Balikbayan Magazine vol. 1 No. 2 by Legleg Pedroche

HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER VOCATION Revisiting the National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete

by Susan S. Lara

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A walk in the garden of the good lifestyle by Althea Lauren Ricardo

US$ 5.00â&#x20AC;˘ PHP 150.00

VOLUME I NUMBER 2

APRIL 2009

CONTENTS

Cinema Paradiso

A screenwriter remembers her love affair with cinema and visits the theaters at the Ayala Center. By Jewel Castro

24 50 Mall World, Isn’t It?

A shopaholic scholar ruminates on her experiences of malls and the mall culture at large. By Elizabeth Morales-Nuncio

64 Reyna ng Filipiniana

In this very rare interview, fictionist, visual artist, publisher and cultural icon Gilda Cordero-Fernando opens her home and bares her art and soul. By Alma Anonas-Carpio

68 Citizen Gurfinkel

A portrait of Atty. Michael J. Gurfinkel as “attorney to the stars” and “miracle worker” fulfilling the American Dream. By Rachel Rañosa

features

10 Summer in Time

A nostalgic trip to the summers of our childhood. By Joel Salud

76 Toys Were Us

Remember the games we played in summers past? . By Rochelle Pangillinan

Amorsolo: A Midsummer’s Knight

Did Amorsolo simply dim it in his paintings, to make tropical life romantic? A look at some of his paintings shows how the sun figured in our life and culture. By D.M. Reyes

20 The Grandson Also Rises

Fernando Amorsolo’s grandson, Don Amorsolo, who is now in Stockton enjoying a Fulbright fellowship for his art, talks about his longing for the country. By Malou Liwanag-Aguilar

in the Garden 24 Aof Walk the Good Lifestyle

Explore the Filipino Zone that is Greenbelt 5. By Althea Lauren Ricardo

Manhattan Transferred

Designer Rafe Totengco has come a long way from Manhattan and back, to Greenbelt 5. By Momar Visaya

balikbayan | April 2009

departments

Business & Treasure: Juan For the Books

The Reader

Essence of Place: How I Spent My Summer Vocation

Past Food: A ‘Rose Bowl’ Parade of All-Time Favorites

Parting Shots: Room (by Marriott), View by Zobel

National Bookstore matriarch Socorro “Nanay” Ramos remembers the humble beginnings of her bookstore and envisions a better future for Philippine publications. By Ahmed Toledo.

Come for the nostalgia, stay for the books at Popular, Solidaridad and Bound. By Ahmed Toledo

A multi-awarded fictionist remembers her days in enchanting Dumaguete, Negros Oriental, where every summer, writers converge for the National Writers Workshop. By Susan Lara

A long car ride up north to Baguio brings us in time for the Panagbenga, and for dinner at the legendary Rose Bowl Steak House and Restaurant. By Louie Jon Sanchez

Jaime Zobel, philanthropist, photographer, art patron and an artist himself showcase 19 pieces of his works along with his books, Silence and Journey with Light at the Cebu City Marriott hotel.

7 Editor’s Note 8

Publisher’s Note

Keeping A Journal: Godspeed

Write of Passage: The Splendor of the Old Country from a New Point of View

Salt & Paper: From the Terrace An idyllic and charming restaurant at Greenbelt 5 becomes a new culinary destination.

With A Viewpoint: 47 Room On A ‘Jeepney’ Ride Down Memory Lane

Jennifer Peña of the InterContinental Hotel Manila talks about her advocacy of keeping local culture and flavor alive. By Louie Jon Sanchez

The Unguided Tour: Will the Real Divisoria Please Stand Up? Rediscover the real Divisoria.

By Louie Jon Sanchez

April 2009 | balikbayan

balikbayan bayan THE ASIAN JOURNAL MAGAZINE

April 2009

ROGER L. ORIEL | Publisher & CEO CORA M. ORIEL | President & Co-Publisher LITO OCAMPO CRUZ | Editor in Chief | Executive Creative Director LOUIE JON A. SANCHEZ | Associate Editor RACHEL RAÑOSA | Assistant Editor Contributing Editors MALOU LIWANAG-AGUILAR ALMA ANONAS-CARPIO JEWEL CASTRO SUSAN S. LARA TED MADAMBA ELIZABETH MORALES-NUNCIO ROCHELLE PANGILINAN D.M. REYES ALTHEA LAUREN RICARDO JOEL SALUD AHMED TOLEDO WALTER VILLA MOMAR VISAYA

It is the Ayalas’ valentine to love of country.

We also remember “the boat rides we would take” with a photograph of the memorial to the 1904 arrival of the Sisters of St. Paul of Chartres in Dumaguete, the mystical city of the Muses, where wordsmiths converge every summer for the National Writers Workshop. Our maiden issue in March touched many a reader’s hearts. It signaled not only the birth of a new magazine, but also the return, in style, of love of country. We hope you’ll take this issue to the beach!

RIA FABRO | Accountant

balikbayan Magazine is published monthly by Asian Journal Publications, Inc. Distributed in the Philippines by East West All Media Services, Inc. 1100 88 Corporate Center, Valero St., corner Sedeño St., Salcedo Village, Makati City, 1226 Philippines. Tel. No. (632)893-1720 Fax No. (632) 813-8746 Send subscription inquiries to subscription@asianjournalinc.com, and advertising queries at advertising@asianjournalinc.com. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage of retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the Publisher. Asian Journal Publications, Inc. regrets that no responsibility can be accepted for unsolicited material, which will be returned only if stamped, addressed envelope is enclosed. Printed in the Philippines and distributed in the Philippines and major cities in the United States of America.

balikbayan | April 2009

n the middle of the hustle and bustle of Makati, we have found the tropical paradise that is Greenbelt 5. With a mall within a mall called the Filipino Zone, it is a sprawling lifestyle haven that embodies the art and soul of the Filipino.

Photographer Ted Madamda captures the summers of his childhood, in one magnificent photo taken in Kawasan Waterfalls, Badian, in his home province of Cebu. It accompanies Joel Salud’s ode to summer, “Summer in Time.”

Contributing Photographers MIKO SANTOS ANDY TECSON APRIL TIAMZON

| about the cover |

Asia Headquarters / Editorial & Advertising Offices Makati City Suite 208, The Manila Bank Corp. Bldg., 6771 Ayala Avenue, Makati City, 1226 Philippines. • Tel. (632) 893–1720 USA Advertising Offices Los Angeles 1150 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90017-1904 • Tel. (213) 250–9797 San Francisco 841 San Bruno Avenue West, Ste. 12-14 San Bruno, CA 94066 • Tel. (650) 583–6818 New York 5 Penn Plaza, Ste. 1932, New York, NY 10001 • Tel. (212) 655–5426 New Jersey 2500 Plaza Five, Harborside Financial Center, Jersey City, NJ 07311 • Tel. (201) 484–7249 Las Vegas 3700 W. Desert Inn Rd., Las Vegas, NV 89102 • Tel. (702) 792–6678

Photos by Ted Madamba

| keeping a journal |

Godspeed By Roger Lagmay Oriel, publisher

ur journey continues to that invincible summer within us.

With the seasons changing from the harsh cold of winter, to the promise of rebirth in the spring, and all the way through to the luminescence of summer, the story inscribed in our journal changes, too. What was once our voyage home is no longer just an excursion: our journey has become a pilgrimage of the Filipino soul. The way summer winds carry the hope of a renewed existence, this same breeze carries us through in all the summers of our lives. Like a kite—though feeble and unassuming in its lightness—that thrusts itself in the direction of the breeze, we, too, surrender and take flight. Let the velocity of these summer winds carry you home. Because the summers embedded in our memory always have been an invitation to relish in the joys of coming home: coming home to our lolos and lolas, to our old hometowns, to our childhood friends, to the warm hues of our fiestas, and, indeed, to the stillness of reflection in our pilgrimage, whether up north to Manaoag, or south of the city, to Antipolo. It is coming home to all the summers in time encapsulated in the depths of our souls. Amid the warmth of this season, we journey on, and we not only rekindle the memories of summers past, but we also avow the promise of summers to come. Summer for Filipinos is an interesting season of traditions, both the celebratory and the reflective, because, for our people, it has always been woven into the fabric of our religiosity and spirituality. It is both curious and enchanting that in this season we find the solemnity of Lent juxtaposed with the vibrancy of our fiestas. That no matter how easily spellbound we are with the celebrations of harvest and thanksgiving, we embrace the solace of Holy Week. This summer, we will embark on a pilgrimage of rediscovery and reflection, and we will chronicle these stories in the pages of our magazine. Cora and I bid you a safe journey, as the gust of the summer winds lead you home and the luminescence of this season radiates God’s blessings upon all of us. Godspeed.

April 2009 | balikbayan

The Contributors Alma Anonas-Carpio writes technology news for the Business Mirror, Philippines Graphic and the Medical Observer. She is also a stringer for the Agence France Presse. She won a Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Award for her poetry collection “Random Access Memories” in 1994 and served as a judge in the same awards in 2001. Jewel Castro is a screenwriter for ABS-CBN’s Star Cinema. She co-wrote Caregiver and Love Me Again (Love Down Under). She is taking up an MFA in creative writing while teaching literature and humanities at De La Salle University-Manila. Susan S. Lara majored in English at the University of the Philippines-Diliman and attended the the International Writing Program of the University of Iowa in 1987. She has won the Palanca for short story in English category and the Focus Literary Awards. Her collection of short stories, Letting Go and Other Stories, won the National Book Award from the Manila Critics Circle in 1998. She was a fellow to the then Silliman Writers Workshop in 1979, and has since gone back to Dumaguete almost every summer. Ted Madamba, an award-winning photographer, teaches his craft at Bigfoot’s International Academy of Film and Television in Cebu. His photograph on page 12 of a boy masked in white sand was taken in Malapascua Island in Cebu. The photo won an award from the US-based International Library of Photography. He also contributes to Muse. Elizabeth Morales-Nuncio holds a doctoral degree in Philippines Studies from the UP-Diliman. She now teaches Philippine Society and Culture at UP Asian Center. She writes poetry and fiction. D.M. Reyes is a poet with a scholar’s eye for iconography in popular culture and the visual arts. He recently lined up a series of Amorsolo lectures for the Ateneo de Manila’s Loyola School of Humanities, where he teaches literature and creative writing. His first book of poetry is Promising Lights. Althea Lauren Ricardo is a Palanca winner for drama. She finished her BA in creative writing from the UP-Diliman, wrote features for the Philippine Star, and is pursuing an MFA in creative writing at De La Salle University-Manila. She writes a popular entertainment column for The Freeman in Cebu. Joel Pablo Salud writes for the Philippines Graphic and the Philippines Free Press. He was managing editor of Mabuhay and editor of Filipino Unlimited. He writes short fiction and does communication consultancy. Ahmed Toledo is a descendant of a Spanish army lieutenant who was initially stationed in Havana, Cuba in the late 1800s, but who was later exiled to Mindanao. The rest is history. A journalist for the past 20 years, he spent 11 years as an expat. He is writing his first book. Walter Villa, ace photographer, has covered lifestyle and business extensively. Walter was managing editor of Mabuhay, and more recently, Golf Magazine, before he pursued photography. He also contributes for Muse.

The ASIAN JOURNAL Press Malou Liwanag-Aguilar worked for Manila Times and Manila Bulletin before she joined Asian Journal Publications. She has also worked on a number of coffeetable books on Southeast Asian art and culture with ArtPostAsia. She is a graduate of Philippine Women’s University-Manila. She writes for the Asian Journal Publications in San Francisco, California. Rochelle C. Pangilinan is a journalism graduate from the Centro Escolar University in Manila. She trained under Mr. and Ms., and wrote for Sonic Publishing. She is a Manila editor for the Asian Journal Publications. Le Grande Pedroche, assistant art editor, collaborated on the design of the first and second issues of the magazine. A graduate of the AMA Computer University, he worked for B&M Global Services Manila, Inc., a subsidiary of Baker & McKenzie International B.V. Rachel Rañosa recently graduated magna cum laude from the journalism program of UPDiliman. She is an assistant editor for balikbayan. Louie Jon Sanchez is associate editor of balikbayan. He finished his AB in journalism in the University of Santo Tomas, and his MFA in creative writing in De La Salle University-Manila. He has won the Catholic Mass Media Awards. In 2006, he was proclaimed “Makata ng Taon” (Poet of the Year, equivalent of the Poet Laureate of the United States) by the Commission on the Filipino Language under the Office of the President of the Philippines. He is working on his first book of poetry in Filipino. Miko Santos, a behavioral science graduate of De La Salle University-Manila, is AJPress’ resident photographer. He has traveled extensively and is currently based in Los Angeles. April Tiamzon is a professional commercial model and an account manager for the New York office of the Asian Journal Publications. She received her BA in radio-TV-film and minor in psychology from California State University, Fullerton in 2006. April is currently enrolled in the NBC digital journalism program at the New York Film Academy. She lives in New Jersey. Momar G. Visaya is the New York-based editor-in-chief of the Asian Journal. Ever since he moved to the Big Apple from the company’s headquarters in Los Angeles, he has covered U.N. General Assembly meetings, the Clinton Global Initiative and the U.S. Open, apart from the Madison Square Garden concerts of Coldplay, Celine Dion and Sting. For this issue, Momar interviewed Filipino fashion accessories designer Rafe Totengco in his Fifth Avenue showroom, while snow poured endlessly outside.

balikbayan | April 2009

| write of passage |

The Splendor of the Old Country from a New Point of View By lito ocampo cruz, Editor-in-chief

ike the sun in Amorsolo’s canvas, balikbayan is emblazoned with the colors of this magnificent season. With our rich harvest of stories and photographs from some of the country’s young but seasoned writers and photographers, love of country is indeed back in style. This issue celebrates two seasons in April: the advent of spring in America and the return of summer in the Philippines. It is in summer that we celebrate our rites of passage, and find new beginnings even as we traverse old paths via our scenic roots. We are part of a changing landscape where love of country is taking on a new meaning. It is in this light that the Philippine Senate ratified the Tourism Act, which calls for the protection of our cultural heritage sites and historical landmarks. Once signed into law, it will spark the economic miracle the country has been praying for. And with it, we will see the splendor of the old country from a new point of view. This is what balikbayan is all about: rediscovering the old and familiar—from the Ayala Center to the real Divisoria—and seeing them in a new light; reminiscing a bygone era through our books; being inspired by the achievements of Filipinos, like Socorro Ramos and Rafe Totengco who rise above challenge after challenge; and Gilda Cordero Fernando, who remains rooted in the richness of our Filipiniana culture; and meeting global citizens like Atty. Michael J. Gurfinkel, who transcend cultural boundaries and help Filipinos realize the American dream. Photo by Ted Madamba

In this issue, we celebrate Filipino ingenuity at Greenbelt 5 with its fascinating fusion of heritage and contemporary culture. Traveling to the summer capitals of our childhood, in an interlude with our Muse, we unleash the incurable romantic and the vagabond within us. Hurry home. We’ll leave the moonlight on for you.

April 2009 | balikbayan

summer in time When childhood was in flower By Joel Pablo Salud Photos by Ted Madamba

The Twin Lakes of Balinsasayao in the town of Sibuyan, Negros Oriental. Photo by Ted Madamba

he summers of my childhood were of a different kind, a trifle more thrilling than spending half the season applying extra-strength sun block lotion on my back. Having yet an ozone layer in the 70s has gone a long way to making the experience less traumatic to the skin, needless to say. Boracay, I assume, was yet to be paved in white sand then, and beach parties were kept within the privacy of the family’s rented cottages. I hardly carry any memory of these summers without the attendant joys that had made these experiences a couple of tads more exhilarating for a nosy and noisy child of eight or ten. They were more than simply images to be called into mind between swigs of chilled beer beneath a half-lit night; these memories, for what they’re really worth, have become an inimitable part of our family’s journey, and more so, of what had perhaps turned me into a teller of tales.

The joys of summer had long since throttled back for me. At 45, I get but very little chance to savor sun, surf, even a fleeting apparition of feminine outlines sun-baked to sweet caramel, let alone a quiet place where I can dive into the world of Butch Dalisay, Nick Joaquin or Anton Chekhov’s fictions, or plainly enjoy some single malts without being wrenched back into reality sooner than I could toddle to the next page. Summer, for me, today, has been inexorably humid, more than scorching enough to burn the paper off my books, if not hair off my scalp, so that any chance at indulging the season has turned, as one might expect, into an exercise akin to dodging fireworks on New Year’s eve. It was the summer of 1973, I was a mere boy of 10, unwittingly an unico hijo, bizarrely inquisitive and inoperably curious, but more along the lines of being a nuisance to people around me, especially those within binocular distance—which I carried around like a feather to a bird. I would remember lounging back in a chair at the Balara swimming pool near the University of the Philippines-Diliman to spy on what other people were up to as they walked past me and my cousins in their fashionable swimwear. Well, in the 70s, trendy swimwear had nothing of chic and flair for the sexy in it save that it ought to cover body parts in nearly asbestos material. Others, of course, the women including, wore loose white T-shirts, what seemed like Kevlar for brassieres, and baggy boxer shorts—quite a fashion statement during those days. A skimpy bikini clad babe was as rare as a black rose, hence the frenzy of murmurs if one skipped along. My cousins and I—all 30-plus toddlers—would be all over the place, running, skipping, jumping, drinking, eating, regurgitating, singing, and making a pest of ourselves just to pass the time. Although the sun wasn’t as fierce as today’s, a dip in the pool at sundown was more to our liking. So, we would wait for the sun to set, taking the time off the usual by sitting next to the fringes of the pool while we wade our feet in the warm spring water, thinking of what the muscled guy had just whispered to a young teenager as she dipped her head into the chlorinated water with a quaint giggle. Photographs then were in black and white, so the chlorinated blue of the pool was never a sight to marvel at. The places we had gone to were as varied as the blades of grass, and the mottled choices depended heavily on the resources at hand: the Balara pool near UP-Diliman, the Columbian Clubhouse in Paco fronting the train station, the pool in my classmate’s house in Corinthian Gardens, hot springs resorts in Laguna, and naturally, the beaches of Batangas. Thrice we were in Baguio for an all-boys weekend jaunt to the Summer Capital with nothing but the clothes on our bodies, extra shirts and undies in our backpacks, and modest cash to spare. The first trip was about a number of years prior to the earthquake that toppled a famous hotel in the city. Teenagers all of four of us, we hitched a couple of rides till we reached Baguio on the eve of April Fools Day, with no idea whatsoever where we could spend the night. At Burnham Park, a young, fairly attractive woman, in her early 30s, whose name I can barely recall, offered to grant us a three-day stay in her apartment, absolutely free! It wasn’t anywhere near being posh, but was sufficiently walled to keep us warm during the next string of bitter cold evenings. Baguio, even after having seen it many times prior, remains breathtaking, to say the least, with its pine-scented air, deep set gorges and wind-blown parks that never fail to rouse the romanticist in everyone. The young woman, for whatever reason she may had had, gave us an invigorating tour of the city, at her expense, and in her van, quite surprisingly, in all of three days, which left us boys with hardly the words to thank her on our last day there. I suppose angels do come and go when you’re nearer heaven by a few thousand feet above sea level. During those unavoidable summers when we had very little choice but to stay in our family home—first in San Juan, Rizal, then in Pantaleon, Guadalupe—my cousins and I would disguise our boredom, however thinly, by spending untold hours poking fun at our uncles. We would spend whole afternoons trying to undo the oldies in backstreet basketball, or if opportunity granted us, we would all just lounge around the television to watch a string of horror and action movies on the old video home system

