bob shroder, the maestro comes home
Kay Ganda ng Kanyang Musika
manila grand
MAY 2009
The Filipino-American symphony orchestra
Music
making Volume I number 3
US$ 5.00•PHP 150.00
commemorative edition
History
making
May 2009 | balikbayan
10
26 features
72 departments Keeping a Journal Harmony in the Community
THE Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra: Making Music, Making History By Cynthia de Castro and Rachel Rañosa
10
Bob: Shroder: The Maestro Comes Home By Louie Jon Sanchez
16
Manila Grand OPM—Manila Enveloped: Alternative, Indie, and the New OPM By Aldus Santos
22
Editor’s Note Music is not in my blood, but it’s in my iPod, and in this issue 9
Mr. C: Kay Ganda ng Kanyang Musika
26
Red Carpet Fame! Anna Maria Perez de Tagle
By Rochelle Pangilinan
50
By Malou Liwanag-Aguilar
The Knights of Harana
30
My God, Buhay Pa ba ang Mabuhay Singers By D.M. Reyes
34
Balikbayan True Stories Strangers in LAX
My Immortal Jazz By Joel Salud
40
Tourbuzz Grand Ilocandia
America Clamors for Charmaine (and ‘jazzipino’)
44
By Rhod V. Nuncio
58
By Gayle Gatchalian
62
By Louie Jon Sanchez
By Ruben V. Nepales
The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra Under the Stars The G(old)en Days of Philippine Radio
By Louie Jon Sanchez
52
Past Food A Very Precious Cuisine
By Rhod V. Nuncio
Radio, Music, Newsmakers By Joel Jorge Gaviola
Essence of Place Sitio Remedios: The Doctor’s Inn
48
By Althea Lauren Ricardo
balikbayan | May 2009
7
56
72
82
By Momar Visaya
parting shot A Musing Guide Please Be inspired Accordingly
86
The year was 1928. Hollywood just made its first “talkie,” The Jazz Singer in 1927. Music was about to become a permanent part of the movies. Micky Mouse was introduced in Steam Boat Willy. The first air-conditioned office building in the USA, and Scotch Tape came up. This year too, Amos and Andy debuts on the radio, Mae West makes her New York City Broadway debut, and Madame Tussaud opens her wax museum in London. GE opens the first TV station. In 1928, the first all talking picture was shown in New York City, while George Eastman shows the first color motion picture. Babe Ruth hits home run number 42 and Alexader Flemming discovers penicillin. The first recording session was held in Nashville in 1928, and Jacon Schick patents the first electric razor this year. Time magazine publishes its first issue in 1928 as George Gershwin’s American in Paris debuts. The Hollywood Piano Company opens for business in 1928. The rest is Hollywood history.
THANK YOU, for the
of your on our
historic Gala Performance!
May 2009 | balikbayan
balikbayan the asian journal magazine
May 2009
Publisher & CEO ROGER L. ORIEL President & Co-Publisher CORA M. ORIEL Editor-in-Chief | Executive Creative Director LITO OCAMPO CRUZ Associate Editor LOUIE JON A. SANCHEZ Contributing Editors MALOU LIWANAG-AGUILAR, GAYLE GATCHALIAN, JOEL JORGE GAVIOLA, RUBEN NEPALES, JANET NEPALES, RHOD V. NUNCIO, ROCHELLE C. PANGILINAN, D.M. REYES, ALTHEA LAUREN RICARDO, JOEL SALUD, ALDUS SANTOS, MOMAR VISAYA Contributing Photographers JOE COBILLA, RAPHAEL JOHN ORIEL, ANDY TECSON Assistant Editor RACHEL RAÑOSA Assistant Art Director LE GRANDE DEE PEDROCHE Production Manager KRISTINE TAN Vice President for Advertising NOEL GODINEZ Vice President for Sales SHARON ann z. BATHAN Account Manager VINCE SAMSON Staff Writer BILLY DELA CRUZ Advertising Copywriter HANNA DE CASTRO Staff Artists EDWARD DY, NAPOLEON LAUREL, JR.,VALORY LIM, BIEN SALAZAR Circulation Manager VINCE SAMSON Circulation Assistant ARTHUR SIBULANGCAO Accountant RIA FABRO 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) 8138746 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. 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
balikbayan | May 2009
| the asian journal press | MALOU LIWANAG-AGUILAR has been with the Asian Journal since 2005, starting as an editor and then as head of the Manila Bureau before getting transferred at the publication’s Northern California office. A graduate of Public Relations at the Philippine Women’s University-Manila, she started as a freelance writer for The Manila Times, went on to write for a lifestyle/travel magazine circulated in Japan, at the same time worked as a regional coordinator for the ASEAN coffeetable book, Museum Treasures of Southeast Asia, and as copy editor/proofreader for other books like Jose Maria V. Zaragoza, Architecture For God, For Man and Inside the Southeast Asian Kitchen with ArtPostAsia. She also taught briefly at the Communication Department of her alma mater. Gayle Gatchalian graduated from UCLA with a degree in Communication Studies, minoring in Anthropology. She is currently finishing up a position at Disney Consumer Products in preparation for graduate studies at NYU this coming Fall for an MA in Media, Culture and Communication. JOE COBILLA hails from Naga and is a contributing photographer of the Asian Journal Publications. He has covered extensively in the Philippines and in the United States, and had worked with the regional magazine, Asiaweek. He has won awards for photojournalism from the National Press Club, among others. He is the founder of the Philippine Press Photographers in United States of America, affiliated with Greater Los Angeles Police Department News Media. RAPHAEL JOHN ORIEL is a graduate of the University of San Francisco, majoring in the fields of Conceptual Design, International Business, and Classical Latin. He also studied portraiture photography at the American University of Paris. He is based in New York, currently working on projects with the Asian Journal. His travels across the world have led to an archive of over 40,000 photographs. He plans to take an MBA program in either New York or London this Fall. ROCHELLE C. PANGILINAN is a graduate of Bachelor of Arts Major in Journalism at Centro Escolar University in Mendiola, Manila. She trained under Mr. and Ms. magazine. She is currently an editor for the Asian Journal. LE GRANDE DEE PEDROCHE, assistant art director, collaborates with Lito Ocampo Cruz on the design of the Balikbayan 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 is a journalism graduate from the University of the Philippines Diliman. She discovered her passion for storytelling at the age of 8 and has since never stopped writing. She is an assistant editor for Balikbayan magazine. A traveler since birth, associate editor LOUIE JON A. SANCHEZ was recently proclaimed “Makata ng Taon” or Poet of the Year 2009 by the Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino, a title he first earned in 2006. He graduated with an AB major in journalism from the University of Santo Tomas, and an MFA in creative writing, with high distinction, from the De La Salle University-Manila. He is working on his first book of poetry in Filipino. Asian Journal Editor-in-Chief MOMAR G. VISAYA escaped this year’s harsh and bitter winter season in New York and headed to the warm and pristine waters of Pagudpud when he joined Team Balikbayan Magazine’s grand Ilocandia tour. The trip brought him and the group to the countryside as he revisited places that used to be his stomping ground every summer as a kid. He enjoyed every bit of the sojourn from the historic streets of Vigan to the stairs leading to Cape Bojeador; from the sand dunes of Laoag to the old churches of Paoay and Sarrat; from the blue lagoon and the white sand beaches of Pagudpud to the sanctuary that is Sitio Remedios in Currimao. Andy Tecson wears two hats: he is a seasoned photographer in Los Angeles. And he is also a violinist. He is a founding member of the first Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra (FASO).
| keeping a journal |
Harmony in the community By Roger Lagmay Oriel, publisher
Our coming full circle continues as the curtains are raised at the Saban Theater in Beverly Hills, California for the first Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra. After almost a year of sheer hard work and laying the groundwork, the orchestra under maestro Bob Shroder will finally be heard from Los Angeles and beyond. FASO has been a deeply moving experience for Cora and I and the rest of the Asian Journal family. Firstly, it is about harmony, where parents and relatives, brothers and sisters and friends gather in the name of one passion: love of country. Secondly, we hope it continues to be an instrument in unifying the community. The FASO family has grown bigger, touching base with old friends and forging bonds with new ones we meet along the way. The experience is soothing and inspiring. After all, this is what music is all about. A symphony is created. A community is celebrated. In our search for the right theme, FASO provided the music. The community, SIPA (Search to Involve Pilipino Americans), and our newly found Asian Journal Foundation, Inc. provided the lyrics. The harmony is at last, a reality. Also with FASO, we are proud to introduce the Asian Journal Foundation, Inc. Bearing the colors of the Philippine flag, our insignia stands for patriotism. The quills form together into a flame to represent passion and love of country. These are the simple things we stand for as we continue fostering harmony in the community. We will no longer be a voice in the wilderness. We will be heard. Asian Journal Foundation, Inc.
We knew from the very start, FASO was a sound idea.
May 2009 | balikbayan
| the contributors |
RUBEN V. NEPALES, who writes the popular “Only IN Hollywood” column in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, is the first Filipino member of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA), the group of international journalists who present Hollywood’s coveted Golden Globe Awards every January. He interviews Hollywood’s A-list talents and spotlights Filipino talents making it in Hollywood or in the global entertainment stage. He earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Communication Arts at the University of Santo Tomas. In 2004, he was named Journalist of the Year by Celebrity Chronicle in Los Angeles. In 2006, he was listed in the Who’s Who in America. JOEL JORGE GAVIOLA graduated from the University of the Philippines-Diliman, with a BA in European Languages (Major in German). He is an active member of the playwrights group The Writersbloc, Inc. and Naratibo, a group of fictionists. His fiction and non-fiction in English have been published in local newspapers and magazines like Philippine Star and Philippines Graphic. He was recently admitted to the Institute of Social Studies in the Netherlands. JANET SUSAN R. NEPALES is the first Filipina member of the prestigious Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA), the association that annually gives out the Golden Globe awards. Janet, who was Celebrity Chronicle’s “Journalist of the Year” in 2005 and Asian PR Wire’s “Journalist of the Month” in December 2007, is a cum laude Journalism graduate of the University of Santo Tomas. She has won first place in the Asian Institute of Journalism’s photo contest with her chronicle of John Paul II’s visit to Manila. Her photos have also appeared in the Los Angeles Times. D. M. REYES teaches with the English Department of the Ateneo de Manila University. His first book of poems is Promising Light. He panels at the National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete. He has also mentored writers in the Ateneo through the university’s national writers workshop, and through the university literary folio, Heights. ALTHEA LAUREN RICARDO is freelance writer by day, and an English trainer for Europeans, via distance learning, by night. She studied creative writing at the University of the Philippines, won a Palanca Award for Teleplay in Filipino
balikbayan | May 2009
in 2001, and is currently a thesis away from a MFA in creative writing at De La Salle University-Manila. She writes an entertainment column, “Channel Surfing,” for Cebu’s The Freeman. RHOD V. NUNCIO writes both in Filipino and English. A holder of a PhD in Philippine Studies from the University of the Philippines-Diliman, he was chair of the Departamento ng Filipino of De La Salle University-Manila, where he also served as director of research and publications. He teaches Great Works (Lino Brocka), Filipino and Philippine Studies courses both in the undergraduate and graduate levels. Writer of tales, dad with beard and earring, foster parent to kittens and street cats, professional book hunter, JOEL PABLO SALUD has yet to find reason to stop writing (as though he’s looking for one). For two decades he has written various pieces for magazines, from travel to news to lifestyle to short fiction, leaving no stone unturned—even the one erected in the obituaries. He now saddles his red pen as managing editor of Philippines Graphic, a newsweekly magazine. ALDUS SANTOS is the author of the critical anthology Repeat While Fading: Pinoy Rock Biographs, which was put out by Poppy & Plume Publishing as its maiden release in January of this year. He is also the singer, guitarist, and songwriter for the independent rock group The Purplechickens, whose sophomore outing, Girls, Et Cetera, was launched in 2007 to unanimous critical acclaim. He studied creative writing at the University of the Philippines-Diliman.
| editor’s note |
MUSIC IS NOT IN MY BLOOD, BUT IT’S IN MY iPod, AND IN THIS ISSUE By lito ocampo cruz, Editor-in-chief
The advent of the iPod is music to my ears. I can now, at long last, carry a tune, and even an entire season of my favorite symphony orchestra. Every performance is at my command and I always have the best seat in the house. At intermission, I am halfway to Tuscany or back to Tin Pan Alley when the world was twisting and shouting. This month, we have indeed something to sing about. Our theme is, well you heard it right, about MUSIC. Yes, we have found our muse in FASO, the Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra. In time, we hope it becomes the heartbeat of the community. This issue is a music box full of melodies and memories. Inside, we will find the soundtrack of our lives and, between the lines, the theme from “love of country.” It is written all over. Here are a few notes. D.M. Reyes brings them back alive—the Mabuhay Singers. Yes, there was intelligent life before MTV, and the karaoke did not kill the harana star. It is alive and well in Rhod Nuncio’s serenade to that uniquely Filipino way of showering one’s object of affection with kundimans. Jazz friends jam in Joel Salud’s piece about his “immortal jazz.” We roll out the red carpet for Ruben Nepales who’s got the best job in Hollywood. He chronicles, together with his wife Janet, how the queen of “jazzipino” Charmaine Clamor made it to the Hollywood Express via the iconic Victory Liner. Rochelle C. Pangilinan talks to musical legend Ryan Cayabyab. Malou Liwanag-Aguilar follows Ana Maria Perez de Tagle’s rise to fame in Hollywood. Aldus Santos rocks this issue with his tribute to the “Manila Grand OPM,” pun intended. Gayle Gatchalian still carries the funny memory of that LAX encounter with a total stranger from her mom’s iPod. Nuncio also denies the news of radio’s proverbial demise and strikes gold with “The Golden Days of Philippine Radio.” Joel Gaviola dials RMN for “Radio, Music and Newsmakers.” Our stories about Grand Ilocandia and its northern comforts will be music to your ears. Music is not in my blood, but it’s in my iPod, and in this issue.
This one’s dedicated to FASO.
May 2009 | balikbayan
ll roads lead to Beverly Hills on May 17, 2009.
The excitement unfolds. At long last, it is happening--the Filipino-American community in Los Angeles, California, and elsewhere from across America and around the world gathers. The red carpet is rolled out, the lights are flashing, the stage is set at the historic Saban Theatre, which curiously, by the dictates of one’s memory, is still fondly referred to by its old, more familiar name: the 1910 art deco landmark Wilshire Theatre. By cynthia de castro & Rachel rañosa | Photos by andy tecson & Joe cobilla | the ajpress
Making Music,
Making History
A musical montage: FASO at work, fine tuning the symphony of history. Above: Maestro Bob Shroder with some of the members of the orchestra (From left to right): Nonoy Alsaybar, Jerico Flores, Cecil Cruz (seated) Cheryl Lopez, Kendro Calika, Art Ocdamia (seated), Cecil Asuncion (seated), Lito “Botchok” Molina and Rose Amio.
The Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra (FASO), the first and only orchestra of its kind, is playing the music of our heritage, alongside high-caliber performers: multi-awarded recording artist Joey Albert; stage actress Stephanie Reese; and vocalist Christopher “Pete” Avendaño. On this night commences what months of passion, hard work and determination built: FASO’s highly anticipated gala performance in this prestigious epicenter of culture.
orchestra composed mainly of FilipinoAmericans was still not in place. “Let’s do it ourselves,” challenged Lito. “A Filipino orchestra in America will cultivate the artistry of Filipino musicians.” And such artistry, Lito believes, is innate in Filipinos.
Born of sheer ingenuity, FASO is fueled by love for one’s country as expressed through the arts. This event, like all other historical milestones, will forever define the chapter of history it is cradled in.
immediately enlisted the help of Cora’s uncle, Andy Tecson, a violinist and a member, too, of the Asian Journal family. Andy then got in touch with fellow musician Botchok Molina, whose service to the community is in playing the viola, to soothe the lonely and the weary in retirement homes. Botchok, excited with the news, introduced Filipino-American musical conductor and former UP classmate Robert Shroder to the project. Bob is a member of the Local 47, an affiliate of the American Federation of Musicians. With his background as a seasoned musician, as well as the founding conductor of the Boyle Heights Youth Symphony, Bob became the executive musical director and conductor of FASO. “Like other Filipino musicians in America, I have long dreamed of having an orchestra we can proudly call our own,” Bob recounted. “But we needed a management group to take care of the administrative and business side of establishing and sustaining such an orchestra.” “Thank God, Roger and Cora Oriel and Lito Cruz passionately took up the cudgels and just did it,” he said.
From the Back Porch and Beyond What began as a casual conversation between friends at a back porch one summer has evolved into a full-fledged symphony orchestra now entering into the mainstream. Roger Oriel, publisher and CEO of The Asian Journal, and Lito Ocampo Cruz, Editorat-Large for The Asian Journal and Editorin-Chief for Balikbayan, felt the need for a symphony orchestra that showcased the talents of Filipino-Americans. “There are many outstanding Filipino musicians out there,” observed Roger, “The need was for someone or for one group to gather the musicians together and just form the orchestra.” Roger and Lito, both music lovers and visionaries, decried this lack. There were, of course, Filipino musicians who played for orchestras of other ethnic groups, such as the Chinese and the Koreans, but a symphony
Concerted Efforts The idea set ablaze once more the passion for music of Roger and his wife Cora Oriel, Asian Journal President. The couple
May 2009 | balikbayan 13
In preparing for the gala night of FASO, the members of the executive committee made sure they did not miss a note. (From left to right) Charina Carrera, Amirah Mae Limayo, Bob Shroder, Cynthia de Castro, Roger Oriel, Andy Tecson and Jackie Regala. Bravo!
Roger and Lito met with some of FASO’s key players: powerhouse musicians, which included Andy, Botchok and Bob, as well as violinist Cecilia Coo Cruz and flutist Cheryl Lopez, along with SIPA (Search to Involve Pilipino Americans)’s Nonoy Alsaybar.
“It never fails to overwhelm me as I see the group growing and growing right before my eyes. From just a handful, FASO has expanded to over 40 musicians,” said Andy. “Most of them come from work or school,” he added, “Rarely does anyone miss practice. We just love music.”
Harmony Curtain Call The Asian Journal, the leading FASO’s May 17 gala at the esteemed Filipino-American community Saban Theatre in Beverly Hills marks another newspaper, paved the way for other achievement for the Filipino-American Filipino-American musicians—from community. The performance in this historic within the Los Angeles County and venue brings together the best in musical talent reaching as far as San Francisco and San across generations. Diego—to be involved in FASO. Selections include musical pieces from “Some even drive for an hour just operas, ballets and Broadway, as well as to get to the rehearsals. The parents timeless Filipino songs; the repertoire offers of younger musicians also help out music from classical to pop. whenever they can. Sometimes, you’ll see them arranging the seats before and Play It Forward after the sessions,” shared Andy. “You The Filipino-American Symphony Orchestra can really see the involvement of the continues Asian Journal’s vision to reach out entire family.” to the community—and to pay it forward— Preparations for FASO have seen as proceeds of the concert will provide cooperation and creative genius spark, scholarships for talented Filipino musicians. not only among its musicians, but also And as the curtains are drawn on May 17, The Asian Journal Publications FASO once and for all takes its place in the between the symphony orchestra and President Cora Oriel its supporters from local communities, annals of music history. such as those from Orange County, Long Beach and This symphony orchestra represents harmony in our Riverside. community as it signifies both the reveries and memories of And through the support of SIPA Executive Director home and of family. Joel F. Jacinto, the organization also opened its doors By popularizing our music—from the kundiman to the for FASO’s rehearsals. The symphony orchestra met OPM—the richness of the Filipino musical heritage evokes on Tuesday nights at SIPA’s headquarters in Historic memories of our homeland, even when we find ourselves Filipinotown. thousands of miles away from it. FASO showcases a lineup of talent: from child prodigies Armed with big dreams and a commitment to make a to veteran chamber musicians. They bring with them difference, the Asian Journal family and the Asian Journal not only their musical instruments, but also their wealth Foundation give voice to our brightest musicians—all while of experience and passion for their craft. Among these paying homage to our culture, all for love of country. passionate artists are cellist Art Octamio, pianist/violinist Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, FASO! They’re Kendro Calica, and violinist Jerico Flores. playing our song. g
14 balikbayan | May 2009
the
comes home By louie jon a. sanchez | Photo by andy tecson | the ajpress
All was quiet at the Makati
headquarters of The Asian Journal one weekend last March. Everyone had just wrapped up a week’s work, after seemingly endless deadlines. From one of the rooms Robert “Bob” Shroder started to play his flute to the tune of Martin Nievera’s “Kahit Isang Saglit.” The world suddenly stood still. The maestro was home. Although Bob was simply fine-tuning his instrument, the piece he played that afternoon was heartfelt, even downright melancholic. The soothing song from his flute had probably brought some of us to the far ends of longing, that when the playing stopped, we all knew what FASO was all about. It was about coming home. Bob went out of the room, and straight to a seat at the dining table where he unwrapped one of the tamales in banana leaves he had bought early that morning from the Saturday market at nearby Salcedo Park.
