligaya at sabog)

I think in Tagalog and write in English. Strange no? Jose Rizal too. He thought in Tagalog and wrote in Spanish--Rizal being Rizal,it was inevitable. When my Spanish friend read the "Noli" in Spanish, he was in stitches--laughing at its syntax and grammar. Plus the fact that the "Noli" was littered with 19th century Spanish slang that one can only find in the islands, and of course TagNish, it was so bad, he needed resucitation after reading Chapter 3.

I'm not Filipino, but Tagalog. The Philippines is just a state of mind and a map that defines the territory. Ethnolinguistically, I am Tagalog and let's leave it at that. When one meets a Pinoy abroad, the ice braking question would be: Pinoy ka ba? The usual answer would be: Oo, Batangueño ako or Cebuano or Ilokano etc. They don't say they're fom the Philippines, rather, the place they come from like Batangas, Cebu or Ilocos. Of course, unless one is from Manila, they would say they're from the Philippines. This is part of the Manila-centric-ness of the Manileños thinking that Manila is the Philippines.

When federalism takes effect in ten years or so, I dream of a Tagalog Republic, its capital would be Cavite. The Cebuanos can have their own too and so are the Ilocanos. I'm sure they will be happier if things happen this way.

This morning I was listening to AM radio and chanced upon the new Ligo sardines commercial. It speaks of the dying Philippine culture and language. The radio advert went like this:

Nakakalimutan na natin ang mga katagang ating kinamulatan, ang…

Boy friend – kaibigang lalaki
Boy toy – batang lalaki
Boy band – guwapong lalaki
Hello – kumusta
Informal hello – hoy! Ka dyan
Formal hello – hellER!
Bad cholesterol – salbaheng sebo
Good cholesterol – mabait na sebo
Edema – manas
Tita na may edema – manash

Ang lahat ng ito ay hatid sa inyo ng Ligo. Chuva chuva, blah blah blah…

Having said that, I was able to collect phrases for your perusal and eventual enjoyment.

....from English to Tagalog

Umbrella Stand - Payong Paninindigan (My blog title!)
Law Firm – Batas Matigas
Call boy – tawagin si Boy
Beer Garden – Serbesang Halamanan
User Friendly –mang-gagamit na palakaibigan
Book fair – aklat makatarungan
Extreme sports – labis-labis na palakasan
Greener pasture – higit na luntiang damuhan
Pencil pushing – lapis tulak
Petty burgis – walang halagang burgis
Phantom of the opera – operasyong kinakatakutan
Harry potter- Harry namamalayok
Brush stroke – iskobang atake
Mister Suave – mamang makinis
Microsoft – sobrang liit malambot
Militant homosexual – palabang bakla
Immaculate misconception – tunay na malinis, pero akala lang niya iyon.
Home improvement – bahay pagbabago
Toilet humor – palikurang pagpapatawa
Love actually- pag-ibig talaga
Sex bomb – bombang kasarian
Sesame Street – Kalye linga
Bliss Settlement – Lugod na kasunduan
Bloated Ego – Namamagang sarili
Elusive dream – Parang palos na panaginip
Sharp shooter – matulis na namamaril
Women’s desk – babaing pupitre
Skeleton workforce- bungong tripolante
Born again – pinanganak nanaman
Pot session – pulong palayok
Hair spray – buhok wisik
Gay man- Maligayang lalaki
Gay woman - Lengua estofada

Tagalog to English

Matapang na kape- brave coffee
Madre superiora - super mom
Pulis patola - Loofah police
Patay malisya – dead malice (source of deadma)
Baling araw – bullet sun
Hampas lupa – strike ground
Patay gutom – dead hungry
Maitim na budhi – black conscience
Bulalohan – femur and shank store

more to follow....

Stupid but true. I favor stupidity over hypocrisy.
Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon
Gay Christmas and Favorable New Year

The Sexiest Armpits in Philippine Cinema

2005-12-17T11:07:00.000+08:00

Ping, Ping, Ping, Ping. The name not only resembles a battery operated bell that hangs on a kitchsy christmas tree... ring-a-ding-ding, the sound to complement the holiday season. This is the face that you want to wake up to on New Year's day. A sure-fire cure for a hangover, after a bout of binge drinking, champagne poping, all-night partying and perhaps some unadulterated rampant sex. Ping's face in this picture is crisp, clean, sans make-up, non-commital. The type that you wouldn't worry about what to feed him for breakfast. He is like a cat: independent, indifferent, docile. He walks around your living room and stretches his biceps to pump up his pectorals to make your salivary glands activate as if you're in the dental chair having a root canal. He's not needy like a dog. He doesn't even acknowledge your existence. He won't even smile for you. None of that sacharine sweet Sam Milby cutesy smile plastered across his face. As far he is concerened, he's beautiful and all you have to do is drop your..er..jaw. Ang Lee should have cast him in "Brokeback Mountain" or Carlo J. Caparas could have his own version calling it "Backless Mountain" casting him in the role of Jake Gyllenhaal. This kid is so sexy that Jessica and I agreed that he will be next big star. Having played the role of Bogs, one of the two brothers of Maxi in "Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros", he posseses the sexiest armpits ever recorded in Philippine Cinema. We are giving you a 15 minute warning to prepare yourselves for Ping onslaught in 2006. If ever you experience a Ping Panic next year, don't blame us if you need CPR, because we warned you as early as now.

"Ang Pagdadalaga..." Philippine Entry to the Sundance Film Festival

2005-12-16T11:41:00.000+08:00

2006 SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL ANNOUNCES INDEPENDENT FEATURE FILM AND WORLD CINEMA COMPETITIONS
Audiences to Discover Broad Range of Aesthetically Diverse
Dramatic and Documentary Films at Festival in January 2006

Sundance Institute announces the line-up of films for the Independent Feature Film and World Cinema Competitions in the 2006 Sundance Film Festival, taking place January 19-29, 2006, in Park City, Utah.

WORLD CINEMA COMPETITION: DRAMATIC
The World Cinema Dramatic Competition reflects Sundance’s commitment to championing the independent spirit in filmmakers everywhere and to fostering creative dialogue between divergent cultures. This year’s 16 selections were chosen from 936 submissions representing 16 countries including France, Denmark, Argentina, Philippines, Canada, Bosnia -Herzegovina, Lebanon, Peru, New Zealand, South Korea and Brazil. Whether following the adventures of a precocious nine-year-old Chinese girl, an introverted taxidermist, an intrepid amnesiac, or a Filipino boy finding his place in the world, these films will transfix audiences.

The Philippine entry in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition is THE BLOSSOMING OF MAXIMO OLIVEROS / Philippines (Director: Auraeus Solito; Screenwriter: Michiko Yamamoto)

In THE BLOSSOMING OF MAXIMO OLIVEROS Maxi, a gay pre-teen, is slavishly and uncomplainingly devoted to his family of small-time criminals in a Manila slum. He cleans house for them, cooks for them, washes their underwear, mends their tattered jeans, and, if need be, even covers their tracks so they won't be caught by the police. His world revolves around them. That is, until he meets Victor, a principled, idealistic and handsome young policeman. Victor befriends Maxi and inspires in him the hope for a better life. This doesn't go down too well with Maxi's family. U.S. Premiere.

Movie Credits
Director: Aureaus Solito
Producer: Raymond Lee
Script: Michiko Yamamoto
Photography: Nap Jamir
Editor: Clarence Sison
Cast: Nathan Lopez, JR Valentin, Soliman Cruz, Neil Ryan Sese, Ping Medina and Bodgie Pascua

The official press kit can be downloaded at: http://www.savefile.com/projects.php?pid=325284
or
http://www.savefile.com/files.php?fid=3141906

username: igeramos
password: wonderful

GROWING UP MAXI

2005-12-14T18:49:00.000+08:00

A French philosopher once said, a person will experience absolute happiness only once in his lifetime. To keep that memory alive, once must terminate one’s life while deriving great pleasure from it. That idea might be too unpleasant for one’s benefit but for the existentialists, it is the most fragrant ending to one’s suffering (or bliss).

Lucky for me, I have experienced happiness, not necessarily absolute but as always, conditional. In the various stages of my life, I could plot breakthroughs and landmarks that define my happiness quotient. Since I set my expectations near to the ground, I rarely get disappointed. One of the happiest moments in my life was experienced recently in a cold dark place—not a morgue freezer—but inside a cinema. Last night that unexplainable happiness transpired all over again having viewed “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros.” It triggered so many wonderful memories of my childhood and of growing up in a rather unconventional environment.

The film spoke to me on different levels and its emotional layers unfolded like a freshly cut onion that made my tear ducts activate like the Hoover dam on the verge of bursting. It reminded me of my father and brother--who are long gone from this planet—representatives of the embodiment of a true Filipino macho. They drank too much, smoked too much and cried like children to their mothers and wives when in distress. I know for a fact that they loved me dearly, but could never express it openly; contrary to the characters in the film. Maxi’s father and siblings accord him the love and attention that he truly deserves and one sincerely knows why. Maxi serves his family unconditionally. He cooks for them, he mends their clothes, he even covers their tracks for them to keep them safe from the teeth and claws of the police. What impressed me is the compassion shown by the Oliveros’s family to each other. Close-knit family ties are truly a Filipino virtue and Maxi's family really knows how to abuse that privilege. The true irony comes when, towards the end of the film, the roles are completely reversed, and we see the brothers cooking and ironing the clothes for Maxi, as he prepares for school. That scene was really touching. The detail is brilliant—Maxi has outgrown his uniform and the school ID his brother pins on him is not his, but one stolen from a “client.”