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In Malapascua Island, Cebu, a diver’s paradise.

or VHS with chilled colas and juices, and an outpouring of junk food. As the sky turned purple-red at the first trace of nightfall, my uncles would bring out the iced San Miguel beer, an obvious sign that it was time to sit around the dinner table and listen to stories we had all heard from the day we were merely five. My aunts, as though by instinct, would summon the girls to watch how the women in the family prepared the favorite pulutan: spicy calderetang kambing, deep fried utak ng baboy, some grilled bangus stuffed with garlic, onions, pepper and tomatoes, a bowl of chilled vegetable sticks, and as a substitute for anti-hangover pills, steaming hot goto ng Batangas. My uncles would spend the next four to six hours traipsing over nearly forgotten memories, often till three in the morning. The stories would revolve around their life in Tipas, a grandiose sweep of weeds, banana patches, coconut groves and grasslands in San Juan, Batangas where they had spent a good number of their young lives caring for hundreds of cattle and horses, a thousand heads of geese and fowl, and other domesticated farm animals. My family’s house in Batangas was as huge as any old-fashioned house could be at a time when only wood and bricks formed the vital scaffold of a Batangueño home. The wooden structure was set aloft a brick basement we call silong, the well of stairs fronting the house meticulously curved to form a tilted crescent moon. The main framework was made of narra and kamagong wood, its spacious stilted windows festooned with white capiz shells, its thick front door ornately carved as to flaunt fine craftsmanship, if not old wealth. Inside, the receiving room mimicked the rancor of a basketball court minutes before the championship game; it was sprawling, to say the least, with our grandfather clock and the old kamagong cupboard stationed by the dinner table. At the time of my father’s birth, the house had already endured a hundred and five or so summers. It had been the birthplace of my grandfather, a trial judge in Manila, and his great, great grandfather, a well respected landowner, and his father before him, one of the many in our clan who took the reins of government office as gobernadorcillo of San Juan. In this place we call home, the pageant of summer winds would glide sinuously from window to window, pass and hesitate through perfections and imperfections on the walls, hardly bringing any heat as they cool the air for an hour or two of siesta after a hefty lunch. My father Oskar would recall his childhood summers in their sprawling farm in Tipas with very little literary fanfare, but increasingly with singular joy as he aged. A dive into a nearby river was the first impulse of children at the arrival of warmer winds, the appearance of an intensely sallow sun, and the uneven thumping of coconuts, forcing them to drop their khaki shorts to enjoy a stretch of the afternoon under the rush of clear cold water. He would thereafter go in packs with his brothers, all nine of them, to hunt for the bird they called bato-bato, a huge black-feathered creature with white rings on both its wings. Their youthful expedition into the coconut groves would later lead the pack to the town market where he would fork out an order of sinaing na tulingan for all to enjoy with steaming cups of barako or ice-cold Coca-Cola. Then back to the river they would all rush, if not the nearby coast that was yet to suffer negligence and abuse in the hands of city folks. As the last russet traces of sun trickled into dark blue and grey, they would all be home dressed in their Sunday best, besieging, if you will, the long dinner table dotted by goblets filled with homemade chocolate drink, a hearty dinner, and again, the family stories from the lips of the patriarch of the house. Summer was also an occasion when children were allowed to tag along and help the fishermen of the shoreline villages haul in the summer’s deep sea harvest. My father, in particular, would rush to the quayside hours before daybreak with little scruple as to what his parents would say. He would jerk and yank the catch of the day together with the other fishermen using huge nets, and with a few hours of work, he would earn a couple of kilos of the fish. Any anxiety his mother may have harbored faded into the hot breeze of first light once they see the catch my young father had brought home for breakfast.

April 2009 | balikbayan 13

A bus getting on a Roll-on-Roll-off ship (RORO) in Dumaguete, Negros Oriental. The RORO has now become a more adventurous and affordable travel alternative that connects mainland Luzon to the islands.

Back in Manila, the summers of the 80s and 90s left very little to the imagination, literally. Scant bikinis and tan lines were in vogue among the young women who frequented beaches and resorts, making it relatively difficult to be a young nerd barely out of his teens, and with a million and one testosterones darting madly from one corner of the brain to another, to focus on his literature. Although a traditional upbringing more or less held all this in check, there was really very little one could do to keep the heat down, a cracked ozone notwithstanding. Then came Boracay, El Nido, and the rest of the posh resorts that have left the world in a rush to display their signature swimwear along its white sands, if not their tans and tattoos. Needless to say, despite the

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literature, I enjoyed every minute of it. A gazillion and one words have by now been written about these summer destinations in the Philippines, and I am not one to change any of these with a measly sentence or two. Nevertheless, the activities in these summer destinations, monotonous at best, have yet to topple the simplicity and ease on which the summers of my childhood were enjoyed, in the quaint and quiet outskirts of a far-flung province, where the sun and air and surrounding splendor of nature were jewels to be won and treasured, and family was the closest thing to heaven next to a gorgeously tanned Filipina. These were the cherished hours when fun was plain fun, and the little that could be had was enough even when one had very little. g

Did Amorsolo simply dim it in his paintings, to make tropical life romantic? If we look long enough, what else does our first National Artist say about all those dramatic vignettes in a life lit unsparingly by the sun? Did Amorsolo recognize it himself, the way the sun blessed and made life hard for us all at once?

By D.M. Reyes Photos by Walter Villa

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The Ayala Musuem maintains a good number of Amorsolo paintings. Make sure to view them when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re in town.

Photo by Walter Villa

he art books say that Amorsolo looked up to Joaquin Sorolla for the way his idol captured light on the canvas. But talking about what their paintings explored, that’s where these two masters stand light years apart.

Fernando Amorsolo BURNING OF THE IDOLS Ca. 1955-1960 Oil on Canvas 88 X 131 cm Ayala Museum Collection Gift of Insular Life Assurance Company

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The Europeans would kill to see the blazing sun in Europa. That’s the midsummer night’s dream of the poets and the painters. After all, their sun would only agree to shine at times so few and far between. So let’s give it to Shakespeare, Miss Julie, Rilke, or Sorolla to wait for it. The moment it climbs up in summer, everyone is thirsty to drink in its brilliance! The plays, the poems, the pianoforte music all bristle with hardcore heat, in gooey orgies that make passion its street name. But light in our tropics is something else. To paraphrase the French ballad, it’s seasons in the sun all our lives. And feasting on Amorsolo right now, it’s a good thing to ask, “How did he work up the sun in his paintings?” Yes, that’s the sun that explains the Pinoy’s earth-brown skin (anak ng araw), the poetic “ang sulok kong takda sa ilalim ng araw” when our ballads go philosophical and senti to the max. Did Amorsolo simply dim it in his paintings, to make tropical life romantic? If we look long enough, what else does our first National Artist say about all those dramatic vignettes in a life lit unsparingly by the sun? Did Amorsolo recognize it himself, the way the sun blessed and made life hard for us all at once? For a start, Amorsolo paints by a historic sun. Imagine how the summer must have been at its remorseless height when Magellan’s fleet docked at Limasawa. The date, March 16, 1521, says it all. The historical Amorsolo includes Baptism in Cebu (1948) and Burning of the Idols (ca. 1955-60). The sun appears in Amorsolo through the first chapter of colonial life.

The faceless Cebuano ancients come together on the shore in Baptism in Cebu, under the summer sun’s heat. But our view is from the raft altar where the fraile says his first Philippine mass. The datu’s women kneel with baby and salakot; he’s propped on a gilded chair, his boy Friday watching, waiting to be baptized. Here, Amorsolo paints the face of ancient Cebuano royalty. The wives face Easter’s towering cross, with their backs turned from their subjects. Such details work as a symbolic stand-in for the complex order of pre-colonial society and whatever thorny issues colonialism has since raked in. And for the picky painter, that’s the scene, which the sun lights up on such a fateful day. In Burning of the Idols, it’s not the cross being hoisted by the sea-weary Spaniards that matters. Amorsolo pushed all that in the background. He’s more fascinated with our heathen ancestors at the fore. Does it look like they’re cradling their forsaken gods tenderly? As in an ancient cremation scene, the half-nude maiden reveres her idol with such love for the last time, before consigning it to the flames. Something died, Amorsolo seems to suggest, and we make out grief and lamentation. But for whom and for what? Perhaps, that’s Amorsolo for us, in a post-colonial light. Amorsolo also gave some sacred aura to his painted sun. It sets to mark the day’s end in Oracion (1959). But more figuratively, it sighs that the day’s labor is mercifully over and life’s simple perks have quietly prevailed for one more day. Thrown against the paddy are the shadows of the pious farmer, his kareta-propped wife, and their pudgy child. They are grateful for breath, for the growing stalks, and for innocence. The bull waits, facing elsewhere, the span of bamboo bridge all before it. Here, the painter merely suggests the destined metaphor of crossing over to safety. Surely, one of the most evocative is Baptismal of the Eldest (1950). The bough all abloom, extending from the frame’s upper left hand tells us it’s summer—what with the vivid deck of caballero flowers, flame-red and tangerine as all our summers go! We see a couple heading out of church after the christening rite. The mother, dolorously garbed in black, holds her baby. The tall father shields both from the scorching sun with his yellow umbrella, so blindingly bright! The ninang (literally in the pink hues of youth) marches along, as a brass band trails them to the poor man’s banquet back home. From the believer’s eyes, to bathe in the

waters is to gain new life. So under the sun’s merciful shade (behold the blindingly bright golden umbrella!), the firstborn begins the journey. Light, music, and tenderness are the three things that see him through, the rest of the dusty path hidden from our eyes. Amorsolo also paid an eye on the useful sun. He painted it as radiant force, stinging our skin quite sharply but an all-around wonder in the way it touches everyday things. Look at how it bleaches the peasants’ clothes white in Lavandera (1936), after the smears of grime and the sweat of hours in the paddies. Children Playing River Raft (1963) calls to mind childhood’s swimming lessons in summer. Our old folks relish telling stories about stealing every chance to swim in provincial rivers all gone now. They speak of the whole gig not just as a customary trip but a rite of passage, too. It not only marks that one is old enough to swim. Figuratively, they see the forces of the current as metaphorical obstacles that one must swim against, brave and victorious in this life. Thus, summer and the river extend maturity to children literally wet behind the ears. In Under the Mango Tree (1935), the orchard keepers pack a fulsome harvest of mangoes in their tiklis. The village maiden sets apart 10 choice fruits on her bilao, sun-ripened and fabled to be sweet, blessed by the sun, as it were. If you can, do tally the frames where Amorsolo’s mangoes glow (he probably had a lot; the huge seven-museum Amorsolo catalogue contains about a dozen!). That’s Pinoy visual wonder for you, a la Neruda’s Odas Elementales, a paean to everyday things. It’s not a bad idea to line up Planting Rice (1924), Farmer in the Rice Field (1925), Planting Rice with Mayon Volcano (1949), Harvest Scene (1944), and Winnowing Rice (1938) as a cycle on the farmer’s dependable sun. In this series, Amorsolo honors us, his rice people feasting on sinaing na maligat. As the people’s painter, he traces for us how our prized grains are grown and who devotes all his life to tend them. Along with Amorsolo, this is where none of us can afford to lose the sun—bold, photosynthetic, and strong. It shines to fulfill its alchemic job, calling the green sap to rise, rounding the grain’s flesh to the clack of our lunch plates and the tongue’s delight. That’s tropical life for us, where the sun is central to our existence, our labor, our crops, and the lifetime pásyon of our tillers. It’s a cycle that Amorsolo paints, but does he raise, too, the tangle of problems and burning

issues inherent in the cycle? We must keep looking for more hints from these paintings. But even “Magtanim Ay Di Biro” and the Mabuhay Singers’ countless folk ditties give hint, don’t they? What does the master say about the sun where it’s absent from his portraits? Here are three things for you to consider. One, in many Amorsolo portraits, our proudnosed and good-looking ilustrado kababayan poses from dark, curtained rooms. There’s no way for the sun to pierce through. It’s controlled, artificial light alone that throws their face in sharp relief and beauty becomes the handiwork of shadow and light. Do the portraits say that there is no sun, because here is the kind of beauty told from how fair, mestizo skin wards off the sun? The portraits evoke another world all together, in as much as those who curse the summer, hoarding whitening soaps and bleaching creams, is a different summer story altogether. It’s a story that reads quite tragic and more oppressive, for the mind that can’t see the hundred other uses the summer sun may have. Two, in the enigmatic El Ciego (1928), the sun lies not outside but within. Amorsolo presents it not as a tricky shred of color. Instead, he suggests it as the keenness of sound, the way the blind man strums his guitar. In this dim world, the sun is also the smile of the friend who keeps the blind man’s company. It’s the mercy of music—the sun is the measure of comfort that we are willing to stretch when tough times come. This is Amorsolo’s philosophy of happiness. And here is Amorsolo at his most profound. Lastly, Cooking Lady (1961) lets us inside the dim recesses of a thatched hut, where the lady of the house blows into a bamboo tube, to make sure that the fire under her pot is strong enough, hot enough to boil the day’s repast. Her fish waits to be stewed, perhaps into a broth flavored with ginger, tomatoes, and lemon grass. There is no sun here, but isn’t the fire that burns from her stove also the fire of the sun? The thief-hero, it turns out, is not Prometheus but Malakas and Maganda: He for stealing the sun’s fire to make sure that his paddy grains would grow (in another legend, rice is nourishing and white because it is milk that dripped from a diwata’s bosom) and she, for turning his harvest into the dinner table’s rice. From his labor and from her reward, Fernando C. Amorsolo regained our Pinoy paradise, filling this tropical earth with so much light. g

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always saw artists as people with strange moods.

So when I was able to set an interview with Don Amorsolo at the University of the Pacific in Stockton, I had some hesitations, especially when I found out that he is the grandson of one of the most important artists in the history of painting in the Philippines, National Artist for visual arts Fernando Amorsolo. But talking with Don Amorsolo changed my perception – as he, himself, is one important piece – vibrant, interesting and living in full color. Recently chosen as a visiting J. William Fulbright scholar-in-residence at the university for the 20082009 academic year, Don offers more than just his artistic skills and background to the students. For one, he is also an educator, a professor and chair of the Fine Arts and Interior Design Department at Manila’s St. Scholastica’s College, and a person whose ideas about life are as colorful as the paintings on his canvas. How, how, how the carabao no more – the evolution of Filipino art At his studio at the Jeannette Powell Art Center, we were met with his paintings, which were part of the 10-piece abstract collection that depicts his perceptions of San Joaquin County and California. “I was trying to reflect on California. It’s about the gold rush, some fields, and diversity,” he said. He also spoke about the different races and cultures, and how people’s lives are intricately connected, yet could still be different from each other. His interest in diversity is the reason he chose to do abstract. “Baka lumabas kalabaw, as we are mostly identified, kaya puro abstract, (It might come out as the carabao, as we are mostly identified, that is why it is all abstract.)” he said. But he isn’t all against the carabao theme. In fact, he even made paper maches of the animal while waiting for the canvases he would work on (five of which are already on display at the university). Amorsolo is simply making a point about how Philippine art and artists have evolved. “Kasi ako, hindi naman ako pintor na porque related kay Amorsolo eh makakakuha ng advantages. Hindi (Just because I’m a painter and related to [Fernando] Amorsolo doesn’t mean I have advantages. I don’t),” he said. “Maraming pintor ngayon na talo pa nga kami. Kasi mas open sila. Marami tayong pintor, mga young artists ha, na na-auction ang mga paintings nila sa Singapore. Kasi we make sense, we are part of a global community. Wala na tayo sa kalabaw eh. (There are a lot of painters who are even better than us. This is because they are more open. There are young artists who now auction their paintings in Singapore. It is because we make sense, we are part of a global community. We are no longer in the carabao phase).”

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The Amorsolo grandson at his atelier in Stockton.

the grandson also rises By Malou Liwanag–Aguilar | The Asian Journal Press

Don Amorsolo’s grandfather, Fernando, was the only one who stayed and painted Manila during the American period. “It was more of his way of life. He loved the Philippines.”

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He also explained that there has been a democratization of art, meaning there is always the global concept. “We cannot go back,” he added, “It is now something everybody can participate in. In all things we do now in our lives, there is globalization.” As for the role of technology in artworks, Amorsolo acknowledged the fact that it does help, but it does not totally do the work of an artist. “Yes, at some point, there was resistance to computers, as most artists would still go for the canvas, the old school,” he said. “But reproduction through computers, especially through the Internet, helps educate other people about artists and their works. Now, everybody knows about it.” Amorsolo also pointed out other advantages of using technology in art such as having instant results in mixing color and harmony.

him at work or to ask him to critique their pieces. As an educator, this is nothing new to him. “Normally, I have one or two commissions a year, tama na yon (that’s enough).” Kasi most of my life is in teaching,” he said. He is more than happy to share his skills, talents and most importantly, the Filipino culture to students. “Na-realize ko na kahit may mga Filipinos dito, wala masyadong knowledge ang mga younger generation, (I realized that even with Filipinos in the area, there is not enough knowledge among the younger generation),” he said. That is why he collaborated with the university’s student group, Kilusang Pilipino, on educational events geared toward Philippine culture. Last December, they held a holiday parol festival, with students making the star-shaped lanterns by hand. For the spring semester, he will also teach a studio art course. His collection will go on display at the university’s Reynold’s Gallery

And that family was composed of three sets of children, all of whom the older Amorsolo raised through his painting. He went on explaining that his grandfather was the only one who stayed and painted Manila during the American period (scenes which included dogfights), and sketched Japanese atrocities. “It was more of his way of life. He loved the Philippines.”

on April 30.

home and he would be left at the dormitory building. Homesickness, I guessed—and not being able to sleep. I could almost feel his pain and longing for the Philippines, one that I have been feeling for quite sometime. In between bites of what we ordered, we talked mostly about his family and life back home. I guess when you look at Don and his grandfather, Fernando, the only difference between the two are the age and, probably, their styles. But when it comes to love of family and country, they carry the same passion and dedication. After spring, Amorsolo will return to the Philippines, to his teaching and, of course, to his wife and four children. As to whether he wants to stay permanently and live in the United States, he was quite sure that he’d rather stay back home. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Why? Because our country needs help. We still have three square meals a day, with merienda in between (laughs). Ang Pilipinas di mo pwedeng alisin sa akin. (You can’t take the Philippines away from me.).” g

Sleepless in Stockton Meeting Amorsolo was an eye-opener for me. Aside from changing my opinion about artists, seeing him all eager to talk to us fellow Filipinos was heartwarming. The interview extended into lunch at the university’s café. But lunch was mostly about his personal life and his stay at university. It’s lonely and hard, he says, especially during the holidays when most students would return

Kalabaw, anyone?