Balikbayan Bob Shroder invades Wowowee at the ABS-CBN Studios in Quezon City: “Nag-Tatagalog ka pala,” tells Willie Revillame. AJPress Photo by Nap Laurel
Bob must have been
to the name, but also the magazine that carries perplexed with the look we gave him as he it, Balikbayan. In seconds, he flipped through the started enjoying his tamales. But he smiled, article on Wowowee, and the advertisement even offered us to share with the treat. In my that carried the launch of FASO. He carried mind, I wanted to quip, why did you even dare the banner proudly, as the confetti fell from the stop playing? But the aroma of the tamales ceiling and the dancers gyrated to the Igilingwafted in the air, and I was immediately lured giling song of Willie. Wowowee is a station a to get my own fork from the kitchen. “I missed balikbayan needs to accomplish while at home. this,” I remember him saying. Bob made sure he went to an episode, like all of In most days we were talking and sharing them who came home. stories, Bob and I seemed to be always eating. Bob migrated to the States in 1991, and Food is of course very communal, festive here decided to stay in San Diego, California. I can and it is really not surprising that balikbayans imagine his passion and optimism, gearing up like Bob share quite warmly and animatedly for the new life, carrying with him the music of while on a restaurant or the dinner table. The his old hometown, Kawit, Cavite. Aside from first time I had lunch with him, he looked for Wowowee, he of course came back to where dimsum, “the real ones,” he said, the way the everything started. old timers used to have it, perhaps in the old His grandfather, Augusto Samaniego Sr., Ma Mon Luk or San Jacinto. a member of the world famous Philippine “Ang tagal ko nang hindi nakakatikim noon Constabulary Band, inspired him, made (It’s been a long time since I had one),” he says, while on our way to Greenbelt 5’s Solihiya, the remarkable Asian fusion restaurant. While we were talking about his work, and the preparations for the gala night of the first-ever FilipinoAmerican Symphony Orchestra (FASO), where he is of course conductor and musical director, he savored the tasty siomai and the quekiam. He ate like a genuine Pinoy, I must say. In between sips of iced tea and spoonfuls of sweet and sour lapu-lapu, he shared his excitement about FASO and the support they have been getting for this visionary project. “We bring our culture there in Bob at the Matutina’s Seafood Restaurant in Pangasinan. the States. Kaya gumaganda ang Amerika dahil sa diversity (America is great music an important part of his life. “Back because of diversity). Filipinos have contributed then, the Constabulary Band was directed by a lot to the cultural fabric. And our music will Col. Walter Loving,” Bob remembers, as we definitely bring our identity to the fore. Music continued to partake the dimsum he missed resides in the truth, hindi natin puwedeng most. “My grandfather used to bring me to the baluktutin (we cannot play with it),” he says rehearsals at Fort Mckinley. I would always sit quite passionately. “That’s why I love music, it’s right beside him as the band played.” my life.” At age 7, Bob learned to play the clarinet. Except for the very Western (German to Later on, the grandfather made him play for the be specific) features, he is very much Filipino, local Banda Magdalo, which he also conducts. heart and soul. He even speaks Filipino very, “We used to play for fiestas, and we slept on very well, but when he keeps quiet, he could top of classroom desks. We went everywhere, easily deceive. When he visited the noontime we looked forward to each occasion,” Bob says. show Wowowee, Willie Revillame was himself In high school, in the age of Earth, Wind and intimidated at a loss for words when he first Fire, Chicago and Blood, Sweat and Tears, he conversed with him. This balikbayan didn’t look inherited his grandfather’s saxophone, and a much like a typical balikbayan after all. But his priceless memento. “He gave me his 1939 San straight Filipino gave him away, much to the Francisco World Exposition certificate. I kept surprise and laughter of everyone in the studio. it all these years.” His grandfather also passed “Walang hiya ka, nag-Tatagalog ka pala, (Why, onto him the baton of the Magdalo band, which you can speak Tagalog),” he tells Bob on the set. he led until he migrated to the US. “I’m the real Appearing on TV, Bob carried not only the right Magdalo, you see,” he quips.
Bob was reared to become a quintessential music man, being exposed to both the classical and jazz traditions. “In our house, my parents played Rosinnis and Verdis, and some Glenn Millers and Benny Goodman. I also heard a lot of Doris Days and Frank Sinatras. We were all music lovers in the house,” he says. He also remembers his bus trips to Cavite with his mom. “From Lawton, the bus would pass through Roxas Blvd., and then near the US Embassy, she would point to me where the Elks Club is. She often told me that that’s where the Manila Symphony Orchestra rehearsed.” Who would have known that many years later, he would be part of the Manila Symphony Orchestra (MSO), the oldest symphony orchestra in Asia himself? But the young Bob Shroder had to grow his wings first, going to music school at the University of the Philippines-Diliman, where he majored in flute, and later, conducting. He has had the opportunity to learn from the masters like Enrique Barcelo, Sergio Esmilla Jr., Reynaldo Paguio. He also was a consistent university scholar, qualifying for the Mu Phi Epsilon International music fraternity, brought to the country by National Artist for music Lucrecia Kasilag. In 1982, at the National Music Competition for Young Artists of the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP), he won the grand prize in the wind instruments category. He had a sterling time AJPress Photo at the MSO, right after his graduation recital. He became principal flutist of the orchestra, and played for several concert seasons. Bob also had the fortunate opportunity to work with the more veteran musicians, some of whom still revere his grandfather. “They’ve become my mentors, really. I have learned so much from them. I didn’t have a hard time adjusting to the work because these bunch of guys supported me.” With both the veterans and the seasoned, he played under different conductors, and in different events—ballet, Broadway musicals and even Zarzuelas. He also became the principal flutist of the Manila Chamber Orchestra, handling and conducting whenever requested. He was also part of the Bamboo Organ Festival in suburban Las Piñas, the annual musical event celebrating the centuries old bamboo organ. He also played with different orchestra musicians and choirs from Europe and from around the globe.
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In our trip to Ilocandia, we visited the Malacañang ti Amianan, the Marcos presidential vacation house at the Paoay Lake. Bob was filled with reverie and nostalgia, remembering that one time, he was part of the orchestra brought here to play for an important event. He walked around the place, now almost empty. By the side windows facing a garden and the lake, he remembered his wonderful time playing for the Marcoses. “We ate lunch here at the garden, I remember it vividly,” he tells us. “And I even remember that we were billeted in a dormitory nearby.” One of the caretakers of the house led him to the dormitory, which had been turned into a warehouse. He passed by the pool, which used to sparkle in the summer sun. “It’s just so different now. It’s really been a long time.” But of course, he had to go to the US and find out what fate has in store for him. Quite surprisingly, while establishing himself as a musician, he landed a job as human resource generalist and paymaster for Merck Company, later acquired by the Monsanto Company. He played another kind of music here, another symphony, specializing in what he calls PeopleSoft (now Oracle). “I diverted somehow, staying in the corporate world for 17 years. I designed human resource database, PeopleSoft, and other things like I was just arranging. It was still like music,” Bob relates. Somehow, he was able to tap his other potential. “I can work both ways, I can exercise both sides of my brain. But I really longed for music, that’s why I continued playing.” In San Diego, he played for the Chula Vista Pops Orchestra. He was also active in directing shows for the Filipino community. He played for concerts of Filipino music icons like Pilita Corrales, Martin Nievera and Joey Albert. When he moved to Los Angeles, he formed and conducted the Boyle Heights Youth Symphony, which gathered young Latino musicians to keep them off the streets. Under his baton, the orchestra performed in different places, including events by the Los Angeles Mayor. They were also regular participants at “Music LA” by the Los Angeles Department of Cultural Affairs. The musician in him also brought him to play for the Burbank Community Band and the Mount Washington Philharmonic. When he went home last time, he went back to Kawit, and renewed the ties with his old friends, colleagues in the band, and family of course. He must have passed by the Roxas Blvd. again, and what mom used to tell him probably reverberated once more. He had gone full circle definitely, had made beautiful music as he traversed his, well, colorful life. When he came back to the Asian Journal offices from Kawit, he brought back with him not only stories and pictures of his folks at the old town, but also fresh oysters known to be abundant in his locale. “You better try one,” he tells me. I was pretty sure he savored them. The palate never forgets, and with the sweet and juicy meat of the mollusk in his tongue, he surely remembered. Most times while he was home, Bob was on the go, meeting up colleagues, looking for musical arrangements for FASO and surprising people. He came back home without notice, and he even appeared quite suddenly in a Sunday recital at the CCP where one of his mentors was present. He was a nostalgic traveler, always trying to trace and explore once again the course of his life as a musician here in the Philippines. He even indulged taking the “UP IKOT” jeepney ride at his alma mater,
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rekindling his days as a young music major walking down the streets of the state university lined by the tall acacia trees, which he sorely missed. The roads of course turn differently at times, and like Bob’s journey recently, the road is showing another way, another surprising path. A little backtrack: Bob receives a call from Roger and Cora Oriel. He hears the great idea that is FASO, and gives his nod. The rest is history. “It’s really coming along good, we’re gathering up a lot of musicians,” tells Bob about FASO, over another lunch of good old Max’s chicken and chop suey. “We’re getting a lot of encouraging feedback from parents and friends, it’s really exciting. Some of the members come from all around, even from the Manila Philharmonic, the Philippine Philharmonic. We all gathered to bring Filipino musical culture to the fore,” he says. With the gala night at the Saban all set on May 17, Bob is simply amazed at how the orchestra is pulling things off, starting from seven and ending up more recently as a full orchestra. “There were a lot of challenges, and we had to work double time. There were concerns about the economic situation and all that but you will be surprised. Everyone was involved in putting the orchestra up. It is a family affair,” he says. Bob also delighted in teaching the younger musicians, the way he used to do back in Kawit, and in UP. “These young people are very talented. Some are just high school students. It’s challenging but we will be able to season them.” FASO is a dream come true for Bob, who had been heading the rehearsals of the orchestra, making sure it shapes up really well. “With FASO, we dream of gathering up the community, in bringing Filipinos together through music. We deserve to have a symphony orchestra and we deserve to make a name for ourselves. Filipino artists come in here, perform and are usually accompanied by American orchestras. We do our music differently, we are very unique,” Bob explains. “It’s in the touch I think. Sometimes, we just miss the taste, the touch of home. Hopefully FASO creates the real Filipino music that would be always remembered and listened to.” The core of the orchestra’s repertoire is nothing but exciting. Aside from the classical pieces of course, Bob envisions a more dynamic music making for FASO. “Soon, we’ll have fusion, ethnic, even a rondalla ensemble. But we will definitely put a lot of Filipino pieces in our music. Filipino music is the heart of FASO,” Bob says. One poignant memory I have of Bob’s homecoming was that one afternoon he went back with a brown envelope under his arm. When I asked him about it, he opened the envelope, which had, apparently, arrangements he was able to locate from the music department of St. Scholastica’s College in Manila. One of them was a classic of the 70s, “Big Beautiful Country” by Jose Mari Chan, known to be the theme song of the old BBC Channel 2, where Balikbayan Editor-in-Chief Lito Ocampo Cruz, fresh out of De La Salle University, was Assistant Creative Director. “This will be really good, a lot of people would remember,” he tells me. So much memory, so much culture will surely be brought to life with the birth of FASO. I can imagine when his baton starts to move, come May 17. All eyes would be on the people of this big, beautiful country, making great music, making history. g
Intramuros; October, 2003. There are two chairs up on the
makeshift stage, and they are suspiciously identical to the rest of the chairs at the al fresco restaurant, as though the people who will occupy them are as pedestrian as the rest. Well, they are, as a matter of fact. In a few minutes, these chairs will be occupied by me and my long-time musical collaborator from college. We are in a band together, and we are three months away from independently releasing our debut record. We are ecstatic. The world (okay, the country; well, certainly Metro Manila) will soon hear our original material. It is just a matter of time.
OP
Tonight, however, is about
paying outstanding debts. We are five-grand shy of settling our balance with the printing press that was making our album’s lyric sleeves, and tonight’s show will rectify that. Tonight, unfortunately, is not about our songs, which, some of our diehard fans (all three of them) have said, are among the most erudite, most imaginative, and most poignant they have ever heard. No, no, no. It pains me to say it, but tonight, we are mere hired guns. We will be doing a prepared set of covers—“acoustically,” as the current trend dictates—and we will be reading sheets off music stands. We will be politely refusing requests for “more Goo Goo Dolls” and “anything by Bread,” and we will cunningly squeeze in songs from U2 and R.E.M. into the set, to salvage what is left of our “reputation,” if I may. Tonight is not about original Filipino music, it appears. But, knowing how OPM has morphed into varying incarnations after surviving sporadic deaths, I am not overly concerned. “Thank you; you’ve been very generous—and forgiving,” I will address the late-dinner patrons. Some of them will laugh. I will continue with some trepidation, “So, please go on being forgiving; we’d like to play a couple of our originals to close our set.” Only a year before the anecdote recounted above, a Kris Dancel-fronted Eraserheads failed to get signed by a major record label on the strength of a self-produced promotional EP called Please Transpose. It just wasn’t the same without frontman Ely Buendia, and, with the growing piracy problem then plaguing the industry, taking chances clearly wasn’t an option. When guitarist Marcus Adoro left the band and hit the waves of La Union as a full-time surfing enthusiast, the lush musico-cultural narrative that was the Eraserheads ceased to exist. In 1993, a full decade before this, however, this same band of UP Diliman misfits will change the musical landscape forever with a record called Ultraelectromagneticpop! The standing musical model of the time, of course, was pop music in the vein of Martin Nievera and Ariel Rivera.
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When the ‘Heads started circulating a raw demo of theirs to various radio stations and record labels, all they got were headshakes and grinning refusals. A certain label bigwig ultimately dismissed the collection as not being “pop enough.” This will prompt the band to redo their demo and call it Pop U!, a cheeky reference to the said naysayer, and, transitively, to the old guards of Pinoy pop music. How did this happen? How did an album containing cuss words, obtuse references to Diliman life, and slightly ill-tuned instruments manage to outsell the balladeers? More importantly, in hindsight, does “OPM” still exist? And if it does, is this—the Eraserheads and their spawns—it? “Original Pilipino Music,” or “OPM,” is, needless to say, an anachronism. For one, we don’t say “Pilipino” anymore. Linguistic developments have started accommodating foreign phonetics, not to mention entire words. “Filipino,” as in “Overseas Filipino Workers,” is the preferred word nowadays. OPM, a postMarcos 1980s relic, had in its turf such artists as Kuh Ledesma, Basil Valdez, Sharon Cuneta, and, though they were of a slightly more nationalistic strain, the APO Hiking Society. It was a much bigger phenomenon than the 1970s’ so-called “Manila Sound,” which housed Hotdog and Cinderella, among others. How disparate were the popsters from the Eraserheads, you ask? Quite, I say. I, for one, was brought up in Bagets-era Gary Valenciano, and I mercilessly inflicted my flat recitals of “Growing Up” on whoever cared to listen (or whoever was too polite to run away). My band mate in The Purplechickens, Marco Harder, however, suggests that “OPM is not a musical form but a mindset driven by [the] appropriation of a popular form into a cultural experience, or vice versa.” To Marco, basically, anything can be OPM; it was just a matter of having reached mass consciousness, which granted Mr. Pure Energy and his friends quick entry into “OPM-landia,” so to speak. If Yoyoy Villame had more colleagues in
his brilliant endeavor we so simplistically label as “novelty,” therefore, he would have easily been king. Along with the Diliman lads came acts of similar caliber. There, of course, was Rivermaya. Originally helmed by singer-songwriter Rico Blanco (who has since gone solo), ‘Maya teetered more on “pop” territory than the ‘Heads. Blanco was the more structured McCartney to Buendia’s more volatile Lennon, it appears, and his “Ulan” and “Awit ng Kabataan” have surely survived the test of time. There was also the guitar-voice duo Yano, with a tiny odd fellow named Dong Abay upfront on mic duty, spewing out bard-like proclamations not quite dissimilar to protest music. One spin of their self-titled debut—especially the signature tracks “Banal na Aso, Santong Kabayo,” “Tsinelas,” and “Senti”—will surely deliver an instant (albeit metaphorical) coronary. There were also the funnies, most notably Parokya ni Edgar, whose paraphrases of Radiohead’s “Creep” (“Trip”) and The Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” (“Bakit ang Pangit-Pangit Mo?”), along with their own hilarious originals (“Buloy,” “Tatlong Araw”), remain the most memorable songs from that decade. Moreover, seething hard-rockers such as Wolfgang and Razorback also made the cut. While the long-haired kind was to be avoided at all costs (or so our elders have warned us), the guys who sang “Halik ni Hudas” and “Giyang,” respectively, were now gracing magazine covers and noontime shows as easily as any artista promoting a doggone movie. That hallowed decade came to a close, and there were casualties. Most importantly, the Eraserheads—that era’s most prominent torch-bearers—have “left the building” for good. Gladly, however, the scene was remolded into a totally different animal. Mikey Abola, a.k.a. “Billy B.” of Underground Radio 105.9 FM, says that “(Society) is a lot more acclimatized (now) to the notion of teenagers and youngsters being youngsters, being “rakista,” that kind of thing.” Lawyer-musician Vin Dancel, meanwhile, says
about the “new OPM,” “Sa tingin ko, ngayon, mas “kalye” na, mas rock—dahil na rin siguro sa Eraserheads and that entire Nineties movement. Mas refined ‘yung OPM dati, eh—sina George Canseco, Basil Valdez, Leah Navarro, Rico J. Puno, even the APO—they were refined, compared to the stuff today.” What are they trying to say? Whereas the “show” element of yesteryears was the ideal, now it’s the pedestrian humanity. One thing that distinguishes the Nineties people from their Eighties counterparts, therefore, was their apparent lack of facade. The turning of millennia will offer up further developments, though not all great ones. With the ubiquity of disc-replication technologies, piracy became a breeze for those who were so inclined. In the 2002 PhilMusic.com think-piece “The Death of OPM and the Real Score on Music Piracy,” thenSony Music executive Wally Chamsay claimed, “all of the pirated stuff you see in the market today weren’t made in someone’s bedroom. These were made in high-speed duplicating machines, which cost an average of eighty-million pesos per machine.” The pirates, who Chamsay argued aren’t mere petty criminals, were having a field day, and they effectively squashed what was left of the almost-lifeless industry. The popsters still existed; Regine Velasquez and Side A albums were still being produced and marketed on a regular basis. However, the piracy backlash prompted labels to exercise more caution in signing bands. Case in point: the wildly popular Sugarfree, fronted by singer-tunesmith Ebe Dancel, hasn’t always been in the safe. They were picked up by a major label very early on; however, long, painful delays, which caused the band much anxiety, forced them to migrate the record elsewhere. In the end, in 2003, the band named their record Sa Wakas: both a jab and a sigh of relief, in a manner of speaking. Other bands who were redefining the musical landscape, were, at the same time, reexamining the Pinoy “pop” sense. The Itchyworms’ Little Monsters Under Your Bed (2001), as well as Ciudad’s Hello!
How Are You, Mico the Happy Bear? (2000), were but a few. On the other hand, there were also bands of a more Westernized strain, such as the slew of nu-metal acts that, for a brief period, dominated the scene. Slapshock, Greyhoundz, and Cheese (who now goes by “Queso”) were considered by many to be the Holy Trinity of said appropriated genre. Their placement in a rethinking of the OPM framework, however, is a little ambiguous. After all, if one were to take things literally, “Filipinoness”—which is infinitely more subjective than “originality”—was also a key idea in the old OPM. To Singapore-based music and art critic Mayo Uno Martin, meanwhile, “I’ll always equate OPM with commercial viability.” The signing spree, sadly, will soon thin out. Enter cheap, computer-based digital recording. (Hell, enter cheap recording in any medium. A trip to the Port Area thrift shops in Manila, for instance, will get one a decent analog four-track recorder between two-thousand to fourthousand bucks.) Anyone with downloading capabilities—and, ideally, a working pair of ears—can now record, mix, and master their own material within mouse’s reach. As majorlabel artists started getting dropped, a burgeoning do-it-yourself scene was rising up in arms. One of its central figures was a five-piece outfit called Twisted Halo, whose most notable public outburst occurred during their acceptance of the “In the Raw Award” at the NU Rock Awards of 2001. Their song “Brad,” a bittersweet love letter to a fallen fraternity “brod,” was allegedly used without the band’s permission by a major film outfit in one of its sex-oriented releases. “We
will not take this sitting down!” Vin Dancel, the band’s mainman (and doting indie “uncle” to several younger musicians), said with a raised fist. It was not the first time an independent record was released locally—punk compilations under Tommy Tanchanco’s Twisted Red Cross were perhaps early landmarks—but it was in Halo’s wake that a flood of non-label-aligned artists started putting out original material on their own. Even major-label artists whose existence was then in limbo opted for the indie route, most notably Sandwich with Thanks to the Moon’s Gravitational Pull (2003) and the Itchyworms’ with the Buwan CD single a.k.a. And the Worm Jumped Over the Moon (2004). The Cebu scene spearheaded by the likes of Sheila and the Insects and the now-signed Urbandub also invaded the Manila (i.e., mainstream) airwaves. As with all paradoxes in music—“alternative,” for one, ceased being the side-dish to NieveraRivera pop—“indie” did not necessarily exist on its own. Institutions of radio (NU107, Underground Radio 105.9), venues (Club Dredd, Mayrics, Café sa Guijo, Route 196), publications (Pulp, Fudge, as well as a slew of old-school “songhits”), and, well, smaller labels (Terno Recordings and Lighter Records, among others), are helping stoke the fire in different ways. Newer genres, some of them spliced with something else, started springing up as well, among them neo-soul (Chillitees, Sino Sikat?), dance punk (Pedicab, Taken by Cars), “intelligent dance music” (Drip, Daydream Cycle), shoegaze (Bagetsafonik, Ang Bandang Shirley), and folk rock (Peryodiko, Dong Abay), among a host of others. This may be the new OPM: Filipino artists who are always in hot creative pursuit, but who, at the end of the day, have a nagging desire to entertain, or, at the very least, communicate. I think back on that unfortunate covers night, and I figure, “No debts now, except to the craft.” That kind of love should be enough. g
Manila, Enveloped: Alternative, Indie, and the New OPM By aldus santos
May 2009 | balikbayan 25
By rochelle pangilinan | the ajpress
Pragmatism dictates that the
success one achieves is a result of that person’s talent, good sense of ambition, chockfull supply of courage and determination, and lots and lots of hard work (unless, of course, you are one of the cast members of The Hills, which proves that all you need is an extreme craving for public attention, and you’re well on your way to superficial stardom, but then that’s another story). Of course, it cannot be denied that sometimes, Destiny steps in, disrupting even the best laid plans, to command with the sense of urgency usually reserved for soldiers before a battle: “Follow me!” I, on the other hand, stare at Destiny in the face and say “Who are you?” but then, again, that too is another story. If it wasn’t for Destiny, Ryan Cayabyab probably would have been tinkering with the computer keyboard, working for a high-profile accounting firm all these years instead of tinkering with piano keys, working with the greatest artists in the local music scene and performing at the most prestigious venues. On that one Tuesday afternoon, Ryan Cayabyab probably would have been in an Ermenegildo Zegna suit, boring me to tears with his technical knowledge of how SAP works instead of being in casual jeans and white shirt, delighting me with his encyclopedic knowledge of both classical music and American Idol winners (yes, he can name all of the season winners in less than 10 seconds). If it weren’t for Destiny, the world would have never known “Kay Ganda ng Ating Musika.” With an outstanding career in music spanning almost three decades and working with the best artists to have ever graced the music stage, from Pilita Corrales to Sharon Cuneta, to Basil Valdez to Cocoy Laurel, there is no doubt Ryan Cayabyab is a pillar in the music industry. But while Destiny may have played a part in getting Ryan at the top of the success ladder, it was his burning passion for music that started it all. Born Raymundo Cipriano and fondly referred to as Mr. C, it was readily apparent he had potential from the first time he played the piano. “My mother taught me a song called “Me Gustan Todas,” which I learned very easily,” he recalls. “And she was gushing that ang bilis ko raw matuto (I learn so fast).” Learning music was indeed as easy as learning the alphabet for Ryan. His mother was an opera
singer who also taught at the University of the Philippines College of Music in the mid ‘50s up to the mid ‘60s. The Cayabyab household also accepted lady boarders who were students at the UP Conservatory of Music around the same time, so there really was no escape from music for Ryan, who had his first piano recital at the tender age of four. Growing up in a home literally surrounded by music and with the rest of his siblings (Alberto, Melody and Barbara) being musically inclined as well, Ryan remembers it was a typical day where “one minute, somebody was playing the piano, the next minute, somebody was singing.” But his music lessons came to a halt when his mother died. Only six years old at the time, his mother’s dying wish was for her husband to shield the kids from a music career, as it wasn’t exactly an easy profession to be involved in. “She knew what she was talking about because being a musician, it was really difficult for her,” Ryan shares. “Our work is seasonal. There are certain times when there is no work.” Committed to stay true to his mother’s last wish while at the same time following his heart, Ryan continued to play the piano to his heart’s delight, teaching himself with the pieces left behind by their lady boarders. “I spent more time inside the house playing the piano than playing outside because I enjoyed it. I had an affinity for the music I was playing. It was a choice I made very early on,” he says, adding it was not a matter of “giving up” his playtime. “You can’t sacrifice for something you enjoy doing,” he stresses. He insists he had a childhood like that of every other boy, with an ample share of tree-climbing fiascos and neighborhood fistfights.