In “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros,” I saw a distinctive parallel universe in my life and Maxi’s. Though I grew up in the 70’s and Maxi in the early part of the 21st century, nothing has really changed. I grew up in an unpleasant environment like Maxi’s, full of bullies, drug addicts and losers. Our neighbors wasted time on gambling, wheeling and dealing and prostituting themselves. I would help my mother to cook and tend to our modest house. The situation got worse when my father decided to keep a mistress. That is when the family budget went astray and my poor mother had to tighten her belt. There was no discussion, we just lived our lives as if all of this was normal. I knew Papa was working late all the time, but the mistress story was hushed and never mentioned. At 11 years of age, I intuitively took a hobby by cultivating and cross breeding hibiscus flowers. I adored my hibiscus. The burst of its colors, its sturdiness, its camp appeal. Yet it has no scent. Our neighbor, Aling Meding who was to become my mother’s mortal enemy always welcomed me to her garden and gave me hibiscus cuttings of her own. When the hobby became full-blown, my brother couldn’t accept the fact that his younger sibling was obviously enchanted by flowers. On a single day, while I was in school, the hibiscus plants were uprooted, burned and replaced by bone dry mother-in-laws tongue which was abundant in the neighborhood. I promised never to grow hibiscus again. Instead, I retreated and played with dolls in secret. (See the Secret of Lillet Posting in this Blog)

Gay and barely legal, Maxi lavishly and good-naturedly demonstrates his undying devotion to his family of petty thieves. He keeps the house tidy, cooks gourmet on a budget, does laundry, mend tattered clothes and keeps quiet about where the family revenues come from. His world revolves around his family, whose love for him his also unconditional. That is, until an attempted rape incident, during which he meets his knight in shining armor, in the person of Victor Perez, a righteous, handsome young policeman who saves him from the clutches of his abductors. Victor, picking up his “HerBench” shorts, piggybacks Maxi home on his physically powerful body with Maxi savoring the experience deliriously. It’s love at first sight. When Victor knocks at their door with his special delivery, Maxi’s family is not amused. The friendship soon blossoms and Victor inspires him to want for a better life.

In between his duties as domestic goddess to his family and now Victor’s personal cook and confidante, Maxi finds time to entertain himself and his friends. Since he is not in school, he enlists himself and his friends to learn Geography by playing Miss Universe, Art and Physical Education via the Miss Talent competition, and Creativity and Resourcefulness by designing their own costumes. But duty to the family always comes first, and at the strike of angelus, Maxi makes his way home, cooks dinner and sets the table pleasingly before Papa leads the prayers to the family patron saint, Pit Señor Sto. Niño.

There is love and compassion, but only within the family. The irony is that the love and compassion does not leave the four walls of the house, except for that empathy and consideration towards the police in the form of bribe and protection money in order to propel the business to greater heights. There was no compassion when a sixteen-year old boy was stabbed to death by one of Maxi’s brothers, it was an ‘accident’. Like the crime of Oedipus and Jocasta, not crime in itself but a crime committed by the gods. The family is god. What they do for a living is a matter of survival. One must live and find a reason to live. One must live according to the Darwinian Law of survival of the fittest. You will be killed if you can’t kill.

Maxi found a reason to live and live life to the fullest. He lived for his family. He also found love and it was pure and unadulterated love. A love emanating from an innocent and pure heart. Most adults try to conceal such pure emotion because they are afraid to get hurt and rejected. But Maxi’s heart is brave. He pursued what he really desired. To love an honorable, handsome man, a complete anti-thesis to the men in his family. He is torn. He wrote Victor his true feelings, and inevitably, when rejected, was inconsolable. He felt betrayed and rejected. His brother Bogs wishes to take revenge for the hurt inflicted on his little brother’s tender heart. Witnessing his father’s tragic fall from grace manifests the betrayal of everything he aspires to, including his undying love for Victor. We all learn from mistakes. But Maxi committed no mistake. He had a courageous heart. He had to do what one has to do in life. He never questioned but dared. He served and loved unconditionally and never expected any reward. He was confronted with choices and yet he chose and decided for himself what was right. Except that he should have finished the Miss U competition and emerge as the true winner.

The direction of Aureaus Solito and the screenplay by Michiko Yamamoto is tight and reassuring. Nap Jamir’s saturated photography lends itself to the theme and reality of the film. The editing of Clarence Sison is almost theatrical in its fade-outs and seamlessness. The ensemble acting displayed by the cast: Nathan Lopez, JR Valentin, Soliman Cruz, Neil Ryan Sese, Ping Medina, and Bodgie Pascua exhibit emotional integrity and depth to the respective characters they portray. Incidentally, Soliman Cruz was also the acting coach of Nathan Lopez. The choreography is by Paul Morales. The cameo appearance of Joey Pepe Smith as the mad neighborhood pianist lends Kafkaesque feel to the film where he also provides the haunting musical score.

Movies involving adolescents always strike a chord in my left ventricle. Movies like Empire of the Sun, Billy Elliot, The Diary of Anne Frank and Cinema Paradiso are examples of film that always elicit a positive response or a stimulus of some kind that is very difficult for me to define. Truly, “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Olivera” provides the same emotional impact as these films. It is both poignant, and disturbing, and at times it moves you to aspire to become like them, to cultivate a heart of unwavering faith and a steadfast spirit. It has been proven in the film that the Jologs and what the rich call the “masa” are also capable of unleashing such purity of emotions.

Leaving home at the tender age of 17, I found my métier by joining Bulwagang Gantimpala as part of a pool of talent doing production design work and the occasional appearance with other warm bodies required for crowd scenes. Soliman Cruz plays Maxi’s father in the film. I have known Soliman Cruz for more than 20 years and we practically grew up together in a playground called the Cultural Center of the Philippines. A product of the Philippine High School for the Arts and one of the brightest protégé of Director Dindo Angeles (“Sinta, Ang Bituing Bagong Gising” one of the early alternative Philippine Cinema). I saw Sol for the first time in Bulwagang Gantimpala’s production of “Takas” where he played Tu-an, a Vietnamese refugee. His riveting performance accorded him honors and critical acclaim from theater and literary circles. We became close friends because of our love for the theater, literature and poetry and in view of the fact that we both come from the same socio-economic background.

Over the years, we worked together on various Gantimpala productions, notably in Rene Villanueva’s allegorical comedy “Sandaang Panaginip” where I did the sets and Sol played a Puck-like character from Shakespeare’s “Midsummer Nights Dream.” This was at the height of the anti-Marcos sentiment in 1983. One evening performance was unforgettable when the news broke out that Ninoy Aquino had been assassinated. One of the cast members hurriedly painted the name “Galman” on Sol’s diaper, the costume he was wearing for the play, and the cast made satirical ad-libs and innuendos, thus obliterating the text of the play altogether to the amazement of the playwright and the director Joel Lamangan who were active in the First Quarter Storm. The company call the following evening was a somber affair, as a memo containing a severe reprimand was handed down from the office of Ms. Kasilag, the then CCP president. She admonished the cast by instructing them to desist from any further taking of the first family’s name in vain. The fun however continued, and the memo only made matters worse. The cast was now openly equating the Marcos’s with the characters. Ferdinand as the Haring Sakitin played by Lou Veloso and Imelda as the Reynang Boses Baka, played by Aurora Yumul.

In another Gantimpala production, “Sipnget” (“Darkness” in Ilocano) Sol played a young recruit to the underworld and took the throne away from “Mamang” the deadly pimp and ringleader played by Bella Flores. The plot was very similar to J. J. Connolly’s “Layer Cake” but predates it by 20 years. Joel Lamangan also directed it. In this production, the director used many devices culled from the local action films by using guns synchronized with exploding plastic bladders containing karo syrup mixed with food color for blood and the services of the SOS Daredevils, the preferred stuntmen of the late Fernando Poe, Jr. Set in the 1960’s, I researched hysterically on the sets and outfits used in the play. I unearthed my father’s old clothes and took pictures of cabarets in Cavite for inspiration. My father’s 60’s induced outfit is now proudly housed in the vault of the CCP costume department due to the fact that I was unable to produce a gate pass to bring them out and claim ownership of the costumes.

Sol and I, among others, squatted in the nooks and crevices of the CCP. Our favorite home was Room 101, the infamous costume room of Rolando Tinio’s Teatro Pilipino, behind the Little Theater of the CCP. It was like a well-appointed apartment, complete with amenities like toilets and shower rooms with running hot and cold water. It also boasted of period furniture like Louis XIV chairs, Edwardian tables and Georgian beds. The furniture in stock depended on what the Teatro Pilipino’s repertoire was, though we weren’t complaining. One evening, whilst working overtime on a set for Gantimpala, (it was Tony Perez’s “Rebecca Defensor”), Sol and I were smoking grass and tripping on the brilliant whiteness of the set. Sol, when not rehearsing would lend a hand to help in which ever way he could and share a stick or two. We were horsing around until our hair, clothes and faces were covered with white paint. When we were about to retire to room 101, the guard refused us entry and showed us a memo to the effect that we couldn’t sleep there anymore. We were dumbfounded and refused to concede. Realizing that we had exercised all our options, we gave up and decided to go home to Cavite instead. This was 2 o’clock in the morning. We boarded a baby bus in a terminal in Baclaran. The vibe was so heavy that it was giving us bad trip. Both of us were so dirty, hair and faces covered with paint, making us look like underage construction workers. Inside, the baby bus was reeking of cigarette smoke and swarming with thieves. In every seat there was a passenger sleeping or pretending to be asleep whilst beside them thieves were going through their modus operandi. If the passengers had stirred or woken, it would have been the end for them. There were about ten thieves operating simultaneously, two of them seated beside the two of us. The one next to Sol cautioned him “Huwag kayong papalag, kung hindi, lalagyan ko ikaw at ang kasama mo ng gripo!” So we kept quiet. Sol being Sol, started to light up a stick of marijuana, taking one toke before passing it on to me. I took a deep one and passed it on to the guy beside me, and the man passed it on to the man sitting beside Sol, and so it went on until the stick turned into a small burnt roach. I learned from that experience always to relax in the face of adversity, which I have used in later life when confronted by such situations.

Watching Sol in the film “Ang Pagdadalaga…”, sparked off so many connected memories of pain, triumphs, sad times, trying times, poverty and wanting, and growing up in general but mostly of happy times. The film reassures me that I can always look back in the comfort of the deepest recesses of my memory and recount once again how lucky I am to have survived it all.

Welcome to the wonderful world of PLDT..or..Another week in Paradise!!

2005-12-12T10:43:00.000+08:00

By Kevin Connolly

(All names have been withheld to protect the guilty)

Day 1 Call PLDT to apply for DSL Agent takes ID details and informs me that she will call me back within a few minutes.