“It also minimizes your need for space, hindi na siya messy, hindi katulad dito (It also minimizes your need for space, it is no longer messy, unlike what you see here),” he laughed, showing us his studio—his rubble of paint, brushes, newspapers and canvas. Still, he believes that technology cannot substitute for the artist’s hands. “Ang software, tool lang talaga siya (The software is just a tool),” he mused. “Conceptualization is still on the part of the artist. Human touch is still important. You can compose it (artwork) on the computer, but yung humanity nawawala (you lose the humanity [of the artwork]).” Amorsolo credits the Filipino American Educators Association of California (FAEAC), Little Manila Foundation, the officers of the Iloilo City-Stockton Sister Cities and Kilusang Pilipino as stakeholders in bringing him to the university as a scholar-in-residence. Pacific’s proposal to bring Amorsolo to Stockton was submitted in 2006 and approved in May by the J. William Fulbright Foreign Scholarship Board. Amorsolo’s studio also has an open door policy. Students are welcome anytime to observe

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Remembering Amorsolo Being the grandson of National Artist Fernando Amorsolo, one would think that he would feel the pressure of great expectations. The younger Amorsolo thinks otherwise. “Being in the environment of art, one would think that that was where I got my inclination to be a painter,” he explained. “But ang totoo, it is more of his life, than his works, that has led me to follow. His romanticism and love for family.” Fernando Amorsolo, one of the country’s most celebrated artists, was hailed Philippine National Artist by the late President Ferdinand E. Marcos just four days after he died in 1972. He is best known for his illuminated landscapes depicting Filipino culture, like Bataan, The Burning of Manila, Dalagang Bukid and Rice Planting. “He was an artist at home, and half of his life, he was painting,” reminisced Amorsolo, “Bilib ako sa dedication niya (I am proud of his dedication). At a time that we all know it was hard to raise a family, he was proving it right to his family and to himself.”

By Althea Lauren Ricardo Photos By Walter Villa

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n one of my favorite love stories, a Filipina immigrant called Choot strikes up a friendship—and unwittingly starts an affair—with a young American on an Amtrak train to New York. Philip from Ohio asks her questions about her country, and she finds herself concocting exotic stories of a country that she had never made time to know intimately. She, who had lived in dusty and crowded and commercial Manila all her life, enthralls him with secondhand stories about freshlypicked pale yellow mangoes left to ripen under the sun, picnics under the shade of trees in the countryside, and beaches with waters so clear you could see your toes even in the deep. She was a city girl, this one, and for the many years before travel within the country became accessible, I could easily relate.

Take, for example, a few years ago, when my baby sister got married. My auntie, who is based in New Jersey, made an impromptu week-long trip back to Manila to help her own baby sister, my mother, with the wedding arrangements. She brought with her my cousin Kaye, whom I hadn’t seen since she was around seven and we were saying goodbye at what was then called the Manila International Airport. The flurry of wedding preparations were spiced up by the flurry of the homecoming that was 15 years in the making, and I enthusiastically took on the task of taking them around Metro Manila and carefully drafted an itinerary of places they ought to see, from Alabang, near where we lived, to the city centers Manila and Makati. In Makati, I took them to Greenbelt, where I showed them the old carabao sculptures near the

chapel—my auntie would remember them from when they were still beside the old SM—and fed my companions mango juice, garlic rice and grilled meats and seafood at Ebun and the must-have mango-vanilla-ice-cream-chocolatesauce crêpe La Pinay at the French-inspired Café Breton. It was quite a stretch, in terms of Philippine flavors, but I considered it mission accomplished when my auntie exclaimed, “It’s all so beautiful and everything is so good!” To think they hadn’t even been outside of Manila yet. For Kaye, who was born in Cebu, never really lived in Manila, and didn’t even remember much about the Philippines, it was a different story. Her notions about the country had been nurtured through CNN reports and newspaper articles and images of poverty, but she was game to discover nuggets to the contrary.

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Greenbelt 5 at night is shining, shimmering and splendid.

At the basement of the Metropolitan Museum of Manila, for instance, she thought nothing of taking down long notes about the gold archeological finds that were proof of the exquisiteness of pre-colonial craftsmanship. Even the unfamiliar, cloying humidity didn’t dampen her delight in the belated discovery that we weren’t savages at all when Ferdinand Magellan arrived in our shores. Still, Manila is pretty much like the other cosmopolitan cities in the world, and I was hard-pressed to meet my goal of instilling in my aunt and, more importantly, my Filipino-American cousin a realistic, yet idealistic Filipino pride within its overwhelming urbanity. They left happy with their rediscovery, and yet, somehow, I wished I had given them a lasting story of the Philippines that was really worth sharing on, say, an 18-hour Amtrak train ride. Walking around in the Ayala Center more recently, I couldn’t help but feel my goal would have been easier fulfilled had we had, in those times, the Ayala Museum and, more importantly, the newly opened Greenbelt 5. The newest, culminating addition to the upscale lifestyle complex quintet that is the Greenbelt Center, Greenbelt 5 is that unmistakable, magnificent edifice that calls to mind the grand feasts of a luxuriously pleasurable and promising era long gone. Interestingly, however, poised at the relatively spacious, minimalist park and fountain area that welcomes shoppers and diners before entry, it is not merely affluence that one senses, but pride and awe. In fact, it is precisely pride and awe I feel when I walk towards Greenbelt 5 from any part of the lifestyle center, crossing through its landscaped exteriors, with my eye catching glimpses of carabao jars amidst both familiar and not-so-familiar flora. I see philodendron, kamuning, and a rich variety of fern and bamboo among other such greenery that would set the hearts of many a plant lover a-flutter. It is a paean to our tropical country’s biodiversity. At any time of day, the Greenbelt 5 structure is striking in its appearance. In daylight, the sharp, sloping roof of its main entrance offers stark contrast to the towering glass and steel buildings in its backdrop. It is almost a siren call to weary city workers: We are not your workplace, come. At night, the structure is all sparkle and light, with the glass walls of the spacious see-through walkway, called the Fashion Walk, connecting its two wings all a-glitter, courtesy of its bright and beautiful accent lighting and grand chandeliers. In my mind, it is like a magnificent, long-standing mansion with always a lively social gathering and animated conversations on the collective loves of people—food, fashion, travel, etc.—going on inside. Rowena Tomeldan, vice president and chief operating officer of the Ayala Malls Group, says that for Greenbelt 5, they hired the firm founded by National Artist Leandro Locsin as architectural consultant and interior designer to inject a Filipino sensibility into the project, building up into what is now called The Filipino Zone. She explains, “The articulated challenge was to ensure that by way of design, material choices, visual cues, and the employment of indigenous forms, this language could hold its own against any other aesthetic sensibility in terms of elegance, practicality, currency, technology, and style.” And hold its own, it does. There is no missing the feel of making a grand entrance. In fact, the first time I visited the place—back when most of it was still dusty and smelling of paint because construction was still ongoing—I instantly felt I was stepping into a new and glorious era that took its long, sweet time to arrive. You enter the doors of Greenbelt 5, and immediately you step into bright, airy, elegant space, with a generous use of glass walls, natural light and high ceilings one rarely sees shopping centers indulge in. You enter its doors and you immediately step into an indulgence you rightfully deserve, because it captures what is wondrous about who you are.

At the restaurant row at the side of Greenbelt 5.

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There is also no missing the enchanting nooks and delicious details. Lost in a dream of fantasy purchases, or high on whatever gustatory delight to which you just treated yourself, you take a turn and find yourself face to face with a curious little piece of modern Filipiniana. You can find lounge areas designed by internationallyacclaimed designers Kenneth Cobonpue, who is from Cebu, and Anne Pamintuan, who hails from Davao. Both are known for using native, natural materials in their design. Cobonpue, in particular, broke into the local consciousness when international news that Brad Pitt is an avid client broke out. You get on the escalator and walk the wings, and you are surprised by modern, tasteful, and unmistakably Filipino touches like capiz on the lighting fixtures, or leaf designs and genuine sea

As a foodie-in-the-making who’s always game to rediscover the flavors of home, I was thrilled to discover Filipino-themed restaurants offering varied fare, from comida antigo to much loved local dishes served with a modern twist. One café and restaurant that immediately caught my fancy is the inventive Travel Café Philippines. The cozy little place is part café-cumrestaurant, part travel agency. “So I can have my fusion chicken adobo, have excellent coffee, and plan a trip to Palawan too?” quipped a friend, as we tried out the restaurant for the first time. The food stands out in its inventiveness. My Chef ’s Adobo is chicken marinated in soy vinaigrette stuffed with liver, served with papaya salad and steamed rice, and it’s tasty, but it’s not exactly local fare as, well, the locals enjoy it. Then again, this is good when you and your

said in an interview. “New Zealand has adopted this model.” Another restaurant that immediately caught my eye was Ristorante Pia y Damaso, because of its distinctive design that denotes the era of colonial Manila. The restaurant is unique in that it pays tribute, in a tongue-in-cheek way, to the great works of Philippine literature: Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, no less. Damaso, of course, is Padre Damaso, who is rumored to be Maria Clara’s real father; Pia, on the other hand, is the lesser known character Pia Alba, dearly departed wife to Kapitan Tiyago, and mother who died at childbirth to Maria Clara. The cozy little place can be host to many a conversation about Philippine history and culture, and the Spanish influence on how we eat and the way we eat. I think Kaye, who had brought

shells decorating some walls, or woven detailing on the railings. Everywhere you look, you are treated to something tasteful, from exquisitely designed shops to photo art by Don Jaime Zobel to the natural stone flooring. I find a casual stroll around Greenbelt 5 already enough of a feast for the senses. This is the Philippines I want to see, I always find myself thinking. But of course, I don’t just content myself with walking. It is, after all, a lifestyle center—and there’s life waiting to be lived, and yes, in style. Part of the excitement of waiting for Greenbelt 5 to open was imagining the new things it would bring to the table in terms of the triple pleasures of shopping, dining and leisure. I was particularly excited about the restaurants, especially after I got wind of the news that it would feature over 15 indoor and outdoor restaurants from Manila’s top chefs, like Bambi Sy-Gobio, Baba Ibazeta and Gatta Fores, offering international, Filipino and fusion cuisine.

balikbayan companion want to go beyond what’s already tried and tested. You can have your cup of Mt. Matutum coffee, which is handpicked by Southern Cotabato natives, or try the Filipino “Triolet” (leche flan, suman and turon), or even just eye the hefty serving of the Travel Cafe Philippines Halo-Halo in the next table with envy while music from the Apo Hiking Society, Pinikpikan or other OPM stalwarts plays in the background. What I find truly ingenious about the café is how it was born out of Filipino ingenuity. The Travel Café Philippines brand is actually owned by the Department of Tourism, with the establishments owned by franchisees in Tokyo, New Delhi, Seoul, Shanghai, San Francisco, and Manila. Instead of spending on expensive, but seasonal promotional efforts, TCP is a yearround, experiential and cost-effective approach to promoting our 7,107 islands. “This was a world’s first in terms of integrating the businesses of a café and of travel,” DOT Sec. Ace Durano

home with her copies of Rizal’s novels and a thick English-Filipino dictionary, would enjoy this gustatory trip down history. The items on the menu are comida antigo inspired by the novels. To have a taste of what the 19th century characters in the novels feasted on, you can order, as starter, NgaNga Beef Salad, which is shredded green mango, red onions, cilantro and Haw Flakes (yes, you read it right) rolled in arugula leaves. For the main course, you can have your pick among dishes like old-fashioned Callos, Lengua Sevillana with olives and mushrooms, and Smoked Tapang Usa, Roasted Vegetable Scramble, which is salted deer meat from Nueva Ecija served with green mango pickles, pepper omelet and garlic rice. Personally, I am always tempted to give my own tribute to the old fraile by ordering Pheasant and Chicken Tinola, and asking for a skinless neck and a tough wing, but I’m never sure somebody would get it if I launched into a pretend hissy fit.

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The ethnic interiors and stylized chandeliers complete the Filipino flavor at Greenbelt 5â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Filipino Zone.

Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward would have loved to dine here—from The Terrace.

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| salt & paper |

brand new dining destination at Greenbelt 5, The Terrace at the 5th is an exciting pristine restaurant overlooking the lush garden and restaurant row of Greenbelt 2. The cuisine is an eclectic mix from a delectable menu of the treasured family recipes of its owners, headed by executive chef Cecille Ysmael with her six good friends, food connoisseurs Ching Cruz, Maricris Zobel, Menchu Soriano, Carol Garcia, and interior designers Ivy and Cynthia Almario.

The Terrace at 5th owners—seated from left: Menchu Soriano, Chef Cecille Ysmael, and Maricris Zobel. Standing from left: Cynthia Almario, Carol M. Garcia, Ching Cruz, and Ivy Almario.

The Terrace at the 5th is Chef Cecille’s newest restaurant. She first shared with us her passion for Thai cuisine with her highly esteemed restaurant Thai at Silk in Serendra at Bonifacio High Street in Taguig City. It projects an idyllic charm with simple yet distinctly appealing interior design that provides a relaxing dining ambiance. Floral murals, birdcage ceiling lamps, French windows with gooseberry accents, and warm shades of green and white exude comfort and class. Enjoy succulent starters such as Cynthia’s Amazing Artichoke Dip whose flavor bursts in the mouth or the Calamares Fritos, which is scrumptious with every bite. Warm up with a mouth-watering Tomato Al L’uovo, a tomato egg-drop soup with fresh coriander. A must-try is the Terrace Salad, which is the restaurant’s signature salad of fresh garden greens with crunchy almond chips. Indulge in the rich and bold Crabmeat Pasta with Tarragon or the Laing Pasta a la Cristina with taro leaves and white shrimp simmered to perfection in coconut milk. Satisfy your palate with the Cote d’Azur Seafood

platter, grilled or chilled, served with garlic aioli and cocktail mignonette sauce. Slowly roasted for 12 hours and reduced in rich balsamic sauce, the Homestyle Confit of Pork Belly is another dish to behold. Steaklovers will enjoy every luxurious bite into The Terrace at the 5th’s char-grilled or pan-grilled USDA Prime Angus steak like the 1000-gram Porterhouse, Rib Eye or Fillet Mignon. Finish with a Gateau de Crepe, a Mango Jubilee or a Chocolate Fondue to complete an already exquisite meal. Chef Cecille will even lovingly prepare a dish in a different way if you call in advance. The Dungeness crab has been cooked in many different ways for many of Chef Cecille’s more discerning clients who have an adventurous palate. Food lovers will, without a doubt, take note of the amazing new dining experience that The Terrace at the 5th will provide. g For reservations call 729-0860, 7296860, text 0917-827-6860 or e-mail terraceat5th@yahoo.com.

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The balance of all elements is much seen and felt when one views Greenbelt 5 and its gardens at the walkways.

You can wash the meal down with drinks like Tubig ni Maria Clara, which is cucumber juice and ginger syrup in citrus water, or a Ginger Calamansi Smoothy, or even Tsokolate Eh with Goat’s Milk Shake. The real masterpieces of Ristorante Pia y Damaso, however, are its rich and sinful desserts that come in naughty Noli and El Fili inspired names, like Sisa’s Dementia (truffle cake with white chocolate almond pastille, dark chocolate mousse and ganache), Ibarra’s Kiss (hazelnut chocolate torte with dark chocolate mousse, caramel cheese and orange confit), Maria Clara’s Velvety White Cheesecake (with dayap and calamansi marmalade), and Brazo ni Doña Vicki (their own brazo de mercedes). There is also another culinary destination here where you can sample authentic Pinoy cuisine,

the taste of the bangus belly. The secret though is in Lihim ni Maria Clara, during desert. A rich tasting suman awaits the curious foodie as he dips his spoon on the creamy bowl. Food is only a portion of what the Filipino soul is all about. There is also beauty, which can be easily seen and even experienced in the heart of Glorietta 5, the Filipino Zone, which puts the best of what this country has to offer the world front and center—and beside the biggest international brands. “We believe in the talent of the Filipinos,” affirms Tomeldan, “Our designers are comparable with international brands and we believe that they are at par with the world’s best.” World-class Filipino talents in fashion design— the likes of Rafe Totengco, Tina MaristelaOcampo, Randy Ortiz, Dennis Lustico, Jojie Lloren, Jun Escario, Lulu Tan Gan, Kate Torralba,

I am not in the market for anything fashion forward, but I visit the other shops just to have a look-see. This is how I, city girl, get to know my country through its products: I go to the Filipiniana section of every department store I frequent. After years of seeing local brands and decidedly local products placed in basements or far away corners of malls, it is nice to see them in the limelight—and minus the affected native feel that somehow just never felt quite right. In the love story I mentioned above, Philip from Ohio invites Choot to the tropical rain forest in the Central Park Zoo. He is excited to show her his surprise. They enter a jungle, thick with different types of trees and foliage and rich with the sounds of the cry of birds and trickling water—it is something Choot has never ever seen before. This is how it is in the Philippines,

Feel the Filipiniana connection as you walk the corridors of Greenbelt 5.

the nostalgic Fely J’s, owned by the LJC Group. LJC stands for the name of Larry J. Cruz, the late journalist. The LJC Group has since grown, and Fely J’s is the latest addition to their string of restaurants, which includes among others, the legendary Café Adriatico and Bistro Remedios. The restaurant is an apt remembrance of Larry’s mother, Felicidad de Jesus-Cruz or Fely J, whom he wrote, “wasn’t a great chef by today’s standards but she loved to cook for family and kept treasured recipes of Filipino and Asian dishes she picked up in her travels.” Her greatness in the kitchen had even touched National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin, who said that, “Fely J was a dainty morsel but was game and gutsy in the competitive life.” The trademark capampangan cooking of Fely J is well remembered and immortalized in the cooking of Fely J’s. Binagoongang Baboy here is subtle and tasty, and the Morcon, a treat. But the winning dish definitely is the Sinigang sa Bayabas, with its fruity sweet and sour broth enhancing

and Vittorio Barba—proudly hold their own against bigger, international brands like Michael Kors, Escada, DKNY, Balenciaga, Bally, Kenneth Cole, Paul Smith, Massimo Dutti, Marc by Marc Jacobs and Zara. The best of our furniture designers—the likes of Cobonpue, Pamintuan, Budji Layug, whose pieces used to be strictly for export—have also found a venue from which they could also share their work with countrymen. In Ocampo’s Celestina, I find myself touching, almost reverently, the exquisitely designed clutches and bags, which I’d previously only seen in magazines like Vogue and Elle, in the hands of celebrities like Drew Barrymore and Halle Berry. Their beauty is not lost on me, and neither are the excellent Filipino craftsmanship and the wealth of our country’s natural materials that all find their way into the tiny, polished shell clutches that has the international fashion world a-buzz. A slightly different version of a familiar thought comes yet again: This is the Philippines I want the world to see more of.

right? Philip asks her. They kiss, and moments later, Choot answers, yes, this is the way it is. But it’s not—not quite. Beauty is only a portion of what the Filipino soul is all about. There is enduring faith, and Greenbelt 5 is a solid expression of faith in an improving economy and a growing sense of country. Balikbayans who express the same faith would find it easy to feel at home within its beautifully designed walls. There is also undying hope, and Greenbelt 5 is a sparkling testament of hope that someday soon we would come to appreciate our own products as much as the rest of the world has. And there is also love—love for self, love for others, and a blossoming love for a country we are getting to know all over again. g The love story is “In Her Country” by Noelle Q. de Jesus. It was included in the short story collection Fourteen Love Stories published by the University of the Philippines Press.