Photo by Patrick Uy.
When he reached college, Ryan chose to take up accounting in UP, a course similar to his cousins’: banking and finance. Simultaneously, Ryan decided it was a good time to earn on his own as a way of helping his father, a government employee, with the household expenses. Ryan decided to work as a pianist for a bank chorale group. An encounter with Victor “Cocoy” Laurel back in 1972 became what would eventually kick off Ryan’s successful career in music. Cocoy employed Ryan as his musical director and accompanist everywhere he performed, and it didn’t take long for the two to become good friends. Spending time at the Laurel household one night, Cocoy’s father, the late Vice President Salvador “Doy” Laurel (who was Senator at the time), sensing Ryan’s knack for music, pulled him aside and offered him a scholarship to study music. “He told me, ‘Kahit naman ano pwede mong pasukin (you can get into anything), as long as you get the respect and authority you deserve, kahit na ano, if you’re good at it, if you love it, everything else will follow.’” Ryan, who was 18 at the time, wasted no time. The minute he came home, he told his dad of his plans to switch courses—from accounting to music. He has never looked back since. As a student at the UP College of Music, Ryan was afforded with many opportunities, which helped mold his place in the industry. Traveling everywhere in the world with seasoned performers like Pilita Corrales, Basil Valdez and Celeste Legaspi, Ryan realized that it wasn’t only possible for him to have a career in music, he also realized it was possible to live wholly on it. “I’m lucky because the direction I took is music writing, arranging, composition,” he says. “There’s a lot of work in this area because you cannot perform anything without music arrangement.” Ryan also opted to wear the hat of a teacher, as he became a lecturer of Music Theory and Composition in the UP Conservatory of Music in his senior year in 1981 (with all the traveling he did, Ryan didn’t earn his Bachelor in Music, Major in Composition diploma until 1983). Ryan taught at the college for two decades, and it was also in one of his classes where he met his wife, Emmy, who graduated cum laude in Choral Conducting. Their partnership led to the birth of the music school Ryan Cayabyab The Music Studio in Makati in 1986. “We said let’s put up a school na pwedeng pumasok kahit sino (anybody can enrol), those who want to learn how to play music, play the violin, play the piano, without taking up higher studies, a music school for people who want to study music but do not want to go to college to take up music,” he shares. The music studio established another branch in Bohol Avenue in Quezon City in the 1990s but has since transferred to Robinsons Galleria in Ortigas Center in 2006. All these years, they have trained a new generation of young singer-musicians. Ryan and Emmy’s love for music was passed on to their daughter Christina Maria and son Antonio Maria, both of whom had their share of regular Saturday piano lessons at the music studio when they were young kids. Their kids’ passion and drive for music, it seems, came with the genes. “It is more of an aberration if you don’t do what your parents do,” Ryan says. “It’s natural for you to go to that profession, embrace that kind of profession or work or career because you are already familiar
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with it and it seems so easy. You get it without even trying too hard to understand it because parang intuition mo na ‘yun eh (it’s just like intuition).” He maintains that despite all that he has achieved, it is still his family he considers his crowning achievement. “Because in them, the legacy continues, not just the name,” he says. “More importantly, because life is such a rewarding experience, and if you have that family to continue that life force that you carry in you and you see it in them, it becomes even more rewarding. You see something deeper than what you see superficially.” Over the years, Ryan has been a tatay-tatayan (father) to many artists in the industry and has been a first-hand witness to the development of today’s most idolized singers and performers. He has experienced so much in the world of music, he could write a whole opera about it. On that afternoon, in between our talk of lyrical and melodic ideas, he reminisces on the golden age of music when Nicanor Abelardo and Francisco Santiago reigned, mourns the passing of Francis Magalona and ruminates on how much The Eraserheads changed the face of music. Brimming with obvious positivism and excitement, he admits he looks forward to the future of the Filipino music scene, eager to see how the careers of the likes of Sarah Geronimo, Rachel Ann Go and Christian Bautista will flourish and what will come next after people have grown tired of downloading songs off the Net. He reveals he dreams of the day when a Filipino artist wins an Academy Award for Best Musical Score or Best Song, citing Tan Dun (who won for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon back in 2001) and most recently A.R. Rahman (for Slumdog Millionaire) but cites the main dilemma of not being able to fully utilize the rich music we already have and of trying too hard to sound Western. He says this dream is no longer something he holds for himself to attain but believes that many from the younger generation have a similar ambition. Thus, he offers this piece of advice: “We should create our own fusion, blend what is traditionally our style and elevate it to a level which is more accessible for many people.” For these aspiring future legends of music, it is also a wise move to take a cue from Ryan’s wide range of award-winning and internationallyknown works: from theater musicals, choral pieces, commissioned full-length ballets, orchestral pieces to commercial recordings of popular music, film scores and television specials. He has won top prizes in both local and international competitions, received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Awit Awards in 1996 and was a Gawad CCP Awardee for Music in 2004. In that same year, he accepted an offer he couldn’t refuse which meant giving up a longtime dream to migrate with his family to the United States. Ryan became the Executive and Artistic Director of the San Miguel Foundation for the Performing Arts (SMFPA). With Ryan as conductor of the San Miguel Philharmonic Orchestra (SMPO) and the San Miguel Master Chorale (SMMC), they released a total of seven award-winning and topselling albums under Sony-BMG, including the record-breaking Great Filipino Love Songs and Great Original Pilipino Music. Unfortunately, the foundation was disbanded in 2007. In the 1990s, he managed a group that launched into superstardom, Smokey Mountain, which turned out the hits “Kailan” and “Paraiso.” Currently, he manages the Ryan Cayabyab Singers or RCS, a group of seven young adult singers who perform different genres of music: from kundiman to rhythm and blues, from classical to pop. The group embarked on a 12-city US tour last year in cooperation with Gawad Kalinga, an organization that helps build homes for the less fortunate. With all these, there is no need to argue that Ryan has a fulfilled career and so much more, but mention the word “retirement” to him and you can expect a slightly annoyed disagreement. He maintains that retirement is out of the question and still considers himself “a work in progress.” Although proud and overwhelmed with all the accolades and the awards he has attained in his career, he emphasizes that the race he’s in is far from over and that, for him, it actually spans a lifetime. However, he is quick to point out he is not in a race with any other artist but himself. Of course, in our books, he is already a champion. Destiny smiles on this man. g
puno ang langit ng bituin at kay lamig pa ng hangin sa ‘yong tingin ako’y nababaliw giliw at sa awitin kong ito sana’y maibigan mo ibubuhos ko ang buong puso ko sa isang munting harana para sa’yo – Harana, Parokya ni Edgar
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Uso pa ba ang harana? This is the
first line in Parokya ni Edgar’s chart-topping song “Harana,” which has become, to say the least, the emblematic Pinoy love song towards the end of the 20th century – well, I think second only to Eraserhead’s “Ang Huling El Bimbo.” They say that nostalgia is a sin (especially for postcolonialists). That the past, is a doubleedged sword both for remembering the good old days and the wounds and pains of yesteryears. For me, however, reminiscing is a free journey to our past, our history and heritage no matter how painful or joyful it is. The treasures we find are our legacy we keep for today and would pass on in the years to come. One such thing I sorely and surely miss(ed) is harana. I belong in the 90s and harana is just a vocabulary which denotes to sing a song to someone we love. Just like a typical harana we also used the guitar, but in addition to that we had the keyboard, harmonica or any instrument. But we didn’t sing the kundimans. We had our own rendition of love songs from Ogie Alcasid, Janno Gibbs, Martin Nievera, Gary Valenciano, Guns and Roses, Bon Jovi, Air Supply to name a few.
is performed for various occasions, especially in courtship then harana becomes the appropriate term. The lines of the song are so poetic and melodious that it can be read as a lyrical poem of love. It is performance, an act of professing love with hands gesturing above the starry night, and a monologue of promises – sweet and enticing to the young maiden’s ears. Harana is also a presentation of the self, for it is in courtship that the character of the suitor reveals himself. According to Dr. Antonio Hila, a music historian based at De La Salle University, it was during the 50s and 60s that the vestiges of harana could still be seen and heard in the countryside. The 70s of course was the era of Manila Sound and the beginning of Original Pilipino Music (OPM). Today, the harana and the kundiman have become history.
A cultural praxis and an artform Harana is the Pinoy romantic rendition of love (the sweetness of it), poetry, performance and the self in music. I would say serenade is a poor translation because harana is more than a gesture or musical piece sung to express love for someone. Harana is both a cultural praxis and an art form of expressing love in music. The musical form is called kundiman but once this
Nights of harana to remember Our National Artist for Literature Dr. Bienvenido Lumbera has his own story of courtship and harana as he observed it during the olden days in Lipa, Batangas. He would attest to it that for the young gentlemen, singing and playing the guitar were enough ingredients for a perfect harana.
The knights of harana
The night has a thousand ears By Rhod v. nuncio
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Smitten by the power
Harana is never without courtship. For lovers, of harana, what the young man wished for was it is made from heaven. On the one hand, it is that for the charming lady to glance at him out of through this expression of faith, sincerity and the window. And so, thus she did. According to love a young man introduces himself and asks for Lumbera, the young balladeers would be invited parental consent to start the courtship, while the by the young woman’s family for a drink or snack, young maiden on the other hand acts propitiously then the singing would continue inside the house. and gracefully. “Not all haranas When asked if went to courtship, Fanny’s sister tied the sometimes it would knot with the guy end up just for fun,” who serenaded way Lumbera recalled. back then, the answer The conventional was no. love songs intended So romantic for the harana its power of contained words enchantment, such as “dungawin” harana can easily (to look out of the swoon and win the window) or “buksan hearts of many. ang bintana” (open But for a discerning the window), “irog young lady, ko” (my love), etc. presentation counts, When wooing and yet character is sweet words afloat another story. the heart of the the Photo courtesy of charmaineclamor.com man, a parting song was played before leaving A repertoire of kundiman the house. Next time around, the young woman Let’s go down memory lane. My most would wait again, again for the songs and beyond unforgettable kundiman is “Bituing Marikit,” lyrics these lovely songs. by S. Angeles and music arranged by Nicanor Lumbera takes pride in having seen and Abelardo. experienced the harana of his hometown and laments also its demise nowadays. Even Dr. Bituing marikit, sa gabi ng buhay Fanny A. Garcia, an award-winning writer and Ang bawat kislap mo’y ligaya ang taglay fictionist who wrote Sandaang Damit and the Yaring aking palad, iyong patnubayan National Book Award-winning Erick Slumbook, At kahit na sinag, ako’y bahaginan recounted the days when her sister Luding was being serenaded way back then in Malabon: “It Natanim sa puso ko yaong isang pag-ibig was past 10 pm I cannot recall exactly. We were Napinakasasamba sa loob ng dibdib all asleep, I was with my sisters lying down, deep Sa iyong luningning, laging nasasabik sleep, on a banig in our sala.” Ikaw ang pangarap, Bituing marikit Then suddenly humming of voices, a guitar accompaniment, and a love song were in the air. This was not the song I sang for my girlfriend. Vividly in her memories, she reminisced: “My It was the musical piece we sang in our choral maiden older sister Luding would have to stand up competition in high school. Yes, I sing or did sing and shrug me to wake up and see who were the during my teenage years. I was part of the bass young lads serenading on an untimely hour. We voices in the choir. That piece and the powerful would wait still for few lines of the song and make voices of our choir made us win the grand prize them wait too to test their patience and sincerity, in the competition held in the plaza beside the then giggling would break out intermittently. majestic church of Our Lady of Immaculate My sister would open our wide capiz-laden Conception in Dasmariñas, Cavite. Since then, the window and from there, we would see the young song has become a mantra and has been humming gentlemen singing at the front yard of our old between my ears. wooden house.” Another kundiman is “Dahil Sa Iyo” (written The young Fanny then was also excited and by Dominador Santiago and music by Mike a bit irritated because she was made to wake up Velarde). The song’s gist is an undying devotion late in the evening and more than that, to appear of love and the self to someone. Even the together with her sister Luding before the guests. legendary Nat King Cole had his own version of In this context, the gentlemen seemed to be the song. in all smiles especially the one who was singing This song became a conjugal love song of from his heart, unmindful whether he sang out former President Ferdinand Marcos and First of tune or his guitarist strummed a wrong note Lady Imelda Marcos during their heydays in or two. No, the suitor and his barkada were not Malacañang Palace and was last heard of in the threatened even with an untainted white arinola, same palace in the twilight day of their regime on but instead they were invited to the house. February 25, 1986.
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Dahil sa `yo nais kong mabuhay Dahil sa `yo hanggang mamatay Dapat mong tanungin Wala ng ibang giliw Puso ko’y tanungin Ikaw at ikaw rin Dahil sa `yo ako’y lumigaya Pagmamahal ay alayan ka Kung tunay man ako Ay alipinin mo Ang lahat sa buhay ko’y Dahil sa `yo I had worn yellow – the color of Ninoy and Cory, which my parents wanted me to wear on that momentous day. The song became the farewell song of the Marcoses and it signaled the end of conjugal dictatorship in the Philippines. The last kundiman in my list is “Maalaala Mo Kaya” (lyrics and music by Constancio de Guzman). Who wouldn’t notice this famous song? Thanks to ABS-CBN and its top-rating drama show as its namesake and which has it as its theme song too. Sampaguita Pictures in 1954 had a movie version with the same title starring the love team of Rogelio de la Rosa and Carmen Rosales. In the movie, there was a scene where De la Rosa’s and Rosales’ characters were singing and exchanging endearments in a love song. It was like harana in motion picture. Maalaala mo kaya Ang sumpa mo sa akin Na ang pag-ibig mo ay Sadyang di magmamaliw Kung nais mong matanto Buksan ang aking puso At tanging larawan mo Ang doo’y nakatago. This kundiman begs the question, do you still remember? For the young generations today, MTV is everywhere and not just love songs (no more kundimans) but an eclecticism of global music. Quintessentially Filipino In this contemporary world, the kundimans are gone, sad to say, and soon enough Filipino music may be wiped out for good. The revival of new Filipino music may offer new hope but according to Dr. Hila, on OPM “only the lyrics are Filipino, the rest (of the musical elements) are not.” Indeed, today’s music killed the kundimans, too. Music is continuously evolving depending on the taste and cultural milieu of the present generation. And for me, all that is left is the humming between my ears with the feelings I always wanted to capture from yesteryears. The haranas and kundimans are memories of the past, both a cultural praxis signifying a rich tradition in music and an expression of love quintessentially Filipino—now and then, here and everywhere. g
Cely Bautista, the Jukebox Queen, with basketball legend Carlos Loyzaga.
The Mabuhay Singers were going to do the intermission for one of those bigtime convocations that we have in Ateneo. A surprised senior colleague blurts out loud, 50
ye rs a
the mabuha y of si
“My God, buhay pa ba ang Mabuhay Singers?” By D.M. Reyes
The rest of us in the lounge just simply holler with much laughter. A dessert fork falls, an apple rolls, a polvoron crumbles before someone could swallow it, and everybody knows that this is the lunch hour’s wittiest chunk. It makes sense to ask out loud. After all, it’s been 50 years since our town fiestas first livened up to the rhythmic flourish of their Pandangguhan. And the old radio listeners’ Tia Dely is also gone, too ancient and gnarled for most head bangers to remember.
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s er g n
The singers performing at a 1964 Rondalla championship.
At seven, I would sit
under the upturned wooden cover of my mother’s sewing machine, listening to the Mabuhay Singers on lazy afternoons after the half-day shift. The radio would be playing while my mother sewed yet another sundress for herself and for my baby sister.
Cely Bautista
That was in 1975, more than thirty years ago, with strains of La Bella Filipina, Malinac Lay Labi, Antipolo, Kung Kita’y Kapiling, Habang Buhay, Lahat ng Araw, Tingnan Natin, and Dalagang Pilipina playing on my childhood’s imported Grundig radio. And for many years, the upbeat melody of Filipinas intrigued me as I listened hard to muster its lyrics. The Mabuhay Singers could be heard everywhere—fiestas, weddings, community celebrations, even as opening number for big-time beauty pageants like Binibining Pilipinas, or high society’s haute couture happenings.
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So, indeed, buhay pa nga ba ang Mabuhay Singers? If you want proof, troop to the Philippine Information Agency Building in Visayas Avenue on a Wednesday evening. Without fail, you’ll run into a threesome group of lively old women (they’re all in their seventies now, each one boasts without care). But, bristling as the long-recorded voices that ring in fresh re-issues of their old albums, it takes little to prod this 50-year ensemble to go live. For the rest of the evening (they crooned, croaked, and crooned some more until the clock struck twelve) their music echoes with the incredible feeling of youth. Like the mythical Jacques Brel, the Mabuhay Singers are alive and well and raring to serenade us still. The present batch has seven members, with about half representing the pros. Raye Lucero, Cely Bautista, and Carmen Camacho form the veteran female trio. Peping de Guzman, perhaps the last Kudiman King standing, is still there, along with youthful recruits Marlon Marifosque, Jimmy Salonga, & Pol Chicano. All the time, the last three are also at work on their guitars, strumming the lilting, accomplished harmonies that serve as accompaniment to the group’s repertoire. Mike Coroza, bemedalled Pinoy poet, has them as his star singers in his Sunday-night Harana ng Puso, aired over DWBR. But the group does its advanced tapings on Wednesday nights. Mike said that I could drop by and when I walked in, Sonia M. Roco was there, too, cheering and watching over everyone like the quintessential mother hen. Mrs. Roco walks in and out, quietly rehearsing the one number that she had picked out for the episode. She’ll be doing “Galawgaw,” and when it’s time for her to rehearse with the combo, the three
ladies close ranks and smother her with some last-minute style coaching. Outside, the studio hallway holds a gaggle of Mrs. Roco’s helpers and driver. Whether or not the stars come out, she brings herself to show up every Wednesday night as the group’s tireless backer. Week after week, she hauls in their simple repast and lots of drinks to keep the singers on their feet. There’s even sweet wine, served warm that night, and Carmen Camacho feels that a glass is all that she needs, to soothe her over-stretched vocal chords. The mood is inspiring and sweeps me along as I peak in and catch the group rehearsing their opening number. The soundproof studio feels warm, as the voices rise and blend in welllined harmonies. The guitarists steal in with lilting phrases that fill the measures, where the breathless voices savor their pause.
The Mabuhay Singers singing at an event at the Quirino Grandstand.
When it comes to keeping time and hitting the right notes, the three ladies—keepers of the musical harmonies and styles—are such strict taskmasters. Their ears are sharp, and they would halt the number and insist on redoing a phrase until everybody gets it right—note, tempo, passacaglia, improviso, and what not.
Photos courtesy of Michael Coroza.