Day 2 Call PLDT to inform them that I have not received promised call. Agent informs me that previous agent is on her break, checks records and informs me she will call me back within a few minutes.

Day 3 Call PLDT to inform them that I have not received promised call. Agent informs me that previous agent is on her day off, checks records and informs me she will call me back within a few minutes. I request to speak to supervisor, who asks me if I have faxed photocopies of my ID to their office. I said I have not, since no one had requested me to do so. Immediately faxed copies of ID.

Day 4 Call PLDT to follow up on status of application. Agent informs me that technician will visit me the following day or the day after.

Day 5 Receive call from PLDT to ‘verify’ my ‘user name’ and ‘password’. Inform agent I do not have such information. Agent informs that is has been sent to me by text message. Advise agent no such text received. 2 hours later receive call from another PLDT agent to ‘verify’ my ‘user name’ and ‘password’. Inform agent I do not have such information. (I know this to be correct, since I have not given my cell phone number to PLDT). Endeavor to get name of agent, to which she answers continuously, “ I’m a trainee”. Technician does not arrive.

Day 6 Call PLDT and request to speak to supervisor. Agent informs me supervisor is on her break. Request agent to cancel my application. 5 minutes later technician calls to inform me that they were experiencing ‘technical problem’ and would visit me the following day. I inform technician that I have cancelled my application. Technician arrives within the hour, and installs DSL. 2 hours later receive call from PLDT promoting their DSL products.

Day 7 Call PLDT to inform them that I am unable to send emails. Agent informs me that the technician should have configured the email as part of the installation process.

Now, where did I put my Valium?

from my itunes to your ipod

2005-12-01T17:50:00.000+08:00

If the hills are alive with the sound of music, does anyone know a decent Sherpa? I spelunked the depths of my iTunes so I could provide you with a collection of “eidetic music”—which is meant to hypnotize you and to preempt your critical faculties while suggestions are being made directly to your subconscious to prevent you from thinking about yourself, but instead to think of me and my fabulous taste in music. Before committing this collection to a CD, I test drove it first in my car’s CD player so I could listen to it, revise its play order, and feel how it would affect me and eventually your tear ducts.

In the playlist, I have chosen songs by ultra-sensitive singer-songwriters and Cole Porter-grade lyricists like Bono, Ben Folds, Beck and Billy Bragg. Some of the cuts are familiar: Creep by Radiohead, The Scientist by Cold Play and I Can’t Wait To Get Off Work by Tom Waits. Some are unheard of: Wrapped Up In Books by Belle and Sebastian, By Heart by Sylvie Lewis, Underneath the World by Halite, The Former Miss Ontario by Music Lover, What I’m Looking For by Brendan Benson and To the Stars by Erin McKeown. Some are strangely familiar, essentially cover versions of She Don’t Use Jelly by Ben Folds Five, and Any Major Dude Will Tell You by Wilco, originally recorded some years ago by Flaming Lips and Steely Dan respectively. There are two cuts that are really “old” by today’s obsolescent standards: The Hollies with their huge hit of 30 years ago The Air I Breathe, and California Stars by Billy Brag, set to music by Wilco. These songs are still capable of putting a lump in ones throat and surprisingly can still hold a candle to the biggies like Beck’s Sexx Laws and U2’s Vertigo. These songs reflect my current dilemma and represent the loath, despair and the humdrum of my current existence. These songs that I love dearly constitute the sound track of my life. However, after listening to Lemon Jelly’s Space Walk, you will feel that there is still such thing as hope. Hope is the only thing we could have and aspire to in these “interesting” times. From my iTunes to your iPod, let’s re-connect and listen with wild abandon, like having sex without a condom. Look after yourself and may you have a Happy and tuneful Christmas.

Playlist
Vertigo 3:14 U2
All Because Of You Days 5:45 Echo & The Bunnymen
The Air That I Breathe 4:12 The Hollies
She Don’t Use Jelly 4:13 Ben Folds Five
California Stars 4:58 Billy Bragg & Wilco
Underneath The World 3:57 Halite
Wrapped Up In Books 3:34 Belle & Sebastian
Any Major Dude Will Tell You 3:06 Wilco
The Former Miss Ontario 3:19 Music Lover
Creep 4:00 Radiohead
What I’m Looking For 3:33 Brendan Benson
Don’t Change Your Plans 5:10 Ben Folds Five
Send A Message To Her 4:28 Beck
I Can’t Wait To Get Off Work 3:17 Tom Waits
By Heart 2:33 Sylvie Lewis
Sexx Laws 3:39 Beck
The Scientist 4:25 Coldplay
Don’t Dream It’s Over 3:55 Crowded House
To The Stars 3:02 Erin McKeown
Space Walk 3:53 Lemon Jelly

Pangarap ni Ige for Streetkids

2005-11-24T19:42:00.000+08:00

This article was written by my good friend ALEX S. TIMBOL days after my birthday celebration at Pangarap Shelter for Street Children. It appeared at the Lifestyle Section of the Manila Bulletin on 14 April 2005. I encourage everyone to please click on the Googggle Ad Links, because the earnings of these ads will go to Pangarap Shelter. Donations from within the UK or Eurozone may be sent through Hope for
Children UK. See website for further information www.hope4c.org. Thank You!

If you're a successful graphic artist and book designer responsible for much of what is called contemporary Philippine design, what would you do to celebrate your birthday?

Ige Ramos, principal designer of IRDS, creator of hundreds of published works, several dozen coffee table books, and internationally renowned "NewMedia" artist, celebrated his birthday with 100 children at the Pangarap Center for Street Children in Pasay City.

Instead of gifts, Ige requested his guests to bring toys, books, beddings, and clothes for the children.

"I already know what I�m going to do when I retire!" proclaims Ige, who has been helping the Foundation for the last fifteen years.

His contacts in the CCP, where he used to work, help Ige arrange dance classes with Ballet Manila, art workshops, and other skills development programs for the children. He also actively solicits for the shelter from among his business� clientele.

Started in 1989 by the Sons of Mary, Ina-anak, Inc., and the Ladies of Charity of Pasay, the Pangarap Foundation is accredited by the Department of Social Welfare and Development as a child caring agency, and is certified as a donee institution by the Philippine Council for NGO Certification.

The Foundation has residential shelter operations in Pasay City (for boys) and Taguig City (for girls), a Community Development Center in Paliparan III, Dasmarinas, Cavite, and affiliated Centers offering alternative education and other services to children working in the streets.

Bro. Francisco Tanega, executive director of Pangarap Foundation, emphasizes that while cash donations are welcome (they have hundreds of mouths to feed every day!), donations of clothes, books, beddings, and useable furniture are also accepted.

The foundation even welcomes donations of personal time for skills development programs for the children.

Children come to the shelter from different sources. Many are referred by other social welfare NGOs, but a third of them are walk-ins who had heard about the shelter on the street.

Many of these children are runaways fleeing from dysfunctional or non-existent families.

Others have been brought to the big city, promised schooling and jobs, then abandoned or abused by relatives and "family friends."

Boys stay at Pangarap in Pasay City, while the girls are processed and placed in Pangarap�s facility in Taguig City.

The Center is careful to screen walk-ins through interviews and psychological profiling, citing a previous incident when an thief, posing as a street child, arrived in the morning and then attempted to break into the Center�s storeroom.

It is an even sadder postscript that the thief turned out to be part of a gang with "Police Protection."

Hoy, mahiya kayo!

Upon being accepted into the Center, the child is put through a program of "stabilization," starting with three square meals a day.

"Most kids improve their outlook instantly when they don�t worry about their next meal," says Bro. Tanega.

With the help of the older kids, the new child is integrated into the community, participating in value formation activities, skills development workshops, and helping with the chores around the shelter.

The Center�s regimen of waking times, school hours, chore times, study hours, and sleeping time help the child recover from his experience on the streets.

After successfully undergoing the recovery program, he is enrolled at any of the nearby schools to continue his education. The center pays for school related expenses until the high school level, and accepts sponsorships for individual children.

Sponsored children can continue to Technical & Vocational courses at Don Bosco and other institutions or may choose to pursue a college degree.

"The kids are here voluntarily," says Bro. Tanega.

Each child signs a contract with the center promising good behavior, participation in group activities, and helping out with the chores in exchange for board and lodging at the shelter.

"We�re not a reformatory," stresses Bro. Tanega, fending off requests from well-to-do families to place problem kids under his care.

"There are other places better equipped for them. Pangarap provides a positive environment for kids with nowhere to go. In most cases, that�s what a child needs to grow into a productive member of society."

The boys themselves have developed quite a reputation in their Pasay neighborhood, being always courteous, responsible, and willing to help.

They�ve had to raise the fences to discourage female admirers from oogling the boys, which distracts them from their chores.

"The neighborhood girls know that our boys make good husbands!" notes Bro. Tanega proudly. "They�re hardworking, well-mannered, and do housework!"

Pangarap�s ultimate goal for each child is to return them to a positive home environment.

"Simply sending the child back doesn�t work." says Bro. Tanega.

"Once we�ve located the child�s family, we pay them a visit and try to determine the reasons the child has left. Our outreach program includes counselling families on parenting skills."

Only when the Center is sufficiently convinced that the child can return safely are they reintegrated.

When the child is returned, the Center�s staff continues supervision with frequent visits to evaluate the family�s progress.

If livelihood is an issue, the Center works with other NGOs to provide livelihood assistance to the entire family.

The many awards and recognitions Pangarap has received for its work are just added frills. The real rewards are in developing the children�s Godgiven ability to be self-reliant, responsible, and caring, and extend those values to their families and local community.

"Each child we send back is an ambassador," says Bro. Tanega, "He provides us a link to help us participate in the healthy development of that community."

The Pangarap Foundation is located at 2503 Taft Ave., cor. Escobal Street in Pasay and can be reached at Tel. Nos. 834-1061 &amp;amp; 551-3733; and by eMail at pangarapfoundation@yahoo.com The Sons Of Mary have a website at http://www.pangarapfoundation.org.ph/

Basque-ing in the Good Life

2005-11-22T15:58:00.000+08:00

The charm of San Sebastian lies in its mixture of old-world atmosphere and cosmopolitan chic. GUILLERMO RAMOS takes a stroll through a city teeming with elegant architecture and seriously good food.