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Manhattan Transferred Rafe drives home the point: If you can make it in New York, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll make it in Greenbelt 5 By Momar G. Visaya | The Asian Journal Press Photos by Rafe NY

ew York-based fashion accessories designer Rafael Felix (Rafe) Totengco’s foray into the fashion world began way early in his life. How early? How about fifth grade? “It kind of happened accidentally,” Rafe tells balikbayan. Then we began on the corner of fifth grade and into the thoroughfares of the City of Smiles, Bacolod— on a trip down memory lane. In the Philippines, when you go to mass every Sunday, you’re supposed to wear your Sunday’s best. When Rafe was young, he didn’t really care about clothing and he would just wear whatever he had. His sisters would be embarrassed and would tease him that he looked like the gardener’s son.

Rafe’s mother, in one of her trips to Manila, bought fabrics from Divisoria, gave it to him in a box and told him to go to the tailor and have stuff made. Off he went to the tailor, but he didn’t realize back then that he could actually tell the tailor what to create for him. He bought some fashion magazines and started looking at the illustrations. At that time, he says, there was a magazine called Manila Women’s Wear and there was an incredible illustrator named Danilo Franco. He began tracing over Franco’s sketches because he didn’t really know how to draw people. “I was in fifth grade and all I drew were horses, Voltes V, sharks. Then I thought, ‘What if take this pocket and put it here or would this and that color match’,” he recalls with a smile. Rafe returned to the tailor with all his sketches and after a week, he had a whole new wardrobe. “I was like, ‘Hmm. Who cares about horses?’ It was a Eureka moment and that triggered my interest. At that point, I was buying Manila Women’s Wear every time it came out. I was obsessed with all those illustrations,” he admits. While his fifth grade classmates still played with toy robots and spiders, Rafe’s interest in fashion escalated. This was also the time he began buying Vogue. “Can you imagine, fifth grade in Bacolod, buying Vogue? There was only one department store there that carried Vogue, and it was so expensive. Of course, it was wrapped in plastic and you can’t just open it and look. You have to buy it!” he adds.

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And the celebrated designer has never looked back since. Rafe ran Schizo, a clothing business in Manila, until he was 21. In 1989, he moved to New York to pursue a career in fashion design. He enrolled at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) and gained experience working as a design assistant. In 1994, a Soho boutique asked him to produce a collection of belts and watchbands. When they sold out instantly, the boutique requested for Rafe to design a grouping of handbags to sell alongside the small leather goods. A year later, the first collection of Rafe handbags debuted. Over the years, Rafe has become one of the most acclaimed among the new generation of American designers, garnering awards and nominations from the Accessories Council, The Council of Fashion Designers of America, Fashion Group International and other awardgiving bodies in the fashion industry. On Coming Home Last year, Rafe opened his first Manila boutique at the posh Greenbelt 5. The Philippines welcomed him back with open arms. With the opening of this store, Rafe says his life has come full circle. The Manila boutique, designed to mimic the brand’s New York City showroom, boasts of baby blue damask patterned walls, rich chocolate brown floors and an eclectic mix of Asian antiques and vintage furniture. The freestanding store carries an edited collection of Rafe handbags, shoes and leather

goods, which epitomize the brand’s fun, chic aesthetic. In addition to these, Rafe will produce a collection of limited edition accessories especially for the boutique. Owned by Ricco and Tina Ocampo, the husband and wife team behind multi-brand fashion boutique Mix, the store is a franchise that grew organically from the pair’s long-standing relationship with Rafe. “Ricco and Tina have supported me from the very beginning,” he says. “From my early years in the Philippines, until now, with the store. I couldn’t have imagined two better partners to work with on this endeavor.” Rafe has been going back to the Philippines quite regularly especially in the past few years. As a balikbayan himself, he hopes to come back a few more times than the usual. “It is always fun for me to go back home and I really enjoy it because I get to see my old friends. I have Manila friends and Bacolod friends and the two groups don’t necessarily mix,” he shares. He admits, though, that it is the myriad of food choices that he misses the most. Among the comfort foods he craves constantly is the chicken inasal from his native Bacolod. For the past years that he has been going home and staying in Manila during his visits, he was always on the lookout for the authentic chicken

inasal from his childhood. During his past trip, he had a photo shoot and on the night before, he bumped into actor Joel Torre. Rafe told him that he was craving for some inasal. “I told him I was naglilihi, and he said, ‘I’ll deliver it to you.’ I was like, ‘Really?’” Rafe recalls. Long story short, Torre (who operates JT Manukan Grille restaurants in Manila) delivered his famous chicken inasal to the studio where Rafe was shooting his spring campaign. When the food arrived, they were still in the middle of the shoot and they had to stop to eat the chicken he had been craving for. “It was so good. It triggered a lot of my childhood memories and the friendships I had built,” he quips. The designer is thankful that despite his being away for so long, every time he comes home, it feels as if he never left. “That’s what’s so beautiful about the friendships that I have there,” Rafe adds. If and when he gets more time to travel, Rafe wants to explore more of the Philippines and visit Vigan, Bohol, Zamboanga, Palawan and other tourist spots in the country. g

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manhattan transferred balikbayan asked Rafe to play favorites, and here are excerpts of that conversation.

Fashion icons: Coco Chanel is amazing, Christian Lacroix is very original; Givenchy, Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto, they all have inspiring stories, and I learned a lot from all of them. Style icon today: Kate Moss. Photo by April Tiamzon | The Asian Journal Press

Season: Spring, then summer. It’s all about the colors and optimism. It’s time to be happy. You can be whimsical. Fall and winter, you get to be more serious and get into a cocoon. During the spring, you can have a little frivolity. Who doesn’t need that? Three words to describe himself now: Approachable. Curious. Adventurous. Design Inspiration: There is no one source for me. It happens every time, even when I am eating and I see a perfect shade of pasta sauce. Conversation, music, people, it is random. It’s up in the air and it’s hard to pinpoint. Things to Wear: I have my “uniform,” which are jeans and printed or striped shirt. My friends can spot me from a mile away. I always wear the same things. City: Paris. Hotel: The Grand Hyatt in Tokyo. Restaurant: Le Voltaire in Paris. Airport: Incheon in Seoul is spotless and very modern. Airline: Japan Airlines. Travel Must-Haves: My iPod; notebook because I need to sketch while I am waiting or while I am doing nothing, and my eye mask, because you know (laughs)—or maybe Ambien. Five items every man should have in his wardrobe: (1) A good watch because you don’t want to be embarrassed when you hold your wrist up. It doesn’t have to be expensive; as long as it is not fake. I like a little authenticity. (2) A good pair of shoes because, at the end of the day, you can be in jeans and shirt but if your shoes are awful, it just speaks volumes. (3) Clean shirts. I don’t care if it is crumpled because sometimes it is kind of cute, but please make sure it is clean. (4) A good belt. I look at the finishing details. (5) Trousers that fit.

Designer Rafael Felix (Rafe) Totengco takes Manhattan, his way.

Weekend Brunch: So many, like Pastis is fantastic and fun for the crowd, but if you just want to eat, SoHo House is it. Dimsum in Chinatown is also my idea of a good brunch. Bobby’s in TriBeCa. Work Lunch: Union Square Café, Republic and Tarallucci E Vino. Dinner: Zampa, Scarpetta, Cendrillon, Indochine and Il Buco. Bar: SoHo House, Zampa. Weekend getaway: Fire Island. Art Gallery: I really love going to the galleries in Chelsea. Steely Wise, Mary Boone. Museum: I love going to the MoMA. The architecture is really fantastic. I love the Costume Institute too. Store: Muji, it’s like no-design design. I love it. It’s like I can buy almost everything in the store. There are kinds of things that are anonymous but are perfectly designed, I think. I also love going to Odin on Lafayette Street.

Photo by Rafe NY

Relaxation spot: The swimming pool, I go to the Y in Vanderbilt. Broadway shows: All My Sons, with Katie Holmes and Patrick Wilson; History Boys. That was a lot of fun; and Mamma Mia, of course. As a Filipino, how could you not love Abba? g

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By Jewel Castro Photos By Walter Villa

A view to a thrill: Greenbelt 3 Cinemas in full view from Greenbelt 5.

t was on a movie date that my parents fell in love back in 1981, at the old Rizal Theater, where the Makati Shangri-La Hotel now stands. It was also in a movie theater that I got my first kissâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;light, fleeting, and electricâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;a few years ago, at Glorietta 4. It was in the movies that I started my writing career, as a story and scriptwriter for a film production outfit. Looking back, the cinema has always been a very important part of my life.

When I was growing up, watching movies was part of our family weekend routine. On Sundays, after grocery shopping at Landmark, we would go to Glico’s for the Crazy Bus ride and the minigolf, and then, to relax, we would see a movie at what was then called the Quad (now Glorietta). I can barely recall the films that we saw, but I remember the thrill of finding our seats in the dark, with my father’s keychain flashlight guiding our way. I remember stepping out of the theater and marvelling at the fact that barely two hours had passed, and we were still in Makati, even if I felt as though I had been away for a long time, as though I had come from a great journey. Now, despite the prevalence of pirated DVDs and downloadable films from the Internet, going to the cinema is still an experience that I look forward to every week. It is like going to church—a week without enjoying a film is incomplete. Every once in a while, as Aristotle says, we need catharsis: to be purged of our suppressed emotions, whether

it is anxiety, anger, or desire. For me, nothing does this more efficiently than a well-made movie. Of course, the experience of seeing a film does not depend on the quality of the film alone. Unfortunately, not all theaters are designed or equipped to create a magical cinematic experience. I have had terrible experiences like, for instance, in the middle of an exciting scene in Mark Meilly’s Crying Ladies (starring Sharon Cuneta, Hilda Koronel, and Angel Aquino), the screen suddenly went black. The projectionist must have fallen asleep, and that was why he or she failed to load the next reel of film into the projector. There was nothing but black screen for almost five minutes, and I got so angry that I stormed into the office of the mall manager to complain. Back then, I was still an undergraduate student of communication arts, but already I felt a kinship with the filmmakers of the world. “The filmmaker worked hard to make that movie flow well,” I told the middle-aged manager, “so you shouldn’t let this happen again!”

Another thing that ruins a great film for me is the sound quality. Some theaters are not properly equipped with good speakers, and so sometimes the sound is not loud enough, causing you to miss out on brilliantly written lines of dialogue, or a beautifully composed musical score. Thankfully, there are cinemas that provide more than just a big screen. The Glorietta and Greenbelt theaters, for example, are equipped with the latest in cinema technology. In these cinemas, the picture is always crisp and clear, and the surround sound system is able to deliver the richness of sound designs at just the right volume. They also have ergonomic seats whose contours perfectly cradle my back and bottom, especially after a long day of teaching or writing. Adding to the sense of luxury, Greenbelt even has carpeted floors and retractable armrests, which are convenient particularly when you’re out with someone special—two inches closer makes a lot of difference! Certainly, our cinemas have come a long way in the past few years. My mother tells me they used to come home with surot bites all over their thighs after watching movies. Clearly. they didn’t mind risking the smoothness of their legs for the pleasure of watching a motion picture. Last Valentine’s Day, I went out with Jake, my boyfriend of three years. Not wanting to parade our hand-holding in front of all the other flushed, bouquet-laden couples, we decided to watch two movies, Marley and Me at Glorietta 4 and Valkyrie at Greenbelt 3. At Glorietta 4, there was a long line to the ticket counter, but it was okay because, well, it’s Valentine’s Day. We were in the queue with couples of all ages, from teengers to senior citizens. Because it was a Saturday, we also saw a lot of families and barkadas. As we waited in line, I thought, what is it about the cinematic experience that is so conducive to bonding, not only between couples but also among friends and families? More than the dark that conceals a couple’s caresses, for me it is having many people to laugh or cry with, because it makes me feel that I am connected with the rest of this laughing-crying world, that I am not alone. It is being able to go on imaginary adventures together—in ergonomic comfort, of course—and then to return, enriched and renewed. g

The fascinating movie experience at Greenbelt 3 will keep you coming back for more. It not only has first-class amenities, it also boasts of a special viewing theater, My Cinema (second picture), where intimate events and invitational showings are held.

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April 2009 | balikbayan 43

| room with a viewpoint |

On a down memory lane Living the InterContinental Manila’s lifestyle By Louie Jon Sanchez | The Asian Journal Press

ennifer Peña, we can say, is living the ‘InterContinental’ lifestyle. As public relations director of the InterContinental Hotel Manila, she is always the fresh, warm face of the five-star hotel, which had pioneered hospitality in a precentral business district Makati where only flat grassy lands and a few structures existed.

The InterContinental Hotel Manila in what was then the Makati of the 1960s. Photos from the InterContinental Hotel Manila.

As an advocate of culture, she works for the appreciation of heritage, going her way not only to promote Filipino flavor in her own backyard, but also helping save some of the more endangered relics of our culture. When you talk to her, she is full of stories, as if carrying the whole wonder and virtue of nostalgia. “I’ll have to tell you, I am so madaldal (talkative),” she says, as she sat down with us, rushing from an earlier meeting at the hotel. The afternoon was a bit slow, and we were ushered in to a quaint all-white conference room, where we were asked to wait. When she walked in, she lit the room up even more. Her own work at the Intercon continues to inspire her to take to heart what real Filipino pride really means. The Intercon is undeniably Filipiniana, having been designed by National Artist for architecture Leandro Locsin himself, who was known to fuse the Filipino and Asian elements in architecture. It has also been home to the famous Café Jeepney, a very original Filipino concept restaurant which used to have real jeepneys inside it, and which had been loved by generations of Intercon patrons. But times are changing and the Intercons scattered around the globe want to stand out. In the Philippines, Jenny says, it had to be uniquely Filipino.

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Jenny Peña, the communications head, and the culturati.

“Instead of putting apples or oranges, we opted to provide Philippine fruits in season in our rooms. We also have booklets accompanying the fruits, explaining everything about them.” And of course, the Intercon can still boast that it is the only one that carries the truly Filipino banner, Café Jeepney. “We are very proud that what distinguishes us are the little things,” says Jenny. “And you will be surprised. A lot of the younger CEOs and taipans today still come back here and look for the real Sarao jeepneys that used to adorn the restaurant. Many people still remember, and many still identify the jeepney with us.” To cap it all, she has crossed the extra mile in truly inculcating the local flavor among the staff. She felt that she had to bring them herself to the sites and sights. “I feel that it is the best way to make people knowledgeable. There are so much to see and if we maintain the parochial mind set, we will not be much of help to our guests.” “Three or four years ago, there was a

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Photo by Walter Villa

directive from our head offices that we share local experiences with our guests,” recalls Jenny. “We had to bring and share local knowledge and live out a unique experience of the country, and the city. We want to be knowledgeable and prepared when our guests start asking.” But this is quite challenging though, Jenny thinks, since the familiar could also be, quite unfortunately and ironically, unfamiliar. In response to the challenge, the Intercon staff, under her guidance, studied and visited these prime spots—where to shop or dine, what to visit, what to see. And what perfect place to start the journey than Quiapo itself, the melting pot of Philippine culture? “I brought our selected staff to Quiapo. We really went to the church, mingled and roam around,” she animatedly relates. The place, she believes, granted them the authentic feel of the local and the real. The characters who people the place, the devotion, and the colors brought more life and depth to

their understanding. “There’s so much to see, and so much to know. A lot of the people who joined the trips that followed felt more equipped in showing people around, at least in this side of Manila.” In the first trips, Jenny easily remembered the breads she enjoyed as a child. Passing by Vienna Bakery in Quiapo brought her not only a lot of memories, but also interesting stories. “When we went inside Vienna, and saw the people that waited for those hot breads, I remembered my father’s story on the Spaniards who owned this bakery.” Jenny found out what happened to the original Spanish owners upon chatting with the present Chinese owner of Vienna Bakery. “The original owner apparently was a good friend of the family of the one who operates Vienna today. My father was right when he told us that a Spaniard owned the bakery. But that Spaniard retired and went back to his country. He sold the bakery to the current Chinese owner.” Hearing all the stories fascinated Jenny more. “People there were amazing. It is commonplace but very extraordinary.” Jenny and the Intercon staff went inside the Vienna Bakery once. They all could not help but be amazed. “There was just a lot of bread there, and people really frequented the place. They were all waiting for the freshly baked bread.” Jenny too, fondly remembers market visits with her mother in Quiapo. “My mother tagged me along, and the produce are very affordable,” she says. And it seems her experience enriched the way the hotel infused local culture in their daily engagements. She also remembers her unusual experience of lining up at Excellente Ham along Carlos Palanca, a few blocks away from the Quiapo Basilica. “I never went to rock concerts, I did not like the idea of being shoved away or overrun by people. But I had my taste of something close to that one Christmas in Excellente,” she recalls in laughter. “I decided to shop my hams from Excellente, which we also visited here at Intercon, and I arrived very early, around six or seven, I think,” she relates. “I decided to roam around first, and visit the market. When I came back for the hams, I thought I was in a matinee show. There were just hordes of people. Akala mo, parang nandoon si Piolo Pascual (You’ll think Piolo Pascual was there),” says Jenny. But Jenny was surprised herself when she discovered what was in the place, aside from the superb hams. “The people were so helpful and kind, one of them even told me to stick around with her so we can all come inside the store in one piece. Sabi pa nila, kapag sinabing tulak, tulak (when they say push, we had to push). Things like that. The people there even advised me on the best hams to buy, which is the tastiest. It was a very enjoyable experience, and of course, very

Pinoy,” Jenny remembers. In Quiapo, Jenny and the staff also went to the famous Palanca native handicrafts stores under the Quezon Bridge. They also roamed around the place, scouting for many things, among others, the famous pansit palabok cooked at the sidewalks. “When I go there, I make sure I take home a plastic of palabok. It stays hot and fresh by the time I arrive at the house,” she says, being a food junkie and writer herself. “There’s just some many things to see, and so many things to learn about the Philippines in Quiapo. It is important for anyone in Intercon to know all these things because of the guests.” The trips soon after expanded and included other major tourist destinations in the Metro. And since guests asked for recommendations, the staff, Jenny says, also took the task of knowing restaurants, galleries, and even designers and nannies. “We really try to know everything, even where to darn a tear,” she said. “We collate the information and share it with everyone here.” Because the true measure of hospitality is, indeed, in the great lengths we take to invite our guests into our world—a world that is truly Filipino. g

Photo by Walter Villa

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mall world, isn’t it? A telltale life of a serial shopaholic By Elizabeth Morales–Nuncio Photos by Walter Villa

rban living is all about consumption. We live to earn, we earn to spend, we spend and live again. Such a whimsical cycle is nonetheless the truest sense of modern life. As a working professional, my life seems predetermined by my consumption and my family is defined by our shopping necessities. In this picture, shopping then becomes an imperative. It is no escape – the mall teaches us to buy things we actually do not need. This journey, I would say, is my life’s observation to the vanities and certainties of shopping and malling as a scholar and a woman. At Greenbelt 4.

