UST celebrates 400 years of unending grace balikbayanmagazine.com
DECEMBER 2010 – JANUARY 2011
Volume II number 5
US$ 5.00•PHP 150.00
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6 Keeping A Journal
VIVA SANTO TOMAS! By Roger Lagmay Oriel, Publisher
8 Editor’s Notebook OLD SCHOOL
Publisher & CEO | Roger L. Oriel President & Co-Publisher | Cora M. Oriel
By Lito Ocampo Cruz, Editor-in-chief
Editor-in-Chief & EVP ASIA | Lito Ocampo Cruz MANAGING Editor | Louie Jon Agustin Sanchez Associate Editor | Rochelle C. Pangilinan
10 OLDEST SCHOOL
THE UNIVERSITY OF SANTO TOMAS: CELEBRATING FOUR CENTURIES OF UNENDING GRACE By ANGELO NONATO P. CABRERA
GUEST EDITOR | Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo cONTRIBUTING EDITORS | Nancy Reyes Lumen, Candy Villanueva-Lykes, Rene Luis Mata, D.M. Reyes, Althea Lauren Ricardo, Joel Pablo Salud, Walter Villa Contributing WRITERS | Alma Anonas-Carpio, Jewel Castro, Mark Anthony Cayanan, Susan Lara, Ruben Nepales, Janet Susan Nepales Contributing Photographers | Joe Cobilla, Phillip Kimpo Jr., Ted Madamba, Raphael John Oriel, Miko Santos, Andy Tecson Vice President for Advertising | Noel O. Godinez Vice President for Sales | Sharon Ann Z. Bathan vP for Circulation & special events | Vince Samson ACCOUNT MANAGER | Stephanie Marie L. Kho
16 ALUMNI
USTHOMASIANS: FIL-AM THOMASIANS RETURN FOR UNIVERSITY QUADRICENTENNIAL By RUBEN V. NEPALES
20 BELLES LETTRES
A SCHOOL OF LETTERS By LOUIE JON. A SANCHEZ
22 PERSONA OPHIE
By ALMA ANONAS-CARPIO
24 OUR TOWN
BRIGHT LIGHTS, BIG LANTERNS BY ROBBY TANTINGCO
Staff WriterS | Billy dela Cruz, Julie Matienzo Staff Artists | Edward Dy, Valory Lim, Bienvenida Salazar, Kendrick Tan, Joyce Dianne Balansag, Richard Erpilo Circulation Manager | Arthur Sibulangcao Accountant | Ria Fabro
28 PAST FOOD
EAT’S CHRISTMASTIME IN PAMPANGA BY ROBBY TANTINGCO
30 MALL STREET JOURNAL
WRAP AROUND THE CLOCK By ROCHELLE C. PANGILINAN
balikbayan Magazine is published by Asian Journal Publications, Inc. 2/F Units D&E Fort Palm Spring Cond., 30th Street, cor. 1st Avenue, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig, 1200 Philippines. Tel. (632) 856–4921 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. Distributed in the Philippines for newly arrived balikbayans at Duty Free Philippines, as well as at select hotels, resorts, restaurants and cafes and major bookstores and magazine distributors. Circulated at special events and through subscription in the United States of America.
34 DETOUR
IT’S TIANGGE SEASON By ROCHELLE C. PANGILINAN
48 POSTCARDS
I WAS PROMISED A WHITE CHRISTMAS AND I GOT IT By CANDY VILLANUEVA-LYKES
50 SALT & PAPER
HAM FOR THE HOLIDAYS BY ALMA ANONAS-CARPIO
52 BALIKBAYAN TRUE STORY
THE CHRISTMAS GIFT By JOEL PABLO SALUD
55
Tita de Guzman’s Unique American Dream By CYNTHIA DE CASTRO
56 GIVING BACK
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60 ROOM WITH A VIEWPOINT
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66 ESSENCE OF PLACE
THE HOUSES IN WHICH I LIVED By CRISTINA PANTOJA-HIDALGO
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Photo by Richard Erpilo, AJPress
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keeping a journal
Viva SantoTomas! By roger lagmay oriel, publisher My recent trip to my alma mater, the University of Santo Tomas, was a trip down memory lane. I searched for some old landmarks that were not there anymore. I remembered the old faces and places, and somehow a new point of view greeted me as I entered the august corridors of my old school.
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traveled in time down the UST Main Building with our managing editor, Louie Jon A. Sanchez, another Thomasian, who toured me around the campus sprawling with new things—like what was during my time (and Louie’s, I heard) a tree-filled parking lot at the venerable Main Bldg. is now the university’s Plaza Mayor, a park and red brick pathway connected to the wide UST gardens where the monument of the founder, Miguel de Benavidez stands.
We walked the UST Main Bldg. and Louie regaled me with some bits of history—that the building was the strongest structure of its time, because of the kind of construction and design adopted by the Dominican engineer Roque Ruaño. The building itself is historical. During the Japanese period, several expatriates spent their time in this internment camp. It could be remembered of course that the original location of UST was at the Intramuros. The only remnant of the old UST was the arch now attached at the Arch of the Centuries facing España Avenue. The old canteen (we called it the Cooperative canteen where the food was very affordable) at what was a gathering packet for students at the back of the Main Building is no longer to be found. The whole area apparently was turned into what Thomasians returning for the quadricentennial will call the “Quadricentennial Park,” where a monument created by Ramon Orlina is being erected. Right across the Park is still the St. Raymund Peñafort Building, the home of the Faculty of Arts and Letters and the College of Commerce and Business Administration, my home college. We went the other way, to the Alumni Relations Office, at the ground floor of the UST Graduate School where Louie and I signed up for the alumni database. We met in the office of Michael Angelo Malicsi and Cheree Buendia, director and assistant director for alumni affairs respectively. Both of them welcomed us and gave us updates about the upcoming events in January. Michael was with Fr. Rector Rolando dela Rosa, OP, in a sort of alumni caravan in the US sometime this year. The office has been on its toes touching base with the Filipino-American Thomasians. Later during the meeting, we also had a short audience with UST Public Affairs
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Office Director Giovanna Fontanilla, much remembered in the university for her very touching moment with the late Pope John Paul II, when the pontiff visited the university in 1995. As the main communicator of the quadricentennial celebrations, Prof. Fontanilla expressed the university’s anticipation for the upcoming festivities. Out in the world, I couldn’t see myself getting to where I am without my much-valued university education. My UST experience has taught me discipline, and above all, a sense of work ethic. Coming from my hometown of Binalonan, Pangasinan, I braved the UST life and the road to the future. Academic excellence ingrained by Thomasian education drove me to achieve. If not for my UST education, I wouldn’t have landed a position at the Sycip, Gorres and Velayo Accounting Firm, my first and only job in the country, straight from college, before I migrated to the US. I am greatly indebted to Washington Sycip, himself a proud Thomasian, who gave many of us in the College of Commerce a chance to work for the firm. My UST days are gone, but I could not help but remember the beginnings—back there in Asturias Street near the university, the street where I lived during my college years. Weekdays, I studied, and on weekends, our family driver would bring us back to Binalonan. I may say I didn’t get to become a city boy completely because of my weekend sojourns home. However, it was probably preparation for my further journeys.