San Sebastian—or Donostia, as the Basque affectionately calls it—is not a very big city by European standards (population 250,000), but its urban planning and legendary landmarks rival most cosmopolitan cities. It is the capital city of Guipuzcoa, one of the three provinces that comprise the autonomous region of the Basque Country, Viscaya and Alava being the other two. Since Franco’s death in 1975, the region experienced a rebirth of Basque nationalism, cultural maturity and revitalized commerce, although Basque nationalism shouldn’t be confused with ETA’s extremists’ ideology as the former Madrid government thought it was so. From time to time the city bears witness to pockets of demonstrations, marches and isolated spray-painted slogans on public walls, but these events happen anywhere. As with any big city in the world, tolerance and common sense should prevail at all times.

Crime rate is virtually low unlike in other bigger cities like Madrid or Barcelona. Just don’t make the mistake of wearing a Bilbao Athletic Club football shirt in San Sebastian unless you want to hear catcalls and risk a mouthful of broken teeth, for the reason that they take their “futbol” seriously. Wear a “Real Sociedad FC” jersey if you want the Donostiar (native of San Sebastian) to love you.

Foodie Paradise

Cooking and eating plays a large part in the life of the Basque people. Basque cuisine is directly related to its culture and politics, and the best way to discover the Basque way of life is to savor the food, plain and simple. The Basque’s gastronomic reputation lies in their ability to turn local produce into exquisite delicacies. Traditional cooking has evolved in the kitchens of the new generation of chefs, towards the new, the brave and the highly imaginative.

Bar Bergara is one restaurant that displays such virtues. One of the best pintxos (tapas) bar in town, it boasts of an eight-star Michelin rating. They don’t accept reservations and are always crowded. Be ready to bully your way to the bar where the bite-sized pintxos are beautifully lined up, ready to be eaten. Waiters are ready to take your order, but the charm lies in the ritual of going to the bar, asking for a plate and choosing your desired pintxo.

Pantxito Bergara, the main chef, lords over the bar and sees to it that the pintxos are replenished pronto. He was very helpful to me when I was scrutinizing each masterfully prepared piece: wedges of tortilla de patata, croquetas variadas, huevo relleno de anchoa y bonito, pincho de esparrago y salmon, jamon y lechuga, and txopito, a small cuttlefish with chopped onion. The chef suggested txakoli, a very light, clean-tasting and pleasantly acidic white wine to wash down the pintxos, and some iced mosto, a sort of an unfermented grape juice.

The menu del dia of the Restaurant Kukuarri at the NH Aranzazu Hotel on the other hand, comprises a choice of starters, main course and dessert. For starters I had gazpacho soup served cold. Soup bowls that looked like an inverted three-cornered hat were laid out on the table, and in it were morsels of vegetables and croutons. The cold soup was poured into the bowl from a beaker. While waiting for the main course, I was treated with puréed lentil served in slender shot glasses. The main course was bacalao al pil-pil, a dish prepared by soaking the salted cod in cold water for 36 hours to desalinate and cooked in olive oil that by some strange alchemy produced a sauce similar to very light mayonnaise, which they call ligado or ‘thickened’. For dessert, I had a lemon meringue Pavlova with autumn berries.

The Kaskasuri Restaurant in Oiartzun is about an hour’s drive from the city center and very close to the French border— a trip well worth it. At 2:30 in the afternoon, the place was just filling up for lunch! On each table rests two bottles of wine: Red Rioja and White txakoli. For starters, I had pasta with olive oil, garlic, and bone marrow. It was one of those dishes that was deceptively simple but has a complex flavor. For the main course, I had the ceviche of salmon in apple cider vinegar with anchovies, onions and capers. For dessert: Gateaux Basque with cherries and a dollop of Bayonne chocolate syrup and a strong cup of coffee. Although this Basque tart is more French than Spanish, it has crept its way into the Basque palate.

For the self-catering set, one must get provisions from Don Serapio, a quaint artisan delicatessen, purportedly the Louis Vuitton of groceries in San Sebastian. Located at Calle Sancho El Sabio, I managed to purchase bottled anchovies and vacuum-packed bacalao to take home to Manila. It is Don Serapio’s aspiration to help recover San Sebastian’s lost gastronomic culture. In fact, you don’t have to buy anything. Just stand inside and inhale the aroma. They sell the best jamon and chorizo, organic fruit and vegetables. It is “the” neighborhood sommelier, green grocer, fruit vendor, butcher and fishmonger all under one roof.

Belle époque architecture

The Spanish invented the art of paseo and promenading is indeed a breeze in San Sebastian. All you need is a sensible pair of shoes, a folding umbrella, an iPod, and bottled water. It took me just over four hours to explore the entire breath of the city. I couldn’t help but rubberneck and admire the belle époque architecture. Truly, one is transported in time. What is admirable is that the structures are properly maintained and look as if built only yesterday. At the Plaza Zubieta, I strolled on the quay along the Paseo de la Concha.

Undoubtedly, the Playa de la Concha is San Sebastian’s official postcard icon and is one of the best places in the world for a promenade. It is guarded by the towering Mount Urgull and Mount Igeldo on each side and sheltered by Santa Clara Island on its front. Isla de Santa Clara didn’t always look as it does today, as throughout the city’s history, it served as a strategic defense feature of the bay, similar to our own Corregidor. In the 18th century, an attempt was made to unite the island with Monte Igueldo by building a jetty. The remains of the uncompleted promontory reveal itself during low tide. Today the island is used for picnics and day trips. The beach of La Concha teems with people despite the mild temperature. Its powdery sand has a gilded ocher color, perfect for making sand castles.

In the middle of the promenade, you will find the elegant blue-and-white edifice of the La Perla spa complex, an aqua-therapy and sports centre that provides the latest hydrotherapy technology. Walking further, I reached what was commonly known as Pico del Loro under the Miramar Palace. At this point La Concha comes to an end and the city’s second beach the Ondarreta, with its different, less urbanized landscape, begins. The route continues to the Peine de los Vientos (Wind Comb) a modern sculptural piece designed by Eduardo Chillida, which provides a very distinct, but equally attractive, view of the Concha bay.

The first thing that caught my attention while crossing Avenida Zurriola towards the quay was a strikingly hard-edged structure made of glass prism, a total contrast to the otherwise soft bend of the landscape. It was early evening and the building eerily sparkles to a golden sheen amidst the backdrop of swimming pool-blue sky. The edifice seems out of place beside the other structures. It was the Kursaal, I was told, the city’s cultural center, and home to the San Sebastian International Film Festival. Built in 1999, it elicited mixed reactions from the designing elite and locals on the whole have actually been last to appreciate it. Designed by Navarran architect Rafael Moneo, he fondly refers to his building as “two stranded rocks.”

Walking further away from the Kursaal, I encountered the robust Zurriola Bridge that crosses the Urumea River. It is interrupted by rows of Doric columns and crowned with globular lamps on each side. At the end of the bridge is the Hotel Maria Cristina. This commanding structure is the most opulent and the most expensive hotel in the Iberian Peninsula. Built in 1912 in the Belle Époque style, it occupies an entire city block with its elegant stone-and-wrought iron massiveness. Located diagonally across the Urumea River, it looks at the Kursaal the way an old society matron looks at a cheeky teenager.

Sitting beside is the Teatro Victoria Eugenia, the hotel’s twin sister. The theater shares stellar billing with the Maria Cristina as the principal symbols of San Sebastian’s celebrated pieces of architecture. Unfortunately, it is closed for major retrofitting work that generated much controversy. Next to the Zurriola is the Sta. Catalina Bridge that connects Calle Miracruz and Avenida dela Libertad, which brings you to Plaza Cervantez where the western end of Playa dela Concha is visible from the north wing of the elegant Hotel Londres.

Parallel to the Sta. Catalina is the graceful Maria Cristina Bridge. This bridge connects the Estación del Norte to the city center. Adorned with ornate lampposts on each corner and lavishly decorated in a blend of neo-classic style and early art nouveau, this charming bridge is a site of major vehicular accidents in San Sebastian because the décor is so pretty it distracts motorists.

Parte Vieja

The stroll to the Parte Vieja was invigorating, especially after a long meal at Kaskasurri and the onslaught of religious icons and gold objects that rendered me temporarily blind. I went to Calle Mayor to shop for postcards and pasalubong at the Kukuxumusu (“kiss of the flea” in Basque), a specialty shop that sells shirts, accessories, and stationery products featuring the often-crazy-almost-sick- but-funny-and-tasteful-drawings of Mikel Urmeneta. Started in 1989 as a kiosk serving the tourists in the San Fermin Fiesta (the site of Ernest Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises”), Kukuxumusu is simply a Basque success story similar to Finland’s Marimeko, and, well okay, Japan’s Hello Kitty, but not quite. This is not your typical graphic boutique; what they sell borders on the pornographic— well, actually less porno and more graphic: fornicating porcupine, frogs high on cannabis, mutant butterflies, lions devouring zebras, bathing dogs and a whole range of political, sexual, and pop culture visual statement.

The Plaza de la Constitución, an attractive square with porticos, once served as a bullring and its balconies are sold as seats. Nowadays it is dotted with little coffee shops with canopies and big parasols. Just right across it is another San Sebastian landmark, the Sta. Lucia Txurreria, where they serve big cups of thick, hot, chocolate with mud-like consistency. Yes, I devoured what seemed like a year’s supply of churros. Deciding that I will not eat churros again, at least for this year, I walked my way out to El Muelle, towards the Aquario and the Museo Naval. Along the wharf, fishing boats that ply the Cantabrian Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean waits to be dispatched for another fishing expedition.

With that view in sight, I promised myself to return and look for the things that I missed in the early autumn of 2004. Breathing every square inch of salt-spray air, I just know, that someday I will call this place home.

--

This article appears in the December Special Travel Issue of Metro Society, published by ABSCBN publishing

Lilet’s Little Secret:

2005-11-17T17:18:00.000+08:00

Or How Celia Rodriguez made my life worth living.