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Garden of Eden for Shopaholics Since I frequent malls, I have kept a mental map of the arrangement of goods and the interior segmentation of spaces in the malls. The mall structure is a typical layer of floors from the basement to the uppermost level. For almost 18 years of going back and forth in malls, I became familiar with its ins and outs, big or small, far or just a stone’s throw away. Through the years, the mall has undergone modifications, some for the best and some for the worst. The signature shoebox image of its architecture is fading, thanks to a more vibrant, idyllic landscape of new malls. Inside the mall, I have labeled each floor accordingly. The garden of Eden of shopping is divided into four levels. The first floor is what I call the “launch pad”. This is the densely populated area of the mall especially on weekends. At the same time, this is the area where all people converge. It is always frequented by those waiting for their companions, partners, lovers and friends. The launch pad is the place designated for male shopaholics especially in department stores. Paco Underhill, a leading mall expert in the US, talks about making the first floor the most attractive area for men. Why men? Studies show that the mall is a women’s world. According to Thomas Hine, author of I Want That!, “women rate shopping as their third most enjoyable leisure activity, after vacations and dining out, while men rank it last.” So a lot of convincing needs to be done for men. The basement is literally the “food court” or the “parking area”. The second floor is the transit point. It is the intersection and gateway to all other buildings and destinations, going to cinemas, food chains, and specialty shops. The third floor, the uppermost level, is what I call “dream my house” area. Many furniture shops, lights and lamps shops, art gallery, house and condo model units are found here. This is the less populated floor of the mall because logically there is no exit to and entrance from the outside world. For shopaholics each floor or level means different places for buying and spending. I always believe that malls are not built for mass consumers, meaning all types of shopaholics. Instead, malls, big or small, cater to niche markets. One at a time, there is a respective place for only one consumer. In my experience, I haven’t gone around to all the stores, kiosks, and shops, and I believe I wouldn’t be able to do that, no matter how I try. My mall destination is prompted by my necessities or non-necessities, by my age,

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gender, profession, economic status, etc. Therefore, malls may be a cosmopolitan haven for all, but in reality our differences limit that possibility. For sure, malls have become the new garden of Eden. We may get lost in its wilderness, yet this is where we learn and commit our first sin of waste spending. Or for a very few, wise spending? To shop or not to shop, that is the question Shopping and malling are two different terminologies. Shopping, on the one hand is the actual buying of things from a store or shop in the mall. Malling, on the other hand, is the window-shopping and commoditydesiring leisurely walk and behavior inside the mall. Malling makes us potential consumers while shopping turns us into actual buyers. A shopaholic who frequents the mall, therefore,

AJPress photo

is the ideal consumer. Rolando Tolentino, the Filipino critic who wrote on mall culture, has taught me that malls are modern public plazas. I believe malling becomes a way of life for the many, even though life may be difficult for them. Malling is more than a physical space. It is a psychological space embedded in our consciousness. Recently, the battle of the malls has become an alluring sight to marvel, with their ads becoming larger than life—a mesmerizing invitation to drop by, to window-shop, to salivate left and right, to buy or perish. I feel so secure and excited whenever I’m inside the mall. I have to confess, I never get out of the mall without buying anything for myself. My consumption defines my

independence—the choice to buy anything I want based on my earnings and capacity to pay. And malls definitely affirm this sense of independence and self-sustainability. Vividly, as the popular slogan puts it: “I shop therefore, I exist.” Little things I like attract me the most. The stationery and novelty shops of a pink feline character have captivated me—and my purse—since my childhood days. Next stop would be kiosks with goods displayed and sold, from mugs, perfumes, blingblings, real or faux flowers, soaps, text and call cards, gatas ng kalabaw to peanuts, Japanese corns and other street food. Just like what I do, literally hopping and shopping are action words in the vocabulary of a shopaholic. Next, the chic blouse, fit slacks, sexy jeans, stylish jewelries, must-have makeups and accessories are all lined up for a day’s and money’s worth. Now that I am a wife and a mother, I buy things for my loved ones. The mall teaches us also to value others’ needs, to think for them and care about them. From groceries, appliances, toys and undergarments, my family and I go shopping and do family-bonding activities together. All this itinerary only on weekends which my and husband’s schedule can afford. Sometimes being busy means being choosy and thrifty. For me, relaxed moments are the times I splurge and shop till I drop. Malling phenomenon Malls can also be seen as a visible city within a city. Malling equalizes social positions, too. Before anything else, we are all customers. To my own opinion, malls are our modern prison, a panopticon, to borrow Jeremy Bentham’s term. Women are the first, always the first, to be the malls’ prisoners. The visual landscape of the mall is full of women images – beautiful, seductive, alluring, stunning, captivating, sexy, and cut above the rest. These images are imprinted in my mind and automatically switch on my desire to be like them, to become one of them or even better. Why not? This outright image of perfection can be found in posters, billboards, mannequins, brochures, tarpaulin, pictures, and products. From the visual to the physical, women become prisoners of their own image and of what society dictates them to be inside the mall. Outside the mall, Filipinos are beholden by a larger social context maintaining the status quo and the perennial problems of dayto-day living. Either way, there is no exit. Still part of this prison-complex is the inclusion/exclusion of customers in certain areas. The expensive stores are the ideal places to window shop. To have a malling experience, one can just leisurely walk inside these stores, nothing more, nothing less.

If you’re going to enter the vicinity, you have to look like you’re going to buy something. You have to have the looks to reinforce that, the proper attire would be most appreciated. Pretensions and imitations are basically a rule than a game. Malling is the culture of the majority, a popular culture based on the collectivity of strangers as potential consumers. Outside the mall these consumers are lumped together as masses, perhaps buying more often in downtown Quiapo and Divisoria than in malls. In the tiangges of downtown Quiapo and Divisoria, they are the backbone of the underground economy. Inside these malls, they are the leisurely class (strolling, walking, roaming around the mall), and not the lifestyle class reserved to upper middle class and the elite. For Tolentino, the target of lifestyle consumption is the middle class. They have the hard earned money at their disposal. They are the transit population of the mall. I am part of this population—an independent spender, a customer, a woman, a commodity, and also a prisoner. Ironies of all ironies, I have become aware of the multiplicity of images and identities we have inside the mall. The mall creates us now. Nevertheless, I don’t think that this is the general norm. Malling and shopping are about choices. Life is full of choices. An enduring life means having to decide the choice to live to the fullest without buying happiness. Certitude in the life of a shopaholic In the end, the telltale life of a shopaholic is the life of a multitude of shoppers here in the Philippines or even those away from home. My life as defined by my spending and consumption is just relatively an urban phenomenon. There is life outside the mall, there is freedom beyond shopping and malling. I remember after watching the movie Meet Joe Black starring Brad Pitt and Academy award winner Anthony Hopkins. I learned that there are two things certain in life: taxes and death. I guess for others, shopping/malling is a distant third. How distant is that certainty? Ask yourself, dear shopahalic. Indeed, the Philippine shopping experience is never far away from home! g

April 2009 | balikbayan 53

D VT I S O R I A

will the real

| the unguided tour |

HE DIVISORIA OF MY CHILDHOOD is a colorful memory of endless pasilyos, pungent incense sticks lit in ash jars that adorn Buddhas and pictures of old Chinese loved ones, and rolls of colorful kortinas or the immaculate katsa taking whatever possible space in the already crowded walkways. While Divisoria today still enjoys the high traffic of shoppers, its fully air-conditioned malls have transported the busy pasilyos into its emporia of never-ending alleys of clothes, bags, shoes, and many more. But then again, there are still people like us who long for the real Divisoria. I walked this land again, and at Recto, where the legendary Tutuban Station of the old Philippine National Railways stoodâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;immortalized, ironically, through a mallâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;I saw that the tracks were slowly being eaten away by filth.

please stand up? Text & Photos by Louie Jon Sanchez | The Asian Journal Press April 2009 | balikbayan

At the far end where the road turns to Abad Santos, the statue of Bonifacio stands in front of the Mall Tutuban, which in the 90s turned the station into a heritage and commercial site that remembers Tutuban as a prime trading point of the yesteryears, and as a place where the enterprising Katipunan founder was said to have sold abanikos and bastons. The store of that afternoon’s guide, Analine Ang, had been in the Yangco Market for 15 years in the legendary Tabora Street of Divisoria. She says her own family business is a bakery in Laguna, but when she married, she was introduced to the world of Divisoria, where her husband had been trading. “So much had changed here,” Analine says, while we walked down the already busy and crowded Juan Luna, from the coffee shop where we decided to meet. I came in early, as usual, and before I was to walk Divisoria, I was welcomed by the hustle and bustle of the busy streets of the Binondo business district. History reminds us that this area was the parian where the Chinese settled, and were closely watched by the guardia civils at Intramuros during the colonial period. They were never obliterated, of course, and a lot of them have climbed up the economic ladder. We can just imagine that some have probably started in the district attached to the parian, its alter ego, Divisoria, have sold dinner wares, kalderos or tampipis before becoming CEOs and taipans. Analine was just one of the many younger Chinese who, for generations, still keep the trading tradition in Tabora. I have learned one thing about Divisoria that afternoon of endless walking, treading

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pasilyos and learning how not to get run over by pedicabs and karitons. There is no geography in Divisoria. While you are in, you just actually have to find your way. But Analine is of course a habitué and she knows the place too well. Dressed in a very bright summer orange dress, Analine confidently walked through the streets like a professional shopaholic. Tabora had been a great place to go to, I realized later on. I was a big boy, and had a hard time buying pants. The size 40s were usually found somewhere in Yangco Market, in Tabora, where Analine and I turned after the trip down Juan Luna. As expected, I just followed her, and recognized all of a sudden, the store where my pants were usually purchased. But I wasn’t too sure; all the shops look alike anyway, and we just continued walking, criss-crossing the alleys at times. After a few more turns, and a quick stop at Analine’s own store where her husband was waiting, we walked a little further to talk to one of Yangco Market’s old-timers, Susan Dy. Her store, which sold shirts, bed sheets and even scarves, was enjoying a usual lazy day. She warmly welcomed us inside. Susan’s face lit up when she recalled her own touching Divisoria story. Back in 1968, at the heydays of Divisoria, Susan started out as a helper in Tabora. “I was underage, and I had to keep my real age. Else, I won’t be able to help my family.” Her father had just passed away then and being the responsible breadwinner that she is, she took charge. Their own family helper helped her find and land a job in Divisoria, where she fixed up textiles and other wares.

At 14 back then, she worked hard and earned the trust of her own amo, whom she herself helped pay some debts and recover the business. “I remember Divisoria as a very filthy one, there’s a lot of trash, and there’s just a lot of shoppers,” she says. But things have changed in Divisoria, she tells us and the hard times are very much felt. However, the wise businesswoman that she is has endured, and it is probably not surprising that her own store was named “The Legend.” After our talk with Susan, we turned to another pasilyo where we were led to Carmen Planas Street, Divisoria’s fruit center. A quick tour of the place brought us to crates of oranges, apples and kiat-kiat, the small ponkans, which have become quite popular in town recently. The scent was sweet and it brought a refreshing change in our Divisoria wind. Analine and I again continued walking through the remaining alleys of Yangco. At the far end, there was a big door that opens to a colorful imagery of people walking, telas being unrolled and displays of plastic flowers and home ornaments. I have lost touch of where we have gone, and which ways we have turned to, and I felt I was being transported to another world again. Ylaya has such a wonderful gamut of things and, I think, is the most colorful among the side streets of the real Divisoria. Aside from kitchenware, underwear and shirts that are sold at three-for-one hundred, Ylaya too is known for its party souvenirs and handicrafts. Ylaya’s stores, aside from the sidewalk features, are the destinations for parties. At Yangco Market meanwhile, you will easily see

that once the stores reach Ylaya, gowns and suits start to get more prominent than telas or apparel. I can imagine that people who are in a hurry—to get married, perhaps—just come here and pick up a dress. Before this walk with Analine, I have long heard of stories from other vendors—some of them from Tutuban—who had encountered runaway brides picking dresses, and having a hard time fitting them because of the growing bulge in their tummies. These are just some of the quiet stories the alleys keep. There’s probably more where they come from. Shopping would never be complete without sampling the food, and the walk in the real Divisoria did not just commence with our other side trips, which included the side streets and the wet and dry markets underneath the New Divisoria Mall. We were actually looking for the handicraft section of the market, and we passed through what seems to be a culinary feast of dressed chicken, cut meat, tempting treats of cow innards that make our pinapaitans a hit, and to my surprise, a pail of what looks like dressed frogs. I have never been to a market that sold dressed frogs, and I was really surprised to find them here. On the street, we passed by Ang Laguna Restaurant, another institution in the locale, which offers tasty pansit and miki bihon and fresh lumpia. I immediately recalled Ang Laguna because this was where my mom and I would stop over after our long Divisoria walks. We tried the fresh lumpia, which was very nutty and tasty, while talking with Edith Ong, another younger-generation Chinese, whose family inherited this restaurant, established in the 60s.

April 2009 | balikbayan 57

The New Ylaya Textile Market at Ylaya Street may not look so new, but it has definitely stood the test of time.

“This used to be just a coffee shop, a very popular one,” says Edith. “I remember people lining up, and waiting to be seated. We served our pansit double time.” But the changing times had also taken its toll on the restaurant too. The scene of that lazy afternoon, Edith says, has been the usual daily scene since the boom of malls and the proliferation of sidewalk vendors. “Now we had to expand, to maximize the use of space,” pointing, to my surprise, an eskaparate of girly blings and headbands by the side of the restaurant. “We had to put up that store to do more business here. Times have really changed,” says Edith. Analine and I stood up and continued our walk. “I’m still hungry,” I told Analine, as we were getting out of restaurant. “I am wondering if you can bring me to the eating stations here.” Analine granted me a smile and led me to continue walking Ylaya, where I saw, once again, Divine Mart, the only air-conditioned shopping center I remember in the Divisoria of my childhood. I best remember the stairs that led to the alleys of Divine and the Santo Niño that welcomed every shopper in the mall. We apparently climbed the stairs of Divine to pay homage, sort of, to one of Divisoria’s most

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admired culinary shrines, the quekiaman of the legendary Aling Simang. But a guard advised us that Aling Simang’s place had transferred across the street. So we walked Ylaya, crossed Recto, and went to the other end of Ylaya where, after a few steps, I immediately saw the metallic signage of Aling Simang’s. Quekiam, which is pork and shrimp mixed and molded into a two-inch sausage, is one of the more popular street foods nowadays, an alternative actually to fish balls. It may be small but it gives one a quick and easy fill, especially if it is dipped in that popular sweet brown sauce. But Aling Simang’s quekiam, they say, is different. According to her daughter-in-law, Erlinda Lim, the quekiam was special for its ingredients—a mixture of intestines, pig heart, liver and what she called “white longganisa”. She welcomed us in their quaint store with two small tables and a few green monobloc chairs. “We call Aling Simang’s quekiam as quekiam halo. It’s a different quekiam and that’s what made it very popular.” Analine and I sat down and were each served the most revered food of this place. The experience was indeed amusing. It is sinful, the quekiam, but who cares? After the long walks, I believe I deserve the quekiam, the flavors of

which explode in the mouth. “Our store started out in a counter-style fashion, everyone stood up waiting for the food,” Erlinda recounts. Aling Simang’s famous quekiam halo dates to post-war Manila, when the old grand lady of quekiam put up a food center at the old Ylaya Textile Building. The store underwent several transfers, and had been passed on to the next generation of Aling Simang’s family. Analine and I went our separate ways as we crossed Recto again. Standing on the tracks, I bade my guide goodbye, while still, trying to capture the place in my mind—the scenes, the sounds, everything. I tried to figure how to get out of Divisoria at the time we finished the walk, and what else is there to do but to ride those pedicabs I had been avoiding all throughout the tour. I hailed one that would bring me back to Doroteo Jose, at the LRT Station. As the pedicab cruised through the street, rather slowly, turning left or right at once to avoid collision with jeeps and other pedicabs, I saw Divisoria once again, the real one. In the pedicab, which seemed to have no course at all, I felt I had revisited an old place in memory, feeling the movement, the verve and the wonderful chaos of a beautiful mess. g

| business & treasure |

How Socorro “Nanay” Ramos made National everyone’s favorite bookstore

t was an era no one thought would end.

By Ahmed Toledo

When Socorro “Nanay” Ramos opened a small bookshop in Escolta, the charming heritage of the Commonwealth years radiated in the beauty that was Manila. Escolta, too, with its watch bazaars, shops like the Oceanic, and theaters like Lyric and Capitol, basked in its own grandeur. All until the devastation, brought on by the Second World War, mangled the city and stripped it of its charm. Today, Escolta is teeming with lost souls, vagabonds and decrepit buildings: remnants of all that have fallen into ruin. This same Escolta, where my father used to take me, was a center of commerce and a pleasure to visit in my younger days.

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Socorro “Nanay” Ramos, the matriarch of National Bookstore.

But, as Nanay’s story reveals, they encountered “more struggles after that.” “Fire razed parts of Escolta, affecting our store. We managed to build a small barungbarong, but just a few years later, a typhoon came and destroyed everything we had so we had to start from scratch again,” Nanay tells us. “Luckily, more good opportunities came to us after that. We built a nine-storey building in Rizal Avenue then expanded from there. Now, National Book Store can be seen in most parts of the Philippines.” Her shop, which metamorphosed into the National Book Store (with 107 branches here and another in Hong Kong) once started with paperback novels, textbooks and school supplies.

But the Japanese invasion forced a change of inventory and, soon enough, it was selling essentials in this period of deprivation: candles, soap, even slippers. Another start beckoned and some time in the 50s, it acquired the Philippine franchise for Hallmark cards. It was also during this time that National started a publishing program through the assistance of international publishers McGraw Hill and Prentice Hall, among others. Patience does wonders, and chance favors the fortunate. So does timing, apparently; for a city reeling from destruction and scarcity, it was the opportunity of a lifetime to engage in business that made good, and it funded the construction of a nine-storey building on the Avenida.