Life at UST was good. It was some of the best years of my life. Viva Santo Tomas! g
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editor’s notebook
Old School By Lito Ocampo Cruz
In 1976, the University of Santo Tomas academic journal Unitas reviewed what I now call my juvenile attempt at poetry writing. Our managing editor Louie Jon A. Sanchez tells me that to merit a few good pages in that venerable publication is worthy somehow of my early literary memory—and what remains of it. Jullie YapDaza, another UST legend, reviewed the book in her old Manila Chronicle column, and to this day remembers it fondly. I thought I burned all the copies, but I recently saw one available on eBay.
W
ith this issue, it’s time to say thank you to UST.
Louie Jon writes about his old school and the many men and women whose names are the who’s who of Philippine arts and letters. Louie himself recently won the first prize in the university’s poetry contest, Lumina Pandit, which anticipates the quadricentennial through an exhibit of UST’s library treasures. The husband and wife team of Ruben and Janet Nepales from Los Angeles, California are testaments to the Thomasian flair. Ruben writes about his fellow Thomasians in the US who are coming home for the quadricentennial celebrations. Recently, Ruben was given honors by the Faculty of Arts and Letters (Artlets, as popularly known by Thomasians) for his achievements in journalism. Ruben and Janet wrote, and first met, at the faculty paper, The Flame. Today, they are the only Filipino members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Alma Anonas-Carpio, a recent generation Thomasian poet, and editor-in-chief of Batulao View Magazine, pays tribute to Lady Polyester, a true UST icon best remembered for her poetry and life. One of Alma’s muses was the grand doyenne of UST’s belles lettres, former Artlets Dean Ophelia
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Alcantara-Dimalanta, who wrote 30 while this issue was being put to bed. The brilliant Joel Pablo Salud is of course, and undeniably, a Thomasian, with his sterling style and passion for letters. He studied psychology at the university, and somewhere along the way, fell in love with writing. Another legendary Thomasian, Dr. Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo, a prose stylist herself and a respected university professor emeritus at the University of the Philippines, concludes her essay on the houses of her memories. She is now the director of the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. Last but not the least, Roger Oriel, perhaps one of UST’s unsung heroes in the world of international publishing, proudly returns to his old school. He is the publisher of the largest Filipino newspaper group in the US, the Asian Journal, which is entering its 20th year in 2011. As his alma mater celebrates 400, he retraces his glorious journey from the august halls of UST to the American Dream. But that’s another story. Roger celebrates the unending grace now enjoyed by him and the many alumni who now work and write for the Asian Journal Publications, in the US and the Philippines.
Welcome home, happy holidays! g
December 2010 – January 2011
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oldest school
00 The University of Santo Tomas: Celebrating Four Centuries of Unending Grace The Philippines’ oldest academic institution turns 400 in 2011, and it can only be grand. Among the top universities in the country, UST for a time has been quite timid of flaunting its prominent league of alumni and its countless contributions to our country since time immemorial. The institution which has existed even earlier than Harvard and some other Ivy League schools, had been quietly watching in the background, witnessing how its sons and daughters amorously shape the course of Philippine history for four centuries. By Angelo Nonato P. Cabrera balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
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December 2010 – January 2011
B
ut the university will soon show everyone its ageless splendor, beginning January 2011.
A VIEW FROM THE RECTOR’S OFFICE This sprawling garden in front of the UST Main Bldg. is an oasis at the heart of Manila.
The Thomasians (how UST students and alumni affectionately refer to themselves) and their entire community have officially started the countdown of the school’s quadricentennial year last December 2009 during the “Paskuhan” event, the campus-wide Christmas celebration hosted by the university, as symbolized by the
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tall, yellow human figure carrying high up a digital watch called the “Beat Man.” The Beat Man has been set as a countdown to the alma mater’s 400th year celebrations. A host of activities and other spectacular events that would run all-year long was planned by the university’s administrators, to usher in the dawning of UST’s quadricentennial year. Commencing the event is the much anticipated Quadricentennial Parade exalting UST’s grandeur, jumpstarting the year-long celebration of the university’s 400th milestone up until January 2012.
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UST is going to open up its big year this Jan. 26, 2011 with the parade that would begin at Manila’s Luneta Park, to pay homage to one of its most prided sons, the country’s national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal. It will end in the campus grounds of the university. A spectacle of dazzling floats from the university’s various colleges and faculties are expected to shimmer up as they parade their unique history and achievements while traversing the city’s thoroughfares and head to their final stop at the campus grounds. The festive atmosphere continues as
Thomasians from all over converge at the quadricentennial Square on January 27, and for the Grand Quadricentennial Program at UST parade grounds. Separate alumni homecomings are also slated by the respective university colleges. Scores of Thomasian alumni from all over the world are expected to fly back home and celebrate their alma mater’s quadricentennial year. During this day, the “Tetra Global” monument at what is now called Quadricentennial Square (formerly Colayco Park, for old timers), will be unveiled. The
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December 2010 – January 2011
at a glance The UST Quadricentennial Celebrations
g The Quadricentennial Fashion Show on Feb. 24, 2011. Comes with an exhibit which will run from Feb. 28 to Mar. 12, 2011, showcasing top-of-the-line couture of UST’s fashion designers. g An operetta written by the late Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, in honor of UST’s founder, Msgr. Miguel de Benavides, OP, at the Cultural Center of the Philippines from Aug. 12 to14, 2011. g The inauguration of the new P 800million Sports Complex which would house UST’s prized powerhouse athletes who had constantly ruled the University Athletics Association of the Philippines (UAAP). UST boasts of its sterling record of 36 general championship titles and is currently aiming for its 38th and 13th straight title crown. g UST’s overseas exhibit at the UNESCO Headquarters in Paris on Sept. 1 to 14, 2011. A grand Christmas concert gala featuring the university’s top musical talents at the UST Chapel from Dec. 1 to 2, 2011 in time for the annual “Paskuhan”. g The grand closing ceremonies of the Quadricentennial celebration on Jan. 27, 2012 with the presentation of “40,000 voices.”
THE QUADRICENTENNIAL RECTOR UST Rector Magnificus Fr. Rolando dela Rosa, OP.
monument was created by Thomasian sculptor Ramon Orlina. The tarpaulin-silhouette of where the monument stands at the Quadricentennial Square has curiously piqued the minds of many Thomasians young and old for years now. The glass and metal figures were inspired by UST’s very own celebrity alumni, Piolo Pascual and Charlene Gonzales-Mulach. The Orlina monument is made of castiron bronze and glass depicting four human figures carrying a globe with a green glass at its centerpiece. The sculpture pays tribute to UST’s illustrious 400 years of existence and to the league of the prestigious alumni it had produced over the centuries, with their names inscribed on the monument’s polished blackstone base. Jan. 28 is set for the Grand Dinner of the entire Thomasian community and a Thanksgiving Mass to give praise to God for the graces that He has bestowed upon the Dominican-ran institution.