When I was 10 years old, I was keeping a great secret from my family. It is such a great secret that I know it will be the end of the world for me and I will be killed by both of my parents if they find out that I was playing with a doll. I really felt that it was a criminal thing to do, hiding a doll in a shoebox in a storeroom on the second floor of our house and only me, but me who will know where it is hidden.

The doll is nothing special. In fact, it was from some cheap souvenir shop bought by my cousin in Saigon, when his tour of duty was over, mind you not as a soldier, but as a combo player. My aunt who owned a sari-sari store was a practical and tidy woman. She likes to throw away things that are no longer useful to her. One of the things she threw away was this eight-inch Vietnamese doll complete with a hat and white tunic (Imagine Lea Salonga in Miss Saigon). When she was about to douse a can of kerosene to the dump, the doll sort of talked to me and screamed silently to ask me to save her from my aunt’s wrath. When she lit up the dump and as soon as the fire was stable, she left and I ran towards the burning flame and looked for the doll, and there she was, her beautiful black raven hair protected by the straw hat she was wearing was already ablaze. Her left foot was a convoluted fusion of plastic and charcoal. With a long stick I braved the conflagration and tried to save what is left of the doll. What I saw was a sad and sorry state, a gruesome cocktail of charred plastic, burnt cloth, soil and organic substance clinging to it. Smoke coming out of its missing limb, like the photograph of the little girl in the infamous Tet offensive came to my mind. The doll was sending cryptic messages to me as I took it and hid it from every one else. The horror reminded me so much of Celia Rodriguez when she played Valentina in “Lipad, Darna, Lipad” when Darna shielded herself with a mirror when the lethal laser beam emanated from Valentina’s eyes backfire on her and causing her destruction. I named my burnt little doll “Lilet” in honor of my muse Celia Rodriguez.

Years later, I had the chance to meet Celia Rodriguez in a highly pretentious Japanese restaurant in Greenbelt 3 for a chat. I shared with her oysters and sea urchin in a bed of crushed ice and rock salt for starters. I couldn’t believe my self being seated next to the muse of my childhood. As I place the slimy sea urchin in my mouth, the film projector in my mind suddenly ran a clip from “Lipad, Darna, Lipad”. Celia played Valentina, the Queen of the Reptiles and moonlights as a ramp Model. She was seen walking on the lobby of the Manila Hotel in a turban covered Medusa wig, bare midriff Indian Sari, and on her belly button, a giant Ruby known as the “Star of Bombay” that can blow away suspecting Bollywood wannabees. At the Ilang Ilang Coffee shop, she saw Darna flying across Rizal park and she said, “Sino ba yang Babaing Mababa ang Lipad?”

I was brought back to my senses, when she asked me if I was recording our conversation. I was quite taken aback and got embarrassed, although, I have no intention to use the recorded conversation to blackmail her, it doesn’t really amount to anything. I told her that I’m using the material for a magazine article. Suddenly, there was a glint of excitement from her eyes. “So what do you write about?” She inquired. “Well, I write about dead, has-beens and forgotten people that created a dent in my life.” I said wryly. She then broke to a half non-committal smile.

Of the three antagonists of Darna, Celia Rodriguez has the class and camp factor that’s missing from the other two: Gloria Romero played the smarmy provincial public school teacher Miss Luna / Impakta / Bampira and Liza Lorena as Babaing Lawin that she looks more like a “basang sisiw” than a malevolent she-hawk. At least Celia Rodriguez had provenance and name to match her existence. In the film she was known as Dr. Valentina Vrandakapoor, Ph. D. in Reptilian Zoology from the University of New Delhi. She had to battle the waist-less Darna “mano-mano” in mid-air. Ate Vi had no match with Valentina, especially when Celia donned the Darna costume. She was flat chested, and she also had no waist. Her back is as flat as her front. She could pass for a transvestite, if you don’t look further down. But I think she is well preserved for her age. She may have minute crows feet on the corner her eyes caused by years of constantly smiling for no reason. There was no traces of botox, collagen implant or stitches behind her ears. She has tiny ears like a rat’s. It is so tiny and pointed and cute like a baby Klingon, only to be offset by a stunning sapphire earring that goes bling bling every time she turns her head. Her dyed black hair was a give away. It was so black and sticky as if she used Coke to shampoo it. Or is it the atomic strength hair spray she used that no amount of tsunami would destroy it. In spite of the artifice, she was still beautiful. The red Mac lipstick becomes her. She is obviously prettier than Angelica Houston when she played Morticia in Adams Family Values. I just wish, producers and directors offered her offbeat and challenging roles. She could have played Markova better than Dolphy, I think. She has more depth and the portrayal would be less caricature-ish.

Before Celia Rodriguez’s career catapulted into great heights via Darna, I remember seeing her in two films that defined her career: Celso Ad Castillo’s “Kung Bakit Dugo ang Kulay ng Gabi” where she played a supporting role to Rita Gomez and Alona Alegre as a fashion model (ala “Blow-up”) wearing nothing but original Emilio Pucci and the ground breaking “Lilet” where she collected the FAMAS best actress trophy in 1971. It was a tight race between Celia Rodriguez and Rita Gomez. When Celia’s name was called as the best actress winner, Rita Gomez appeared from the back stage and grabbed the trophy from Celia. A struggle ensued between the two women. Coiffure bashing and make-up scraping were the order of the day. “I am the real best actress!” Says Rita. “No! I am! Give that to me!” Replied Celia. Few days later, the photo of the hair pulling incident was splashed all over the major newspapers and no one bloody cared.

“Lilet,” was a psycho-thriller-film noir directed by Gerry de Leon. De Leon too has won the FAMAS as best director that year. The film was rated for Adults only. Somehow, I managed to sneak to the fleapit, sawali-covered wall of our local cinema in Cavite; it was called GAY THEATER. The film was so frightening that the only thing I can remember is the presence of at least 10,000 black tailor’s scissors in every frame. That led me in embarking on an early career in Haute Couture where I dress up my burnt, limbless doll Lilet in secret, which gave me so much pleasure. To this day, I can’t remember where I hid Lilet for fear that I will be found out. I’m sure my late father buried it somewhere in our garden, which for him was a great effort literally “nipping the bud” before it starts.

From Waikiki with Love: Remember Tom Babauta?

2005-11-16T15:59:00.000+08:00

The star of Strangers in Paradise remained a stranger in paradise.

Tom Babauta. A name immortalized in swardspeak. “Tom Babauta na ako” means “I’m hungry.” “Tom” is short for gutom, get it?

For decades the Philippine movie industry has been graced by foreign “actors” who want to try their luck in local showbiz. In the 60’s you had John Saxon, who appeared as the token Caucasian in movies like El Pinoy Matador, a Dolphy movie shot entirely in Spain; and the Pinoy spaghetti western Sergio Leone take-offs starring Chiquito. In the 70’s you had Sajid Khan, an Indian looker who appeared in mindless romantic comedies with Nora Aunor and Vilma Santos. His career in the Philippines didn’t last long because Filipinos are inherently racist and not very keen on actors who have dark skin. He was displaced in the public’s affections by Junior the American singer.

In the 80’s you had Tom Babauta, whose talent hung delicately on his cheekbones, triceps and his “big kahuna.” We don’t exactly know his progeny but legend has it that he was model for the original “Malakas” cracking out of a bamboo pole as depicted in the mural by Botong Francisco at the Manila Film Center. “Maganda,” on the other hand was supposedly modeled after the body of Coca Nicolas and the face of Imelda Marcos. I don’t know if this mural still exists; maybe it’s hanging in the dining room of some fallen PCGG commissioner.

This ball-scratching monosyllabic dude was a dreamboat for casting couch directors. Rumor had it that he would do anything for a sandwich. His notable talents included: hula war dancing, baton twirling with fire on both ends, greased tightrope walking, lying on nails and broken glass, and last but not the least, fire-eating. Tom was so sought-after that Mother Lily made a series of Hawaiian-themed movies with social commentaries on Fil-American cross-cultural issues. At least there was a sense of authenticity when he was cast in these films. Another rumor was that his family was not from Hawaii, but the Northern Marianas (The elected Governor of Northern Marianas bears the name of Juan Babauta.). What the heck, no one will know the difference.

Tom Babauta had so much promise, and his career remained a promise. He appeared with Snooky in Strangers in Paradise. Then he starred with Rio Locsin in Waikiki, (Was he the one? No not really. I take it back) nevertheless propelled him to oblivion. From time to time he appeared in dramas and variety shows, notably in Lovingly Yours, Helen, where he played a balikbayan GI baby searching for his mother in Angeles. And yes, of our country’s 80 million population, I’m the only one who remembers this useless piece of information. If no one remembers what Tom looked like, think of David Kawena of Lilo and Stich, with curly hair.

In one of his final interviews in Manila, Tom Babauta graced the immortal Sunday variety show, Germspesyal. Here is the transcript of that conversation, plumbed from the depths of my memory.

Kuya Germs: Do you love Philippines?
Tom: Yes Kuya Germs.
Kuya Germs: Have you, ah, made love to a Filipina?
Tom: Duh?

And thus Kuya Germs brought Tom Babauta’s career to its final, inexorable doom.

My Official Portrait

2005-11-15T15:33:00.000+08:00

The Land of the Perverse Diaspora:

2005-11-14T11:42:00.000+08:00

Of OFW’s, skin-whitening soaps and search for a true hero.

What makes you yawn apart from Kris Aquino?
The latest ads that one hears from Manila’s mind-numbing AM stations.

One ad that really gets my goat is the Philippine National Bank’s disgusting tribute to the “Bagong Bayani” - the new heroes of the Philippine economy, i.e. the OFW’s. It goes…

Boy 1: “Ang tatay ko, laborer sa Saudi”, (My father is a laborer in Saudi)
Girl 2: “Ang nanay ko, care giver sa London” (My mother is a care-giver in London)
Boy 2: “Ang ate ko, Japayuki sa Tokyo” (My sister is a prostitute in Tokyo)
Girl 2: “Ang kuya ko, janitor sa LA.” (My brother is a janitor in LA)
All together now: “Sila ang mga bagong bayani.” (They are the new heroes!)
Mature male’s voice: “Kaya sabihin sa kanila na mag remit ng pera sa PNB, para sa mga palamuning katulad mo.” (So tell them to remit their money through PNB. For people who expect handouts like you.)