If the mission was to educate, then National succeeded. Expanding its line of merchandise to include reference materials and dictionaries, aside from the main staple of textbooks, may have convinced people to pick up the great habit of reading. Worth noting is that today’s book titles and topics also encompass self-help, health, and inspirational, all of which have surely received wider readership as everyone grapples in this time of crisis. “Although General Reference titles, textbooks, and dictionaries are still very saleable, we now sell more self-help, health, and inspirational books as Filipinos have become more open to alternative ideas on how to improve their lifestyles,” Nanay adds. The desire to find greener pastures abroad is perhaps one of the many reasons sales are quite solid. With many wanting to become a nurse or teacher, books on medical sciences and education have done well. Same with reviewers and, until recently, children’s fantasy books. Yes, Harry Potter the worldwide phenomenon is felt here, too. And now comes Meyer’s Twilight saga. What else could the future hold? For now, the focus is to keep loyal habitués who have cut back on purchases on just about everything, and to keep all items reasonably priced. With generations of Filipino writers producing remarkable bodies of work, it is clear our angst and anger, frustrations and fratricide have produced a literary wealth spawned by the realization of education’s importance. And this, in turn, has kept this nation above the maddening mix of indolence and shameless excess. Realizing this niche made National expand its Filipiniana section, with many of its contents reflecting the stories close to the Filipino heart. Those of triumph and tragedy, as well as of heroes’ feats, past and present, arouse the adventurer and sentimentalist in us. One has yet to discover the many literary delights of fiction and poetry, written by Filipinos, that are unlikely to be forgotten even by the ravages of time. “Aside from their affordability, Filipiniana books are well-suited to Filipino educators and students because they are written by our kababayans, and most of the topics covered hit very close to home,” she says. Nanay will never be deterred by war or calamity. She knows that, despite poverty, creativity will not diminish; no matter what menace the Filipino writer will face. Nanay, like many of us, will always find encouragement and inspiration because she, for lack of a better word, is persistent. “Nowadays, consumers are more demanding, selective and cost-conscious. Consumers prioritize their needs and are more reluctant to make impulse buys. It has been a struggle for us, but we maintain that all of our products are reasonably priced for the average Filipino.” g

The old Escolta at the turn of the century. April 2009 | balikbayan

“If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”

–Toni Morrison

verybody always wants old stuff. Some long for mom’s recipes as others seek the return of the vinyl record. There are those who swear that yesterday’s finned behemoths from Detroit will forever outlast the fuel-efficient Japanese sedans in terms of style. And in the world of fashion, the retro has yet to lose its appeal (READ: bell-bottomed jeans, tie-dyes). But I pine for a certain bookstore because books are among the best creations of humanity. It makes us discover the power of literature and enables us to comprehend our existence while feeding our mind and soul. It also improves our communication skills and personality. There is nothing more exciting than reading a book and getting lost in the myriad of ways and wanderings of some of its main characters, or maybe even of that stranger with a memorable line who wore a strange outfit during some long forgotten time. Others, you and me included, might even fantasize about being part of a great story’s unpredictable twists and turns. As it turns out, you can’t possibly do that in the branches of giant bookstore chains in humongous malls bereft of charm and character, with children running around and looking for their moms, or teenagers noisily gossiping while asking the bewildered saleslady where protractors, glue and colored paper are. Or in other chains that provide chairs and couches, wi-fi and a jazz CD selection, coffee and pastries and only brand new and expensive books. If you can’t find the book you want, they can order it for you. Ah, but all this comfort and convenience is incomparable to the experience of finding hidden gems in our midst. At bohemian Malate and upscale Quezon City, there are still places where one can spend a day of solitude perusing such arcane subjects like the progressive revolutions of decades past or the life and times of some unknown personal hero. Let me name a few of them. For more than 60 years, the Popular Book

The READER (and the renegade bookshops–Solidaridad, Popular Bookstore and Bound Bookstore) By Ahmed Toledo Store, which was originally located at Doroteo Jose in Manila, and moved to Quezon City (305 Tomas Morato Ave.) only in 2001, was the ultimate symbol of non-conformity with its hardto-find books with touchy topics to boot. “In 1946, my father Joaquin Po and his brothers decided to start a business by buying pocket books left behind by departing American soldiers. Initially, they sold these books on carts parked strategically at places where pedestrian traffic was constant. Shortly after, they found a place to open a shop,” Po’s daughter Katherine Ann P. Palomera recalls. But for fostering the alternative community, and creating a pillar of local civilization that probably, nay, likely made Popular a hub for a vibrant counterculture that peaked in the 1960s and 1970s, Po was arrested and accused of promoting subversive literature. It was the era of McCarthy, indeed, even here in colonial Manila. Despite these normal hassles of the trade back then, Popular thrived for it had already carved its own niche and

Popular Bookstore is now managed by Joaquin Po’s daughter, Katherine Ann (first from left).

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blazed a trail that could not be obliterated by even the most fervent anti-leftist government. For those who want an occasional journey into history, specifically the Spanish era, then maybe it’s time to visit Solidaridad on Padre Faura in Manila, the book store established by the esteemed writer, National Artist for literature F. Sionil Jose. A wonderful fragrance of old wood greets visitors in this relatively small shop that has a chock-full of very interesting books on the arts, photography and film, fiction and poetry, refreshing topics all that can only enhance knowledge. With this kind of atmosphere, one might as well look for old postcards, stamps and coins and other collectibles. Another one worth a visit in Quezon City is Bound on Scout Castor, a unique bookstore established in 2005 by five journalist-friends who decided to put their talents to other use! “We were trying to raise funds for the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines when this idea hit us: Why not convince people to donate some of their books to us that we can sell? In the process, we would not only encourage more people to read but also enjoy the company of fellow journalists,” says Caloy Conde, one of the partners in this endeavor. The shop’s second-hand and out-of-print books are sourced from imports, publishers and the collections of the owners, and many of these publications are about media and politics. Some, including a number of hard-to-find stuff, are also consigned items. It’s good these shops thrive despite the rise of Amazon, the online bookseller, and the increasing use of the Internet. I hope they do not go out of business because I am happy at times to just sit and stand among their mountain of books. If they do, then, I feel, something essentially good in this world has been lost. g

April 2009 | balikbayan 63

Gilda Cordero Fernando

By Alma Anonas–Carpio Illustration by Le Grande Pedroche The Asian Journal Press

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ueenly, she sits curled up in a big chair, her voice is a husky melody reminiscent of incense, a cup of hot chocolate fragrant with fresh pinipig sits at her elbow. Gilda Cordero Fernando, at 78, speaks of the things she has yet to do in life.

I am in the Fernando home in suburban Quezon City, a bungalow nestled amid greenery, and guarded by a small footbridge over a manmade stream that sits right before the front door. Inasmuch as Gilda Fernando is an artist, her home is a work of art, with murals on the walls and closet doors, gemlike glass gewgaws on the bathroom walls, works by Filipino artists, including those by the Dalena family, sitting cheek to jowl with beautiful books and an old Chinese opium bed that serves as a TV table. I walked past sculptures of snakes and dragons to find my hostess waiting at her chair, regal even without makeup. “There is so much I want to do yet, so many things I would accomplish,” says she, even as she speaks of painting, which she took up just a few years ago. “I would say that what would save (the Philippines) is art. We are a very artistic people.”

The book The History of the Burgis is just one of the most notable Filipiniana creations of Gilda Cordero Fernando.

Fernando’s life has been a full one in which she has been a writer, a coffeetable book publisher and as a person who has “had to learn how to be Filipino.” Her life is one where she moves from art to art, from endeavor to endeavor – writing, publishing, theater, and now, painting. Her short stories make use of Filipino mythos – the tikbalang, kapre, fairies, dwarves, encantos and elves all share the limelight and space – as well as Filipino traditions. The coffeetable books she has published document in witty and entertaining prose and beautiful photos and illustrations the many beautiful Filipiniana things Juan dela Cruz is often too busy to stop and enjoy, such as folk architecture and ancestral houses, Filpino clothing and the intricate weaving and embroidery that compose it, Filipino dishes and how food figures largely in the national identity. She is a self-professed student of things Filipino, even as her work provides a context for other students who wish to learn what it is to be Filipino in the Philippines. The need to learn how to be Filipino is the crux of what drove Fernando to publish coffeetable books on a plethora of Filipiniana topics. Having been educated at St. Theresa’s College by Belgian and French nuns, she had studied using schoolbooks that made use of foreign content and “I never was in touch with anything Filipino,” she said, noting that she was living in a time when things that were Filipino were not considered the best things to have. When she was “about 8 years old, it was before the (Second World) War, when I saw my playmates’ textbooks… there were coconut trees and other native things that helped me relate to the book. Whereas my textbooks were hard to relate to because there were all sorts of foreign animals there I could not relate to... I kinda think that’s what made me want to do Filipiniana. Inggit na inggit ako, kawawa naman ako, bakit wala akong librong ganito (I was so envious, I thought myself deprived, why didn’t I have books like this)?” As western as her upbringing and education had been, Fernando worked to ensure that her three sons and daughter all grew up with Crosby’s “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” banned from her house at Yuletide. Instead of the Western tradition of decorating a Christmas tree, “we would have other traditions in its place, like having a Belen.”

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Through her books and short fiction, Fernando has published a body of work that provides a definitive and exhaustive guide to many aspects of Filipino culture covering a diverse range of topics such as food, traditions, clothing and customs, among others. Fernando learned about book-making from Alfredo Roces, who created the Filipino Heritage encyclopedia series in the days just before Martial Law. In an essay titled “Valedictory for a Dinosaur,” Fernando writes that “when you have any kind of vision, the right people will find you and make your dream come true.” This insight is a powerful one, possibly drawn from her experience working with Roces. “I know then (when Roces migrates to Australia and the Heritage series is complete) that I want to be an editor like Roces. I want to do Filipiniana. Somewhat like, but also very different from the Heritage series – something more popular that even housewives can proudly point to and say, Yes, we have a culture of our own,” she wrote. The coffeetable books published by her company, GCF Publishing, Inc., are, in a sense, a reaction to her very Western upbringing and education. They are also presented in a very artistic yet understandable manner – the intellect here being a vehicle rather than the delivery system for her books’ treasures. It was in seeking a cultural identity that Fernando managed to help shape the documentation of who we are as a people and it was in her work to create a beautiful yet understandable means of conveying our cultural heritage that has put her on her throne as the queen of Philippine coffeetable books. “My goal as publisher is simple, or so I think” she writes in her essay, a copy of which she graciously gave me. “A well-researched and visually appealing book, with instructive illustrations, to sell at a profit. I would not exploit anyone. Nobody would have to beg me for royalties.” From the late 1970s to the present, she has kept true to that goal and GCF titles have won awards, both at home and overseas, for the quality work of craftsmanship, artistry and wordsmithy that have gone into them. Her approach to creating and selling the GCF titles was novel, one in which she “tapped a market that I knew – the burgis (bourgeoisie) who had money to spend, the people whom I knew because I came from them,” Fernando said, leaning slightly to her left and pulling her legs up to Indian-sit on her chair. Leaning forward, she continued: “I knew that my

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books had to be beautiful, the burgis won’t buy anything that isn’t beautiful, but I also wanted the books to be well-researched and wellwritten, so I put together a team of researchers to do the groundwork and a team of writers to rewrite and polish the book.” Through her books and short fiction Fernando has published a body of work that provides a definitive and exhaustive guide to many aspects of Filipino culture covering a diverse range of topics such as food, traditions, clothing and customs, among others. Sadly, GCF Publishing is closing, Fernando said, because the Quezon City government now requires all companies within its jurisdiction to pay taxes whether they have income from sales or not. “I suppose it is because there are companies that cheat on their taxes,” Fernando said with a graceful shrug. “Whatever the reason, it is time to move on.” Fernando is, by her own words, “a doer,” and she has done more than publish books that gather, make sense of and preserve Filipiniana information, she also went into a short stint as a theater producer. She put onstage a play about how misunderstood aswangs are at a time when angels were the vogue. “Why aswangs? Because everybody was into angels. Aswangs were different, they stood out.” Her career as a producer was short-lived because “I lost too much money that way,” she said as she looked out the window, a wistful smile playing about her lips. Then she brings her focus back to the interview and cocks an eyebrow as she speaks of her painting, her newest passion and one that expresses itself in bold colors, clean lines and a signature that reads, simply “Gilda.” Self-taught as she may be, Fernando does not hesitate to consult with her artist friends when a technical question on painting crops up. In this, she retains her writer’s instinct to shoot a question at the person most likely to have the right answer when one is in doubt. As peaceful as her life as a painter is now, however, Fernando is not sitting on her laurels, nor is she staying put. If anything, she looks forward to her next endeavors, including writing her weekly column “Tempest in a Teapot” for the Philippine Daily Inquirer. She

also has thoughts for a new goal simmering quietly in her mind. She seeks to figure out how to find a way to raise awareness about and trigger action on the neglected historical edifices of some of the country’s most beautiful buildings, including the Metropolitan Theater in Manila. “I don’t know how to approach it yet, but we should do something about preserving these edifices. They can do what they like with the interiors, which, after all, will need to be modernized, but we should save the edifices.” “Many people have written about the sad state of the Metropolitan Theater and other (potentially) historic buildings that should be preserved and restored,” Fernando said, her face alive with an inner light, “but nobody is doing anything. Private sector companies have their own agendas and advocacies – usually for their own benefit, but maybe they can benefit from helping preserve these architectural pieces as well. (Governments) spend lots of money in Europe and other parts of the world preserving historic buildings and these buildings are tourist attractions which add to the revenue of the governments that do this.” It seems that Fernando is all fired up to open yet another door, a role she says she plays with gusto. “I open doors. It is up to other people to take over the endeavors I begin. For me, my fulfillment comes in opening doors.” She has opened many doors, most of them in the minds of those who have read her books. She has opened the Filipiniana door and helped two generations of Filipinos gain knowledge and pride in their cultural origins, in the blend of East and West that is the Filipino. With her brush strokes, she has opened the door to people who seek beauty and wonder and has shared her imagination and vision with a generosity that has her art shows sold out. This mother of four and grandmother of nine still sees a full life ahead of her, with her goals within reach. “If you have a dream, go for it. Work hard and achieve it,” this is her advice to other Filipinos. “It need not be profound or of huge social relevance. It could be art or fashion, it could be culture or writing. You just go out there and do what you do best and do it well.” Ah yes, an attitude fit for a queen. g

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By Rachel Rañosa | The Asian Journal Press

he lines seemed endless. Outside the Dolphy Theater at the ABS-CBN Headquarters in Manila that afternoon, people waited patiently for the show to start. From the size of this crowd, one could tell that the show had become a success in the eight seasons it had been on-air. You’ll even mistake it for Wowowee. Inside the studio was one of America’s most dedicated, most soughtafter immigration lawyers: Atty. Michael J. Gurfinkel. 68 balikbayan | April 2009

Through the hit TV show Citizen Pinoy, he has found the avenue to inspire countless Filipinos, who have worked hard for their American dream, to take the first step, and embrace a new life in the land of opportunities. Atty. Gurfinkel’s expertise has made him a power attorney in his almost three decades of legal practice—with one immigration success story to tell after the other. His passion for realizing people’s hopes leads Filipino-Americans to gravitate to him, so much so that many have deemed him their “miracle worker.” He deals with the toughest of cases and never backs down. Through his profession, Atty. Gurfinkel is able to advocate equity for immigrants. The United States is, after all, “a nation of immigrants,” the lawyer said in our interview. American history tells the centuries-long story of individuals and families coming to the land for greater economic opportunities and

civil liberties. And they have shaped American culture—with all its diversity and vibrancy— into what it is today. “They are hard-working, and they just want a chance to contribute more and more to the American fabric,” he added. “What are we asking for except the chance to contribute?” Far from the stiff-upper-lip persona of most other lawyers, Atty. Gurfinkel is laid-back, never alienating or intimidating with the usual gobbledygook, despite being one of California’s most brilliant legal eagles. It is not uncommon to find Atty. Gurfinkel offering a warm embrace to the families he has helped reach the US—people who eventually become friends with him—after their long and sometimes tedious journey to start over, and find their niche in a country that has become a melting pot of the world’s cultures. Those who have been on this road to finding the American dream know that Atty. Gurfinkel

On the sunny side of the American Dream

embarks on the journey with them. Each family he has extended his help to, marks another safe voyage home. The lawyer—however one looks at it—is Pinoy at heart. People are willing to stand in line just to catch Citizen Pinoy in Manila, and this, in itself, speaks volumes. I took my seat in the Dolphy Theater, and saw for myself how many found hope in him. The taping began with the usual instructions from the floor director of when to applaud and how to sit comfortably for the next 60 minutes. What I did not expect was the relaxed atmosphere in the theater. Audience members had begun settling into their seats when a cheerful mood became almost palpable: there was a quiet banter between audience members. The floor director and production assistant noticed a woman in her 50s, sitting on the front row, all giddy. She seemed familiar, they thought.

And so she revealed—with her head held high—that she had already been there all day. She was eager to catch all four tapings of Citizen Pinoy in just one go. The crowd burst into laughter, amazed at her dedication. The floor director and production assistant led the crowd in a series of ice-breakers of jumping in their seats, raising their hands, yelling out “Citizen Pinoy!” roaring in laughter each time they did. By then, the energy in the studio was almost one of a rock concert, with people falling off their seats. The orientation—hilarious as it was—proved nothing compared to the actual show. Atty. Gurfinkel, in his sleek Nono Palmos barong, walked into the studio.

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Atty. Michael J. Gurfinkel with Bernadette Sembrano

The audience was ecstatic, that even without the encouragement of the floor director, they were already clapping their hands, thrilled to see the man who had earned everybody’s respect with his professionalism and warmth. The choice to wear a barong showed Atty. Gurfinkel’s appreciation of traditional Filipino culture. But he understands Pinoy popular culture just as well, and this is evident in the lineup of celebrity cohosts that have graced his show. The guest scheduled to appear on the program’s third taping was no less than legendary music icon and funny man Rico J Puno, the original Mr. Suave. At the mere mention of his name, some members of the audience giggled. Rico J always has been quite a ladies’ man with his cool vibe and Pinoy humor. On the show, he recounted his experience with the immigration on his many trips to the US—and the many times, too, that he has had to convince these officials that he was indeed—despite his kengkoy image—a celebrity back in the

Gel Santos–Relos and Piolo Pascual with Atty. Gurfinkel.

Philippines. Atty. Gurfinkel knows Rico J is more than just a rock star; he’s a hero to Filipinos abroad. His own brand of music and humor reminds the balikbayan of home, because Rico J is that everyday Pinoy. He can make fun—and make sense—of life no matter what it throws his way. Citizen Pinoy redefines the usual current affairs talk show, with its choice of celebrity guests, from Sen. Loren Legarda to Rico J Puno, and the light-hearted conversations they have with the host. Atty. Gurfinkel wants the audience to be part of the discussion as well. “I look at the camera because I want the viewers watching TV in their living room to nod and talk back,” he said. Citizen Pinoy features a question-and-answer segment that allows the studio audience to consult Atty. Gurfinkel on-air, along with a pop quiz on immigration issues to test their knowledge and help them understand complex immigration policies that most people would otherwise be oblivious to. “The audience is getting so good at it now,” he shared smiling. Atty. Gurfinkel’s strength

is in his ability to listen to people, and in his genuine understanding of Filipino culture: a culture that centers on the family. At the core of the Pinoy’s American dream is the hope of someday taking one’s family along to this land. For Atty. Gurfinkel, it is the nanays and the tatays who are always the first to tune into Citizen Pinoy, as they encourage their own family members to find a solution to their immigration concerns. “I’ve had people come up and say, ‘I watched your show and because of it, I was able to immigrate with my family to the US,’” the lawyer said. Atty. Gurfinkel has been called “Attorney to the Stars” many times. His celebrity clientele has grown over the years, to include the likes of Regine Velasquez, Gina Alajar, and more recently, Charice, who has become more like family to Atty. Gurfinkel and his lovely wife Millie. But amid all the celebrity a hit TV show brings, at the end of the day, his hard work is what wins hundreds of Pinoys over. Atty. Gurfinkel extends a helping hand through Citizen Pinoy and his highly acclaimed law firm. The road to educating people—and realizing their American dream—continues, but the lawyer remains dedicated. This, I believe, is what magnetizes people all the more to the man everybody calls “the miracle worker.” g

Millie Gurfinkel: the wind beneath his wings.

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| essence of place |

How I spent my summer vocation Until summer comes round again, and like the blade of grass that pushes a passage through stone to reach the sun, we cross the sea again to reach Dumaguete. By Susan S. Lara Photos by Ted Madamba

At the scenic Rizal Boulevard, where the national hero was believed to have walked while in Dumaguete.