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As the oldest university of Asia turns 400, its sons and daughters from all over the world are being called upon by their Thomasian family at home to celebrate with it the timeless magnificence that the university had shared with everyone since its humble beginnings in 1611. From its original location inside the archaic walls of Intramuros, to its present setting along the wide expanse of España Street in Sampaloc, Manila, the university had been serenely watching over the course of Philippine history transform outside its four walls. The Arch of the Centuries, an original portal of the Intramuros campus where the likes of Rizal himself once entered, is a monument of this great achievement itself. Truly, as the university reaches yet another monumental milestone of its existence along with the glorious history etched on its walls, the last lines of UST’s Hymn had just simply put it all— “imbued with unending grace.” g
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
“There is an undeniable sentimental tug involved – this desire to see once again where it all began for me 44 years ago.” This sentiment by award-winning performer, Bernardo Bernardo (Litt. B in Journalism, 1966), is shared by many Filipino-Americans who are among the University of Santo Tomas alumni coming home from all parts of the globe to attend the school’s 400th anniversary celebration in January. By RUBEn V. Nepales
UST
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Bernardo Bernardo “Mostly, I am looking forward to seeing old faces. Or renewed faces, as some cases are apt to be. I would imagine it will be a regular reunion drastically magnified 400 times as resources would allow.”
Jaime P. Dejuras Teresita “I could not thank GregorioUST enough for how Bernales “I have been back to UST it molded me and what in the past and have seen its it provided my family and me.” progress and improvements over the years. This time, I’d like to visit classes and spend some time revisiting all the places near and dear to my heart on the campus.”
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alumni NOLI AND NENA ZOSA “My wife Nena and I have been balikbayans almost every year to oversee projects and donations we have given to our university since 1976, the year the foundation was established.”
omasians
Phil B. Mangahas Linda Enriquez GERRY GAMEZ “I am very proud to call “It is also my hope to make “ In medical school, there myself a UST alumnus new friends. Setting foot was no time to sleep. And or a Thomasian. To again on the university then I began to notice be able to witness and grounds will surely bring that I had classmates participate in such a back memories of my when I was on my last unique occasion is an college days.” year of medicine. I am opportunity that must still rediscovering who not be missed by a my classmates in medical Thomasian.” school were until now.”
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December 2010 – January 2011
“M
ore than ever, I realize now how much of the ‘me’ that I recognize now as ‘who I am’ had its beginnings within the walls of that perennially-flooded university on España that I call my alma mater,” Bernardo said on why he is flying home for the quadricentennial festivities, which culminate in big events on the last week of January. “It’s something very personal, as well – people, places – the joyful anticipation of what one will see, and the dreaded fear of what one will not see anymore. Beyond that, could there be a better time to have a reunion? To be together in a once in a lifetime celebration, basking in the reflected glory of being part of a university with such an impressive 400-year history? That’s hard to beat!”
Bernardo, who works as a public relations manager for Good Shepherd Ambulance Company in the Los Angeles area in addition to appearing in shows and plays, added, “Mostly, I am looking forward to seeing old faces. Or renewed faces, as some cases are apt to be. I would imagine it will be a regular reunion drastically magnified 400 times as resources would allow.” For the entertainer blessed with a quick wit, a return to the campus will bring back memories of UST in the 1960s. He said, “To quote a 1960’s song, ‘Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end…’ Great fun, learning, growing up years. Nothing could beat making friends and working together while writing for The Flame, rising from reporter to editor-in-chief of The Varsitarian, discovering love for theater with the Aquinas Dramatic Guild, supporting the Student Council, attending National Union of Students confabs, and sharing ideas in College Editors Guild activities. Other highlights – daily encounters with inspiring, learned, funny, witty, wizened professors. Dealing with a prefect of discipline and separate stairs in the main building for boys and girls. And uniforms! All before the First Quarter Storm – when real life intervened.” Teresita Gregorio-Bernales (UST High School, 1955; BS Social Work, 1959) is “looking forward
to renewing ties with friends and classmates and to develop continuing outreach projects with the alumni office. I have lost contact with my friends and I would like to find out if anyone from my classes in high school and college would be attending. I have been back to UST in the past and have seen its progress and improvements over the years. This time, I’d like to visit classes and spend some time revisiting all the places near and dear my heart on the campus.” Bernales is president of Bridges, Etc., which she describes as a consulting firm in Hawaii that works with the U.S. Department of State in “connecting people and cultures for positive and sustainable cooperation.” “As a proud high school and college graduate of UST, I feel close to the institution that taught me values and precepts that guide me throughout my life,” Bernales declared. “I want to meet old friends, classmates and professors who were all major players in those formative years of my life.” The president of the UST Alumni Association of Hawaii (USTAAH) has amazingly vivid memories of her student life on the fabled campus in Dapitan: “In high school, the girls attended classes in the morning from 7:20 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. with only a 20-minute recess, while the boys came in the afternoon. We had a retreat every month and
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in the month of October, a decade of the rosary is said at the beginning of each class. This was also done in college. We spoke English only on campus. In college, there were separate facilities for boys and girls in all the buildings.” She reminisced, “Fr. Mata was the prefect of discipline and was visible at all times, ready to apprehend anyone in violation of the ‘rules.’ I was proud to wear my sorority (Alpha Sigma Epsilon) uniform every Thursday since that organization was for a select group of students who passed rigorous initiation rites. I am sorry to hear that the organization no longer exists.” Bernales added, “I remember the floods during the rainy season – that meant a school day off and almost always, it was spent going to the movies with friends. Our favorite places to shop: Aguinaldo and Berg department stores in Escolta. Favorite places to eat: Little Quiapo, the Varsity. Those were the days of petticoats and ponytails.” Like a true Thomasian, Bernales is combining social work in her homecoming. “When I go home for the UST reunion, our group, USTAAH, will be doing a medical mission in the South,” she said. For Jaime P. Dejuras (BSC – Accounting, 1969), a return to Dapitan is a nostalgic trip tinged with romantic overtones. “UST is the place where I met my wife, Nenita Cordero (BSN, 1969),” Dejuras
December 2010 – January 2011
volunteered. “I could not forget Sunday afternoons at the UST nurses’ dorm, followed by an early evening stroll on the main promenade.” The president of Dejurs Enterprises, Inc., a franchisee of Dunkin’ Donuts and Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream in Chicago, continued, “The campus is also memorable to me because of the challenging days I spent as a working student at the university’s accounting department and then the budget office. It may have been hectic but it was very gratifying and stimulating to work under the dean of Commerce while I was still an undergraduate. He was our boss and one of my professors who mentored me to become who I am today. I could not thank UST enough for how it molded me and what it provided my family and me.” Dejuras is eagerly anticipating the “exchange of hugs and handshakes, as well as stories with old friends, former classmates and professors. Matching names with faces would be a welcome challenge but mostly, to be a participant in a once in a lifetime event to celebrate an institution that shaped my life personally and professionally. A stroll to the main building, a short peek at the Commerce building and the nurses’ dorm would be quite memorable as well.” Gerardo “Jerry” A. Gamez (Bachelor of Science – General (Pre-Med), 1976; College of Medicine and Surgery, 1980) joked that he was