For this episode, they have chosen a kuratsa from Bohol, which they would sing without snags in the native language. Their training, one finds out, did not come from music school. Except for Raye Lucero who took courses at the UP Conservatory of Music, each one draws purely from memory. After all, there’s the discipline of their 50-year singing engagement. Perhaps, they’re the last fortunate ensemble to receive sustained vocal coaching from the great music maestro, Leopoldo Silos. For the longest time, Silos was their conductor, arranger, and orchestra master. He doted on them, pouring in all that he knew about Philippine folk music and scoring the fine harmonization for their repertoire’s 2, 3, or 4-part folk choruses—each voice a resonant territory meant for just one or two to sing.
Amazingly, their minds are an archive of the blendings for which they keep no notations. As they rehearse, you could feel the three girls working back, trying to recall how Silos lined up the voicings, bringing them back as each remembers the lines, working anew where they buckle or falter, until the piece is close to how they recorded it once. They listen raptly to the male members, while delivering their tenor, baritone, and bass bars. And sometimes, the guys are not so lucky, so they get a reprimand for scoring the pieces shoddily. They would run the lines repeatedly, and relying on ear work (that flair for oido which tells the gifted from the tineared), they would repeat and polish as Master Silos scored, played, and recorded the pieces. And remarkable how three guitars are all they have to duplicate what an orchestra of piano,
Through Mike, I’ve done some sleuthing and am aghast to find out that, from each taping, the Singers collect a take home that could hardly cover their taxi fare, as the meter ticks forth and back. And it seems like none of the members stay in Quezon City proper. Carmen pulls out a trove of pictures and clippings from their heyday gigs. “You really dressed up then,” I compliment her and suddenly, I’m curious to know more about their resplendent outfits and the fashion czar who dresses them up. “We pay for our own costumes,” Carmen smiles, pointing to pictures of their various evening wear and elaborate ternos. She says that a friend cuts the patterns. Then, the three ladies would pay for the fabric, accessories, and all. Each one is her own modista, as they stitch together the clothes themselves.
Still, the Mabuhay Singers, posing for a record cover.
But Polding Silos has since moved to the United States and the Mabuhay Singers feel orphaned, yearning for their lost master. It seems, too, that they have lost contact with him, dying to hear about just any rare performance that Mr. Silos has directed or scored abroad.
violins, cellos, flutes, brass, and basses had done inside the studio during the peak of their radio days. Carmen Camacho pours me a glass of warm wine and we both take a sip and savor it for its sweetness. She’s grateful that there’s something on hand to soothe her sore throat.
It seems like art is all for these ladies and I find it simply astounding that they would gamely spend their last coin to dress up. But beauty and dignity surely go together. Please take note that, for all their marvelous singing, not a single member now boasts of being a millionaire. May 2009 | balikbayan 37
“Never mind,” Carmen chuckles, “we get to keep the gowns, anyway.” She says it with no bitterness. In all of this, how can one not be won over by the dignity of artists whose pure love for their music is the ballast that allows them to soar on wings of song, whether on stage or inside the lowly studio. Here’s more to rue about: these days, the Mabuhay Singers collect no royalties because they received outright fees then, for every record that they cut. Raye Lucero shares with me quite excitedly that, the next day, they are showing up in Malacañang Palace to receive a Presidential distinction. Thrilled as they are, no one in the group seems to know what big-time citation they’re getting. “Basta may award (As far as I know, there’s an award),” Raye chuckles, a little apologetic, too, as Mike ribs her about wanting to be invited to the Palace. Late in the night, Cely Bautista is still at work, keeping a record of the songs that they have sequenced for next Sunday’s airing. But she is the one who tells me that among their most unforgettable performances was to sing in Long Island for the opening of the JFK Airport. “Oh, we did just about eight songs. But people stopped and put their hands together in applause. All those coming in had a beautiful smile on their face. We also had some of our kababayan flying in. I caught one or two of them, with tears on their eyes, touched by familiar tunes from the homeland.” Last November, the Mabuhay Singers marked their 50th anniversary as a singing ensemble. Sonia Roco was deadset about celebrating. She raised the curtains for the group to hold a 2-day concert at Phil-Am Life Theater. Sure, the Mabuhay Singers would belt out all their most-requested songs. But Mike Coroza also poured in good work, writing up the tribute script. He cleverly wove into it history, personal anecdotes, Balagtas-style poetry, and aspects of our Pinoy music history to accord its past and present members the most fitting homage. In upbeat fashion, Mrs. Roco delivered the lyrical annotations and the Mabuhay Singers gave a riveting two-hour concert, earning applause that gradually grew louder and louder still, as the night wore on. Some were feeling a bit edgy; anxious whether these 70-something troupers would be able to hold out their breath and save their formidable musical line-up. But they sang, joke, and swayed gamely. And from balitaw to danza, from balse to the hard-hitting kundiman, the Mabuhay Singers enthralled their crowd, inspiring them, in turn, to honor the group with a standing ovation. History tells us that Don Manoling Villar once had it on impulse for his company’s Tres Rosas and Lovers’ Trio to sing together. Their combined voices proved to be a good idea, disproving the natural gusto of stars to prevail and to let their majestic voice dominate in group performances. The ensemble featured an all-star
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cast, but each one had the natural gift to blend, seeking his or her own level of choral harmony, and coming together to produce beautiful music, as it were. So, do we have ten thousand reasons for saying, “Long live the Mabuhay Singers”? One thing sure is that they’re bequeathing to our recording history an impressive bulk of Philippine folk songs. Smug as someone willing to bet all his millions, Mike Coroza tallies the group’s discography to be at least a thousand songs in the folk idiom. Through these albums, the Mabuhay Singers have also set the trend for popularizing our melodious folk repertoire. Who can ever forget the New Yorker from Tondo who used to frown upon these folk songs, thinking them tacky and downright out of place? But the Mabuhay Singers were the first to regard them as a sweet wellspring for drinking in our heritage. Yet another point is that, through their repertoire, they have broadened the style of our folk songs to accommodate harmonization and choral stylization. All gusto, they have performed our folk ditties—songs that were sometimes looked down or cast on the wayside, at a time when the taste for Broadway hits, torch songs, and American rock and roll tended to downplay anything proudly Pinoy. And along the way, they have let our folk music ring clear, timeless in the voices of their
youth. Resonant and unfading, the Mabuhay Singers have given us back our proud sense of being Filipino, though our fiestas, harana, and pilgrimages to Antipolo may disappear. So, in a toast that should wear well, go spin those shining silver discs, and under the blue skies, clink our glasses, raise our voices, and say Mabuhay! g
Carmen Camacho belts out a song in a political rally in Camiling, Tarlac in 1965.
By Joel Pablo Salud
It was the turn of the 20th century, and
Louisiana, with its expatriate culture, was to be the cradle of what would later be hailed as the home of the American folk blues. Huddie William Ledbetter, an African-American imprisoned for knifing a “white man”, was to later transform himself into a “musicianer”—a musician of some renown—adept at flirting with the mandolin, piano, violin, concertina, and the signature Stella 12-stringed guitar where he played “Goodnight, Irene” and “Titanic”, as in the 1912 ship tragedy. A burly black man with droopy pools for eyes and a clutch of short coiled hair, he will later in life be known as “Leadbelly”, master of the folk blues and one whose music revolved around black gospel songs, blues about women, and folk renditions on prison, cowboys, liquor, racism, sailors, cattle herding, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Adolf Hitler, Jean Harlow, and even Howard Hughes. His famous foot stomping and guitar playing were believed by some as the first rhythm and pulse that would soon be tagged as jazz. 40 balikbayan | May 2009
Thousands of kilometers away, at about the same raucous time of war and invasion, the American occupation was taking place in a lesser known archipelago in Southeast Asia. Some African-American soldiers had brought their slow, listless blues with them to the Philippines, which was recently sold by Spain as a colony for US$20 million, including Cuba and Puerto Rico under the Treaty of Paris. The convolutions of war had brought about new ideas for lyrics for the blues—worship of God, military duty, leisure and entertainment, baptism and funeral rites—and the African-American contingent was only too willing to share them with Filipinos. Fact is, according to jazzman Richie Quirino, the music “Negro Spiritual” was to be the Filipino’s final cry for liberty under Spain, and later, the United States. “One such African-American, David Fagan, who deserted the American forces, was known to have enjoyed wine, women and singing the blues and Negro spirituals to his Filipino counterparts.” Apparently, armed revolt wasn’t always the Filipino’s way toward freedom. Avoiding heavy taxes and forced labor back home, some Filipinos went as stowaways in ships bound for America. This brought about what is recently discovered as a late 18th-century Filipino community in New Orleans, in particular, Louisiana, where the climate was very much like our own. As the population grew, so did the Filipinos who were exposed to the music and culture of New Orleans. Proof of this reality was a melody composed in 1910 in Louisiana by an anonymous musician—Belle of the Philippines. The 1920s roared by with as much fanfare as Woodstock, with skirts flying in the beat of the Charlston, and technological advancements such as cars and radio were at their heyday. It was jazz, jazz and jazz everywhere one goes, and the dancing—as in Swing Street New York—hardly ever stopped. In fact, the Great Depression of 1929 did little to halt the heaving and swelling beat of jazz, let alone the flow of bootlegged liquor. In 1930, along the border of a thriving black community near a railroad junction in Stockton, California was a street where “Little Manila” was built—the site of the first documented Filipino-American jazz community in the United States. One could just imagine the Rizal Club, The Pelican Club and the Gim Ling Chinese Restaurant going wild as jazz was played till the wee hours. This was where the Stockton-based Fil-American pianist Flip Nunez managed a successful career in the jazz scene. At around the same time in the Philippines, Filipino innovators of jazz were beginning to make waves. Richie says, “The American jazz Tree has branched out into many forms and genres; from the Blues and Negro Spirituals, to Ragtime, to Dixieland, Swing, Bebop, Cool Jazz, Latin-jazz, Progressive jazz, Avant-gard jazz, Fusion and even Acid-jazz. Filipinos,
Maestro Angel Mathias Peña’s musical career has spanned more than 70 years. As one of the first developers of what has come to be known as Pinoy Jazz, Maestro Peña penned a jazz orchestral work based on the Igorot lullaby, “Bagbagtulambing”. After several decades following the war, Peña settled in Hawaii where he served for 20 years as the principal arranger and second stand-up bassist for the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra. Photo courtesy of Collis Davis.
too, were innovating the sound, like pianistarrangers Ariston Avelino and Rafael Artigas, both arrangers who merged popular folk music with elements of Swing. Pianist-composer, Mike Velarde, of “Dahil Sa Iyo” fame, composed the tune “Ugoy-Ugoy Blues” in 1935. “Ugoy” is a Tagalog word meaning to swing an infant. Because the Blues is considered the backbone of jazz, this piece of trivia could only lead to the conjecture that this was probably the first original jazz composition written by a Filipino. Although it is true that Maestro Federico Elizalde, who composed “Sugar Step” in 1928, is considered a Filipino jazz icon, he does not have a drop of Filipino blood in his veins.” The Filipino’s penchant for using folk culture in our search for our unique jazz sound was no different from Leadbelly’s attempt at melodious
story-telling. Narding Aristorenas’ jazz fantasy on the popular folk song, “Planting Rice” was proof of this, as well as “Bagbagtulambing”, a composition inspired by an Igorot lull-a-bye penned by Maestro Angel Peña. The piece was given a more symphonic treatment—classicaljazz—which impressed Dr. Ramon Tapales, dean of the University of the Philippines Conservatory of Music, to the extent that he recommended that a jazz program be introduced into the curriculum with Angel in the faculty. Richie recalls, “During the Fusion jazz years of the mid 1970s, Jim Paredes of the Apo Hiking Society fame, produced two albums under the JEM Records label called Pinoy Jazz I and II. The first one was guitarist-arranger Eddie Munji’s version of popular folk songs done in a Latin-jazz and fusion-esque manner.
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Maestro Federico Elizalde, a Spanish-American mestizo, accompanies Nemesio Regalado on clarinet sometime after WWII. Elizalde was best known for his work as leader of the Anglo-American Band that played at the ballroom of London’s Savoy Hotel in 1928. Maestro Regalado lead a band in Singapore as early as 1932 and later became an endorser of Conn wind instruments and was the top salesman at Manila’s Lyric Music House.
The second was pianist-composer-arranger Ryan Cayabyab’s Roots to Routes, very much inspired by the grooves and harmonic-melodic textures of the music of Weather Report.” The 1990s carried on the work of integrating Philippine folk and ethnic culture into jazz, fulfilling our initial quest to create our own sound. Bob Aves and wife Grace Nono had forged an authentic Filipino jazz sound through years of experimentation and research using ethnic beats sourced from cultural communities from the mountains Kalinga-Apayao to as far down South in Muslim Mindanao. Their style of jazz has been performed and appreciated in festivals from Berlin, Paris, Monaco, Barcelona and Beijing. Richie himself brings to mind one such ethnic display of Filipino jazz: “Filipinos are known to be naturally gifted. I have no doubt in my mind that Pinoys reacted favorably to this new sound, a far flung from the rigid rudiments of European traditional music brought about by centuries of Spanish rule. Filipinos embraced this new and free music. One such account by Dr. Ramon Sison, who remembered the music he heard as a young boy in the province of Ilocos Sur, mentions that the music played by illiterate musicians during funeral processions in Ilocos Sur, echoed the melody of a dirge played by black musicians in New Orleans on the same occasion. A 1926 cartoon published in the Independent, depicting the death of the Spanish language and the onset of the English language and jazz on Philippine shores is more proof that jazz started to flourish.” There were still those, however, who stuck it out with traditional jazz tunes, such as Sunday Reantaso in 1912 who formed the Philippine Vaudaville Stars, also the The Oriental Syncopators, led by composer Santiago Suarez, who eventually toured San Francisco in 1922, Vitang Escobar reigned at the Savoy where the troupe was called the Nifties. At the Lux, and later at the Palace, were “Electric Jazz”
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and the Davilas, Enrique and Consuelo, whose company was Spanish. Those who recall the Grand Opera House would surely remember Cebuano King of Jazz Lou Borromeo or “Borromeo Lou” spilling his original “My Beautiful Philippines” from his fingertips; later on, “King of Jazz Piano” Ping Joaquin performed in ocean liners that plied around Asia. He specialized in “Ragtime”, which featured the “stride bass,” characterized by the pianist’s left hand doing the bass and rhythm. But it wasn’t all glit and glam for jazz artists as the 1960s came to a close and the 1970s began to hail Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and rock music of the Woodstock era as the new sound. Richie maintains that many jazz musicians worldwide suffered and had to resort to playing music they did not excel in or particularly enjoy. A lot of compromises had to be made, he discloses, but this did not deter the “die-hards” who carried on the tradition into new grounds in the early 1970s. Jazz Fusion, the marriage of jazz with rock music, evolved eventually into the popular stream. Following this in the early 1980s was “Smooth or Pop Jazz”. But traditional jazz did not die a natural death. New Orleans native, Wynton Marsalis, who topped both the classical and jazz performance charts, spearheaded the renaissance of traditional jazz into contemporary times. At this day and age of Internet connectivity, GPRS and hot-spot WiFi, the jazz scene has not shied away from taking the reins of the technology age. Pinoyjazz E-group was put up by Jim Ayson in 1998, which proved to be a unifying force that attracted musicians
and aficionados from all over the world. In 2003, The Jazz Society of the Philippines was created—with its website jazzsociety.ph, and the production of numerous jazz festivals that included performances, workshops and clinics, symposiums, film screenings etc., thus spreading the awareness and appreciation of this much loved genre. Other organizations later sprouted like PI Jazz.Org, The Jazz Society of Bacolod, and Jazzphil-USA (based in America), that contributed further to the promotion of Pinoy jazz. Others, naturally, followed suit: Candid Records and Filipino-French owned Jewelmer, have contributed generously by way of presenting their own festivals and by producing and pushing local artists into the International scene. The United States, German, French, Japanese, Italian, and Mexican embassies have been very supportive in the local scene by way of bringing in their artists and sharing their music. “There is a bright future for musicians engaged in jazz. I see a phenomenal resurgence and I believe that in a matter of time the Philippines will regain its stature as the leading country in Asia. It will take great effort and I think the spirit of the Filipino will achieve this dream,” Richie concludes. Jazz, from Richie Quirino’s account of its history, has everything to do with success by sheer perseverance. It has thrived under the most excruciating of conditions (in fact, it was born in one)—in Leadbelly’s poverty and prison, the Great Depression, World War II, the Woodstock era of drugs and rock and roll, and now the global recession. You ask why? Trace its roots: there was a power behind and beyond the music and the cries of the Negro Spiritual, needless to say. And giving credence to Beethoven’s mysterious “My Immortal Beloved”, it is by this power, I believe, that jazz shall live on. g
Lito Molina, alto saxophonist, was prominent in the club scene of the 1960s and ‘70s. He appeared at the USIS’s (United States Information Service) Thomas Jefferson Center, formerly located at 395 Senator Gil Puyat Avenue (Makati City) until the late 1990s. Photo courtesy of Richie Quirino.
As a little girl
traveling with her parents on Victory Liner buses plying the Subic-Manila route, Charmaine Clamor sang “Chiribiribin” and “Dios Te Salve Maria” to passengers, “whether they liked it or not.” Many years later, here she was on a Friday night at the green room of the Catalina Jazz Club in Hollywood, one of the premier joints in the West Coast. While Charmaine ate a very light dinner of asparagus soup and crackers, folks were filling up the main room. They chose to be here – they do like to hear Charmaine dish “jazzipino,” her acclaimed fusion of Filipino music, languages and instruments with American jazz, and her own take of soul standards. While having supper or cocktails, the crowd stared with expectation at the stage, empty for now except for the musicians’ instruments, but its red carpet and curtain backdrop, bathed in a soft glow by a spotlight, evoked a sense of anticipation for tonight’s show. The performer who was about to command that stage was gracious and relaxed in the green room she shared with her trio of ace musicians dressed in sharp dark suits – Dominic Thiroux, Filipino-Americans Tateng Katindig and Abe Lagrimas, Jr. Charmaine herself wore a black and white gown, capiz earrings and bracelets from the Philippines and two necklaces. She had a simple, modest air about her. She guessed that this was her twelfth time to perform at the Catalina, where jazz luminaries like Dizzie Gillespie, Wynton Marsalis, Carmen McRae, Betty Carter, Joe Williams, Art Blakey, Chick Corea and Dee Dee Bridgewater have enthralled audiences. Trailblazing the way for Pinoy music artists, Charmaine, through her lavishly praised Flippin’ Out CD, is the first Filipino artist to place on both the world music and traditional jazz music charts. That album was anchored by her interpolation of “My Funny Valentine,” in which she sings “You’re my funny brown Pinay” and manages to inject Magellan and how centuries of colonial rule made some of us, including herself as a girl growing up in Subic, Zambales, try “every cream and soap to erase or lighten my skin.” The song has become her signature song, a rallying cry that has endeared her at American radio shows and is now a staple at her live shows. She solidified her stature and growing fan base with the CD My Harana: A Filipino Serenade, a collection of romantic songs in various dialects, which also made the world music top 10 charts.
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Clamors Charmaine America
for
(and ‘jazzipino’) By ruben v. nepales
Photo courtesy of charmaineclamor.com
Charmaine’s manager-husband, Michael Konik, himself an entertainer and a book author, entered the room and proudly announced that Viva Records has just inked a deal with her to make albums in the Philippines. The singer, who used to blend voices with Michael in a harmony group called Crescendo, accepted the congratulations from everyone in the room with a smile and a “Thank you.” Charmaine then sat by a chair where she had earlier applied her own make-up. She shared her ritual before each show: “About 15 minutes before the show, I spend time alone getting into my space. At first, I concentrate only on what I’m feeling in my body, and in my breath. Nothing mental. Then I think about why I sing, what I’m trying to communicate with my voice. Finally, shortly before show time, I concentrate on my opening number and try to actively inhabit that song’s character, as an actor might. The goal is, by the time I hit the stage, I’m ready to share without any inhibitions.” As soon as she hit the stage after her introduction, Charmaine was indeed charmingly uninhibited. She transformed herself into a jazz enchantress – slim body undulating sensuously to the rhythm of her trio, her deep, sultry contralto voice caressing “Doodlin’.” It didn’t take long for Charmaine to inject Tagalog riffs. In her second number, she adlibbed excerpts of “Bayang Magiliw” into Duke Ellington’s “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” and she made it work. Later, with Abe adroitly playing the ukulele, she launched into “Minamahal Kita,” “Sa Ugoy ng Duyan” (a fiercely personal and moving version) and “Dahil sa Iyo.” As her predominantly American audiences at Catalina have done in the past, tonight’s crowd lapped up these Filipino ditties. Aided by the freewheeling form of jazz, and her own spontaneous style, Charmaine made singing Tagalog songs in a mainstream American club seem like it was the most natural thing to do. With her graceful hands, she subtly evoked Filipino folk dances as she delivered these Philippine classics. At the end of the set, which included her sexy version of “Sugar in my Bowl,” many in the audience stood up and clapped while clamoring for more and shouting “Bravo!” She went back onstage and obliged with “Ay Kalisud.” A few days later, Charmaine reflected about that show, her career and future. “I always set
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goals for myself whenever I perform, and that night, I achieved many of my objectives,” she said. “I felt relaxed and focused, and I had so much fun connecting with the audience, getting lost in the music and creating fresh sounds onstage with my wonderful trio. We performed some new material that we’re preparing for our upcoming jazzipino album. I’m thrilled that we received great feedback from the audience.” We remarked that although we’ve watched her several times, we were still struck at the ease with which she segued into songs or snippets in Tagalog and various Philippine dialects at a top LA club like Catalina and at how the audience responded enthusiastically. “What you’ve described is one of my lifelong musical goals, and I’m so proud that we have come so far in the United States,” she responded. “Introducing and familiarizing mainstream audiences to my beautiful Filipino native culture – maybe that’s my biggest accomplishment as a Pinay artist. The same
seems to dig it!” Audiences everywhere especially dig “My Funny Brown Pinay” and the crowd at that Catalina show was no exception. They listened intently when she intoned the opening line: “Take a look at my skin.” As her band provided earthy, jazzy background, she purred, “It’s brown…Take a look at my nose. It’s flat. I’m singing for all my sisters growing up, thinking they don’t look right. ’Cause they ain’t white, scrubbing with papaya soap to make it light… (But) you are beautiful. Maganda ka. Ikaw ay Pilipino.” “I’ve received tons of inspiring feedback about “My Funny Brown Pinay,” not only from Filipinos but from different nationalities all over the world!” she exclaimed. “It’s amazing how this song bridges our usual cultural divides. For example, a teacher wrote this: “As a high school teacher struggling to educate and sensitize my students to the psychological, global and historical consequences of white supremacy, this beautiful woman captures the essence of the struggle with much love and virtuosity. All my students will receive this gift from Charmaine Clamor.” “At many of my concerts, young brown Pinays come to thank me after the show with tears in their eyes,” she continued. “They tell me that it’s the first time they’ve heard a song express the feelings they experience on a daily basis. To be able Photo by Janet Susan R. Nepales to inspire and uplift my experience goes on radio, as well: nothing sisters – these are priceless moments.” makes me prouder than for our music and It helps that Charmaine personally languages to have international appeal.” experienced the brown skin stigma and She added, “My favorite comments come then the eventual realization that brown is from Filipinos who are attending their first beautiful. She professed, “Because of what Charmaine Clamor concert and aren’t sure I experienced as a young child growing up what exactly to expect. They’ve heard that this in the Philippines as a brown (kayumanggi) Pinay has a nice voice or something, and that Pinay – being teased as a negrita and being she can sing jazz like an American girl, but they ashamed of my physical features – and may not be aware of how Filipino my approach coming full circle, finally appreciating and is. These newcomers get so surprised when I accepting my indigenous physical attributes, break into a jazzipino or harana song. I see their I have a burning desire to inspire my fellow reactions from the stage – initial shock, then a kayumanggi sisters – and brothers! – in every scream of pleasure, then pride!” possible way that being a brown, flat-nosed “I am not trying to be overtly political or Filipino is beautiful!” revolutionary,” she clarified with a smile and a Speaking with obvious passion for the topic, crinkle of her nose (her endearing mannerism Charmaine stressed, “Even more important onstage). “I’m just being myself, and I make no for me, being a brown Pinay goes beyond the apologies for thinking Tagalog and Bisaya and physical characteristics. I was proud to be a all the other dialects are inherently musical and Filipino before I became a recording artist, but beautiful. Even if my approach wasn’t popular now that I’m able to touch millions of listeners with non-Filipinos, I’d still do it, because I can’t with my music, I want to know more about my deny what’s in my soul. Lucky for me, everyone culture and share it with the world.”