Another ad that is being aired is the “Splash Green Papaya Soap”. Its manufacturer Splash Corporation claim that they are 100% Filipino owned and managed and its corporate mission is to adhere to Filipino values and national ideology. I beg to disagree! The ad starts with a voice of a young girl playing volleyball with her teammates.

Girl: “Kami ang pinaka-magaling na volleyball player sa Marikina.” (We are the best volleyball players in Marikina.)
In the background, one hears cheering of male voices: “Team Maitim!” “Team Maitim!” “Team Maitim!” (“Dark Team! “Dark Team! “Dark Team!)
Girl: “Ang galing nga namin, pero ang iitim naman ng kutis namin! Babad kasi kami sa araw, kaya talo kami!” (We’re so great! But our skin is so dark. Because we’re so exposed to the sun, we’re such losers!)
Male voice: “Huwag papatalo sa itim. Gumamit ng Splash Green Papaya Soap. Isang linggo lang ay siguradong panalo ka sa kaputian.” (Don’t lose out to darkness. Use Splash Green Papaya Soap! In one week, your skin will turn white and you’re a winner!)

Ok. I admit, I did not transcribe these ads verbatim, but this is how the message came through. The first ad reeks of prejudice against people who were left behind to suffer the indignities of living in this country and create a culture of mendicancy. The second ad, creates panic and an artificial tragedy (or demand) that if you are dark, you won’t amount to anything, regardless of how accomplished you are. If you are dark, your fellow countrymen won’t accept you. That is an unfortunate fact. We are a bunch of racists/fascist coconuts: brown on the outside, white on the inside.

Who are our real heroes? Not Rizal, not Ninoy, not Cory and certainly not Kris (Yawn!) It is US not the United States you moron! Tayo… we… Us who stayed on in this country and working in horrid conditions—in a quagmire of noise, traffic, pollution, and corruption, notwithstanding, the poverty, social injustice, street children and the fact that we are confronted with social climbers, charlatans, military and political wives and mistresses who spend tax-payer’s money on the latest Prada and Manolo Blahniks, giant billboards of Kris Aquino selling Kissa Papaya Soap—and I still persist and persevere working and paying my taxes monthly, quarterly, annually. Only to find out that the roads are still ridden with potholes, water from the tap is undrinkable and my local congressman’s only concern is how to achieve “gusot mayaman” with his 25,000 peso barong tagalog that he wears when he deliver his privilege speech in the lower house. By the way, those taxes also go to the printing and building of those hideous full-color tarpaulin billboards featuring the faces of the President, down to the congressmen, mayors and barangay captains advocating their latest propaganda that creates an eyesore in the metropolis. One is reminded of the urban landscape of Russia and China or the entire communist block in the 70’s. Except theirs is better designed. Gone are the waiting sheds, trash-cans and street basketball courts with a clumsily painted sign that says: “Donated by Mayor such and such.” We’re high-tech now, everything is digital.

So the OFW are our new heroes. A truck driver in Baghdad (illegally) was kidnapped and then released after the government pulled out its troops in Iraq. When he went home, he was feted, given a farm, house and lot. A hero. A demented maid in Singapore drowned her ward in a bucket-full of water, was convicted and hanged. The entire country mourned for her. When her coffin arrived, she was given a hero’s welcome. A house girl in Kuwait, raped, fought for her life and eventually killed her assailant. For that she was jailed and sentenced to death by stoning. Had a new lease of life because a benefactor offered blood money for her release. She not only came home a hero, but a career in showbiz and a recording contract awaited her at the airport. She is now a minor, semi-talented star in Mindanao. Still, a hero.

According to the Asian Development Bank and the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism, 2,700 Filipinos leave each day for foreign countries as contract workers, immigrants or as tourists hoping to find work. It is estimated that 8 million Filipinos are residing overseas. By the year 2020 this figure will balloon to 15 million at the given rate. Contributing to broken social structure and notwithstanding brain drain. In 2003 US$7.6 billion is the amount of money sent home by overseas Filipinos by formal channels, making the Philippines the third largest remittance-receiving country next to Mexico and India. This amount is believed to be only about half of the total money sent, with the rest being remitted through informal means such as friends and relatives. The amount of dollar reserves that the OFW contribute is the backbone that drives the Philippine economy. No wonder President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (PGMA), an economist herself and a host of local banks support these kind of figures and statistics that are so lucrative and generate the much-needed fuel that gives our economy a good shot in the arm. But to what consequence? PGMA, her economic team and the local banks are just giving lip service and joining the band wagon to celebrate the OFW as if they were statistics and figures to get excited about. And yes they are nothing but numbers, that they are delirious about! In balance sheets, and income statements, they are listed as: Income Bagong Bayani. And best of all, since they have contributed so much, they are exempted from paying income tax. They are our new heroes! Nurses and caregivers are our latest export, out-selling abaca and copra. More heroes. More income.

Early in our lives, our teachers thought us concept of selflessness, corporal works of mercy, valor and bravery, and nationalism. They introduce us to Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Apolinario Mabini, and recently, Ninoy Aquino was added to the roster of textbook heroes. We hear of Cory Aquino’s plea of Supreme Sacrifice and Non-violent protest. We hear of the late Cardinal Sin, the deluded prince of the church chanting reconcillation and sobriety. But do they really practice what they preach?

Rizal is not my favorite hero. That multi-lingual, terrible novelist, womanizing bastard was chosen by the Americans because he was a pacifist. Instituted during the turn of the century at the height of the imperialists’ Benevolent Assimilation, the Americans wanted to create a George Washington type iconic devise that will adorn the rooms of the public schools all over the country serving as a brain-washing instrument that will shape our young minds not to fight but to conform to the dictates of our benefactor and of course to serve as a role model. Rizal was the role model of our former fallen President Erap. For Erap, it is imperative to have a harem of women and spawn children off them. For Erap, being a sperm donor is power. But Rizal never had any offspring. And the myth of Rizal having several women is a veil that hides the truth about him. He was a fine gentleman of leisure—painting, fencing, writing and traveling—were his reason for being. And he has a total aversion to the clergy. I suspect that he was a victim of pedophilia, hence the repugnance to men in cloth. He also had a strange relationship with Ferdinand Blumentritt, the German/Austrian publisher of his two magnum opus—The Noli and the Fili. These nationalist novels only created archetypes of weak character and disposition that our writers to this day emulate. It is evident in our TV sitcoms, films, comics and literature in general. When will it ever end?

Ninoy Aquino too is an artificial hero. No wonder the new airport that was named after him is still not in operation. Like the airport, his reputation is tainted with fraud and corruption, only to be obscured with his messianic/martyr complex that us Filipinos love to wallow in. What constitute his heroism? Is it his assassination at the Manila International Airport in 1983? What piece of literature did he write or piece of art he create or what policy did he proposed to help change the Philippines? Is it the supreme sacrifice that the Communists, the CIA and Marcos helped choreographed? There are so many unanswered questions that validate him as a true hero. All he did was hide in the comfort of his picket-fenced home in Boston. Bad-mouthed Marcos in the ivy-covered walls of Harvard, in the earshot distance of the policy makers in Washington D.C., and reared Kris to become what she is now. His visa ran out and couldn’t bear the kitchen heat; the Americans advised him to talk to Marcos, went home and got assassinated by a man identified only by his briefs. And the rest is history. Cory, on the other hand, the wailing widow, found an opportunity and wanted a piece of the action. And we Filipinos just loved the drama of the wailing widow. It was great soap opera material. She should have just stayed at home and cared for Kris as a young mammal so she wouldn’t go astray. Had she did not become the president, Kris could have been a better animal. All Cory did was to restore the oligarch that was disenfranchised by Marcos via a people power revolution that took the world’s imagination. She built flyovers, that failed to solve the traffic situation and she was the progenitor ? of the “brown-outs” and power outages that rendered the Philippine economy to its knees. And of course, renamed the Manila International Airport after her dead husband that made him a bona fide National Hero.

Kris Aquino loves her father so much, that she wants more of him. Mind you not as a person but in the form of 500 peso bills. What do you expect from a young girl loosing a father at a very young age? Then, in her adult life to see her beloved father’s image on our paper currency is motivation enough to possess so much of it, that even Sigmund Freud couldn’t decipher the condition that she is suffering from. One can only excavate the annals of Greek Mythology that it could be “Electra Complex,” as her romantic liaisons, patterns and preferences constitute mature and older (if not married) men. But the recent paradigm shift disagrees with that complex, as her last two liaisons were with younger men and of course, the constant was they have to come from a lower social standing (read: lower life forms, sub-humans, amoeba and planktons). She is so popular that she now endorses not only bathroom tiles and corned beef, but also whitening skin creams and lotion. Spreading pandemic and fear to women that if you’re dark, you won’t amount to anything. I remember years ago in a television interview that she wanted to be Sharon Cuneta, the Megastar. Now that she has reached the status of a Nanostar, she could have used her popularity and influence to really make a difference. She and her son could have hosted a children’s show like “Batibot” playing “ate” to Pong Pagong and Kiko Matsing and not that mindless quiz show “Game ka na ba?” She believes in destroying the morale of the short, the dark skinned and the flat-nosed, which she finds revolting. She believes that if not for the Chinese and the Spanish blood infusion, the Filipinos will still be ugly, and with that she encourage us to make amends by using green papaya soap. For me, her best role in film “Magic to Win”, where she played a Cathay Pacific stewardess opposite Hong Kong’s minor star, and side-kick to Jacky Chan, Samo Hung, where he played the dual role of Kris’s admirer and pet lapdog. It was badly dubbed in Cantonese and the subtitle was appalling. At least we can say that in Kris Aquino’s acting career, she played a socially relevant role of an OFW, pero medyo sosyal.