too busy studying at UST that he hardly noticed he had classmates. So coming home for the quadricentennial celebration would be a chance to catch up with his classmates. “College and medical school were a blur,” Gamez admitted. “I did not have time to enjoy student life. I finished a four-year pre-med course in three years. I married my high school sweetheart after my first year in medical school. In medical school, there was no time to sleep. Everything was study and memorize. And then I began to notice that I had classmates when I was on my last year of medicine. I am still rediscovering who my classmates in medical school are until now.” The Florida-based neurologist, who went to Brown University and several top U.S. hospitals for post-graduate training, said, “As corny as it sounds, UST is a part of our family. The institution is the foundation of my family’s education. My mother and father, who are both physicians, graduated from UST. Six out of their seven children, including myself, graduated from UST. Four are physicians too.” “I hope to see old friends, enjoy the celebration, reminisce and walk through the hallways and the campus, see the old and new buildings and more,” Gamez enthused. “The 400th anniversary of the oldest Catholic
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university in Asia is a historic and momentous once in a lifetime event that calls for a great celebration,” shared Phil B. Mangahas (BS Nursing, 1971). “I am very proud to call myself a UST alumnus or a Thomasian. To be able to witness and participate in such a unique occasion is an opportunity that must not be missed by a Thomasian. UST is an internationally known academic powerhouse that provided me with an education of exceptional quality. It has contributed greatly to what I am today and for that, I am very grateful. That is why I have maintained my allegiance and remained loyal and true to the Thomasian traditions and values. It is an honor and a privilege to say, ‘Ako ay isang tunay na Tomasino.’ ” For Mangahas, who is a nurse anesthetist (he participates in surgical missions in the Philippines) and an instructor at Wayne State University in Michigan, the “Q” celebration is an extra special one. “Members of the class of 1971 are the ruby jubilarians,” he said. “That in itself is a major milestone that calls for a celebration. I am looking forward to a celebration full of energy and excitement, with the fun and the wow factor of such an enormous gathering. Filipinos know how to party and Thomasians can put up quite a show of splendor and finesse. Most importantly, I am anticipating many beautiful moments reconnecting with classmates, dear friends and fellow alumni.” Noli Ranudo Zosa (Associate in Arts, 1958; Doctor of Medicine, 1963) pointed out, “The quadricentennial celebration represents a huge milestone among us and we are proud that our institution is older than Harvard. We are looking forward to hearing 40,000 voices of the students and alumni in a choral performance that we hope will land in the Guinness Book of World Records.” “What stands out about my UST days was the total dedication of my professors who instilled in us the virtues of hard work and charity toward people,” Noli remarked. Noli, the Long Beach, California-based executive director of UST Medical Alumni Foundation International, said, “My wife Nena and I have been balikbayans almost every year to oversee projects and donations we have given to our university since 1976, the year the foundation was established. Our alumni have been great contributors to improve the quality of education in our university. We urge all alumni to support the alumni building construction which is the top project of our Rector, Fr. Rolando de la Rosa, O.P.” Linda Enriquez (College of Medicine, 1969), who is the president of the UST Medical Alumni Association of Southern California, said, “Attending the quadricentennial celebration is going to be a very exciting and rare experience. I believe this is the first ever quadricentennial celebration of any university in the Philippines. I am looking forward to meeting my batch mates, professors and other colleagues. It is also my hope to make new friends. Setting foot again on the university grounds will surely bring back memories of my college days.” g
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belles lettres
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SCHOOL of LETTERS After 400 years, the University of Santo Tomas (UST) may rightly say that it has largely helped form what we know today as Philippine writing. Its two sterling academic programs at the Faculty of Arts and Letters—literature and journalism—perhaps the oldest ones in Philippine education, continue to rear journalists and creative writers, honing them in the rudiments of pounding the beat or the fascinating explorations into artistic wellsprings. The tradition of these two programs, which has produced some of the finest in the field, lives on in almost all of the newsrooms, studios, classrooms and workshops around the country. BY Louie Jon A. Sanchez, AJPRESS balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
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December 2010 – January 2011
THOMASIANS ALL The four National Artists for Literature — F. Sionil Jose, Nick Joaquin, Rolando Tinio and Bienvenido Lumbera.
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he University can easily boast of its roster of National Artists for Literature—Nick Joaquin, Rolando Tinio, F. Sionil Jose, Bienvenido Lumbera.
Great ol’ Nick of course is the quintessential Thomasian—and he is proud to be one. Known for his fiction, poetry, drama and literary journalism, Joaquin leads in defining what Thomasian is in writing—a great sense of tradition, intricate thought and visionary perspective, a keen awareness of craft and consciousness. He has sung rimes for the La Naval, the most beloved patron of the Dominican Order. When he received the National Artist honors, he offered the medal to the virgin. Tinio, who graduated magna cum laude from the old Faculty of Philosophy in Letters, wrote profound poetry in both Filipino and English. He also made some unforgettable drama translations still enjoyed by the current generation. He also acted in plays and movies. Thus, his award included citations for his contributions to theater and the performing arts. Jose from Rosales, Pangasinan wrote the wellknown saga, which placed the name of his town in the line of unforgettable literary places. Jose is said to have been the Philippines’ main contender for the Nobel Prize in Literature, and his novels have
been translated into several languages. In UST, Jose studied under the fictionist Paz Latorena, one of the pioneers of Philippine fiction in English. For a while, he served as a senior associate of the UST Center for Creative Writing and Studies. Lumbera, on the other hand, is one of the more active voices in Philippine culture and society. His activism persists up to this period, and he has remained engaged as a writer and cultural worker. His awakening while on a Fulbright scholarship in the ‘60s has mapped out his project of “writing” the nation, which now compose his intellectual corpus. In UST, he began as a poet and like Tinio, his college buddy, wrote in both Filipino and English. Another important apparatus in keeping the ferment alive was the university paper, The Varsitarian. Founded in 1928 by a group of students led by then journalism student Jose Villa Panganiban, the paper had been the constant vanguard of student expression for the past 80 years. The likes of Jose and Lumbera trained with The Varsitarian. The Varsitarian alumni roster in itself is a chronicle of UST’s history of writing: Latorena, Celso Al Carunungan, Ophelia AlcantaraDimalanta, Cirilo Bautista, Federico Licsi Espino, Wilfrido Nolledo, Rogelio Sicat, Cristina PantojaHidalgo, Norma Miraflor, Eric Gamalinda and Vim Nadera. The great journalists of time past and present have also graced the pages of the paper: Teodoro Valencia, Joe Guevarra, Felix Bautista, Jose Bautista, Joe Burgos, Antonio Siddayao, Jess Sison,