A key component of Charmaine’s success in her shows and albums is that she taps top-rate Pinoy musicians. In addition to Tateng and Abe, she has generously shared the spotlight with Richard Ickard, singer Mon David (who was in the audience that evening, nodding appreciatively at the cool music emanating from the stage) and others. “I have profound admiration for all these artists,” she said with conviction. “They have fervor for mastering their musical craft – and this is why they’re world class musicians. Plus, they’re so generous in sharing their wisdom with those who are eager to listen and learn. I’m known in the Filipino community for not performing with “minus one” tracks. I only work with live accompaniment because I value that magical dialogue with the musicians on stage. We respond to each other’s creativity, and for me that’s a great pleasure and an honor.” She expressed the same respect for equally fine musicians like Dominic and other American musicians. “I’ve worked with so many other great American jazz artists: The Tierney Sutton Band, Zaxariades, Barbara Morrison, Linda Hopkins, Jeb Patton, Steve Hass and Kim Richmond,” Charmaine pointed out. “The list is lengthy. But they all have one thing in common: they inspire me to work hard on my craft in private, and then let it all go once I’m performing. They, along with the many jazz greats I watched live, remind me that creative freedom only happens after you’ve done the necessary groundwork and preparation.” While Charmaine has made significant strides in the mainstream American jazz scene, she acknowledged with a sigh that there are still hurdles ahead of her. She cited them: “Getting more Filipino-Americans to come on board with me on the jazzipino and harana train is
one. Gradually, my kababayans are realizing that what I’m doing is for all of us, not just me. I also encounter the usual creative challenges any growing musician faces. I’m taking jazz piano lessons. I took classical piano training for five years in my youth. I would like to be able to accompany myself on the piano. But with my increasingly hectic schedule, I have to stay focused and organized to find ample practice time.” “Targeting new markets and new audiences is an ongoing challenge that, I suspect, will never end,” said the founding member of JazzPhil-USA which presents world-class jazz artists of Filipino descent and awards scholarships to students in memory of the late stalwarts Emil Mijares and Toti Fuentes. “I’m on a mission!” she proclaimed. The mission takes her back to the Philippines in June, when she releases her first album under Viva Records and receives a special trophy from FAMAS (Filipino Academy of Movie Arts and Sciences) during its annual awards show where she will present the Best Movie Theme Song award. She gushed, “I’m thrilled about this partnership because Viva Records’ president, Vic Del Rosario, understands my music and what I’m trying to accomplish as an artist. In fact, we are simply calling the first album, Jazzipino.” “I will continue to have artistic freedom in creating album concepts, which is crucial to me,” Charmaine emphasized amid concern that the record deal might stymie the independent and original vision that have been the hallmarks of her three albums so far (the first one was Searching for the Soul). “Boss Vic and Viva will manage me in the Philippines, Asia and the Middle East. FreeHam Records, my American label, will continue to look after me in the United States and other countries.” As to what she is looking forward to about attending her first FAMAS event, Charmaine said
Charmaine Clamor with (from left) Tateng Katindig, Abe Lagrimas, Jr. and Dominic Thiroux. Photo by Janet Susan R. Nepales
with a laugh, “Wearing a fabulous dress!” Then she added, “Joking aside, I’m looking forward to introducing jazzipino to the cream of Philippine entertainment, and to meeting them all.” Charmaine, who volunteers for environmental cause groups, revealed what she plans to do during her free time in the Philippines. “I hope to explore Palawan during my annual nature-decompression-birthday trip,” she said. “I’m a June celebrant. I hope to reconnect with friends and family and make lots of new friends.” An only child, Charmaine and her parents, Baldomero Jr. and Nieves Clamor, immigrated to the U.S. in 1988. She explained, “we had a good life in the Philippines. But for an even brighter future, my parents decided to immigrate to the United States, to start all over again and leave behind the comforts of home. As with other immigrants in the U.S., it was a struggle for us to find stability not only financially but also socially and economically. The whole family was put to test. I can’t help feeling enormous gratitude to my dear parents, who sacrificed so much to have their daughter come to the U.S. I couldn’t experience all these blessings without their dedication and selflessness.” “I think I’m more outspoken and less concerned about filtering my true thoughts,” Charmaine answered when asked how she has changed from the girl who graduated valedictorian at Bishop Conaty-Our Lady of Loretto High School in Los Angeles. “My definition of success has changed: now, finding a balance between achieving my musical goals and my love for the health sciences is what matters most. I’ve realized it’s possible to have both careers. I continue to practice physical therapy as much as I can, at least one day a week when I’m in town.” “But some things never change,” she remarked. “I am such a nerd! I remain eager to pursue academic enrichment. Indeed, I plan on getting my doctorate in physical therapy within the next five years. Where I’ll find time, I’m not sure. But I still firmly believe that education is a lifelong process, and just like that egghead girl in high school, I’m still very goal-oriented and hardworking.” But compared to the three-year-old girl who used to sing to passengers on a Victory Liner bus, Charmaine has come a long way, all the way to the top jazz haunts in America. “Sometimes when I reflect on what has become of my life, I get so sentimental,” she said, turning pensive. “I never thought that this little girl, who grew up in the tiny town of Subic, Zambales, who used to annoy passengers on the bus to Manila, is now singing in front of American and international audiences in her own language!” And they are not annoyed a bit. On the contrary, they are completely charmed by the lovely brown Pinay. g
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The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra under the Stars By althea lauren ricardo
The trees in Velasquez Park in Salcedo Village, Makati City are lit up in string lights, their yellow glow bouncing off the red and yellow abstract shaped dÊcor hanging from the branches, lending them a glint as they twirled with each gentle gust of wind. The stage, set up in the middle of the park, is waiting, low and wide and awash in light—sometimes pink, sometimes blue, sometimes both, together. The early crowd is already seated, eagerly starting on the Via Mare-catered dinner, ordering chilled wine, while the rest of the audience, conscious of the time, is arriving, considering the menu, settling in for the show.
It is a good night for music. Even the cool summer breeze, increasingly rare in the country’s financial district, agrees. That it is happening it all—a free concert dubbed as “Music Under the Stars,” open to the public, featuring big local artists like the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, in a small park tucked in the middle of high-rise residential and commercial buildings—is the brainchild of The Women of Bel-Air, who is working with The Cultural Center of the Philippines and the Department of Tourism to promote the appreciation of art and foster a spirit of community among the residents of the area. From my table at the edge of the crowd, I can see a blend of dressed-down diplomat and executive types, both young and old, on a relaxed night out with their families. The table beside ours is occupied by a happy group of beautifully-dressed mixed-race couples, not one of them paired with somebody of the same race. The sole Filipina among them is more than ready for a picnic: she came with a bagful of goodies like chips and cracker nuts, which she distributed on thick paper napkins printed with flowers, and their own bottle of sparkling bubbly, which she poured in generous amounts into white paper cups. The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra, led by one of the foremost conductors in the Philippines, Agripino Diestro, cuts into the idle chatter and the clinking of utensils against china, with the first song of the evening, Tchaikovsky’s “Romeo and Juliet: OvertureFantasy.” The eager crowd sits up and listens attentively to the symphonic retelling of the starcrossed lovers’ tale of woe. The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra is undoubtedly the star of the night. The country’s leading symphony orchestra, it also bears the distinction as one of the top musical ensembles in the Asia Pacific Region and watching them perform in an intimate park setting, and for free at that, is no less than a blessing. A shower of emotions follow, with the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra playing accompaniment to the post-seduction duet from Verdi’s Rigoletto, “Tutte le feste al Tiempo,” sung by soprano Rachel Gerodias and baritone Andrew Fernando. Gerodias is
one of the country’s most awarded sopranos who has garnered international recognition in performances in Asia, like in Singapore, where she captivated audiences in roles such as Micaela in Bizet’s Carmen and Liu in Puccini’s Turandot, and Europe, in which she recently made her debut, again as Liu, in the Vienna, Austria staging of Turandot. Fernando, on the other hand, is an internationally acclaimed Filipino baritone who has made a name for himself most especially in North America, where he is currently appearing in The Cunning Little Vixen and Die Kluge with Long Beach Opera, and as guest artist in Don Giovanni for The University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music. Fernando then brings the audience to more familiar territory with his rendition of “Some Enchanted Evening” from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific, perhaps a favorite song of many of the older couples in the crowd, as some arms found their way on the shoulders of their partners. The Filipina at the next table pours more champagne for her Caucasian husband, and, in between doling out more cracker nuts for the group, I think they share a loving smile. Before the break, the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra engages us in “Spanish Rhapsody” by Emmanuel Chabier, leaving us hankering for more. I am a little heady myself, craving for many of what Filipinos consider beautiful: good food, good company, and good music. We order several servings of bibingka, one of Via Mare’s bestselling staples, appropriately enough for the second set, which is rich with melodic, heart-felt OPM mostly cranked out from the music-making machine of the Music Man, Ryan Cayabyab. Mr. C himself is in the audience, enjoying the show, but his touch is palpable in the performances, his lyrics resonating with the Filipinos in the crowd and his melodies touching those who have made the Philippines home. The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra opens with “Salin,” a medley of Sakuting, Maglalatik, Pandanggo Oasiwas, arranged by Josefino Toledo, lending the evening an engaging folk flavor. The Ryan Cayabyab Singers, Mr. C’s newest vocal group, follow with an amazingly
arranged OPM medley of classic love songs. The seven singers of the group sing alternating lines different love song staples—”Sana ay Ikaw na Nga,” “Ngayon at Kailanman,” “Sana Maulit Muli,” “Kung Ako na Lang Sana,” “Dito Ba?” and “Kahit Isang Saglit”—turning it into a compelling symphony of what is right, wrong, deliciously unforgettable and inescapable about Filipino romance. To the delight of many, Bituin Escalante then emerges, all beautiful and luscious in a black balloon dress, to render a duet of “Gaano Ko Ikaw Kamahal,” with Bo Cerrudo. Escalante is one of those rare stars who can bridge the gap between weekend variety show and stage musical diva, and the shrieks of the audience members who are obviously not from the perfumed set to the excited trills of the ones who are is proof of this. Cerrudo, on the other hand, is a well-loved balladeer who can dish out classical music and standard pop love songs with equal aplomb. He wins every woman’s heart when he follows their duet with a Filipino classics medley of “Maalaala Mo Kaya,” “Dahil sa Isang Bulaklak,” and “Kapantay ay Langit,” arranged by Naldy Rodriguez. A party of songs from Mr. C’s Katy: The Musical then follows, perfectly complementing the first set of foreign works brilliantly performed by internationally recognized local artists—the opera from foreign shores, topped by OPM and music from the Filipino stage, both emotionally moving in equal parts. All the evening’s performers start with a chorus of “Katy! Katy!,” before Escalante tempts everyone to get up and dance with the song “Aba Ba Ba Boogie.” Finally, to close the evening, everyone comes out once again, to sing the soulful stage farewell “Minsan ang Minahal ay Ako”. The music and lyrics leave everyone silent, caps the delightful evening and settles it in memory. Couples hold hands, the uncoupled sigh. At our table, someone tries to brush the emotions away about a joke about love and its bitter aftertaste before settling into silence. Tonight, music has done its job wonderfully well. It began the evening by bringing us into foreign territory, and ends it by carrying us all home, wherever it is in our hearts. g
AJPress Photos by Raphael John Oriel
| red carpet |
It took me a while before I finally sat down and finished this piece. To be quite honest, I was suddenly caught writing about two extremely talented persons, both of whom are not from my generation.
their way closer to her. “Who is she?” I asked, squinting my failing eyes through the dim studio, and trying to kick myself for any kind of memory lapse I was probably having at the moment. “She is Anna Maria Perez de Tagle,” he said. (Still kicking myself for the memory lapse at this point.) Then it hit me. Hannah Montana! Don’t get me wrong: she isn’t Miley Cyrus but she could very well be just as famous. Besides, Anna Maria is all-Filipino, and every aspiring Asian actor can attest that it isn’t easy making it big in Hollywood. Besides, she has no famous father like Billy Ray Cyrus to help pave the way to stardom. But she does have a famous grandmother, Sylvia La Torre, the Philippines’ Queen of Kundiman, who is also a television, radio, stage, film and recording star. Starting in the business at a young age of 10, Anna Maria’s career began in Star Search, where she was a junior finalist. From there, she was able to get an agent and get into commercial and print modeling. Then just one day, her agent called and asked her to try out for a new show, Hannah Montana. Soon enough, Anna Maria found herself shuttling between San Jose (where she was originally from) and Los Angeles. From there, Disney called and said she got the role of Ashley, and was advised to move to LA. Fortunately, her dad’s work also moved to LA. Everything seemed to work in her favor. Since then, Anna Maria has been more than just the mean girl Ashley in Hannah Montana. She now has an impressive filmography to her name, including Bee Season, Cake, Camp Rock and Just Jordan.
Anna Maria Perez de Tagle By malou liwanag–aguilar | the ajpress
An afternoon with an upcoming teenage Hollywood star Anna Maria Perez de Tagle, and why she traces back her talents to her grandmother, the Queen of Kundiman, Sylvia La Torre. It was a quiet afternoon at work. I was about to thank the gods for making me survive yet another day of deadlines and presswork, but then again, I could only hope. Then all of a sudden, something came up and I realized that my day wouldn’t be as quiet again. The call came in just a little after 3 pm, asking me if I was done with presswork, and to drop everything for a very important interview at the ABS-CBN studios in Redwood City. Our publisher, Roger Oriel, and Balikbayan Editor-in-Chief Lito Ocampo Cruz were there for Adobo Nation’s taping and the FilipinoAmerican Symphony Orchestra’s musical director Bob Schroder’s interview on the show. I was already prepping myself up, thinking about my interview subject: a musician about my age, or older, perhaps? Maybe a pianist or a violinist that I could somehow relate to either by age or by our taste in music. But when I asked whom I was supposed to interview, our editor-in-chief pointed to a pretty young girl sitting quietly in the corner, signing photos for her fans, who were by then inching
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On popularity and, yes, Fame Still, Anna Maria is her own star. But being in the limelight doesn’t mean that she thinks she’s different from the rest of her generation. She is, as she stressed during the interview, just your normal teenage girl. “I hang out with my friends, go shopping,” she said, “I also love watching movies, and going to Disneyland.” Anna Maria was also excited about her upcoming four-city European tour with her family.
It is, however, hard to retain the “normal” tag on her, when you start thinking about what she’s achieved, and where and whom she hangs around with. Aside from having the opportunity to work and be friends with every teen girl’s fantasy alter ego Hannah, she also has appeared with the Jonas Brothers in Camp Rock. “Oh, she’s a sweet girl,” said Anna Maria about Miley and added, “I just love her.” As for the Jonas Brothers, that’s a given. She is, of course, the envy of every teenage girl. But the stars keep on shining for this 18-year-old girl, as she has been chosen as part of the cast in a remake of Fame, the 1980 Oscarwinning musical. “I play the role of Joy, an aspiring actress,” Anna Maria said excitingly, “I am very happy and proud to be part of it, as I get to act, talk, and I also get to sing. Joy, my character, goes from being ecstatic to a very mature young lady.” Fame just wrapped up filming in New York City last February, and in spite of the fact that there are 10 newcomers being launched in it, the movie also includes big names like Kelsey Grammer (Seinfeld and Cheers), Megan Mullaly (Will and Grace), and actress-director-choreographer, Debbie Allen. Having lola as her mentor and biggest fan On her website, Anna Maria posted some of her experiences with her fans, including a young boy who had asked her to autograph his arm cast. I’ve seen it myself—the kind of effect she has with people—as her fans just started showing up at the Adobo Nation studio, and even when we moved to another room for the interview. Even I couldn’t say no when her father, Artie, asked me if I also wanted an autographed picture of Anna Maria. But there is no doubt that her biggest supporter is her Lola Sylvia. “She is my vocal coach and biggest fan,” Anna Maria said about her “Mamacita.” “She has always been supportive of anything I do, and now I know she’s even more proud because of Fame.”
Caught in between two stars from different generations To make things clear, I don’t watch Hannah Montana–my nephew does. Its equivalent in my generation would probably be Punky Brewster, but even that doesn’t match up to the popularity of Hannah Montana. Besides, I’m twice the age of Anna Maria, so you can all do the math. As for her Lola Sylvia, that, too, would be another generation altogether. Sylvia La Torre’s first break as a singer happened in 1938 (way before I was born), at the age of five, when she defeated much older competitors in her powerful rendition of “Bakit Mo Ako Pinaluha?” During the Japanese Occupation, La Torre was a child performer in stage shows at the Life Theater. Her father, Olive La Torre, who was a movie director, brought her to Sampaguita Pictures’ studio and from there she was discovered. From minor roles, La Torre eventually took the lead in the movies Ulila ng Bataan, Ang Asawa Kong Amerikana, and Buhay Pilipino. It was only years later that I discovered her. I grew up watching the black and white old movies in my younger years, as there was nothing else to do during our supposed afternoon siesta. I spent my endless afternoon watching her and her contemporaries Nida Blanca, Leroy Salvador, Pugo and Bentot. Besides, my own grandparents were briefly in show business, as my lola was a zarzuela singer and my lolo once an actor, so it follows that my inclination to La Torre was normal. But meeting her granddaughter, Anna Maria, was like being caught up in two worlds— neither of which was mine. As for Anna Maria, she sees Fame as her springboard for more challenging roles–and bigger Hollywood opportunities. She is also determined to go to film school, and enhance her craft in singing and acting. “It is a commitment, a sacrifice,” she said, “And you have to love it.” So as I ended our brief interview, I was swept aside the room by parents and their kids–her fans, of course–who must have heard that Anna Maria was there. Although at the start I was reluctant to even consider asking for an autographed picture, after my brief talk with Anna Maria, I’ve discovered that yes, just as much as I admire her Lola Sylvia, I am now one of her fans, too. Because inside my laptop bag is what else but her autographed picture. g May 2009 | balikbayan 51
Who would ever think that radio
is a thing of the past? I did. But that was before when being a young lad – that is, nine years ago. In the city, it means proclaiming the demise of old technology and consequently championing the advent of new ones. Who would carry a transistor radio in school or walk in the park with it? I suppose no one will. Hi-tech gizmos vs. the radio Modern generation of youth today would love to flaunt PSPs, 4G phones, mini-laptops, MP3s among their peers and in public but never an old talking box salvaged from a garage sale. What I see is just a technological generational gap. The yuppies for their new hi-tech hardware stuff and the oldies for their old tech gadgets will fight over their most cherished possessions. They see things differently and love being techies differently in different generations. I remember my late father-in-law who never missed a day without his mini radio, camouflaging like an MP3 player, tucked in his short and with its earphone plugged in his ears. For him, life and a day will never be complete without this. He will not also tolerate anyone berating his most cherished mini radio. And so, no one did. Only after college did I realize that radio was the most powerful media in town. Well, before that, during my younger, younger years, radio was a blissful device to our ears – when just few hours before sunrise radio broadcasters would announce that classes were suspended in all levels. But other media like TV would compete aggressively with radio. Thanks to Alas Singko y Media (the erstwhile version of Umagang kay Ganda of ABS-CBN), suspending classes became much of a fanfare with the voice and a still pic of then NCR DECS Director Nilo Rosas suddenly appearing on TV. Seeing and hearing are much better, they say, than just hearing the news. Talking box through the years Like all media in the Philippines, radio was imported from the United States. The year 1922 saw the entry of radio via an experiment. The American Henry Hermann operated the first KZKZ station. J. Amado Araneta then acquired KZRM and KZEG from the Americans in 1927. From then on, radio stations sprouted like mushrooms in Metro Manila and in other provinces. Pre-war radio was dominated by American inspired radio programs. When war broke out in 1941, radio became the usual companion of Filipinos as they waited for announcements and updates. The Japanese forces in the Philippines closed down all stations except KZRH which remained on air. Postwar saw the number of radio stations grow from 8 to 52 in 1954.