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aggit is the Visayan word for “snatch” or “swoop,” which was what the pirates did in the olden days. A tiny coastal city in Negros Oriental earned the name dumaguet because of its magical power to lure and keep her visitors’ hearts captive for good. And this small city later became Dumaguete. Writers often cite this legend to explain the pull that draws them to Dumaguete. The city’s proximity to the mountains and the sea makes it a perfect place for anyone who has to grapple with her daemon, or woo the elusive Muse, at any time of the year. But it is in the summer that writers are most susceptible to Dumaguete’s siren call, when, for three weeks, they converge for the National Writers Workshop at the Silliman University. Now on its 48th year, the Philippines’ first and longest-running writers’ workshop was founded by the late Dr. Edilberto K. Tiempo and National Artist for Literature Dr. Edith L. Tiempo. It was patterned after the prestigious and world-famous Iowa Writers Workshop in Iowa City, which was recently named the world’s third City of Literature by the U.N. Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), joining Edinburgh, Scotland, and Melbourne, Australia. The Tiempos wanted to give young writers the time and opportunity to hone their craft, and share with one another the joys of creation, discovery, and rediscovery through discussions of one another’s works. Each year, about 12 to 15 fellows are chosen, making a small and intimate group, just the right size to make it possible for panelists and fellows to spend enough time to consider the strengths and weaknesses of all works submitted by each fellow (at least three short stories or creative nonfiction pieces, or seven poems). Since its founding in 1962, hundreds of aspiring writers have been to the workshop, to learn the craft of writing at the masters’ feet. For 30 of those 47 years, I have been privileged to be part of the workshop: first, as a writing fellow, then, as a summer visitor who came to Dumaguete to touch base with old friends and to meet new ones, and finally, beginning in the early 1990s, as a workshop panelist.

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Dumaguete Pier.

There have been rough patches: the workshop always subsisted on a tight budget, but there had been extraordinarily lean times, when only six or seven fellows could be supported. Yet the workshop kept going, summer after summer. When university funding stopped in 1992, former workshop alumni banded together to keep it alive. Over the next 13 years, the workshop continued through the efforts of the Creative Writing Foundation, Inc. founded by Krip Yuson, Marj Evasco, Jimmy Abad, Ricky de Ungria and me; the CAP College; the Dumaguete Literary Arts Service Group, Inc. (DuLA, Inc.) headed by poet-lawyer Ernesto Yee; the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA); and various groups and individuals who value our literary heritage.

In those 13 years, the workshop was officially named the National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete. In its 47th year, the National Writers Workshop came home to Silliman University, thanks to SU President Ben Malayang, who recognized the prestige the Workshop had given the University (most people have, in fact, never stopped calling it the Silliman Writers Workshop). Over the years, writers who have sat in the panel of critics with the Tiempos, whom we all call Dad and Mom, and their daughter Rowena Torrevillas of the University of Iowa, include Krip Yuson, Kerima Polotan, Jimmy Abad, Cirilo Bautista, Ophelia Dimalanta, Ricardo de Ungria, Cesar Aquino, Butch Dalisay, Marj Evasco, Anthony Tan, Simeon Dumdum Jr., Benilda

Bahura Beach Resort in Dumaguete.

Santos, Bobby Villasis, Francis Macansantos, Myrna Peña Reyes, Jaime An Lim, Danny Reyes, Ernesto Yee, Lito Zulueta, Dave Genotiva, Macario Tiu, Charlson Ong, Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo, and CJ Maraan, among others. World-renowned novelists Isabel Huggan of Canada, and Beth Yahp of Malaysia and Australia had also sat with us for a summer or two. Robin Hemley, director of the Nonfiction Writing Program at the University of Iowa, not only came over to be a panelist, he also brought 10 of his students over from Iowa to participate in the First International Creative Non-Fiction Workshop in Dumaguete in 2005. What usually catches our eye in a workshop piece? In poetry, they are heightened and symbolic language, a new and startling insight

into something familiar and quotidian, and craftsmanship in articulating the poem’s concept. It is these, Mom Edith points out, that distinguish poetry from “prose preening as poetry.” In both fiction and nonfiction, we invariably look for sharp and complex characterization, motivation, significant details, consistency in point of view, the change that occurs in the end, the human universal truth—the “why” behind the story, a question of a higher level—higher than just asking “what happens next?” All panelists are unrelenting, unrepentant hunters of the infelicitous word, mixed metaphor, awkward versification, arbitrary line-cutting, point-of-view shifts, and tonal dialogue tag, among others. But they’re also quick to applaud the majesty

of a well-constructed sentence, and none was immune to the spell of a well-wrought poetic line and other serendipities. By the end of the workshop, fellows hear enough about insight and form to understand— paraphrasing John Barth—heartfelt ineptitude as much as heartless skill—when what we really want is “passionate virtuosity.” Beginning last year, sessions have been held at the Katipunan Hall at the Silliman campus, and, occasionally, in beach resorts like the luxurious Antulang and the charming Forest Camp. “Mini-sessions” among fellows are held over barbecued chicken at Jo’s Inato, oysters at Lab-as, sans rival and coffee at Sans Rival, budbud and tsokolate-ah at the public market, tinuktok at South Sea, and quikiam and beer at the stalls on Rizal Boulevard, which local residents call Boulevard of Broken Dreams (one batch of fellows called it Our Boulevard of True Confessions). Long-time friendships are forged while watching for dolphins and whales in Bais, beachcombing in Silliman Beach or Zamboanguita, or exploring the magical island of Siquijor. We indulge in what Lillian Hellman called the “relentless, driving desire to be alone” on the beach, just waiting for the tide to come in, or watching the moonrise, hoping for “the hour when a new clarity is born.” Perhaps most crucial for panelists and fellows alike was that of becoming whole again, with the many scraps of our patchwork selves merging seamlessly and focusing on the one and only thing that defines us: writing. For three weeks, nothing seems more important than finding the “inevitable word,” deciding where to cut a poetic line, getting to know a character. We leave our quotidian lives behind, and forget with very little effort all “matters of urgency and importance”—deadlines, accounts, lesson plans, career paths. At the end of three weeks, with our bags all packed, we feel a tug at our hearts as contact details are exchanged and business cards are sent electronically. We go through the anguish of departure, which is only a foretaste of another departure, far more conclusive and absolute. We try not to think of our painful re-entry into the workaday world, and the only thing that could melt that lump in our throat is knowing that the workshop is far from over. Within a week after the workshop, e-groups are formed, reunions are organized, stories and poems continue to be written and shown to other writers for that all-important cold, critical eye. Whenever that happens, the workshop happens all over again. That is enough to sustain us while getting through life’s demands, until summer comes round again, and like the blade of grass that pushes a passage through stone to reach the sun, we cross the sea again to reach Dumaguete. g April 2009 | balikbayan 75

t is a story we’re all familiar with: a young woman, pondering the meaning of life, reluctantly spends her summer break with her grandparents who live outside the city, meets an earnest young man from the wrong side of the tracks, falls in love despite her loved ones’ pleadings, and comes home two months later completely transformed— heartbroken but with a whole new perspective in life.

toys were us Sungka

The games we played last summer By Rochelle C. Pangilinan | The Asian Journal Press Illustrations by Freely Abrigo

Can you guess which of these games you played in your past summers?

Luksong Baka

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Throw in the poignant voice-overs, a secondary character fainting because of the scorching heat, a scene or two at the beach with the shot of the perfect sunset to boot, a sudden downpour of rain (yes, in the Philippines, it is not uncommon to have rain in the summer), absurd and overly dramatic dialogue, and a soundtrack featuring the latest “it” bands, and you’ve got the ultimate love story with a summer setting (add a character wearing a hippie-style bandana on the head, singing in the rice fields, and you’ve got the classic Pinoy twist). So just what is it about summertime that has inspired some of the greatest pieces of film, literature, music and even art? Though no one can say for certain, it cannot be denied the common denominator is that many of the best memories in one’s life are created in the summer. It is also safe to say that all of us have had that one great summer story to tell, or at least one great summer moment we would want to relive if given the opportunity. Hardly cherished now in the age of Facebook, Xbox, marathon DVD viewing and dinners-to-go, summer used to be the season when spending time with the whole family was prioritized, and spending time with relatives in a faraway province was valued; when families concocted their own homemade halo-halo and ice candy together; when “puppy love” was experienced; and when learning how to fly a kite or ride a bike carried as much weight as a college degree. It used to be the season when Puerto Azul and White Rock were the equivalent of Boracay as today’s summer hotspot, and when Crystal Springs was as swarmed with people as Enchanted Kingdom. It was the season when April rain really did bring in May flowers; when climbing trees was part of playtime; and when fruits freshly picked from one’s backyard were safe to eat (kids actually recognized the difference between the star apple tree and the makopa tree, between the guava and the santol). Back then, you would actually be thankful you had a backyard big enough to sweep off fallen leaves that it took a whole afternoon to do it. There are summer pleasures that have been safely tucked away as plain memories, like old letters in shoeboxes. These are small enjoyments now barely appreciated, let alone still in existence, as high technology reigns.

Trumpo There was a time when children played with toys that required absolutely no mind-boggling gizmo, only a short piece of yarn from their mother’s trusted sewing kit. Boys everywhere looked forward to receiving tops as gifts, and enjoyed playing them out on the street curbs, watching their tops spin endlessly and looking like they were having the time of their lives. Try giving a boy a top these days and all you’ll get is a blank stare. Like that TV show, which made stars out of Michael V and Ogie Alcasid, this toy is now a classic. Luksong Baka/Luksong Tinik This well-known Filipino game with two variations has figured in many colorful art works. It was not uncommon to see kids out in the streets shouting at the top of their voices while enjoying this game, which was best for large groups. Though it may have caused a broken finger or two, or a numb back on a few occasions, kids had a blast playing lukso. Sungka Sungka was something, which is probably Spanish in origin but which, we, Pinoys have adopted and claimed as our own. Popular even during our lola’s time, sungka was more common in the provinces than in the city— which is understandable since it was difficult to gather shells anywhere in the concrete jungle. This game utilized a wooden board, which served another function: it was perfect to ward off home intruders who welcomed themselves into your homes to watch their favorite noontime show on your brand new color TV. Yoyo The yoyo caught craze in the country when a noontime show, with a tie-in with Coca-Cola, featured a game where people could show off their yoyo skills. It took me one entire summer to learn the “Walking the Dog” trick and by then the novelty of the toy had already worn off.

Jackstones

With today’s kids showing renewed interest in the Rubik’s Cube, a revival of the yoyo craze may not be far behind. Chinese Garter The game originated from 7th century China. Chinese garter was a popular game among elementary schoolgirls, who would steal from their allowed TV time to show off their tumbling skills—and, oftentimes, their underwear as well. If a durable garter straight from the dressmaker’s shop wasn’t available, a long strand of colorful rubber bands from the neighborhood sari-sari store sufficed. Some sari-sari stores actually made a killing selling those rubber band strands. A variation of this game was “Chinese Kingkong,” which required more flexibility to play.

Piko Homemakers everywhere consistently discovered their gardens missing a pebble or two, and attributed it to this game—popular among girls—called piko, or hopscotch as our American friends referred to. Too bad foot spas weren’t common then as those stones would be the best ones used for this game. Though not as challenging as the Chinese garter, girls’ legs were strengthened (what with all the hopping about) and friendships were forged playing piko. A simpler version of this game called “Step No” was equally popular. Touching Ball Leave it to the Pinoys to have their own version of every game from another country. The main objective of “Touching Ball” is similar to dodge ball in the US: that is to eliminate the other team by hitting their members with the ball passed among your own team. The main difference was that only one ball was used and it was usually made of plastic (Pinoys did love to save money). Balls made of plastic do not have the litheness of rubber balls so they were more difficult to pass around, and some of those plastic balls did

Dominoes

actually hurt when they struck you. Kickball Another game of foreign origin where Pinoys put its own spin into, kickball works like baseball except that in place of a bat and a baseball, it’s a soccer ball (or, again, a plastic ball) that the player has to kick and get as far as possible so he can go around to the four bases, and hit a homerun. Kickball wasn’t that common as it required a bigger place to play in, and sometimes kicking the ball did cause some serious toe injuries. Jumping Rope Again, as expected, this is not a Pinoy original either. Jumping rope is Double Dutch to our American friends. But only one rope is used. Instead of singing “One-two, buckle my shoe,” Pinoy kids sang “I love you, teddy bear, teddy bear” and something about “touching the ground.” How profound, right? Seriously, where do these overly imaginative lyrics come from? But then again, at least, we should be thankful that those lyrics are unmistakably Pinoy.

Patintero Neighborhood catfights were caused by this popular game back in the day. A game designed for those who have the speed of Flash and the dexterity of Wonder Woman, patintero was one of the few neighborhood games both girls and boys enjoyed playing together. Strong bonds were formed and this game totally gave “Around the World” a whole new different meaning. Moro-Moro Definitely not a politically correct term for a game, but kids loved this as it gave them the opportunity to see if they could run as fast as Lydia de Vega and at the same time prove how much of a team player they really were—the one who “saves” her team is practically heroworshipped by all, at least for a day or so.

Piko

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Patintero

Tug-of-War Tug-of-War is a game more fitted for boys although some girls did choose to play this as well. Groups of two hold on to each end of a rope or lubid as if they were hanging on for dear life as they pull with all their might to bring the opposing group to their knees right smack onto the ground—and this is meant literally, resulting in scraped knees and, if you’re really unlucky, scraped elbows too. But who cares about getting scrapes? Boys were more than happy to show off their strength and humiliate their rivals to earn pogi points from the neighborhood girls.

if you happened to own those metallic-looking ones (I don’t know if they were really metal or not), you scored high in the neighborhood kids’ popularity contest. Pickpockets, with their nimble fingers and sly hands, probably learned their craft by playing this game.

Teks Yes, back in the day, teks isn’t exactly what it is known as now. It didn’t involve SMS messages through mobile phones (they weren’t around then, too, duh!). Instead, they were the miniature cards bought in bulk from the neighborhood sari-sari store, which boys played with, and girls collected and read stories out of, done in the Carlo J. Caparas comics’ style. Of course, one needed great comprehension (or imagination, whichever case it may be) to get decent plots out of the random pieces that they could get their hands on.

Paper Dolls Way before the clothing brand, paper dolls were designed for future loners and future Project Runway aficionados. More economical than Barbie dolls, expensive variations came from the bookstores or supermarkets, either separately or as cutouts from a coloring book. The affordable variations came with the “Hello Candy” candy packs from the sari-sari store which, apart from the candies, of course, had a paper doll with anime eyes and floral underwear or another piece of her wardrobe, plus a button-cute stand for the paper doll (yes, it was the size of a button and was really cute). The local manufacturer of these candies was actually way ahead of its time. Before cultural diversity hit the mainstream, it already had an African-American paper doll as well. Of course, as kids, we barely noticed it back then.

Jackstones For the kids who didn’t relish the chance to play under the heat of the sun or weren’t brave enough to face the danger of a heatstroke, they often stayed home playing jackstones (of course, kids who preferred staying indoors instead of being out with the rest of the world grew up with a long list of allergies). Generic jackstones were made of plastic and

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Pick-Up Sticks Another game invented for those who would rather stay indoors, pick-up sticks not only developed one’s hand motion agility, but it also served as a deadly weapon for cheating opponents—weapons which came in rainbow colors sharp enough to poke one’s eye out. What more could one want?

Panini Sticker Books Before Harry Potter, Hannah Montana and

The High School Musical, kids from the past went gaga over Rainbow Brite, The Carebears, The Muppets and Shirt Tales merchandise, which included stickers. Sticker books were one of the least expensive ones to collect over a period of time and were very fun to fill up and show off to friends. Packets of stickers were sold in stores, selling for six bucks and containing two stickers. If one already had the sticker in her collection, she could swap stickers with her neighborhood friends. The week’s allowance would be depleted—with money being spent on these delightful stickers, but at least parents were relieved the stickers didn’t end up in their refrigerator doors or their freshly painted walls. Game & Watch It may be hard to believe but many of us were thrust into the zenith of ecstasy playing this game, which came in standard calculator sizes. Leave it to the Japanese to christen it with a very creative name. It is now as archaic as an abacus compared to today’s PSPs and Gameboys. Although the games of Octopus and Fire! certainly do not have the sophistication of, say, Tekken, good ol’ childhood memories wouldn’t be complete without a Game & Watch playing a part in it. Barrel of Monkeys Remember when playing games didn’t involve computer monitors and a joystick? Barrel of Monkeys is a perfect example. It was fun for the whole family. The plastic monkeys with their arms wide open were all irresistibly cute. Chinese Checkers Chinese checkers proved more fun than your

traditional checkers. With mini jawbreaker-like balls in M&M colors positioned on a starshaped board, Chinese checkers was popular among those who found the ordinary checkers too boring. One’s prowess in strategic thinking was enhanced through playing this game, though, I highly doubt, it paved the way for future Bobby Fishers. Bingo Chess An entertainment channel once reported that R&B queen Beyoncé happens to be a champ in this game, which, unfortunately, has fallen into the extinct games list in this part of the world. In the vein of tic-tac-toe, Bingo Chess’s objective is to form four consecutive plastic chips (which come in red, blue or white colors) horizontally, vertically or diagonally on a standing board ahead of your opponent. Dominoes Remember when the Guinness Book of

Tug-of-War

Records featured people who mastered the art of perfectly positioning dominoes, and added tricks and other enhanced effects to them? And balls (used as triggers) or dominoes formed magnificent castles? Of course, dominoes were also popular as a game but were less interesting. Now, dominoes are relegated to the status of mere props in films for dramatic effect (think the “V” dominoes in V for Vendetta). A variation of this game was Picture Dominoes, which I personally loved even more. Mastermind Mastermind didn’t encourage anyone to be a great spy like James Bond, but it was sure enjoyable to play. Mastermind games came in different sizes and was yet another game for those who preferred to stay indoors. Aside from games that pre-occupy children non-stop, summer also used to be the most ideal time for them to get together with the whole family and go to beach or spring resorts. Families carefully planned their trips,

Photo by Walter Villa

choosing a new destination every summer or settling for the same place every year where enjoyment was already a predictable outcome. Popular destinations then were Tagaytay, Baguio, Laguna, Cavite, Quezon, Subic and Pampanga. Families enjoyed quality time together: horseback riding, having picnics, racing each other in the pool, playing beach volleyball or building sandcastles while parents took advantage of the kids playing nice. They shared their precious life stories with their own kids in the hope of passing on valuable life lessons. For those parents who were budgetconscious but still had a strong yearning for family bonding time, they made sure they got to attend company outings since some companies allowed its employees to bring along family members to their events. These outings not only offered a chance for employees to enjoy each other’s company beyond the routine office tasks and activities but, with family members tagging along, it also provided them an opportunity to know each other in a more personal sense. Bringing kids along posed as icebreakers for colleagues who rarely got to talk in the office setting. It was also a great time for kids to get to know their mom’s or dad’s colleagues, and the “What Happened at Work Today?” stories. Photos of their workplace, archived in family albums, finally made sense: yes, Timmy, that’s the guy from accounting who really thought he was cool in Hawaiian shirts; yes, Jenny, that’s the lady from reception who could learn a thing or two about phone etiquette—and about make-up too. There were, of course, parents who were virtual workaholics and never could find the time to take a break from their busy schedule to be with their kids. In these instances, lolo and lola were always ready to come to their rescue. Parents sent off their kids to spend valuable time with their grandparents who lived in the provinces or distant cities. This was the best scenario for lolo and lola, who didn’t find it easy traveling for a visit, to finally spend time with their grandkids. With their grandparents, kids learned more about their family, were shown the ways of country life, witnessed old-time and well-loved traditions, enjoyed an abundant supply of veggies and fruits, and probably memorized the 3 o’clock prayer and Angelus by heart. They usually came back to the city with newfound innocence (think of an old-fashioned version of rehab) until, of course, they went back to school and restarted their interrupted pursuit of debauchery. These games and activities rarely see the light of day now, but most of us who experienced them will continue to look back on our past summers with absolute delight, at the same time hoping it isn’t too late yet for today’s kids. g