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Jullie Yap-Daza, Antonio Lopez, Rina JimenezDavid, Neal Cruz, A. O. Flores, Jake Macasaet, Fred Marquez, Mario Hernando, Alfredo Saulo, Alice Colet Villadolid, and Eugenia Duran-Apostol. The Varsitarian too boasts of alumni who have excelled in other fields: Manila Mayor Arsenio H. Lacson, the late Manila Archbishop Artemio Casas, former vice-president Emmanuel Pelaez, the late Sorsogon Gov. Juan Frivaldo, Sen. Francisco Tatad, former Philippine Medical Association president Dr. Vicente Rosales, Sr., and National Artist for the Visual Arts J. Elizalde Navarro. In contemporary times, the presence of the late Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, doyenne of Thomasian writing, has strengthened this tradition. Around 1999, while she was still dean of the Faculty of Arts and Letters, she was instrumental in the establishment of the UST Center for Creative Writing and Studies. She held the directorship of the center after her term as dean. She also continued the mentorship of the new generation of writers through the annual UST National Writers Workshop. At the time when Thomasian writers were thriving elsewhere—and there was a diaspora of sorts—she gathered them all again, emphasizing the need to come home. She was the first writer-inresidence of UST, until her death recently. The tradition of course has long been there, and who could ever forget the contribution of one Thomasian whose artistic and critical influence is still very much felt—the national hero, Jose Rizal? g With reports from Varsitarian.net
December 2010 – January 2011
persona
OPHIE
“My Mother Ink, my Martinet Nightingale, my Cameo Moon and Sparkplug Stars” Ours was a relationship of fire and air: Combustible, volatile, gorgeous in its unpredictability. By Alma anonas-carpio
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December 2010 – January 2011
S
ask her to sign my application for the Siliman workshop, she demanded a Palanca victory as payment: “You won’t get a free ride from me.” Challenged and with smarting pride, I sent in ten of my best poems and won as third prize co-winner. Maybe it helped that my father also wanted me to win him a Palanca and made the same demand later that same day. After the 1994 Palanca Awards, she met my father. She told him I was one of her special ones, a student who did her proud. His succinct answer was “don’t spoil her.” She turned about, all regal and a-burning and scolded my father: “No. You don’t spoil her.” Few people ever stood up to my dad in any way, let alone with the grace and imperiousness that is Lady Polyester. She used to play the piano before My last visit to her was one where class, Rachmaninoff ’s complex pieces she scolded me for not publishing, one and thrums of Brahms lullabies. She was where we talked of things ordinary the most demanding of my teachers, the and mundane. I gave her a red rose hardest to please, yet the most rewarding and she smiled at me and reached out to cajole a smile from. In her class I really to touch my hand across her desk. worked and studied, challenged in a way That touch conveyed so many things that I never was before and never would in so few seconds. be again. Maybe I knew but a small part of The words we spoke to each other her, but that part of her life that I was meld into the night now, as I try to in changed me, made me stronger, understand the vacancy of years that feel gave me the opportunity to build my like excuses: I was working my ass off; I confidence in myself without need of was busy; I had the time but no money; I illusion or faint praise. What she did had the money but no time; I missed her for me has changed my life and given sorely and thought of her so much, but me strong feathers for the wings she was tied up trying to keep body and soul knew I had but which I denied. and sanity intact. In the end, the excuses Now, I mourn her passing because fall into the vacuum of the years I did I cannot visit her on this earth. I know not visit her, with nothing left of them she will always be with me, that she to make. has a place in my heart that would hold I used to bring her roses as often as even if my heart stopped beating. She I could afford: Perfect, single-stemmed owns a chunk of my soul and I have red beauties for a regular day, white ones been part of hers. These are truths that when it was her birthday. She asked me if belie my grief and, in a way, assuage it. I was sucking up to her by doing this. My I have lost her, my Poetess. She reply was that she was a poet and words was my Mother Ink, my Martinet were too easy a way to express oneself Nightingale, my Cameo Moon and Ophelia Alcantara Dimalanta as the dean of UST Faculty of Arts and Letters. to her — roses said more, would allow her Sparkplug Stars. These were her aspects imagination more play. as I named them to her, it was something the two Our discussions in the classroom, in her She used to call me a show-off because I’d of us shared and something I’d jealously kept to office and at the Flame office were often filled write poetry, angsty haikus and silly sonnets and myself, hoarding pieces of her that I would not with passionate arguments and pointy countershort, delirious ditties in my exam booklets and share with others. I have lost her, and so have arguments and ended with me learning more on the backs of my quiz papers once I was done thousands more, but I know she lives on always than I’d bargained for. It may sound strange, but with the tests. Or I’d spar with her over lectures where I keep safe her memory and when I live I sparred with her so she would love me, just and question the masters’ literary criticsm and what she has taught me. me, the way I’d wanted to have mother-love and how it applied to the world as it was centuries I rejoice that I knew her, sat at her feet and never had it, really. Even stranger was that feeling after the critical essays were wrought. shared all my awkward attempts at verse with that she did love me, just me, in a way that felt She came in to class in a miniskirt, showing her. She saw me as I was then and still am under like individual instruction, like she was loving off legs even better than mine and I was less the professional polish of the years: A child so many others simultaneously yet in ways that than half her age then. It was, to me, the ultimate were tailored to each of our unique needs. I am seeking to learn, a tyrant tyke who needed to be lesson in having the courage to be the woman challenged, a waif in the storm too full of her in awe at the capacity of her heart to do this, at one is, to not deny all that seeks expression, for own pride. her courage to love people she would have to let beauty must be shared with the world, whatever I lost her, yes, but I knew her and she knew go, perhaps never see again once their college the world may think. me and that will never be lost. May the Skyworld education was over, one way or another. She told me to lie a little in my poetry, you welcome her with songs and dances, may they When I went to her office (she was the dean know, to keep it for being too boring, too rejoice at the arrival of the Mother Poet. g of the Faculty of Arts and Letters then) to
he used to lose patience with me all the time. Questions were welcomed, but I often wore out my daily quota of welcome in her class. Maybe I wasn’t the nicest student, but I certainly was the most curious one, the one who always delighted in picking her formidable intellect.
intimate, too personal, too recognizable. I did not get what she meant then and naively said I knew not the art of lying. She shook her head and looked to the ceiling, perhaps wondering how that concept could elude me. Ophie believed in me by challenging me, by pricking my pride, by taking me down a notch when I’d climb up too high for my own good. Then, when I got the lesson right, she would reward me with a smile, sometimes a hug, sometimes there were even words of surprised praise. They were my manna from heaven, those small kindnesses. They were the encouragements she knew I needed, without having to be told. I wouldn’t have been able to tell her, either, for I did not know what I needed.
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December 2010 – January 2011
our town
Bright Lights, Giant parols, Christmas carols and other colonial
Aside from the lubenas, another unique feature of the Kapampangan Christmas is the giant lanterns of San Fernando. But unlike the lubenas, which can still be found in several towns, the giant lanterns were, are and most likely will be, exclusively in one town only: the City of San Fernando. By Robby Tantingco
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F
or sure, the art of making paper lanterns did not originate in Pampanga, not even in the Philippines (it most likely started in China). But Kapampangans can stake a claim (until proven otherwise) to paper lanterns as Christmas ornaments.