Francisco “Koko” Trinidad, considered the father of Philippine broadcasting, became the program director of KZFM from 1945 to 1970 (Enriquez, 2003). In the 70s four media moguls, Don Eugenio Lopez, Henry Canoy, Manuel Elizalde, and Joaquin Roces, owned and operated ABS-CBN, Radio Mindanao Network (RMN), Metropolitan Broadcasting Co. (MBC) and Associated Broadcasting Co. (ABC), respectively. Unfortunately, when Martial Law was declared, all media establishments were shut down. When Cory C. Aquino took over the presidency in 1986, all media stations and operations went back to normal. Since then, radio programming has never been the same. Everyman’s Media I fell in love with radio when I realized that in order to survive in this jungle called the city, information is a must. In San Beda College where I took up AB Philosophy and Human Resource Development my dearest professors taught me the importance of being socially aware and socially committed to action. Radio is the most voluble media and the loudest social commentator. Round the clock, it gives you the most updated information. It is the source of hyper-information all in different aspects: local and international news, entertainment, opinion, drama, advertisement, public service and yes, music. In fact, reports from the Review.Net Radio Fact Book 2007-2008 mentions that “an impressive 90% of all Filipinos aged 13 and older tune in to radio for information, entertainment or discussion over the course of each and every week.” That makes radio the most accessed and the most accessible media in our country. Even in far flung areas or remote towns across the country where there is no electricity, listening to radio is a habit.
The
G(old)EN DAYS of PHILIPPINE
RADIO By rhod v. nuncio
Taxi drivers are always tuned in to AM stations. If you need to conduct a focused interview about Philippine politics and society, you can take a cab and have a chat with the driver. When I want to know more about current events, I listen to Tambalang Ted at Korina over DZMM. When I want the news and commentary side by side, there’s no question that for me this program is the best. Ted Failon and Korina Sanchez for me are both serious, witty, funny, straightforward, no-nonsense radio broadcasters. Infotainment at its best. One time when I felt dizzy and sleepy after a night of writing, studying and having fun, I found myself riding an FX with deaf-defying sounds all over my ears. Boisterously repeating on air was the radio’s teaseline: “Kailangan pa bang i-memorize yan? Bisyo na ito (Do you really need to memorize that? This is a vice.)” It was a funny and wacky encounter with an FM radio station that revolutionized the airwaves with jokes, laughter, and light-hearted talk yet sensible advice from Tambalan ng Isang Balahura at ng Isang Balasubas–Nicole Hyala and Chris Tsuper. The good news about it is that FM radio is making a 360 degree language shift from English to Filipino. Language Shift In the past, we used to know that AM stations use Filipino while FM stations use English as the language for broadcasting. The simple difference—between AM and FM stations—is the preponderance and abundance of news in AM and music in FM stations. Big names like Joe Taruc, the late Kiko Evangelista, Rod Navarro, and former radio announcer Noli de Castro are popular broadcasters in Filipino. Chico & Delamar and Triggerman were among my top favorite FM DJs in the 90s. For one they speak good and sassy English, not the typical run-of-the-mill “spokening dollar” DJ wannabes. Triggerman may piss you off but this DJ was the king of noontime “The TOP 20 at 12.” True confession: I learned my English not from my English teachers but from Sesame Street and by listening over FM stations. In short, I owe it to mass media. Now that the “ratings war” has reached the
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FM stations, a lot of drastic changes have taken place in programming. One significant change is the use of language. Most FM stations now use Filipino teasers and taglines. DJs are now freely throwing punchlines and cracking (green) jokes in Filipino. The language shift is a strategy to reach out the masa. However, with this linguistic stratagem, there is no nationalist fervor attached on it. In Greater Manila Area, FM radio programming is all about profit.
Voice Icons Few names appear in my list that may be considered as immortal radio personalities. They are immortal because their voices never cease to exist in memory. When impersonators and comedians try to imitate voices, we know for sure which voices belong to whom. Broadcasters’ voice on radio is the only precious medium that creates loyal following from listeners. On radio, voice never gets old. Unlike TV, actors and actresses start having a lackluster career when they get old. Since TV is a visual media, the viewing public is always hypermediated to look for newer, younger and fresher talents. Radio talents are different. They may age through the years but their voices remain ageless. The late veteran voice icons like Tiya Dely and Kuya Cesar will always be remembered. Fidela Magpayo or Tiya Dely is considered the First Lady of Philippine radio. Her long stint as broadcaster and as radio talent started from 1940s until her death in 2008. Her nightly program in DZRH, Ang Inyong Tiya Dely, became a household favorite of those seeking advice and words of wisdom straight from the heart. I like her sweet, kind and motherly voice as she reads nightly letters from her loyal
listeners. Cesar Nucum fondly called Kuya Cesar spent his career as radio announcer. He got a break in DZMM and was recognized as one of its veteran radio talents through the years. He is best known for his deep, monotonous, slow-paced voice which apparently propelled his popularity, specifically his voice’s popularity. In my highschool days, “Kuya Cesar” even became a teasing monicker for those who were literally and figuratively slow. Now that giants and legends of radio are being immortalized in the annals of history, we hear new voice talents and announcers making it big in the limelight. At present, I rarely listen to FM top ten hits or chartbuster music hotlist. I switch on my car’s radio depending on my mood and trip for news, information and entertainment. I like chatterbox DJs like Nicole Hyala and Chris Tsuper in the morning. They keep my stress level down and manageable just by listening to their contagious laughter and wacky mindboggling exchanges. I also like the no-holdsbarred style of news commentary of Anthony Taberna and Gerry Baja of Dos por Dos on DZMM. They may be playful and funny at times but this does not diminish the blowby-blow punches they throw against corrupt politicians and inept public officials alike. Meanwhile, Dr. Love, Joe D’ Mango, and Chico and Delamar continue to provide heartfelt advice on love, sex, relationships, teenage angst, marriage, separation, and many more. These are radio programs that uplift the spirit and feed the mind. Future Radio We are in the 21st century and many more predictions will come as far as radio is concerned. Will it stay or wither away? No one knows precisely. As the future is taking shape, we are witnessing in the present how radio expands and evolves in itself. The innovative Teleradyo of DZMM is enthusiastically welcomed by local cable or The Filipino Channel (TFC) subscribers here and abroad. Internet radio like Yahooradio is starting to chart new directions for radio in the future. Even the proliferation of podcasts on the Internet will definitely give birth or add momentum to what radio will become in the years to come. Nevertheless, the simple function of bringing information from one point to another is the basic model of broadcasting or narrowcasting. People will never stop asking or consuming for more information. Whether it comes from radio, TV, Internet, or mixed media, the truth remains: we are as hyperactive as information itself. g
Radio shows, dramas in particular, have become fodder for ridicule. Not that they should actually be ridiculed but you’d think they are overwrought or overly melodramatic. But then, listening to these shows, you’d know that radio dramas have to make up for some limitations that are inherent in the medium and the rest; you have to use your imagination to basically fill in the blanks. Radio Mindanao Network (or RMN as it is known by people in its circle), one of the pioneers in the radio broadcasting industry of the Philippines, still has radio dramas aired to their listeners. What limits the shows is the fact that radio drama is perhaps the most unappreciated and yet understated literary form that has come about from the first boom of the information highway in the ‘40s and ‘50s. The medium of sound has provided an environ, which gives the listeners limitless opportunities to basically draw the story in their heads. Radio dramas have developed with sophistication and explosive energy; some of them have even transitioned into movies and TV shows. Huge traditions, styles, and movements have been established in radio and these have been carried on to the next generation. “It really is a very different discipline from books and movies. With books, you can actually read everything that happens or is happening, and with movies; well you see what is there to see. Although, of course every director will have different visions, but with radio you only hear what you need to know
radio stations to create shows for them and companies would then place commercials. RMN President Eric S. Canoy RMN, in the ‘70s, had three production houses: Manila, Cebu, and Iloilo. These production houses would then produce and record radio plays broadcasting in various areas of the country. This process would then go on until they stopped producing plays in Tagalog during the early ‘80s. Looking at the demographics of the country, there are indeed more Cebuano and Ilonggo listeners. Tagalog dramas cannot be played anywhere else in the
Radio, Music, Newsmakers The drama of it all and the rest is left to your imagination,” says Eric Canoy, current Radio Mindanao Network president, about radio dramas. As a kid myself during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, while whiling away the time in Cebu for those long hot summers with my grandmother, we would listen to one of those radio dramas whose titles have, honestly, escaped my memory. My grandma religiously listened to her daily dose of radio shows and as a kid who was into Saturday cartoons, it was a wee bit strange that radio dramas should have this, shall we say, stranglehold on my grandma. I would have thought that dramas would have either been boring (no pictures) or overacted (what’s with the shouting and screaming?). It is after the show ends that I’d really light up which would mean my grandma will bring me somewhere else in Pinamungajan (a town two or three hours south of Cebu City). We visited one of her kumares and lo and behold: she was also listening to another radio show! Cebuanos do have a penchant for listening to their dramas! Feorillo Petronillo A. Demetrio III, in his paper entitled “The Aesthetics of Cebuano Radio Drama: A Study on Pleasure and Popular Culture,” revealed that in the second half of the ‘70s, 70 to 75 percent of Cebuanos and Bisaya-speaking provinces tune in to listen to their plays (which are what radio dramas are essentially). This survey also reflected the development, which RMN had in that timeline, in the 1970s, 75 to be exact, the station broadcasted in the vernacular. Radio soaps followed soon after. Mirroring that, a study in 1994 also disclosed the fact 20% of Cebu AM radio time is devoted to, well, radio dramas. An astounding figure, which I am not at all surprised. It was indeed bound to happen. Wherever my grandma will drag me, one of her friends is surely tuned in to their favorite radio plays. The ones that they tune in to are pretty diverse. My lola had a penchant for listening to melodrama while her friends would tune in to comedy. Historically, companies that wanted ad placements created radio plays to highlight their products. This process evolved and instead, they asked
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By Joel Jorge gaviola country. Since RMN has gone nationwide, most of their radio stations have aired dramas in the vernacular. Only two production houses have remained: one in Cebuano and one in Ilonggo. Cebuano dramas can be played in the Visayas and Mindanao, while Ilonggo shows can be played in the Western Visayas area; these explain the longevity of these shows. To break down the dramas that RMN has produced through the years, three distinct classifications can be made. There is the “wakasan,” which starts and ends on the same day; the weekly drama, which runs for six episodes (an episode a day, except Sundays); and the regular drama, which runs for a month with at least 70 to 90 episodes. Recently, an experiment has been made in the Metro Manila areas. Months ago, RMN has experimented with their programming and aired mostly Cebuano and Ilonggo radio plays in the Metro. If this experiment becomes successful, our airwaves will be inundated with dramas in the Bisaya and Ilonggo. This move made by RMN is clearly a drive to expose Bisaya- and Hiligaynon-speaking individuals to shows that are indeed close to their hearts. A going back to their motherland is well at hand with the advent of these shows. The importance of dramas should not be ignored. Radio dramas are one of the ways we can listen to and evoke good memories of the past. It should not be considered a “lost world” of literary expression and dramatic communication. In fact, with the proliferation of the world wide web and audio books, these media will open radio dramas to a whole different dimension. It will give listeners the opportunity to grab them when they have the time to do so. It is quite obvious that radio shows have had opportunity to grow and that these have provided the audience the chance to be where their hearts and culture are. Radio drama, as an art form, is relatively new. Although, a few years older than television, it provides a challenge which RMN has chosen to take. g
“Powerfully told and well-written, What’s Happening to Our Country? is the biography of a vice president that may well eclipse presidential biographies. In a way, perhaps, Pelaez didn’t really miss his date with destiny.” – Lito B. Zulueta, Philippine Daily Inquirer
For book inquiries, please contact: • USA - 650-5446591 • Manila - +63918906-8142 • E-mail: info@epelaezfoundation.com
| balikbayan true stories |
Strangers in LAX Michael Bublé, you’re in my Mom’s iPod! By Gayle Gatchalian | theAJPress
I looked out the porthole
– a bright, sunny Wednesday afternoon—the type of day that makes people want to live in Los Angeles. There I was, barely making it through 16 forsaken hours of sitting behind a screaming child on a plane. The captain announced that due to the high volume of air traffic, our plane would be landing in a terminal some five minutes away from LAX and that passengers would be duly transported upon exit.
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Great, I thought, one more thing to go wrong. Not wanting to deal with anxious passengers pushing and shoving to get out, I sat patiently in what had been my temporary home in the skies and waited until the plane was empty. Bad idea, one would think, as it would mean longer lines at the immigration counter, baggage claim, customs. Well, as it turned out, it was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. The bus door swung shut and we’re off to the races, I thought sarcastically—yeah, the race to the shortest line at the immigration. While I rolled my eyes at the impending nightmare cooked up by Homeland Security, the bus promptly stopped in front of a low building and opened its doors. “Welcome to Los Angeles,” greeted a banner, happily swaying in the soft breeze. As expected, everyone scrambled for the doors, trying to get ahead of at least one person—and that one person would be me. I jumped off and strolled through the automatic doors of the building and went down the stairs. Another hallway opened up into the one I was in, and a casual glance to the left offered the sight of a young, attractive white guy. No time for silly boy-watching—wait—do I? But the desire to get out was much stronger, so I kept walking and turned into the large room that housed about 40 counters with obnoxiously long lines each. I settled on a counter at the end, thinking there were less Photos courtesy of michaelbuble.com. people and the line would move faster. Sounds pretty logical, right? Wrong. I just happened to stumble upon the line with the slowest immigration officer ever to put a stamp on anyone’s passport. A couple of minutes later, I saw the cute guy standing behind me in line. I checked him out and thought he reminded me of someone I knew. The line moved very slowly for about five minutes then the line behind me lengthened. Cute guy and I caught each other’s eye and we started shaking our heads. He said, “We’re gonna be here forever” or some other trite conversation starter. Stop. First of all, this cute boy looked American, so after agreeing with him, I said, “Well what are you doing here, the lines for citizens are over there!” pointing to the distance and slapping myself inside for inadvertently telling him to buzz off. Then he went, “Well, what are you doing here then?” After some moments of mutual disbelief, we finally established our nationalities: he’s Canadian and I’m a Filipino doing my undergrad in Los Angeles. He grinned and declared he knew a lot of Filipinos and that he worked in the Philippines. I asked him if he just came from there. It turned out he had just arrived from London. Then I asked what he did in ‘Pinas, thinking he was some sort of IT or tech guy, as some computer nerds can be pretty cool too. He said he was a musician, so my mind started spinning, thinking, this isn’t the guy from Wolfgang; so I prodded him to tell me who he was. Persistence paid off, though he revealed the reason for his hesitation. “Well, if I tell you who I am and you don’t know me then that would hurt my ego,” he said. Blah, blah, blah. I insisted that I was well acquainted with musical artists and that I was just suffering from a mild facial recognition dysfunction. He looked at me square in the eye and said, “Martin Nievera.” “Hell no!” I exclaimed indignantly and said, “I know what Martin Nievera looks like.” I was getting pretty frustrated with this guessing game but then with a surrendering shrug he said—wait for it—”Michael Bublé.” My mouth hung open. Long enough to let a fly land and lay eggs. “No you’re not!” I refused to believe him. I insisted on seeing some sort of identification, because, come on—Michael Bublé? This guy is world famous and he’s standing right beside me in a line with no entourage? I knew I wasn’t in the twilight zone so I held my hand out and waited for him to show proof. He pulled up his backpack and showed off two luggage tags. The first one said “Bryan Allen” (which Wikipedia later establishes as his manager, but how was I supposed to know at that time?) and I snorted triumphantly. “See, you’re lying, you’re Bryan Allen!” He then flipped it over to reveal the other card that actually said in clear print: Michael Bublé. He whipped out his bright red passport and clear as day was a photo of the Michael Bublé, his name printed starkly against the official document paper. I thought for a second that he stole the real Michael Bublé’s identity and even considered alerting authorities. Then reality hit. “You’re in my mom’s iPod! Of course I know who you are! You don’t look like the man in your album cover or the pictures in the paper!” I shamelessly started freaking out (discreetly!) and I asked him what the hell he was doing there. May 2009 | balikbayan 59
He said that he didn’t like the idea of an entourage, that people who needed it were insecure, etc. We talked about the Philippines, that he’s the godfather of Martin Nievera’s son, that he got mobbed by hoards of people when he went to Shangri-La by himself and got told off by his bodyguard, that he hung out with this poor kid who gave him bread and coke...all this stuff. We mused about the Filipino disposition of being happy despite life’s unpleasant conditions and we just literally yapped for almost an hour as we stood there in line. We even got to the topic of French people and he even conversed with a group of French elderly who thought we were traveling together. I eventually asked him what he was doing in LA, and he said he was doing Jay Leno Thursday night and he was flying to New York for a show then dropping by Rachael Ray afterwards (I watched Leno that night. You can imagine I nearly fainted on the couch). In the midst of whining about how long the damned line was, we both agreed that waiting in line didn’t seem so bad because the conversation was fun and easy. But, ah, what is small talk without talking about the issue of love and romance? He professed that he loved women. I said boys are stupid. We talked about the differences between males and females, how guys just wanted physical intimacy and girls were looking for commitment. The whole time I was thinking oh, God is he single? Then he mentioned the kicker: “My girlfriend Emily Blunt.” It figures. All the good men are taken. In keeping with the standard line of questioning, I asked him where he would be staying. He mentioned some hotels and then returned the inquiry. I said Burbank, to which he commented was way away from school. I agreed, lamenting the traffic, when he said, “Oh, that’s near my record company.” “Rhino?” I asked but he said, “No, Warner Brothers.” I mentioned to him that I had applied for internship specifically for WB Records and that I received an e-mail but then never heard from them again. The awesome part? Michael Bublé asked, “Do you want me to help you out? I mean, all I have to do is make a phone call, you know this is how things are done here.” Etc, etc. And I, for some stupid reason, said, “Oh, nah, nah, that’s okay. I’m actually looking at another internship (one that had actually set up an interview with me). I like to do things the hard way.” Blah, blah, blah. I went on to say that I’d had it pretty easy in life so I wanted to suffer a little to deserve what I got. He smiled and said, “That’s my girl!” So we went through the line and kept talking. I can’t really remember now everything that was talked about then because we dabbled on topic after topic (I loved how we agreed on how dating was fake). By the time we got to the counter however, this woman came up to us and checked our documents. There was latent irritation in both of us because everyone behind us had already disappeared and herded to empty counters when the woman announced he was missing paperwork and would have to go to the back of the line. Supremely annoyed, he said an abrupt goodbye right as I was heading to the officer. When I got to baggage claim, all my bags were on the floor so I just threw them onto the cart and waited in vain to see if he was out of the immigration. I actually took my time in the hopes that we could go out together, but no luck. So I pushed my way up the ramp and waited for my aunt who was still on the road. Thinking I was never going to see Michael Bublé again, I proceeded to tell her about my experience and she scolded me to the core about rejecting his help with the internship and ragged on me for my pride. I realized then the error of my ways and swore that if I saw him again, I would ask him. I gazed around, on the off chance that I would catch him—and I did! He was walking out with another fellow, so I waved, smiled and asked, “Found your ride?” He nodded, pointed to the other guy and introduced him as Steve. Their car was waiting for them by the curb so as he was going in for a goodbye hug, saying it was nice to meet me, I swallowed my pride and asked, “Hey, remember your offer? Can I take back what I said and can you help me out?” Steve had started walking to the car and his bag was already in the trunk when he turned on his cellphone–-and it was the most awkward two minutes of my life. We were apologizing profusely to Steve and the driver when Michael Bublé finally put in my number and as he walked away, he assured me that he was not a flake and that he would call me. Sa awa ng Diyos, hindi pa rin tumatawag. Postscript: I got that internship at WB by the way. Did Michael Bublé have anything to do with it? We’ll never know. g
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| tourbuzz |
The myth embodies it all. When one goes to Ilocos Norte, one time travels and returns to a land of heroes and kilometric legends and old quaint towns and churches and stories of many a people’s leave taking. There are so many ways to make sense of Ilocos Norte, its awesome beauty, its poetry, its history.
Welcome to Laoag: A couple on a motorcycle speeds up on the Gilbert Bridge, the gateway to the Ilocos Norte capitol.
grand ilocandia By louie jon a. sanchez | photos
by raphael john oriel | the ajpress
We can probably begin with Pedro Bucaneg’s Lam-ang, the epic and the man, and we can get a glimpse of what characterize both the Ilocano terrain and the people. In Damiana Eugenio’s Anthology for instance, the epic describes a rich catalogue of harvests from the sea which the mother Namungan partook while she was conceiving the all-powerful and immortal hero. There mentioned too, streams, aside from the sea, which is ever present, and the mysterious mountains of the beyond, where Lam-ang chased and single-handedly took the lives of the tribe which killed his father, Don Juan Panganiban.
The door at the sinking tower of St. William’s Cathedral in Laoag City.