This is really addictive

2005-10-17T15:33:00.000+08:00

I just starded to create my blog site, and thanks to blogger dot com, it made blogging so notoriously easy. Its no rocket science, I tell you, but it is so goddamn addictive. I think I have to go to the shrink after this. The image you're seeing now is the flag of the Kingdom of Syldavia. It is an imaginary country featured in the Adventures of Tin Tin comic book created by Herge. It first appeared in the "King Ottokar's Scepter". I am very much obsessed with Tin Tin books, that I appointed myself as the lifetime president of the Tin Tin Society of the Philippines. Being born in the sign of Aries, I tend to be dictatorial by nature. So, it is not so far fetched that I assume this post, whether you like it or not.

The Winning Answer

2005-10-17T15:05:00.000+08:00

Published on page A1 of the Sept. 27, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

TRIUMPH AFTER TRAGEDY.

Four months after her father died in a road accident, Binibinang Pilipinas Precious Lara Quigaman last night won the Miss International title, the first Filipino in 26 years to capture the crown.

Quigaman, a 22-year-old fashion model, cried for joy as her name was called. She is the 4th Filipino to win the Miss International competition. The last Filipino to win it was Melanie Marquez in 1979.

The first Philippine entry to win the beauty title was Gemma Cruz in 1965. Then Aurora Pijuan captured it in 1970.

Quigaman won the right to represent the country in the Miss International contest when she won the Binibining Pilipinas pageant in March.

==

"MABUHAY! representing the democratic and freedom loving people of the pearl of the orient, i am Precious Lara Guigaman, from the beautiful country of THE PHILIPPINES"

The question given to her was a bit hard

Q: "what do you say to the people of the world who have typecasted filipinos as nannies?"

A: "i take no offence on being typecasted as a nanny. But i do take offence that the educated people of the world have somehow denegrated the true sense and meaning of what a nanny is. let me tell you what she is. she is someone who gives more than she takes. She is someone you
trust to look after the very people most precious to you - your child, the elderly, yourself. she is the one who has made a living out of caring and loving other people. so to those who have typecasted us as nannies, thank you. it is a testament to the loving and caring culture of the Filipino people. and for that, i am forever proud and grateful of my roots and culture."

[There was a roaring applause afterwards! Super!]

Source: Hebe Hartendorp

The Bar Formerly Known as Penguin Café

2005-10-17T14:18:00.000+08:00

Penguin Café Gallery defined the artistic/bohemian life of Malate in the early 80s. I know that it’s a sweeping statement, but it’s the truth. At least my truth, with apologies to the late Ishmael Bernal of “…Gray November” and “Indios Bravos” and to Larry Cruz of Café Adriatico.

In the insignificant corner of Adriatico and San Andres Streets once stood Penguin Café Gallery until it moved to its present location near the Remedios Circle. In what the überstylemeisters of Malate would define the geography of “stylish Malate”: from Nakpil to Remedios (North to South) and M. Orosa to Adriatico (East to West) this city block is “the” Malate of style and taste in the highest order and outside of this imaginary boundary is purely marginal. I’m talking about Penguin in its early days--the fringe and the marginal.

This was the early 80s, the height of the Halakhakan Parties. Larry Cruz was already holding court at Café Adriatico as the Sultan of the Circle, establishing his gastronomique empire on the Remedios and Adriatico quadrant. Ernest Santiago, the Emperatriz of the Kingdom of Coco Banana hangs on to the bastion of what was left of the last days of the disco, and a few blocks away on M. Orosa Street, the High Priestess of Poetry and Film, Virgie Moreno performs the Pagdiwata to a group of captive poets in her temple, The Café Orfeo.

Penguin Café democratized European cuisine, fine wine and world music to the “starving artists” in return, the artists gave Penguin cutting-edge exhibitions and performance art Manila had never seen before, notably by the couple Cesare and Jean Marie Syjuco, Peng Olaguera and the late Santi Bose. It was an exciting time. This was the vision of the two women, Ami Miciano and Maryann Ubaldo when they first conceptualized Penguin Café. Excited and enthusiastic, Ami and Maryann brought with them fresh ideas for a bohemian style artist’s café in Manila. The country was just reeling from the effects of martial law, rearing its ugly head in the forms of mass-media suppression, intellectual stupor and artistic mediocrity. Manila was ready to embrace this “new” concept. Armed with degrees in Hotel and Restaurant Management from schools in Austria, Germany and Switzerland, and various disciplines in art, particularly in Photography for Ami, they were ready to build a house that was going to be the spiritual home for artists in the coming years.

I had my first one-person show at Penguin. It was called “Ang mga Pahinang Pinilas mula sa Notebook ni Narcisus-X” (Pages Torn from the Notebook of Narcisus-X). It was a series of personal autobiographical collage work, photocopied and individually hand-colored with Stabilo highlighter. It didn’t get any critical review, much less bought by collectors, but I was happy just showing my stuff. Laida Lim-Perez liked it so much that she brought the show to her gallery in Baguio. Yes, so she did. It never made any dent in the art scene and I really didn’t care. I was happy just showing my stuff. I was 19 then.

Penguin was my spiritual home, next to CCP. I was still in college when I frequented the place. It was my friend Glenna Aquino who discovered it and I would go there in my uniform: white polo shirt and jeans, complete with school props: big bayong bag, T-square, stretched canvas, rolls of tracing paper, etc. What I love about Penguin is that the people there treated me as an adult. I can drink beer in my uniform, without the bartender harassing me, and participate in adult conversation. I was myself in Penguin, although the older people refer to me as bagets and being bagets meant that I was not to be taken seriously.

Penguin at that time was the center of my universe, the extension of my university education and the elective subject that I took that I truly enjoy. Its interior had a peculiar smell of musk, coffee and tobacco. It was decorated like a quaint Parisian or an Easter European café—marble top tables, glass globe lamps and ox-blood red upholstery--it was warm and nurturing. The prices of food and drinks are atrociously cheap: red wine at P4.50 per glass, Spaghetti Carbonara at P9.50 per plate and Bratwurst with fries at P8.50! This was pre-inflation Manila when the dollar exchange rate was 14 to 1.

Penguin was like an airport coffee shop. People who dropped by were either arriving or departing. Some overstayed and some became part of the furniture, like the good old Pepito Bosch, who was the local Pilosopo Tasyo, and the utterly talented Jess Abejo, who can play Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto better than Cecille Licad as the village idiot. May they rest in peace. There was a time when Penguin became a social weather barometer, the mere presence of a roomful of foreign press and photojournalists munching peanuts and drinking San Miguel beer at 6:45 in the evening, is enough to give you the creeps. True to form, the photojournalist’s strategy and camera blocking for EDSA 1 and the several coup attempts staged by RAM were planned and drafted at Penguin Café. Paging Nancy Collins! Where art thou?

Penguin was also the place for after theater drinks. When Oro, Plata, Mata had its premiere in December 1982, the entire cast and crew all repaired to, where else but at Penguin. The 20th anniversary screening of “Oro, Plata, Mata” last month triggered my memory by just reading the film credit. Names like Jed Arboleda, Gerry Fernandez and Rodel Cruz rang resoundingly. The film’s director Peque Gallaga and his ex-partner Butch Perez were heard debating over Kubrick. The 21 year-old, peaches and cream, Joel Torre conscious of his accent, wasn’t shaving yet. Punk-rocker Ronnie Lazaro, looking like Sid Vicious, complete with earrings, safety pins, black torn t-shirt and all, became a regular pilgrim, he eventually met his wife there, Lola, a Spanish teacher at the Instituto Cervantes. Then you have guys from CCP, Ballet Philippines and Bulwagang Gantimpala (people to many to mention) and from the defunct Shadow Visual Design Group like Neal Oshima, Mark Gary, Jo Chua and Nap Jamir, were all regulars.

The place influenced me and my best friend Jake de Asis so much that our adult life tastes and preferences could be traced back significantly to our existence at Penguin. From the books we read, music that we listened to, the food we ate, and the friends we made, (Grace Amilbangsa, Chito Valenzuela and Jayjay Sevilla) were defined and pre-determined by Penguin. Laurie Anderson, Japan, Roxy Music, Kate Bush, The Clash, The Police, and Talking Heads were the musicians playing the soundtrack of our lives. The scripts were supplied by Still Life with a Woodpecker by Tom Robbins, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and the short stories of Yukio Mishima. We were so poor then, we had to invent our own outfit courtesy of CCP costume department, second hand shoes from Carriedo and vintage clothing from Bambang. None of us looked homogenous or pre-packaged like the ones you see among kids nowadays—our personalities surface more than our clothes. We were young, we were brave and we were angst-ridden. Although we didn’t suffer any hang-ups with regards to what clothes to wear and who to be seen with. We had none of that.

The highlight of the year for Penguin was the celebration of the Chinese New Year. Pinikpikan, the batik and bongo collective from Baguio had their first and many gigs at Penguin, until they finally decided to become serious musicians and three CDs later. They would play at Penguin’s notorious street parties headed by the resident shaman Pepito Bosch and not-yet-their-manager at the time, Boy Yuchengco.

It was a sad fact that Penguin had to close its doors last December 2002. The amount of emotional baggage attached to the place is so enormous that one would think that it would go on forever. But it rekindled our excitement when it re-opened in March 2003 with the same furniture—marble top tables, globe glass lamps and ox blood red upholstery—warm and familiar, but minus the Penguin resin statue and the Penguin Café neon sign. It was rechristened Café Patagonia or is it 604 Café. But for me it is called the Bar Formerly Known as Penguin Café.

Brief History of Philippine Graphic Design

2005-10-17T14:02:00.000+08:00

The Philippines before it was known to be the Philippines was composed of independent and autonomous island sultanates. It had distinct languages and forms of writing. Among the most notable forms are the Ambahan, a syllabary of the Mangyan ethno-linguistic group from the island of Mindoro and Alibata of the Tagalogs and the Visayans whose language and phonetic structures were evolved from the amalgamation of Sanskrit, Arabic and the Malayo-Polynesian languages.

When the Spanish came to the Philippines in 1521, these forms were destroyed “in honour of the King and for the glory of God”. They brought with them, aside from the cross and the sword, artisans, chroniclers, holy pictures, illuminated manuscripts and the then emerging technology from the west—printing. They believed in the power of the printed word—in its biblical sense—the re-education of the people of the new colony began. Although there had been indications that the xylography was already an established art in the Chinese village of Binondo, now a part of the City of Manila, long before the Spaniards occupied the country.