December 2010 – January 2011
Big Lanterns
hometown memories from San Fernando Pampanga
During colonial times, paper lanterns with candles inside them were used to illuminate religious processions, most notably during the La Naval in Bacolor every second week of November. They replaced hand-held candles, which were impractical for processions held in the breezy months of November and December. These paper lanterns were most likely mounted on poles, and after the La Naval procession was over, these were kept for the following month, they will be used again for the lubenas. So we can deduce
that the tradition of lubenas and its star-shaped Christmas lanterns began in the then capital town of Bacolor. In 1904, the new colonizers, the Americans, moved the provincial capital from Bacolor to the next town, San Fernando, which was booming as a result of a growing sugar industry and the Manila-Dagupan Railroad, which passed San Fernando but not Bacolor. Everything was physically transferred—the Provincial Capitol, government offices, courts, and yes, even the
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lubenas and its quaint paper lanterns. In those early days, San Fernando was swinging and galloping at full throttle, fueled by the money of the nouveau rich under the auspices of the Americans. Elegant mansions mushroomed all over town. If the defeated Bacolor was the bastion of Spanish culture, triumphant San Fernando was being reconfigured to showcase the best of American society. Thus, dance parties, balls and socials became the order of the day. Gov. Howard Taft even visited the town.
December 2010 – January 2011
Because lanterns easily wore out and the giant ones could not be stored anywhere, the maitinis (final night of the lubenas during which all barrio entries converged in the church patio) became the occasion for paspasan tambul tambulan, in which holders of the lanternson-poles from one barrio smashed their lanterns against those of other barrios. The last lantern standing was declared winner. It was a rather violent ending for such dainty lanterns, which was probably why the smashing part was discontinued after a while
The lubenas benefited from the economic boom. San Fernando residents spruced up their lanterns, replacing paper with cloth and candles with carbide lamps (carburo). The big lantern of the lubenas, traditionally found right behind the carroza, became even bigger, measuring as wide as 10 feet even in those days. It eventually spun away from the lubenas and took a life of its own, becoming the forerunner of the now-famous giant lanterns. In 1908, the lubenas became a ligligan (competition) of lanterns. In 1931, carbide lamps were replaced with electricity-powered lights, improving the lanterns? Luminosity and further expanding their designers? Range of possibilities. Originally, only nine barrios of San Fernando participated; each night of the nine-day lubenas (December 16-24) was assigned to a barrio, which showcases its lanterns around the designated paglimbunan (procession route), i.e., starting from the Baluyut Bridge, turning right to Consunji Street, winding around McArthur Highway, turning to Tiomico Street and then to the other end of Consunji Street before terminating at the patio between the church and the municipal hall. The original barrios that were assigned dates of lubenas around the parish church were, in chronological order: San Pedro Cutud (first because St. Peter held the keys to heaven), San Nicolas, Del Pilar, Sta. Lucia, San Jose, Dolores, San Agustin, Del Carmen and finally, Sto. Niño (last because the Holy Child was the ultimate symbol of Christmas). The judges viewed the lanterns from the balconies of the mansions along Consunji Street (owned by the Hizon, Ocampo, Rodriguez, Lazatin, Abad Santos and Singian families, among others). The competition became a vehicle for barrio sugu (Kapampangan term for bayanihan), in which the wealthy residents of the barrio funded the
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construction of the lanterns (locally known as parul or tambul tambulan) while the poor residents volunteered their skills. Because lanterns easily wore out and the giant ones could not be stored anywhere, the maitinis (final night of the lubenas during which all barrio entries converged in the church patio) became the occasion for paspasan tambul tambulan, in which holders of the lanterns-on-poles from one barrio smashed their lanterns against those of other barrios. The last lantern standing was declared winner. It was a rather violent ending for such dainty lanterns, which was probably why the smashing part was discontinued after a while. It was around the 1930s that the rotor made its first appearance. The rotor is the mechanism that makes the lights inside the giant lantern dance; it consists of a barrel wrapped with a metal sheet, a row of hairpins (aspilé), and spaghetti-like electric wires that connect the rotor to the lantern. When the operator rotates the rotor, the hairpins glide against the metal sheet, conveying electricity to the lantern. The secret is in the design of the masking tapes, which determines which lights in the lantern go on and off. It is both primitive and innovative—a testament to the creative genius of Kapampangans. The fact that it is still being used today, after over 50 years, and after the lanterns had grown into humongous proportions requiring a huge amount of electric power, truly defies reason. Rodolfo David, who died in 1971, is the acknowledged inventor of the rotor. David belonged to a family of lantern makers in barrio Sta. Lucia, whose patriarch, Francisco Estanislao, pioneered lantern making in San Fernando in the early 1900s. His son-in-law, Severino David, introduced battery-operated giant lanterns in the early 1940s.
December 2010 – January 2011
After World War II, the family popularized the use of papel de japon for lanterns, which was a major aesthetic leap. Rodolfo David, aside from inventing the rotor, also produced a new lantern design in 1958, which has defined the so-called classic San Fernando lantern and influenced practically all other succeeding giant lantern designs. The clan’s present torchbearer is Ernesto David Quiwa, who introduced plastic vinyl as a more durable replacement to papel de japon; he is the first to win grand slam in the annual Ligligan and is credited to have brought the San Fernando parul to national and international prominence. Today the Giant Lantern Festival is a certified national event that draws not only hundreds of thousands of viewers but also jurors that include foreign dignitaries and national figures. The lanterns are as large as houses, using up to 4,000 light bulbs and costing half a million pesos each. The acknowledged king of giant lanterns these days is Rolando Quiambao, whose passionate advocacy for the preservation of this unique Kapampangan tradition has attracted media attention and hordes of new admirers. These giant electronic peacocks are truly a sight to behold; we Kapampangans have probably become jaded to them but tourists who see them for the first time gasp and gape; it’s like witnessing a fleet of spaceships blinking with a rainbow of colors and descending from the starry December sky. They are also community heirlooms, like the giant pyramids, which contain an ancient folk technology passed down from the ancestors. Part of their charm is their fleeting nature; they are assembled only in December and in January they are disassembled again, because their size prevents them from getting stored even in warehouses. You often see cannibalized giant lanterns lying
around in backyards and empty lots during the rainy season, like skeletons long decomposed and awaiting their next reincarnation. These magnificent cultural icons do not deserve this treatment. The government should put up a foundation to ensure their survival in the years, even generations, ahead. Right now, some of them are funded by sponsors who can dictate their preferred designs and even insinuate their product logo on the face of the lantern. The music to which the lanterns dance should be live and not canned, and certainly not cheesy tunes. Beethoven, Strauss and Mozart would be fine, but traditional Kapampangan music would even be better. Also, there should be a way to preserve and display them all year round. An impoverished barangay spending close to half-a-million pesos for something to be displayed for only a few days is impractical, even immoral. Giant lanterns should go beyond Christmas; they should be transported to different towns where thousands of Kapampangans still haven’t gone to SM to see a giant lantern, and should be displayed during fiestas and other big public occasions. Lastly, the rotor system should be retired in a museum. It’s a cultural gem, but it’s an albatross around the neck of the giant lantern, dragging it down. Giant lanterns should be easy to transport and to mount, anywhere. But with huge rotors on a six-by-six truck following them around, who wants a giant lantern in their park, yard or patio? I am sure we have enough technology with which to replace the rotor. This way, we can all focus on the marvel of the lights and colors of the giant lantern, instead of its underbelly. g (With additional notes by Landlee A. Quiwa)
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These giant electronic peacocks are truly a sight to behold; we Kapampangans have probably become jaded to them but tourists who see them for the first time gasp and gape; it’s like witnessing a fleet of spaceships blinking with a rainbow of colors and descending from the starry December sky
December 2010 – January 2011
past food
EAT’S Christmastime in
Pampanga
Photos by Rene Villaroman, AJPress
I have very fond memories of simbang bengi in my hometown because the pastorella, sung by a choir and accompanied by violins, and performed with all the melodramatic flourish of an opera, kept me awake and entertained in those wee hours. By Robby Tantingco
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December 2010 – January 2011
T
here is no Christmas like Christmas in the Philippines, and the province that can claim to have the best Christmas celebration in the country is, without a doubt, the province of Pampanga.