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| pastfood |

By Louie Jon Sanchez Photos by Momar G. Visaya The Asian Journal Press

PARADE OF ALL-TIME FAVORITES

ur long Sunday car ride up North took us to Baguio City, photofinishing for the famous Panagbenga grand parade scheduled that morning, but not quite. The car started to drive around the city by twilight but still, the roads were brimming with people. Newly planted mums and violets adorned almost all of the rotundas we passed by, becoming quaint markers that the flower season was still on. Session Road, the busy institution that it isâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;being home to original Baguio downtown life of good (and really fresh) food, the old Pines Theater and the Baguio palengkeâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;was still closed to traffic, and while we were finding our way to our culinary destination, we opened our windows to feel the spring-like breeze, as the flurry of festivities winded down. Lourdes Rosario Nang Next page: Lourdes with daughter Arlene, who now manages the restaurant.

balikbayan bayan | April 2009

The city was still celebrating the blooms of summer, and as we reached F.B. Harrison Road, people reveled at a dance festival at Burnham Park. Across the street, the foodie shrine that is Rose Bowl Steakhouse and Restaurant was, as usual, packed with patrons, indulging in its cuisine. As we entered the restaurant, I immediately thought that there was something different about it. Of course, it is a restaurant serving Chinese cuisine, with those big circular tables, but there’s a certain charm that comes to it, a certain warmth perfect for the weather, a certain meekness that welcomes any visitor. The smell of chopsuey on a sizzling plate, the fragrance of fried rice on a bowl, and the sweet anticipation for a spring roll on my mouth excited me as the scenes at Rose Bowl started to reveal the revelry. Jackie Wilson was playing on the background, transporting us to years past, and the waiters, all clad in their oriental cut clothes, were all on their toes, happily serving the guests. But before I took my seat, a wall of old pictures and articles by the door caught my attention. Coming near, I discovered that they told the long and touching story of this restaurant, which was built on courage, persistence and well-loved comfort food. While looking at the pictures and taking down notes, I met by the wall Lourdes Rosario Nang, the owner, who opened the restaurant with her husband Artemio Marzan Nang in 1970, out of a “take it or leave it decision.” “I asked him how long I had to decide on the matter. He said, now,” Lourdes said. Both of them resigned from their jobs, put all their savings into the venture, and with a little help from their friends and relatives, put up what was to become one of Baguio’s culinary shrines. “We started our business at Carantes Street. Rose Bowl then was a six-table restaurant with a working staff of eight,” she added. As the years went on, business progressed and Rose Bowl continued to expand. But Lourdes always knew how to look back and remember. Before Rose Bowl, old timers would probably Rice Bowl, which was opened in 1942 and operated by Artemio’s family until 1969. Specializing on Cantonese cuisine, Artemio, who was busy in the kitchen while Lourdes talked to us, learned cooking from his father. The love for cooking and food ran in the family and Artemio and Lourdes’ children not only learned the craft, but also have become active in managing the business. Undeniably, Rice Bowl has helped Rose Bowl in terms of name recall. But the current

name in itself, which seemed to be apt in the flowery season and motif of the city, has a very interesting story. “My husband and I were watching TV while thinking of a name for the restaurant. Then suddenly, the name of the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena, California, flashed on the screen. My husband stood up and said, yan na lang, yan na lang! (that’s it, that’s it!). He found the idea great because it sounded almost exactly like Rice Bowl’s.” The name then is the family’s continuous reconnection to its rich past, and perhaps a reminder of how they have endured despite the many challenges. Lourdes continued to tell her stories as we sat down to take the sumptuous offerings of Rose Bowl, which included its sought after platter of Shrimp, Green Peas with Cashew Nuts, nicely cut mini lumpiang shanghai, which is nothing but addictive (once you pop, you can never stop), savory chicken and pansit canton with a generous serving of stir-fried vegetables. Of course, what is really popular here among visitors, Lourdes said, is their chopsuey. “It’s always fresh in Baguio, you know,” she said. “And we always maintain the quality. We only get our vegetables from trusted suppliers. We know where vegetables come from.” For the locals however, and quite understandably, the Rose Bowl steaks are always an important experience. And the Baguio longganisa too, which they serve at Rose Bowl was simply delightful. The sausage melts in the mouth, giving a burst of rich garlicky and fine meat flavors. In the course of food and stories, Lourdes also told of how this house had also been built by balikbayans. Some of her own family members resided in Las Vegas, and she herself went to the United States a few times. “My sister who helped me through the difficulties has been living there for many years already. My daughter Arlene, who now runs the business, went there to study before going back here and eventually helping out in the management of the restaurant.” When we handed her a copy of the latest Asian Journal, she brought the paper to Arlene who approached us and exclaimed, “This is the paper I used to bring for lola.” A few exchanges of stories about living in

“The delicious taste of Rose Bowl reminds me of my days in Baguio...” – From the Rose Bowl napkins America and going back here ended in glorious cups of sweet smelling Cordillera coffee, served in commemorative mugs that remember the humble beginnings of this Baguio destination. But since I could not drink coffee, I opted for a Rose Bowl favorite, the sweet-sour flavor of strawberry fruit shake. It was cold in the city, and I could already feel the chill down my spine, but the shake is definitely a must try. Where else can you get your fresh, and not to mention, tasteful strawberries but in Baguio? The small glass was not enough, I ordered another. Just over a year ago, Rose Bowl opened its second outlet at Bauang, La Union, the family’s hometown. “Our son, Peter Paul, came home after four years in the US to marry his fiancée. Instead of going back, they decided to stay and try their hand in the business. Arlene also came home after six years of studies. At that time, my husband suggested opening another Rose Bowl.” And they went back to where everything started. Carrying with them the same core staff members they have been maintaining ever since they have grown, they prepared well for the expansion. The couple, well-loved by their employees, have continued to provide the best cuisine by taking care of their people. “They have helped us even after the earthquake of July 1990. They helped clean up, they stayed on.” The secret is really not only in the food, but also in the people. As a waiter served cups of almond lychees, I looked into the faces of the people that have remained here at Rose Bowl. They were happy, fulfilled, I can say. The great food, and the all-time favorites here then are just treats to every Baguio visit. The real destination here, the true secret, is the warmth that exudes from the people in this nostalgic culinary haven, something that can never go wrong. g April 2009 | balikbayan

balikbayan guide events | festivals | fiestas | etc.

in the Philippines

April and loving it

Photos by Miko Santos | The Asian Journal Press

SATURDAYS AT SALCEDO

Visit the market at Salcedo Park at Barangay Bel-Air in Makati City every Saturdays. Opening early in the morning at six, and closing at two in the afternoon, the market not only showcases best buys and bargains, but also great and sumptuous comfort food and pasalubong.

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BUTANDING FESTIVAL April | Donsol, Sorsogon A festival which ushers in the butanding (whaleshark) season and a thanksgiving for its blessings to the people of Donsol. The festival is highlighted by a street parade. BANANA FESTIVAL April 1-5 | La Castellana, Negros Occidental A harvest festival that opens on the first day of April, showcasing the different varieties of banana which is abundant in the municipality. KESONG PUTI FESTIVAL April 1-9 | Sta Cruz, Laguna Different activities lined up in this celebration that include trade fair, food festival, cultural shows, street dancing, painting contest, beauty pageant, with highlights on the kesong puti, made from carabao milk, fermented and wrapped in banana leaves. LILIW GAT TAYAW FOOTWEAR FESTIVAL April 3-7 | Liliw, Laguna A colorful event highlighted by a parade of floats featuring the agricultural and industrial products of Liliw. ALLAW TA APO SANDAWA (TRIBES HONOR MT. APO) April 7 | Kidapawan City, North Cotabato A gathering of all highland tribes in honor of Mt. Apo, the country’’s highest peak, and a sacred ground to most natives. Join the highland tribes in this annual gathering. ARAW NG KAGITINGAN April 9 | Mt Samat, Bataan The fall of Bataan is commemorated every year. Top government officials, Japanese and American World War II veterans, including their Filipino counterparts and visitors go to Mt. Samat to participate in the annual rites held to honor the bravery of the soldiers who fought for the defense of Bataan. PANA-AD SA NEGROS April 12-21 | Bacolod City, Negros Occidental The “festival of all festivals” in the province. It is a week-long summer event that brings together the towns and cities in Negros Occidental in one big showcase of handicrafts, products, tourism attractions, and local festivals. Festivities include trade and food fairs, garden show, golf tournament, singing and songwriting competitions, beauty pageant, and a fiesta presentation featuring the festival of each town and city in a colorful and jubilant presentation at the Pana-ad Park and Stadium.

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BANCATHON SA MAGNAGA April 13 | Pantukan, Comval An annual motorized banca race among fishermen of the region within waters of Magnaga offering huge cash prizes. PAHIMIS FESTIVAL April 15 | Amadeo, Cavite A festival that revives the coffee industry. SINABALU FESTIVAL April 16- April 30 | Rizal, Cagayan Celebrates the town fiesta of Rizal, highlighting the Malaweg ancestry and cooking of glutinous rice in bamboo; showcasing the culture in songs and dances. MANGGAHAN SA GUIMARAS April 16-20 | Guimaras A commemorative celebration of the anniversary of Guimaras as a province to showcase the premier product of the province, mangoes, and various local attractions. ANGKAN-ANGKAN April 16 | Marikina City, Metro Manila Ka-angkan is the Feast of Clans celebrated during the Cityhood Anniversary of Marikina. The feast is a tribute to the native residents of the city since they were the ones who formed the community and shaped the city’s own culture and tradition. TAMPISAW FESTIVAL (EARTH DAY CELEBRATION) April 16-18 | Concepcion, Iloilo A three-day annual festivity to commemorate the Earth Day Celebration which features fluvial parade, tree-planting and other environmental and educational activities. SUNDUAN April 16 | Pasig City, Metro Manila A colorful procession of two barangays which hold their respective fiestas every other year as they share one patron saint - Sta. Rosa de Lima. The image is fetched by the celebrating barangay from the other barangay. BANGUS FESTIVAL April 16- May 4 | Dagupan City, Pangasinan Dagupan’s Pista’y Dayat celebrations feature longest bangus grill cook outs, 101 ways to cook bangus, Bangus Harvest Dance parades, sports competition and exhibitions. TANDUYONG FESTIVAL April 17 | San Jose City, Bulacan A parade to give thanks for a good harvest participated by various barangays and establishments in colorful costumes. People here dance in the street. TUNGOH AD HUNGDUAN April 18-24 | Hungduan, Ifugao A cultural fiesta of the Ifugaos of Hungduan which features ethnic games, rituals, arts and craftsoriented activities. BANGKARERA (Boat-rowing race) April 21 | Peñablanca, Cagayan A boat-rowing race on the waters of scenic Pinacanauan River. SANDUGUAN FESTIVAL April 21-27 | Calapan, Mindoro Oriental Reviving the barter trade between the Mait native and the Chinese traders, this week-long festivity features agro-trade, historical parade, the

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reenactment of the barter trading and “Indakan sa Sanduguan,” a street dancing competition. KINULOB FESTIVAL April 21-25 | Mabini, Batangas Kinulob Festival recognizes the local native chicken raisers. Kinulob is one way of cooking chicken. Street dance competition, mini band exhibition, cultural presentation and Mutya ng Mabini pageant are some of the highlights of the festival. KADAUGAN SA MACTAN FESTIVAL April 22-27 | Bgy. Mactan, Lapu-Lapi City, Cebu A week-long commemoration of the historic battle of Mactan between the Spanish Conquistador Fernando Magallanes and Mactan Chieftain LapuLapu. HINUGYAW SA HINIGARAN FESTIVAL April 22-23 | Hinigaran, Negros Occidental Hinugyaw, a local word that means rejoice/ revelry, is celebrated every 25th to 30th of April every year. The six-day festivities culminate on April 30 with a grand parade in the afternoon featuring street dancers in their colorful costumes. PINAKBET FESTIVAL April 23 | Sta. Maria, Ilocos Sur A festival celebrating a favorite dish of the Ilocanos, pinakbet, featuring street dances, and cooking competitions. CANGMATING SIBULAN, NEGROS ORIENTAL April 24-30 | Yagyag Festival Yagyag is the vernacular for spawning, to lay eggs or spread, propagate and grow. The process refers to crabs and other marine creatures that gather during the months of October to December in Sapa, one of two springs found in Barangay Cangmating of Sibulan. KAROSAHAN FESTIVAL April 24 | Nueva Valencia, Guimaras This is a proud tradition where beautiful maidens parade in gaily-decorated karosas packed with goodies. BAHAG-HARI FESTIVAL April 24 | Pinamalayan, Mindoro Oriental A colorful celebration highlighted by street dancing, a parade of float and a different Moriones Festival. PISTA’Y DAYAT (THANKSGIVING) April 24- May 2 | Lingayen, Pangasinan Thanksgiving festival for the year’s bountiful harvest from the sea celebrated every 1st of May.

AKLAN DAY CELEBRATION April 25 | Aklan An annual celebration commemorating the province’s founding anniversary. Aklan formally became a province in April 25, 1958. PANAGAT “FISH” TIVAL April 25 | Estancia, Iloilo This is a tribute to fishermen of Estancia. It is a celebration that calls for ultimate cooperation and the spirit of bayanihan among neighboring towns. KUTSITSA FESTIVAL April 26 | Molave, Zamboanga del Sur This is a thanksgiving event for a bountiful harvest, with festivities like street dancing competition and agri-trade fair. KAFAGWAY April 27 | Baguio City A commemorative event remembering the liberation of Baguio City from the Japanese forces. PASALAMAT FESTIVAL April 27 | La Carlota City, Negros Occidental Held every Sunday nearest the first of May or Labor Day. It is a celebration of harvest by the people of La Carlota City. The festival is based on an age-old practice of offering thanksgiving to the god of agriculture living inside Kanlaon Volcano. SAKNUNGAN FESTIVAL April 27-30 | San Jose, Mindoro Occidental Festival incorporating the exhibition of the cultural heritage of Mindoro’s ethnic communities. TINAPAHAN FESTIVAL April 29- May 1 | Lemery, Batangas A three-day festivities that will showcase a trade fair of agro-industrial products, lectures on livestock raising and food processing as well as food demo competition. IMBAYAH April 29- May 1 | Banaue, Ifugao Ethnic Sports Festival and thanksgiving rites featuring Ifugao’s traditional practices showcased in their songs, dances, arts and crafts. ANTIPOLO PILGRIMAGE April 30- May 1 | Antipolo, Rizal Every May, many devotees take the annual pilgrimage to Antipolo. This town is the home of the miraculous black virgin, Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage. Source: www.tourism.gov.ph Schedules may change without prior notice. For more information, contact the nearest Tourism Office.

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balikbayan guide events | concerts | festivals | etc.

The Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra The Gala Night 7:30 pm, Saturday, May 16, 2009 The Wilshire Theatre Beverly Hills faso@asianjournalinc.com

AJPress Photo

or the longest time, Filipino musicians in America have dreamed of having a Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra. With Filipinos being naturally gifted in music, the problem has not been a lack of talented musicians. Rather, they needed a team who will take care of the business and management side. Fortunately, Roger and Cora Oriel, the publishers of Asian Journal and self-confessed patrons of the arts, and Lito Ocampo Cruz, balikbayan magazine editor-in-chief, took on the cudgels to make the dream come true. The Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra (FASO) is the first Filipino-American symphony orchestra, outside of the Philippines. And it is just fitting that it is established in Los Angeles County, which has the biggest concentration of Filipinos outside the Philippines. With FASO firmly established in Los Angeles, mainstream America—and the world—will recognize, appreciate and enjoy symphony music played by excellent Filipino musicians based in Southern California. The Musical Director: Robert “Bob” Shroder FASO’s maestro or musical director is Robert “Bob” Shroder. He was born and raised in Kawit, Cavite to an American father and a Filipina mother. He was the Grand Prize winner in the National Music Competition for

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Young Artists (1982) and became the principal flutist of the Manila Symphony Orchestra. Shroder also taught flute and chamber music in the University of the Philippines-Diliman and did recordings for pop music in the local movie industry. Upon immigrating to the US in 1991, Bob became a freelance musician and member of the Local 47, the American Federation of Musicians. He is the founding conductor of the Boyle Heights Youth Symphony. He has been musical director of several concerts by Filipino artists like Joey Albert and Asia’s Queen of Songs, Pilita Corrales. Shroder brings with him his talent, expertise and experience in conducting the first FilipinoAmerican Symphony Orchestra. Under Maestro Shroder’s skillful baton, FASO is envisioned to be a very dynamic orchestra.

by the orchestra include an overture and excerpts from opera, ballets and Broadway, and well-loved Filipino songs and instrumental soloists; while the guest singers will sing popular Filipino songs from classical to pop music. The prestigious venue for FASO’s gala concert is one of Los Angeles’ Art Deco Masterpieces, the 1910-seat Wilshire Theatre Beverly Hills. Originally called the Fox Wilshire, it was first opened in 1930 as a vaudeville movie house. The Wilshire Theatre was reborn in 2008 as the Beverly Hills Performing Arts Center (BHPAC). It is the largest and only active center for the performing arts in Beverly Hills. This unique complex houses the Wilshire Theatre Beverly Hills, The Dolly Saken School of the Arts and the Wilshire Arts Tower. Wilshire Theatre Beverly Hills presents, The Gala produces and hosts a wide spectrum of For its inaugural show, the Filipino-American performing arts—from the best of Broadway Symphony Orchestra will showcase the to international dance troupes, jazz and pop outstanding musical talents of its members, legends, classical musicians and renowned together with popular Filipino singers. The speakers. Some of the more popular names two-hour show, which promises to be an affair and groups that graced Wilshire Theatre’s to remember, will feature a symphony of stage were Billy Idol, Spandau Ballet, Richard musicians, from enthusiastic students to veteran Pryor and Laurie Anderson. FASO will soon orchestra musicians, all bound together by join the ranks of these well-known performers their love for music. who have paid homage to the theatre’s long The featured musical selections to be played history and heritage. g

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P.S.

| parting shots |

ROOM (BY MARRIOTT), VIEW BY ZOBEL

aime Zobel, Chairman Emeritus of Ayala Corporation held an exhibit of his art works last Feb. 23, at the Ballroom 3 of the Cebu City Marriott Hotel. Zobel, philanthropist, photographer, art patron and an artist himself showcased 19 pieces of his works along with his books, Silence and Journey with Light.

This exhibit was sponsored by Cebu City Marriott Hotel as a tribute to Zobel’s invaluable support of the property which he opened in 1998. Guestrooms each carry a Zobel artwork while the Lobby’s focal point is a huge mural of his photo art. This was the first time Zobel held an exhibit in Cebu City.

Journey with Light book signing by Mr. Zobel during the exhibit.

The ribbon cutting ceremony was led by Governor Gwen Garcia, assisted by Arts Council President Petite Garcia, Mrs. Bea Zobel, Cebu Marriott GM Roy Abraham and Mr. Jaime Zobel. Guests in attendance were officers and trustees of the Cebu Arts Council, art patrons, Cebu Marriott’s corporate clients and media friends. Supported by the Arts Council of Cebu, the exhibit ran until March 6, 2009. Proceeds from all art works, books and other collections sold, went to the Filipinas Heritage Library of the Ayala Foundation.

balikbayan | April 2009

Jaime Zobel, Petite Garcia, Cebu Governor Gwen Garcia, Roy Abraham and Bea Zobel.