Manila, in 1593 marks the first book printed in the Philippines. That year the Doctrina Christiana en linguas Espanola y Tagala and an introduction to the Christian faith in Chinese was published by the Augustinian friars. The Doctrina Christiana contained the basic belief of the Roman Catholic faith, the Ten Commandments and the customary prayers. Though the Spaniards kept the Filipinos at bay by keeping them illiterate, religious instruction so far was the only means of education made available to them. Friars used these books mainly as a tool to propagate the Catholic faith to the Filipinos. It was practically the “Dark Ages” and the “Inquisition” transported in a tropical setting. In the early 17th century, Tomas Pinpin, a secular Filipino, now widely known as the Father of Philippine Printing, took over the helm of the Dominican friars running the printing press of the Universidad de Sto. Tomas (now University of Sto. Tomas, est. 1611). It marked the proliferation of printed matter in generous proportions. Printed matter during this period may be classified into two main groups: the religious and secular. Religious printed matter was about the catechism, prayers, holy pictures and homilies of the church. Secular printing were mostly Romanized dictionaries of the indigenous and the Spanish languages, grammar books, drill books or the caton.

In 1878, the Augustinian friars published a spectacular graphic work—the grand edition of Fray Manuel Blanco’s Flora de Filipinas. Its four volumes, each sheet measuring 42.25 x 29.25 cm., contains an exquisite illustration of the Philippines’ exotic indigenous flora. In 1887, Don Eulalio Carmelo y Lakandula a Filipino artist and engraver together with herr William Bauermann, a German lithographer, starting with a modest hand lithographic press, forged a partnership which eventually made a hallmark in the business of printing and eventually, the development of graphic design in the Philippines.
During the American occupation, again, education and literacy played a major role in remoulding the Filipino’s psyche. Education in the country underwent great changes. The Americans began to establish the public school system that would make education available to the masses. In 1916, the Philippine educational curriculum was revised with the passage of the Jones Law. The Americans encouraged Filipino writers and artists to produce printed materials that embodied the Filipino identity.

Only to be discredited by the Japanese in World War II, in which the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere played a major role in remoulding Asian values by using a great deal of graphic propaganda. Among the notable magazines published in that period was Shin Seki – Ang Bagong Araw (The New Sun) where they featured on the cover, works of notable Philippine painters, showing the genteel, bucolic life in the country side and downplaying the true atrocities of war.

The last 50 years of peace, though erratic in terms of political stability shows an upsurge of the development of Graphic Design in the Philippines. Though there are no formal school that teaches graphic design, it always been regarded as an inferior cousin to the finer arts, i.e. painting and sculpture and it has been always regarded as a tool for the service of commerce, and its connection to advertising and commercial art, makes it guilty by association, artists from other fields, view it with suspicion. All is changing now. Media (print and broadcast) and New Media (Internet, CD-ROM, PDF’s) is a potent force in the cultural and literacy development of a nation. These agents of change, especially the New Media shifted the role of the graphic designer from someone just work in the background to somebody who actually participates in the policy making and development whether it is for a small company, a corporation or building a nation.

For three years now, since 1996, Fiera de Manila, a company in the Philippines that specialises in trade exhibition, saw the importance of graphic design as an emerging industry. They started to consolidate industry efforts and put together in one roof the strengths of different entities—from computer hardware and software companies to graphic producers and converters—and established Graphic Expo Manila, a graphic design based technology exposition. The expo offered seminar series on pre-press, digital imaging and print production. From this initiative, the only bona fide “digital based” graphic design organisation was born: The International Designers Network Club-Philippines (The IDN Club Philippines) a local association of digital artists and graphic designers and service providers, which prove to be getting stronger in terms of membership and industry acceptance. Initiated by IdN Magazine of Hong Kong, the club was formally organised in November of 1996, after a resolution made at the closing of Graphic Expo Manila ’96. Its primary aim is to provide a venue for digital artists and graphic designers to develop their aesthetic and technical skills in pursuit of their art and profession. Another development in the recognition of graphic designer in our country is the National Book Award. This award is given annually by the Manila Critics Circle normally to authors and publishers. But now, with book publishing in the Philippines at full swing, it was deemed necessary to give an award in the design category to the designers who in fact gives life and body to the books these authors and publishers idealised. Another organization worth mentioning is INK or Illustrador Ng Kabataan (Illustrator for Children). INK is an organization of Children’s book Illustrators. Like IdN Club Philippines, their aim is to provide a venue for Illustrators to develop their skills and professionalisation of their career in terms of standardising pay scale and honoraria. Annually, they conduct workshops, put up exhibitions and sponsor forums in Illustration and design in various schools and universities.

The Filipino graphic designer has evolved to an integrated but a unique individual. With the different cultural influences behind him, the emerging awareness of its varied ethno-linguistic groups, and the confluence among its Asian neighbours and former western colonisers, it brought forward a fertile field of creative awakening. Notwithstanding, the world being made smaller everyday by the new technologies in design creation, publishing and telecommunication, the Filipino graphic designer now belongs to the world, and the world is at his disposal.

2005-10-17T13:25:00.000+08:00

Memory of Taste: The Cavite Chavacano Bacalao

2005-10-17T12:05:00.000+08:00

Growing up in Cavite City, Chefoo Restaurant meant two things: celebration and “Comida-China.” As a child, I thought Chefoo was a Spanish restaurant, as the menu was written in Spanish (well, almost.) For example: Menudencia con Kasuy, Camaron Rellenado con Salsa Agrio-Dulce and Morosquieta Tostada. In retrospect, reading the menu was like looking at a Chinese dressed as a toreador. It was disconcerting.

The owner of Chefoo spoke fluent Chavacano with a Chinese accent. I imagine he must have originated from a long line of Sangleys or Chinese traders who migrated to the Philippines in the 17th century. The Sangleys had been regular visitors even before the ayuntamiento established shipbuilding and dry-dock operations known as barradero (from the Spanish verb barrar meaning “to smear”) on the coast of Cañacao Bay near Fort San Felipe. The barradero was where laborers daubed alquitran, or coal tar, on the walls of the galleon to protect it from the elements. Galleons would weigh anchor and consign their cargoes to the holders of boletas—mostly speculators and traders. Commerce in colonial Cavite was one of the most cosmopolitan in the world.

Unfortunately, war, industrial change and migration have reduced Cavite’s former splendor into ruins. Even the Chavacano language, the lingua franca, is now dying out. What endures to this day is the culinary tradition. Even so, only the memorable and the cherished recipes remain. These too may eventually be forgotten with the advent of the global food chains that meet the dietary needs of our people.

I try to recall the memory of taste and the aroma of my childhood every time I visit Cavite City. Sadly, the old public market is gone and the eateries are tucked in hard-to-find places. Asiong’s Carinderia, a time-honored institution in Cavite City keeps the culinary fires burning. Sonny Lua, who took over the family owned restaurant, modestly declares, “We don’t claim to serve original Cavite cuisine, we simply cook from our hearts.” But their customers think otherwise. According to Puring Ballesteros, a local historian, “Asiong’s cooking suits the taste of Caviteños with their preference for masalsang pagkain (saucy dishes), like kare-kare, menudo and estofado.” It reminded her of the way Caviteños cook, tono-tono, con todo recado (in tune and bursting with flavor). Last year, Asiong’s added a new dish to their menu for the very first time. This was a long-standing Cavite favorite: bacalao.

Bacalao is the most important food served in Cavite City during Lent. I remember the Lent of my childhood, when we were asked to participate in the (seemingly) endless vigils. If we behaved ourselves, we were rewarded with a merienda of bibingkoy (glutinous cake filled with sweet black mongo, swimming in gata or coconut cream). On Good Friday, we anticipated with excitement my mother’s bacalao, made with salted cod fish imported from Viscaya. How sad it is that, with the current economic climate, the revered Basque salted cod has been replaced on the Caviteños’ dining table by daing na labahita. A kilogram of salted cod can now cost up to 800 pesos—not exactly the proper fodder for Lent, when Catholics are required to abstain from eating meat. (Ironically salted cod is cheap in Spain).

In The Basque History of the World by Mark Kurlansky, the description of the preparation of bacalao in Bilbao sounds no different from the way it is cooked in Cavite. The only notable difference is the Mexican influence, i.e. the addition of potatoes, garbanzos, bell pepper, and tomatoes. Like the Basque pil-pil (the onomatopoeic sound of sizzling oil) the Cavite bacalao is soaked overnight to desalinate and cooked slowly in olive oil. According to Kurlansky, “The pil-pil doesn’t go ‘pil-pil’ anymore.” He indicated that the right term would be ligado, (“thickened” in Spanish). “Ligado had more craft and originality than the older, sizzling, clear-oil pil-pil.”

The fish is cooked by gently moving the pan in a circular motion over a low fire, until the oil takes on a dull matte yellow color. The end result should have the consistency of a light mayonnaise. The fish is then set aside to cool. In the same pan, garlic, onion, tomato, bell pepper, chili peppers (siling labuyo) and bay leaf are sautéed in olive oil. Once the garlic turns brown, the pre-cooked garbanzos and olives are added. When the flavors have blended, the mixture is poured onto the fish and served with steaming white rice and freshly grated green mango in salted brine or better yet, burong manga (fermented green mango on rice washing and salt).

Over the years, the dish has evolved with the use of repolyo (cabbage) as an extender. “The extender was an economic necessity,” says Sonny Lua, “but it makes the bacalao watery because the salt from the fish draws out the moisture from the vegetable.” Other innovations included adding tomato sauce, or in its absence, colored with achuete (annatto seeds) to simulate the red color of the tomato.

The Caviteño-Chavacano of preparing bacalao is a confluence of tastes formed by long arduous journeys across seas and continents. No one can claim to possess the original recipe, but because of adaptation (to available ingredients) and transformation (of taste and economy), change is inevitable. But one thing is certain: the Chavacano Bacalao is the way it is because the Basques, Mexicans and Chinese ordained it that way.