Photo by Ted Madamba
There may be other places with brighter Christmas lights, or taller Christmas trees, but here in Pampanga, we have the most unique, most enduring Christmas traditions, the richest noche buena fare, and of course, the largest and most beautiful Christmas lanterns. We even built an entire village where Christmas could literally be celebrated all year round. Consider these: only Kapampangans hold lubenas, a quaint religious procession where the image of the patron saint is preceded by a lantern in the shape of a cross, a lantern in the shape of a fish (the ancient symbol of Christ) and 12 lanterns (representing the 12 apostles). Right behind the santo is a final lantern, larger than all the others and behind it a chorus singing Dios te salve (Hail Mary in Spanish). All lanterns are lit inside, producing a beautiful multicolored luminescence, which lights up the streets and attracts onlookers and passing vehicles. The lubenas, held for nine consecutive days before Christmas (lubenas is corruption of novena, or nine days of prayer and devotion), culminates in the maitinis on Christmas Eve, when all the lantern processions from different barangays converge in front of the parish church so that all participants in the procession could attend the midnight mass. It’s a sight to behold, rarely seen and photographed because, well, even media people don’t go to work on the night before Christmas. This tradition still survives in Mabalacat, Angeles, San Fernando and some other towns in northern Pampanga and southern Tarlac. Like the lubenas, the simbang bengi in Pampanga is also done during the nine days
before Christmas, beginning December 16. Our forefathers started this tradition as a mortification of the flesh. In those days, when an important religious festival was approaching, they prepared themselves spiritually not only by praying but also by making sacrifices. In the case of Christmas, the sacrifice is in the form of staying up late and walking a great distance during the lantern procession, and then waking up early the very next morning to attend the dawn Mass. Thus, unlike other Filipinos who sleep early so they can wake up early, Kapampangans deliberately worsen their sleep deprivation between the lubenas and the simbang bengi. The simbang bengi is actually a misnomer, because the Mass is held at dawn (galingaldo or ganingaldo); today, parishioners who attend the night Masses instead of the dawn Masses are conveniently missing the point of the tradition. In some towns in Pampanga, they still sing the pastorella—a set of liturgical songs in
Latin composed in colonial times specifically for the dawn Masses. In fact I suspect that the Spaniards introduced the pastorella precisely to keep the drowsy Mass goers awake. And then, of course, the giant lanterns— the term deserves to be in capital letters because these humongous wheels of rotating kaleidoscope of colors and lights are truly world-class and one-of-a-kind. Their sheer size, and the timing and precision with which the intricate patterns dance, and the exquisite beauty of their design, you would think they were assembled by a well-financed, well-equipped team of hundreds of engineers, computer technicians and programmers, but in reality, they are assembled
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only in some backyard in the barrio, by a ragtag team of local craftsmen and artisans, using tin drums, hairpins, masking tape, and a spaghetti tangle of wires-plus, of course, loads of inborn talent and wisdom handed down from generations past. These giant lanterns of Pampanga, often dismantled after Christmas (there’s no garage large enough to house them), should be preserved the way the Great Pyramids of Egypt were, because—like the pyramids—they are monuments to our ancestors’ ingenuity and living proof of what folk technology can do. And lastly, the food that is served this time of the year is what makes Christmas in Pampanga truly the best in the country—from the duman whose harvest in early November coincides with the countdown to Christmas, to the tsokolati king batirul and the panara which mass goers coming home from the simbang bengi take for breakfast. Of all the holidays in Pampanga, it is during Christmas when the dining table is most heavily laden with the best that the Kapampangan culinary tradition can offer: galantina, bringhe, asado, escabeche, estofado, afritada, mechado, menudo, azucena, pochero, relleno, morcon, lengua, etc. and the delicacies that only Kapampangans can make—turrones, sans rival, pastillas de leche, tibuk tibuk, pepalto, yemas, sanikulas, empanada, ensaimada, bobotu, pulburun, leche flan, silvana, espasol, araru, putu seco, ale ubi, bibingkang nasi, calame ubi, calame biko, sampelut, inangit, galang galang, putu lazon, kutsinta, suman tili, suman bulagta, suman ebus, patupat, alualu (Kabigting style, Corazonstyle, Razon style, you name it), pionono, tocino del cielo, samani, bangka bangka, batya batya, bucarillo, putung babi, taisan, plantadilla, rosquetes, mayumung kamias, mayumung kamatis, brazo de la reina, etc. Tourists who visit Cebu can get dried mangoes, and in Iloilo they get biscocho, in Davao its durian, in Baguio its peanut brittle and in Laguna its buko pie. Here in Pampanga, especially this time of year, there’s a whole cornucopia of delicacies and pasalubong, enough to cause diabetes and get you accosted at the airport for excess baggage. g
December 2010 – January 2011
mall street journal
As much as we Filipinos hate to admit it—that Christmas means a lot more than mere presents—our Christmas celebrations are never complete without the exchanging of gifts, whether at home, at school or at the workplace. Whether you are a kid or a kid at heart (and that’s most of us), you always want to wake up on Christmas morning seeing beautifully wrapped presents under your Christmas tree. There’s no feeling quite like it. By Rochelle C. Pangilinan IllustrationS by KENDRICK TAN, AJPRESS balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
WRAP THE 30
December 2010 – January 2011
“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ‘till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.” — Dr. Seuss, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”
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December 2010 – January 2011
W
aking up in the cool Christmas morning where you rush to the Christmas tree to look at your holiday loot. You pause, and in your mind, you take a picture of the gifts wrapped in glittery paper. Then you pick the gifts one after the other, shaking one after the other—the sound of which is like symphony to your ears. You mull for a while whether to unwrap the presents or not right there and then, and when you finally decide to, you peel the wrapper slowly, savoring every moment of it, with thoughts of what the gift could be running in your head. The wrapper seems to twinkle right before your eyes, like you’re seeing Christmas stars. And then you find yourself finally holding the gift, and you’re sent into a frenzy, as if this is your first Christmas, as if this is your first time to receive a present. Then swoosh! it comes, a feeling of gratitude and a feeling of bliss, making you wish Christmas happens every day. In the Philippines, you will find it next to impossible to find someone without a gift in their hands in Christmastime. After all, Filipinos, by nature, are brimming with generosity and thoughtfulness. It is simply out of the question if we do not join in the yearly magic of giftgiving and, if lucky, we might even have our own versions of O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. It is said that Filipinos celebrate the holiday season the longest: three weeks. Christmas in the country begins on the 16th of December, when the midnight masses or the Misa de Gallo commence, until the Feast of the Epiphany (The Three Kings), which occurs on the first Sunday of January. This celebration is attributed to our Spanish roots, when the Spaniards brought us Christianity. However, the practice of exchanging gifts during the holiday season is not entirely attributed to Christianity but rather to pre-Christian and non-Christian customs which was taken up by the Christian church. For many Filipinos, Christmas season starts as soon as the -ber months creep in and the malls start to play Christmas songs nonstop and gift giving starts as early as December hits the calendar. The -ber months is also a signal to start Christmas gift shopping. The earlier one starts at this, the better, not only because it will give you ample time to explore gift options, it will