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When you drive around Ilocos Norte, and you know Lam-ang, you wouldn’t be surprised by the constant presence of rivers, water inlets and the imposing Cordillera Mountains at the East. On the other hand, in the market and in its culinary shrines, you wouldn’t even wonder about Ilocos’ bounty and variety and color. The people of this land, constantly defying the monsoon weather and the small land area, have braved the odds, very much like their hero Lamang, who had resurrected after his bones were gathered from underwater, after his prophesy of him being ravaged by a shark as he fulfills his final test as a hero. The story of Lam-ang after all is the story of the genuine Ilocano. But the story only fulfills itself when its lands are traversed. The summer we drove up in Ilocos Norte, the fields were slowly turning from green to gold. Tobacco stood proudly everywhere in Ilocos soil, reminding of this plant’s rich past. Tobacco is gold in Ilocandia in colonial times, and we must remember that a monopoly on its trade caused resistance and several uprisings. The lifting of the tobacco monopoly is remembered through an obelisk made of red bricks at the central plaza of the Ilocos Norte capital of Laoag, thankful to the Spanish monarch King Alfonso XII. Tobacco remains a trademark crop of Ilocos Norte, and the picturesque views by the road of plantations and kubos where tobacco leaves are hung to dry, only highlight this. To say that the Ilocos story is written in its tobacco leaves is nothing but apt. Ilocos Norte can be reached in different ways, especially if you’re on a road trip like this one. The first time I set foot in this land, I took the minibus from our small town in Apayao, and we went from the northernmost point, to northwest, passing through the Cagayan towns of Sanchez-Mira, Pamplona, Claveria and Santa Praxedes. This route leads you to a scenic trip to the beach towns of Ilocos Norte, like Pagudpud, Bangui, Burgos. The other route, that is coming all the way from the other side of Luzon, will give you another look at the terrain, leading you to towns and rivers, landlocked at times, but equally charming, colorful and laid back. We took the one that went all the way from the plains of Pangasinan, La Union, and Ilocos Sur, and somehow, we had been initiated by the long drive into the sites and sights that we were about to see. The first Ilocos Norte town we reached was Badoc, the town of the artist and hero Juan Luna. What first caught me was the abundance of a variety of bougainvillea popularly known here as escarlatina. The side streets have been filled by what looked like blooming reds and purples, until we moved on to the next towns, Pinili, Currimao, Batac and Paoay, and later on, the busy San Nicolas, the gateway to
the capitol, now a bustling municipality known for its clay bricks and tiles. The side roads were dressed by colorful bougainvilleas, it felt like it was Flores de Mayo all year. Anyone whose childhood had been spent in old gardens would be delighted by the colors painted by the summer sun in this side of the country. Kilometer zero is of course Laoag, the capital, and we started our Ilocandia journey here. The city center itself is a heritage site, where most structures still bear the proverbial Hispanic architecture common in the region. The city hall itself is made of red bricks, reminiscent of old town presidencias, which had canopied facades and wide open doors that led to halls and offices. The evening we arrived, the city center was well lit, the famous sinking belfry of the St. William’s Cathedral, supposedly the tallest in the country at 45 meters, stood proud, and the Gilbert Bridge that led to the city sparkled. At a riverbank at the far left, a Hollywood-like sign that says “LAOAG” emphasize what this city is: it is after all, a city of lights, and it shines the way the Ilocano word laoag connotes brilliance and magnanimity. The city was shinning as we drove around, the plaza brimming with people anticipating a weekend event. The city was indeed alive. “It’s always Christmas here in Laoag,” says the mayora, Chevylle Fariñas, our gracious host, as she welcomed us in a warm chamber in the rustic city hall. The first lady of the city, and wife of Mayor Michael Fariñas seemed to embody what her town was all about; she was giddy, charming and brilliant. She started talking about Laoag when we all sat down starting off with the city’s beautiful display lights. “The name has something to do with the sun, with light. That’s why Laoag had to be true to its name. We had to light it up.” It seemed nothing could stop her from telling beautiful stories about the city, the developments that are coming along, and her own active role as chair of both the Laoag City Tourism and Social Concerns Council and the Association of Barangay Captains. “This is a big city, we have 81 barangays, and we have to keep them united,” she says. Mayora was very spontaneous that she even surprised us when some famous Laoag empanadas were brought in. There’s actually dinner scheduled according to the itinerary, but Mrs. Fariñas felt compelled to bring us this welcoming treat. “The secret is in the sukang Iloko,” she told me, as I was pouring in some of the vinegar onto my hot, orangecolored meatpie oozing with its filling of ground longganisa, eggs and various vegetables. Batac’s Plaza is known for its empanada stalls, but of course, this is an Ilocano favorite and could be found anywhere in this republic.
Laoag longganisa to die for.
holding the fort
Laoag City mayora Chevylle Fariñas is engrossed with Balikbayan Magazine.
This warrior holds fort at the gardens of the Fort Ilocandia Hotel of Laoag.
Bagnet all you can at the Laoag Market.
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We had after that already heavy empanada surprise at the city hall, a nice treat of crispy dinuguan, our first taste of the “carne del Ilocos Norte,” bagnet, Laoag longganisa and fresh fish at the Balinese-Moroccan inspired Java Hotel at the outskirts of Laoag. The charming hotel and restaurant is now becoming a popular destination among locals and tourists, and it would not even be surprising that it now lends an extended nightlife in this beautiful city. But our destination at the moment is the more legendary Fort Ilocandia Resort Hotel near the Laoag International Airport. The hotel of course is known for its red brick, Spanish villa hotel structures and sprawling gardens with accent fountains. The hotel which is also home to a bustling casino is a key tourism complex in Ilocos Norte and is known for its grandeur and elegance. At the side of the villas is the Luzon Sea, whose constant fierce waves seem to long for rest in the long, grey shoreline. At dusk, the next day, we looked forward to see the beautiful sunset. The horizon was indeed aflame with red as darkness fell. You can walk Fort Ilocandia and feel transported to the era of our colonial past where the cobblestones glisten and summer winds comfort us through the night. With our guide Philip Zenon Diego, the next days at Ilocos Norte have been a feast of history and culture. From Fort Ilocandia in Laoag, we drove south to Paoay, where the famous Church of St. Augustine, a UNESCO World Heritage landmark stood. Ilocandia boasts of two UNESCO landmark churches, the other one in Sta. Maria, Ilocos Sur. A wide field with some age-old trees fronts the baroque church, which is surrounded by some small houses in that quaint, sleepy town. The church here is well known for its astounding façade and its side buttresses that made this church earthquake proof. The church is a magnificent sight to behold, especially if you’re sitting at an al fresco table of the charming restaurant Herencia de Paoay, right across the church. We enjoyed the beautiful view of the church at Herencia, where they serve the very popular Pinakbet Pizza. But Ilocos Norte, aside from being pinakbet country, is still Marcos country. When still in Paoay, we visited a very important Marcos landmark, the Malacañang ti Amianan, the presidential palace of the north (“amianan” is north in Ilocano), where the family of the late strongman spent summer vacations. The palace is a typical Ilocos heritage house made of stone in the lower chamber, and wood in the upper chambers. Inside, you will be welcomed into a breezy open sala, which faces the picturesque Paoay Lake, where President Marcos rode his jet ski. Letty Buduan, a caretaker and tour guide in the Malacañang remembers the majesty of the palace, where she had been working since the day it opened.
“This house was alive, very much alive,” she says. “The Marcos kids enjoyed their summers here. Some very important guests of the first couple have also been brought here. The house used to be surrounded by sturdy ypilypil trees, a beautiful garden. But the lake of course is the most important part of the palace. This is where the former president used to fish as a young boy. He often went to the balcony to reminisce, to remember,” she says. The Malacañang here lends so much nostalgia, especially for the lover of history. The grand staircase, the wide halls and salas, and even the former president’s study and library reminded us of the life this family lived, and the other stories that once dwelled here. The colorful lives of the Marcoses are remembered and kept here, and farther eastward, at Batac, where the Marcos ancestral home still stands, alongside the mausoleum of the former president. The drive from Malacañang led us into the road by the Paoay Lake, which is considered mythic and mysterious by Ilocano tradition. Janet Padayao, another old-timer at the palace, recounted the story of this lake, which according to local lore is the site of a submerged town, San Juan de Sahagun. “A beggar visited the town,” she says, “but the people refused to help her. She cast a spell on the town and it rained hard for days and months. The town eventually went underwater, according to the story, but the presence of the town is yet to be proven.” In the summer, the lake’s surroundings are brown and dry, save for the golf course that had been put up here by President Marcos. The scene by the road resembled the sepia photographs that we had seen in one of the many pictures of Ilocos Norte, on display at the Gameng Museo Ilocos Norte, originally a tabacalera warehouse, back in Laoag City. A quick return to Laoag City allowed us to visit its public market where “abel Iloko” or hand woven blankets are sold. The market also houses the famous bagnet and longganisa. The scene was simply a feast for the eyes, as we saw women preparing the liempos for the processes of frying. After this, we drove east to Sarrat to see another majestic church, the Parish of Santa Monica, whose solid red brick belfry is known to be home to some fruit bats. We arrived at the breezy church at past noon, and it was way too early to see the bats flying out from the bell tower. The whole complex and its ruins were simply fascinating, it felt like we were in a Guiseppe Tornatore film, where the wind blows quite dramatically, carrying the fallen leaves, creating little twisters in the grounds. The church faces the still river Padsan, which also runs in Laoag, and where nipa huts could be rented for picnics. The church’s sturdy structure, its well-known roof trusses and the stillness in the town when we arrived lent mystique to that side of our trip.
The Gameng Museo Ilocos Norte, a tabacalera warehouse in colonial times was transformed by then Governor Ferdinand “Bongbong� Marcos, Jr. into a repository of Ilocano heritage and culture.
At the terrace of the Malacañang ti Amianan, with a majestic view of the Paoay Lake. President Marcos was said to have looked out here often, reminiscing his childhood days when he fished in the lake. BELOW: Retired professor Catherine Abadilla welcomes Balikbayan Magazine in her sukang Iloko refinery.
The pinakbet and Marcos country is first and foremost, of course, a balikbayan country. We must remember that the first sakadas or sugar cane workers in Hawaii were from Ilocos Norte and the whole Ilocandia. “Balikbayan Nights” are commonplace here especially during town and city fiestas, and the balikbayans from everywhere gather in their respective towns to pay homage to the land of their roots. Bacarra, northwest of Sarrat, was known to have been built by balikbayans, quite literally, and when we drove to the town, the old Ilocano houses seemed to have been replaced already by mansion or palace-like structures. This is also the same thing I guess with San Nicolas, the town nearest Laoag, which according to officials now hold the most number of Ilocano expatriates in America. The balikbayan story is the same story of the family of Catherine Abadilla. Her forefathers were part of the large-scale diaspora of Ilocanos to Hawaii, and when she toured us in her house back in Laoag, we were amazed by the wealth of memories she has kept. On her walls were memorabilia and photographs of her grandfathers Melchor and Cornelio Pascual, who once manned the sugarcane plantations in the island state. There too on the sala were sepia pictures and two big rectangular bags that had leather
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straps, which she says were brought home by the two when they went back. The bags are notably precursors to balikbayan boxes, and Catherine could not help but agree. But her current fulfillment though is in her venture with a timeless fixture of Ilocano culinary culture, the sukang Iloko. As a former professor at the province’s Mariano Marcos State University,
she has pioneered research on the homegrown vinegar. When she retired recently, she decided to turn her research into a sustainable business. With the help of government funding, her family now operates Cormel Foods, which processes and distills basi, the Ilocano wine, and yes, the sukang Iloko. “I am very fulfilled, it’s been a while since people have given attention to our suka here. It just needs to be packaged. It’s very saleable.” Cormel Foods indeed is a timeless tribute to Catherine’s family history and the sukang Iloko. And when we tried the Cormel basi, all we could do was sip in delight. The beaches and the seaside scene are things not to miss in an Ilocandia trip. The land and seascape of La Paz near Fort Ilocandia in Laoag, for instance, is something for the books, as it holds both mystery and poetry in the wasteland of its world famous sand dunes. Fernando Poe Jr. made some of his Panday series here, and while we were walking the dunes and allowing the breathtaking view of the restless sea to enthrall us, I could not help but remember the riveting fight scenes of Panday with the magical creatures rising from the sand. Another film, the minimalist Himala of Ishmael Bernal, adjudged recently in an online poll as the best Asia-Pacific film of all time, also took the sand dunes of La Paz as a setting back in the 80s.
Some enchanted morning at Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte. AJPress Photo by Andy Tecson
True to its name, La Paz is fascinatingly a place of biblical solitude and peace, a metaphorical land where we could probably commune with the shadow. The locals however have successfully fitted the place into their adventures, and while going around, we saw a group driving their 4x4s along the sandy terrain. Farther up north, another great view of the sea awaits everyone at Bangui. The government has put up at least 15 wind turbines here that have become an important attraction in the region. Known today as the Windmills of Bangui, these turbines accelerated the electrification of the province, and have of course attracted many visitors as well. The white giants brave the gusty winds at Bangui Bay day by day, their presence simply overwhelming. Walking in the beach, we were kissed by salt spray as the winds really blew hard. I have never seen any place as windy as this spot in Bangui, and the windmills have really brought so much character to this otherwise simple town. The sea in this side of Luzon is not as calm during our visit. In Fort Ilocandia alone, it is quite fascinating how the beach batters the
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shore. The beach in Currimao down south is a much calmer blue when we dropped in the Bali-inspired Playa Tropical Resort Hotel. But the sea we have seen at the hills of Vigia de Nagparitan in Burgos is nothing but treacherous. The historical lighthouse of Cape Bojeador however safely guards this dangerous bend of Luzon, where the Babuyan Channel and South China Sea meet. Since 1892, it has stood in that hill, lighting the way of ships that dock in Currimao, and in various points of the country. The lighthouse’s architecture is typically 19th century, with a high-ceilinged complex with Spanish wooden panel windows and an intricately designed canopied balcony, where one can view the sea and the surrounding greenery. However the queen of the sea here in Ilocos is of course, Pagudpud. This town prides itself of having its very own white sand beaches, and it actually projects itself as a very good alternative to the more popular summer destinations in the country, and even abroad. But you will be surprised, as we all were when we drove to the most scenic beach of Pagudpud. In what is known to locals as Blue Lagoon, we were mesmerized by the
tropical paradise, currently being developed in anticipation of more tourist activity. When we arrived, the sea was restless too. The rainforest that surrounds the area was moist with early morning rain. “Most times, the sea is very calm and blue here,” says Imee Benemerito-Llanes, operations manager of Villa Del Mar, a developing tourist destination in the prime Pagudpud spot. “I’ve seen how this place has grown, I lived most of my life here. This place is really beautiful, has remained virginal. Only a few people know the place, but slowly, the crowds are growing. We are very excited to transform the place, but with much care of course,” adds Imee. Knowing what the Genuine Ilocandia is through the trip is almost epical. We could go on and on, talking about the beaches, the landmarks, the routes both scenic and serendipitous. Any writing, like the Lam-ang epic, is merely an attempt to create a testament. The continuing story is everywhere—in the pinakbet, bagnet, the churches, the houses, the language. It also resides in the tobacco, and the bougainvillea abloom in the land this summer. It is in the heart of the people. g
Architect Rex Hofileña and Dr. Joven Cuanang—”door-todoor” delivery of the real Ilocandia for balikbayan visitors.
| essence of place | By louie jon a. sanchez | Photos by Raphael john oriel | the ajpress
Sitio Remedios
The Doctor’s Inn AJPress Photo by Andy Tecson
Remedios is remedies in Spanish of course, and how
lovely it feels on the tongue, as the ‘r’ rolls through the repeated vowels that capture the silent ruptures of the ‘m’, the lips about to close. But the word does not end there but commences to dios, to God, and the experience of utterance is nothing but a mystical, sacred one, as it returns to all that begins and ends. While here, this mental note lent us a keener understanding of the word, and the depth it holds, as it connotes healing, resolve, and solution, of course. May 2009 | balikbayan 73
On a clear day, you can see forever and a bay, Gaang Bay.
The seas that face this
quaint little sitio is nothing but therapeutic, really, and I must say that this place has been indeed aptly named. Despite the scorching heat of summer, there’s just something astonishing and soothing about this haunt, this well kept secret of Currimao town in Ilocos Norte. On the way to Sitio Remedios, an arch which seemed to have been taken from some ruins (actually a replica of the arco at the entrance of the church at the next town of Badoc), and a charming old house of usual Ilocano motif will welcome you, will lend you the comforting world of Currimao summer. But indeed, there’s more than meets the eye. You must learn how to be watchful, and learn the art of lingering too, the way the elders watch over town to keep it safe. Currimao is in the details and you can’t afford to miss all those important things. Sitio Remedios is such a dwelling that surprises, and when one starts to walk its solid stone pavements, the magic begins. The short walk at what is called Avenida de Azucao, the main walkway that leads to the houses and the beach, was a nostalgic experience for me, that at first, I was deceived that the walk was simply Asian-inspired. But lo and behold, at each stone slab markers appear the etched scenes of the 14 Stations of the Cross in cement plinths in the shape of lotus flowers. At the end of the walkway, which is also lined by a pot full of azucaos or lilies that abound at Lake Paoay and various cacti, maguey plants and kalanuchi on both sides, guests are welcomed by the awe-inspiring fountain of San Miguel Arcanghel, the patron of the town, and yes, the sitio. This must be Currimao itself, making its presence tangibly felt, I tell myself. Sitio Remedios is a heritage town in itself, and it transports any pilgrim to the olden days of the plaza mayors, and bailes. Priding itself of bringing back the genteel days of the mid-fifties Ilocos Norte, it has houses around its Plaza and Capilla San Miguel centerpieces, named after Ilocano heritage towns and town motifs—the grand Balay Batac (or “Balay nga Bato,” the stone house), Balay Piddig, which has the “Kuarto ni Cecille” the room where world famous pianist Cecille Licad stayed during her trip here, Balay Dingras, the quaint bungalow Balay Bacarra, Balay Radrillo or the brick house, Balay nga Puraw, which translates as White House, and Balay Pasuquin, the writers’ favorite. The rooms had been filled with beautiful paintings and sculptures, as well as wellplaced antique furniture. Sitio Remedios is definitely a refreshing take on good old nostalgia. It provides not only memory, but also the comforts of the old town. May 2009 | balikbayan 75
AJPress Photo by Andy Tecson
But its real gem is the sea. In the summer, the sitio faces the glimmer of Currimao’s white sand, and the sparkling blue of the Gaang Bay and the Luzon Sea. This alone reminds us of the Hispanic past of Currimao, the old port town which pirates used to infest for loots. For this, the colonial government decided to put up two strategic watchtowers—one at Arboledan Point, and the other at a barangay named Torre. Whenever the marauders would attack the village, the guard at the watchtower was said to shout “correr”, which in Spanish is “to run”. The pirates then, according to popular legend, were called by the name “cumaw”, which by word sound already connotes terror. The conjugation of the two words may have given birth to the name Currimao, a name that is in itself very unique since it originates not from Spanish, but from the Portuguese. The owner, Dr. Joven Cuanang, remembers some notes his own Portuguese visitors shared with him one time. “They went here looking for the place named Currimao. The word apparently is their term for the balustrade in staircases. They went all the way here just to see what this Currimao is all about.” Yes, Currimao is home to majestic watchtowers, and as we walked in the Sitio Remedios complex, we had seen at the far end of the property, a watchtower, remembering the history, and the stories. After all, the land is mystical as it is mysterious. It had to be safeguarded, like this little sitio, which has made a mark as an interestingly charming destination. When I went atop the watchtower named Torre ni Mariano, I saw the little town, the ageold trees by the capilla, which has a chandelier from the Quiapo Church, the houses, the plaza, the infinity pool that seems to join the sea. It was breezy, and the view was simply perfect, a great and effective remedy for any weary soul. My pilgrim feet brought me all around, and
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I also climbed the staircases and the houses. When I was in one of the pasamanos of the house facing the sea in the sitio, I remembered Luna, himself an Ilocano from Badoc, and the lovers in that melancholic painting where there were no words in between, but mere silences. In a summer like this, where the white lacey curtains are slowly being blown by sea breeze, and the only thing you can hear is the rustling of the leaves of trees—and the occasional Raul Sunico covers of popular Ilocano folk songs—it’s not so difficult to fall in love with this gem of a place. Up in the Balay nga Bato, whose upper floor is made of wood and the lower part, stone, I saw the tumba-tumba by the ventanilla and had wanted to pick a book from the house’s lovely book collection. How I wanted to take that rocking chair, flip through the Susan Sontag title I saw at the sala, until the winds grant me the gift of sleep. The airy architecture of the place was inviting and warm, and I had that ardent wish to just sit down and take everything in from where rest had finally found me. But our gracious host, Dr. Cuanang had more stories to tell as we moved along the houses that compose this little town. “This,” Dr. Cuanang says, pointing to a photograph in the second floor, “was shot during a wedding. A cousin, who was then a flower girl, was supposed to be there. But she had to answer the call of nature and had missed the shoot,” he says in laughter. Pictures were framed stories, and Sontag of course was right. There were other pictures there, pictures that for Sontag were emblems, and not merely memories. When you look at the eyes of Dr. Cuanang, they sparkle with held on histories, pictures. After all, he grew up here in Ilocos, and was brought here in Currimao in the summers of his childhood. The Boston-trained neurologist and medical
director of St. Luke’s Medical Center in Manila had kept this beach house for 30 years. He had seen it in his mind grow from being “just a thicket” to a grand old town where heritage, culture and memory are constantly celebrated. He had this sitio on his mind on his birthday in 2005, Dr. Cuanang, this sitio named after his mother. “I dreamt of the village. Everything that I wanted to see here must be Ilocano, even the music,” the good doctor says, as he led us around the complex. This 18,000 square meter land that stands on the abode named after another lady, Barangay Victoria, literally rose up from the ground without much technical plan but only the handiwork and ingenuity of locals from the towns where the houses could be found. With the help of his friend, architect Rex Hofileña, he built this sitio and patterned it after the typical Spanish grid called quadricula, respecting ancient spaces and the natural terrain. A case in point: when you visit the Capilla de San Miguel, which comes complete with buttresses inspired by the church of Paoay, you will see a sturdy sampaloc tree left standing by the church steps, like the many other trees that surround the houses and the whole complex. Hofileña, who hails from Negros and who moved here to Ilocos some 20 years ago, notes the difference between the architectural motifs he grew up with, and his experience with Ilocano design. “Bacolod for instance is rich in ornamentation. It speaks of the wealth, the economic stature. The designs are very intricate if you go and see the houses. The Ilocano motif on the other hand is very functional and simple, reflective of the land and its people.” And this, I think, adds a lot of charm to the sitio, which had begun with the hut that used to be where the family of Dr. Cuanang stayed when they were on vacation. “There’s a lot of memories in this land,” he says. “When Rex and I were working
around the land, a lot of those things from the past came back to me. That’s why it has been my own resolve to contain it all here, to keep it all here,” he says. Most of the structures in the complex were made in an amazing four month-period. “We wanted to open our doors in time for the fiesta of May 1 that year. I personally felt it was auspicious,” says Dr. Cuanang. And it definitely was. After the first misa Ilocana in the chapel, a musical concert was held at the plaza by no other than the pianist Licad, who had the great fortune of leaving her mark, her name actually, in one of the houses mentioned. “Cecille played Mozart, Rachmaninoff. We were all enthralled. The moment was simply breathtaking. The people were very much amazed.” Soon enough, other musicians like Sunico, and Coke Bolipata came over to play their music at the sitio’s grand plaza. By this time, the Sitio Remedios had already made symphonies of stories, as people started talking about it. Magazine writers came here, as well as TV crew shooting the sights of the site. But amazingly, Dr. Cuanang and Rex had maintained the laidback atmosphere, the stillness here, making it so far, for most of us in the trip at least, a best-kept secret. “People were coming already, we didn’t even have to put up a big caratula. We tell them that they can have their peace and quiet here.” And the doctor too has continued paying it forward to the communities that surround the sitio. Aside from maintaining 10 staffers from the locale, whom they call tagataripatos, or house helpers in Ilocano, they have involved the communities, most of them fisher folk, in the continuing development of this cultural community. “We employed some women to take charge of our spa services here. We had them trained.”
Avenida de Azucao
“We also provide scholarships to children, some of them singing for our monthly masses at the capilla. Everyone is involved here, and everyone helps,” Dr Cuanang says. “There’s not much commercialism in our mind when we put the sitio up. Everything goes back to the community. Aside from that, we don’t treat our staff here as servants. They’re family.” We had lunch at the side hut of the Cuanangs in the sitio, which stands by a tree that has chimes made of bamboo. Beside it is and the resort’s infinity pool. Served that afternoon was ararosep, the seaweed with bagoong alamang and cut tomato, pinakbet, of course, yusi, the tender meat and liver stew, and kilawen, the fresh tanigue fish in flavorful vinegar. Dr. Cuanang was proud of the sitio’s cook, whom he says hails from one of the communities. “She’s an old woman, and she really cooks authentic Ilocano food. In Sitio Remedios, we make it a point to offer only real Ilocano food, what the Ilocanos would have on their tables. Not much fancy actually. We always return to the basics here,” he says. For refreshments, sitio served us with ice-cold melon juice with sweetened milk, a great treat in the scorching heat. I indulged in the melon while my companions enjoyed
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the afternoon Cordillera coffee. Every now and then, I stood up to marvel at the clippings display at the nipa walls of the hut. There’s a lot of memorabilia here, like the front page news of the Manila Bulletin on the day Gloria Diaz was crowned Miss Universe 1969, and the advertisement of the old ABS-CBN as they were about to broadcast the landing of man on the moon. These two clippings serve as signage quite interestingly, of the comfort rooms. “Those clippings came out on the same day,” Dr. Cuanang tells me, when he saw me reading through the texts. Listening to Dr. Cuanang talk about his family’s story and the resiliency of the Ilocano, whose culture he says is very much grounded on the belief that social mobility depends on education, I had my own epiphany as an Ilocano who had lived much of my life in Manila, and barely understood the whole complex culture. I remember the fabulist Italo Calvino, and his return to memory in his book The Road to San Giovanni, which I fortunately browsed in one of the tables in the balays. To me, visiting Sitio Remedios is also going my way to a road of memories, where I can find and understand somehow the stories and histories I have heard myself in my younger years about Ilocos Norte and the Ilocano. g
Pagudpud in Ilocos Norte is considered to be the next big thing. Its amazingly white sand beaches, scenic cliffs and picturesque landscape will definitely capture anybody’s heart. Pagudpud is an exciting destination because developments abound and the place itself is beginning to make its mark as a major destination. Ilocos Norte’s very long shoreline ends geographically at Pagudpud, the seaside town, near the fascinating viaduct beside the mountains in Patapat, the windmills of Bangui, and the heritage lighthouse at Burgos. In the heart of Pagudpud however lies a mystical secret known only before to locals and avid travelers. To reach it, you’ll drive hills that seemed to lead to this unfathomable heart, this heart of beauty. The scenic Blue Lagoon of the northern gem that is Pagudpud is home to one of the region’s fast rising and exciting resorts. Nestled in the lush greenery and still virginal surroundings, Hannah’s Beach Resort is an hour and a half drive from the capital’s Laoag International Airport. Facing the fascinating clear blue waters of the bend where South China Sea and the Babuyan Channel meet, this resort offers exclusivity and luxury for the weary traveler. The resort complex offers ample villas, all quaint and well designed and fully air-conditioned for the comfort and convenience of the guests. It also has other useful recreational facilities such as conference rooms for meetings, team buildings and various functions, as well aqua sports and exercise facilities. What’s more, you can treat yourself in this paradise with Hannah’s more affordable rates. For divers and deep-sea adventurers, a great destination would be the site of a Japanese shipwreck, located a few minutes away from the resort. But the resort itself has a charming story. The lands were originally planned for a family rest house where the resort now stands. “When we put up the house, we suddenly thought of putting up a few more huts for guests. Then we were
suddenly starting to build more, expanding more. We ended up having this beautiful spot transformed into a great place to stay when you’re here in Blue Lagoon,” Gina Domingcil, Hannah’s General Manager tells us, during our recent visit to in Pagudpud. “Blue Lagoon is really a beautiful place, and we are happy that we are pioneering the developments here.” “We had been truly blessed because of the one unexplainable thing that happened here,” she adds. She was of course, referring to the image of the Virgin of the Miraculous Medal that stands at the far end of the resort’s swimming pool. “In that exact spot, we were able to draw up a mysterious looking snake. Somehow, that story of the locals brought us to choose the image of Mary, crushing the head of the serpent. A lot of people surprisingly come back here and never fail to pay the Virgin a visit. They have apparently received blessings from the Virgin,” she relates. The resort is still growing and there’s still a lot to expect in the coming months. According to Gina, Hannah’s will soon open a bigger dormitorytype villa, fit for groups touring the region. “We are working double-time on this, and we are overwhelmed by the barrage of phone calls and email inquiries. In a short span of time, we have somehow made our presence felt. For the summer, most of our days are fully booked.” Former guests too, apparently are spreading the word about Hannah’s. A good number of satisfied clientele testify to the enjoyment and comfort they experienced during their stay in the resort. “We enjoyed staying at Hannah’s. We will definitely be back here,” says Melanie Andaya, a recent resort guest. “I enjoyed the land tour. There are a lot of beautiful sights in Pagudpud and Ilocos as a whole. I hope the resort keeps on growing.” Another guest, Michelle Baclagon, shares the same wonderful experience. “It was a very short trip. We’ve stayed in Hannah’s for just a day but it was all worth it,” she says. “Blue Lagoon has a very nice beach and we enjoyed taking pictures at the rock formation near Hannah’s. It truly was a wonderful vacation.” Aside from the beach, the resort also offers airport transfers and land tours to the famous destinations of Ilocos, such as the Cape Bojeador Lighthouse, the windmills, Patapat, Agua Grande and Kabigan Falls. There’s just so much to do in this paradise and you’ll really have to take your time. Hannah’s Beach Resort is located at Brgy. Balaoi, Malingay, Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte, Philippines. For information about the resort call mobile numbers +63-0910-496-6525 or +630920-605-7121. Also send inquiries at info@ hannahsbeachresort.com and reservations at reservations@hannahsbeachresort.com. Log on to www.hannahsbeachresort.com for more details. g
hannah’s making waves
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The reminds you of what you miss most All of us, one way or another, long to go home. There’s so much to see, so much to relish when we are here. And all these, we deserve a welcoming atmosphere in homecomings. That is why at Mabuhay Manor, every balikbayan will surely be made to feel their homecoming as a much-cherished event. As the first balikbayan hotel in the country, the Mabuhay Manor brings back all the great Filipino traditions for every balikbayan to enjoy those practices and culinary delights that they have missed. The Manor is designed such so that every balikbayan can be made to feel that he’s been missed… and that’s because he has. Every balikbayan is welcomed with the drink with the Pinoy twist of sago’t gulaman. As soon as he enters the festive Manor, everything Filipino is displayed and ready to be enjoyed. “Usually, a balikbayan can afford to stay in a five-star hotel but the thing is, they are all the same. At the Mabuhay Manor, we celebrate the Filipino spirit. We offer stuff you won’t find in any other hotel,” says Dennis Sebastian, the hotel’s property manager. Sebastian is referring to, among others, the hotel’s certified Pinoy menu which includes balut and “ice candy.” Yes, the balut which has charmed Pinoys and foreigners alike the world over. He explains, “We have a resident balut vendor — actually a staff dressed up as one—who goes around the hallways shouting “Balut!” every 30 minutes, from 7 to 10 p.m. It’s a big hit among our balikbayan and foreign guests,” he says. Another unique Manor feature that is balikbayan-friendly is the big-sized rooms to accommodate the balikbayan boxes that guests carry with them. “We found out that they bring an average of eight to 15 balikbayan boxes, so the rooms have ample space for these. We also noticed that the balikbayan usually arrives by himself or with his travel companions on the first day. On the next day, the number of occupants has increased due to the arrival of their relatives,” he laughs. ”“We are always ready for these sudden increases in numbers.” True enough, guests can choose from the Mabuhay Manor’s 115 well-appointed rooms. There are the Manor, Executive, Junior, and Team suites, as well as the Deluxe, Premium, and Superior rooms. The Manor has three restaurants to cater to the Filipino taste. Lola’s, found at the second floor, showcases traditional Filipino breakfast
fare as dried fish and kakanin. Sutukil is a Manor favorite and brings to the fore the merry mix of sugba (grilled), tula (simmered in broth), and kilaw (drenched in vinegar). Or they can head off to Sala at the lobby where they can relax and munch on light Pinoy snacks and lunches. “Our foreign guests love our breakfast
spread because it comes with our specialty rice cakes and a puto vendor. At night, we have the harana by the poolside. Balikbayans love to sing along to kundiman songs,” Sebastian says. Since it’s all about coming back together at the Manor, the hotel has a a reunion package for homecoming parties. Sebastian adds. The Mabuhay Manor is located at 2933 Ortigas St. Pasay City. For inquiries and reservations, please call Central Reservations at (632) 7022700 to 04. You can also check out their website at www.mabuhaymanor.com.ph. g
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| pastfood |
A very precious cuisine By momar g. visaya | the ajpress
Truth be told, Ilocano cuisine is so
underrated. Not a lot of people (unless of course, you are Ilocano or you know one) know about the dishes of Northern Luzon, Ilocos in particular. Not a lot of articles are written about this cuisine.
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Chef Pamela Aragoza and her homemade carrot cake.
The balikbayan trip we made last month made
us reaffirm our beliefs that the view and the people in the countryside are equally as unbelievable and there were gustatory delights that were just waiting to be devoured. Thankfully, La Preciosa Restaurant was there to show us that there’s a lot more to Ilocano cuisine. Owner and chef Pamela Aragoza and her husband Frederick sat down with us before we had our lunch there, and shared that the restaurant offers more than just the usual. Of course, the standards will always be there but with the chef in the kitchen, the usual becomes extraordinary. Chef Pam, quite proudly, shared her Ilocano heritage through the parade of dishes – a veritable feast of Ilocano goodness - that came out of her kitchen. Take for example “bagbet.” The dish is a combination of the famous bagnet and pinakbet, yet another Ilocano bestseller. Pam, a Psychology graduate from Miriam College said she wanted her own take on the pinakbet, with the bagnet as a major ingredient and not just a minor player. “I’m probably one of the few Ilocanos who do not like vegetables that much,” she reveals, and as a kid, she recalls having to go through a gamut of vegetables, whether their family is eating pinakbet or dinengdeng. In fact, we were served with a bagnet sili, which had nothing but green chilis and bagnet swimming in the glorious pinakbet flavor and aroma. This one is a winner. Then, there’s the scandalously-named poqui-poqui, which is made of grilled eggplant and scrambled eggs with sliced tomatoes and onions, and no, it is not just the Ilocano version of tortang talong. There’s also warek-warek, which upon further scrutiny, tasted like dinakdakan, a famous Baguio City dish. The Ensaladang Gamet with tucmem (seaweeds with baby clams) was delicious and very refreshing and definitely an innovative way to eat the traditional gamet (Japanese nori). The vegetables used for the burudibud (La Preciosa calls it baradibud) could not have been any fresher. Eating the dish brought me back to my own mom’s traditional Ilocano cooking with all the ingredients imaginable: squash flowers, camote, katuray, string beans, tomatoes and alukon
(himbabao in Tagalog). We also noshed on yet an innovative way to cook dulong, the really small fish usually cooked paksiw. La Preciosa made sinigang out of it and we had a great time slurping the sour soup. The traditional bagnet with KBL (kamatis, bagoong, lasona or shallots) was very filling and crunchy, the exact way that bagnet is supposed to be eaten anyway. The sumptuous lunch ended with chef Pam’s equally delicious desserts. We sampled her famous carrot cake, tiramisu, blueberry cheesecake and double chocolate, just the perfect ending for what was a very Ilocano lunch. My own childhood memories were triggered by that lunch, and I made sure I reveled at every bite. The only time I get to eat these dishes is when I am truly home. The meal at La Preciosa was indeed memorable. That is the La Preciosa effect, something that thousands of its previous diners may have gone through after partaking what initially seems like a very home-cooked meal and quintessential Ilocano meal. La Preciosa, named in honor of the chef Pam’s mom, has become famous in the Laoag culinary world because of the simplicity of the Ilocano dishes that they offer and how tourists from other provinces and balikbayans from abroad flock to the restaurant just to get that old homecooked meal feeling. To drive home the point: there were two major events ongoing at La Preciosa when we visited – a wedding and a christening, enough proof that locals in this city have embraced the restaurant as a part of its rich and colorful culture. Suffice it to say, La Preciosa helped pioneer the concept of fine dining in the North back in the 1950s when the family matriarch Severa Ablan Ventura opened the Modern Kitchenette in downtown Laoag. Several years later, the matriarch passed her cooking skills to Preciosa who operated a restaurant called Peppermint Kitchenette. Her daughter continued that culinary tradition through La Preciosa. Today, the restaurant plays host to balikbayans and tourists alike who would come together for a gathering each time they visit Ilocos Norte. g
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A Symphony of Sweets
Filipinos have for generations been in love with the light and buttery flavor of the ensaymada, a culinary treasure inherited from the Spaniards after almost four centuries of influence in the Philippines. In this period, the rich flavors of Spanish cooking shaped the character of Filipino cuisine. The Filipino palate was adapted to Western standards. Thus the unique ensaymada became a common Filipino delicacy. A Flavorful History The ensaymada originated from the island of Mallorca at a time when Catholics and Muslims were engaged in religious conflict, for control over the territory. It was said that Catholics introduced different foods that contained, among others, pork lard, a substance that a devout Muslim could not consume, to make it difficult for the Muslim immigrants to adapt to life in the region. These were some of the cultural barriers they set up to stymie the influx of Non-Catholics.
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The Filipino ensaymada was originally called brioche by the Castillans. When the invention crossed the seas to the Philippines, the Filipinos made some innovations that transformed the everyday staple food into a pillowy, flavorful delicacy, a food for special occasions. The significant change came about when the pork lard was replaced with butter. Despite its foreign origin, the Filipinos embraced the reformulated ensaymada as their own. It became so Filipino that important occasions and feasts were always accompanied by a serving of ensaymada. The more special the event, the more sumptuous the ensaymada and its fillings were. When a Filipino visits relatives, it is a common “pasalubong”, a gift from the visitor to the host. Through the years, it has truly become part of Filipino culture.
The Magic Melt Ensaymada Since 1999, Magic Melt has been baking special ensaymada in Cebu City. Its standard for softness is best described by the phrase, “magic melts in your mouth.” Aside from the outstanding softness of the bread, “you can enjoy the flavorful taste of different fillings in every bite,” shares Carolyne L. Go, President and Chief Executive Officer of Magic Melt Foods Inc. Magic Melt Ensaymada is a special sweet dough preparation topped with dollops of butter cream and grated cheese and is available in a wide variety of fillings from ube, yema, macapuno, mango, pandan, pineapple, strawberry, salted egg , mocha supreme, and choco supreme. “Most ensaymadas being sold in the market are of ordinary taste and do not offer
a variety of flavors. Our tropical flavors as ube, macapuno, and mango are very popular, especially for markets abroad such as USA and Canada. ” says Carolyne. New Products Magic Melt has developed new products to address the demand of the market for healthy products. It has recently launched multi-grain and whole wheat breads for sale at the different stores and supermarkets all over Cebu. It is also developing variants of hopia, barquillos, and lengua de gato. These will soon be distributed on a nation wide scale within the year. Other Magic Melt favorites include otap, ube otap, rosquillos, biscocho and mamon tostado. Magic Melt has joined various franchising expos and food shows in Cebu, Manila and Davao such as the International
Food Exhibition Philippines (IFEX), World Food Expo (WOFEX), and Cebu Food Expo. It is distributed internationally by Global Commodities and Asian Commodities Co. in California, Philippine Food Corp. in Chicago, and UNO Food Inc. and APO Products in Canada. From the Philippines to the World Magic Melt started as a small store in Cebu City producing the ensaymada, and just last year, it began franchising the Magic Melt cart. Now, it is selling not only ensaymada but other native pasalubong products, breads and pastries, not only to Filipinos in the Philippines but also those all over the world. It has brought Filipinos abroad a gift, a pasalubong to remind them of home. For more information on Magic Melt Foods Inc, visit http://www.magicmelt.com. g
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| parting shot |
a musing guide Please be inspired accordingly
“In response to the growing tourist arrivals despite the economic challenges, the Department has established the Mabuhay Guides training program, designed to produce young men and women who will guide travelers, business investors and tourism partners around the Philippines,” Ace Durano, Secretary of Tourism said during the graduation rites of the Mabuhay Guides held at Fort Santiago, Intramuros. The program aimed at preparing Guides to ‘present the country in the best possible light in an interesting, intelligent and engaging manner, as they represent the best our country has to offer.’ The Department’s premier training program enticed numerous of applicants nationwide. Durano added, “The program consists of an intensive training that covers the essential elements of becoming an excellent tour guide. We have invited the London Blue Badge Guides and a roster of renowned personalities from different areas of expertise to give lectures and field demonstrations.” Selection was spearheaded by the tourism chief himself, along with Department of Tourism (DOT) officials Eduardo Jarque, Jr., Undersecretary for Tourism Planning and Promotions; Director Victoria Jasmin of the Office of Tourism Standards; and Director Benito Bengzon, Head for Team Japan. The screening panel was also composed of experienced travel authorities Susan CaloMedina of award-winning program Travel Time, Rose Libongco of Sofitel Philippine Plaza, Marilen Sandejas-Yaptangco of Baron Travel Corp., and Mila Abad, marketing consultant of Philtranco. “As the tourism industry grows and the private sector discovers and appreciates the need and value of excellent tour guides, their training and expertise should continuously be enhanced,” commented Undersecretary Jarque. The program was a four-week comprehensive training in different areas of communication arts, personality development, first aid, and protocolar training. Well-respected
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figures namely Nicola Godfrey-Evans and Roger Rajah from the prestigious London Blue Badge have trained the Mabuhay Guides for the duration of their course. “The Mabuhay Guides indeed only received the best from the London Blue Badge trainors and the group of experts giving lectures on relevant topics,” Jarque noted. Travel Time producer and host Calo-Medina, who was part of the screening panel, shared, “The London Blue Badge Tourist Guide trainors have shared their expertise through interactive and hands-on learning sessions. These have indeed helped hone the participants’ skills.” she added, “A ‘blue badge’ in London means a mark of excellence in the field, and in England, this training amounts to almost 2000 sterling pounds. Indeed this is a worthy learning investment.” As well, the list of lecturers consisted of a formidable list of renowned figures. National Artist for Literature Virgilio Almario gave a primer on Philippine Literature; Eric Torres on Art; Flor Hornedo on Philippine History; and Felipe De Leon Jr. on Philippine Cultural Identity. Zen Architect Ning Encarnacion-Tan gave an overview of Architecture, Ramon Santos on Music; PNU Theater Arts Director Larry Gabao on Dance; and Gaeta Fores on Filipino Cuisine. Avid collector and author Jaime Laya on Philippine Antiques and Crafts, Dorothy Zoleta-Nantes from UP Diliman discussed Philippine Geography; heritage columnist Toti Villalon shared his expertise on Philippine Heritage Sites; and World Wildlife Fund for Nature – Philippines’ Lory Tan shed light on tourism and the ecology. The courses were followed by written and practical examinations, field exposure and practicum. After being presented to the members of the tourism industry, the Mabuhay Guides will also sign a contract with the DOT, certifying them as accredited Philippine tour guides. Most importantly, the participants will seal their commitment to the ethical practice of being Mabuhay Guides. g