also help you set a budget for your gifts. This way, you are disciplined to save a small part of your salary instead of spending it on unnecessary things for yourself. Many shops also jack up their prices as the days get closer to Christmas so last-minute Christmas shopping should be avoided as much as possible. For students or employees at the office, they organize a monito/monita or Kris Kringle where they would draw the names (which could be their real names or fictional names) of their monito or monita. Depending on the frequency agreed upon by all—maybe once a week or twice a week—a theme will be selected to base their small item gifts on. The theme could be simple like “something soft” or “something sweet” or creative like “something techie” or “something scary.” It is really up to the gift-giver if he wants to take it literally or take it up a notch and think out of the box. When the day of the Christmas party or the last day before the Christmas break comes, the
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gifts given typically are more elaborate or based on a “wish list” but of course with a set price which was agreed upon by all. Of course, what everyone looks forward to at this day is who is their “Mommy” or “Daddy.” It does make for an exciting and fun day and puts everyone in a Christmas mood. As most Filipinos still celebrate Christmas with their families at home, the exchanging of gifts normally follows noche buena or Christmas breakfast. As kids, we all have experienced staying up until midnight just to see who’s leaving presents under the Christmas tree. Oftentimes, we are filled with too much excitement that it is as if we had been caffeine-induced that we stay long after noche buena ends. As adults, well, staying up until midnight is a breeze, and usually we find ourselves wrapping gifts as late as noche buena starts. Most prefer to exchange gifts with immediate family members during or after noche buena, as Christmas mornings are spent tending
December 2010 – January 2011
Photo by Ted Madamba
to inaanaks who come for their aguinaldos from their ninong and ninang or friends who visit to say their Christmas greetings. Also, Christmas mornings mean preparing for Christmas lunch with relatives or friends or Christmas dinner. It is usually a great time for family reunions which means more gifts to give and receive. What to give as gifts is usually where we get all balled up. Back in the day, the choices were much simpler, thus much easier. Now with the advancement of technology and proliferation of shops and tiangges, you have a wide array of choices, making which to pick as gifts a lot harder. But if you know the person well, then it’s as easy as A-B-C. The trick is imagining you are playing “How Well Do You Know ___?” game. Gather your thoughts and come up with a list of the likes of that person: from the favorite color to favorite things to favorite activities. Set a budget and make a list of possible gifts. Once you get the chance to shop, it will be a lot easier choosing what to buy.
A busy lifestyle do not account for a lot of free time to make lists or browse at shops, so you could do the next best thing which is to order online. There are a lot of websites now who offer products available for delivery—from gadgets to clothes to shoes to accessories—so choosing a gift is literally one click away. You could go through the least fussy way by buying what is referred to as “generic” gifts, which are gifts you could give to either males or females or to either close family members or distant relatives. These are usually food items like a box of brownies or a box of chocolatesprinkled oatmeal cookies or practical items like pens or plain white fluffy pillows or a lot more extravagant items like unisex fragrances. Most department stores now even sell gifts wrapped up already, like a dinner set or a bowl glass punch set. If you are aiming for more of a personalized touch, a lot of kiosks are now available at malls where you could have everything personalized:
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from mugs to keys to pillows to wall clocks. You could also put your own spin into it and explore your creativity by drawing into universal items like mugs simply by using acrylic pens or paints. A trend that’s also becoming popular now is giving donations to worthy causes in your recipient’s name or purchasing products where the proceeds of which will go to the organization or foundation. It will be like giving a gift that keeps on giving. For those away from home and are unable to come home for Christmas, the gifts to their loved ones come in the form of a balikbayan box, which carries various items from canned goods (Spam and Campbells Soup are balikbayan box staples) to all types of chocolates to T-shirts. Some would ship specifically requested items or what we Filipinos commonly refer to as “bilin,” like a hard to find book or a branded pair of jeans. On a personal note, making a bilin list for my kuya Odick and his wife Mae, who has lived abroad for a few years now, instantly puts me in a Christmas mood. Chocolates is one item that never disappears from my list (Unfortunately, some of my favorites like Hershey’s Kisses and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups hardly survive the shipment process, thus their shape upon purchase are not the same upon shipment arrival and needless to say, they’re not as enticing if they do not retain their original shape). It’s always difficult for me to list down all my favorite chocolates because I have so many. Plus, my brother and his wife squeezes in a new one or two (which aren’t available here in the Philippines) that my list is ever-growing. To make it easier for them, I just list the ones which I dislike (apparently, there are only two chocolates I hate so this is the easiest list one can make). It’s always nice to find yourself opening a balikbayan box on Christmas day and finding items in a wish list you’ve made stuffed in one box. It truly is an overwhelming feeling. Like you have to take a deep breath and then breathe out when you start opening one because it’s truly an exhilarating experience finding one gift after another and so this is one experience which I would be forever grateful for. For global Pinoys, shopping during the months of September and October is the most ideal time to shop since it usually takes a month to two months for balikbayan boxes to be shipped to the Philippines (a cousin from LA says it takes as long as three months for her). Shipping out balikbayan boxes have become such a popular tradition now for Filipinos working abroad that stores have boxes specifically named “Balikbayan Box.” Ask any shipping company and for sure they will thank balikbayans for ensuring their business remains in-demand. In the end, it doesn’t matter what you give as gifts. What it all comes down to is that it’s the thought that counts, and every Filipino knows that by heart. g
December 2010 – January 2011
detour
Tiangge It’s
Photo by Miko Santos, AJPress
Season
Or how to brave the Christmas rush It’s a few days before Christmas Day, and you are at a lost. It seems that everywhere you go, everybody seems to be carrying loads and loads of presents, and there are long queues on the gift-wrapping section of every department store you go into. By Rochelle C. Pangilinan, AJPRESS balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
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on a budget. Here, you can find anything from clothes, bags, shoes, school supplies, toys and accessories. You can even buy glossy gift wrappers here for one peso per piece, and these typically cost no less than 10 pesos at other tiangges. When you go here, you won’t come home empty-handed. The problem is that since these places are so popular during Christmas time, you would likely find yourself walking alongside hordes and hordes of shoppers. The flea markets in Quiapo and Baclaran are favored spots to go to for Christmas gifts as well, especially because they are so close to the church that people go straight to shopping after mass (moreso when midnight masses begin). At both these places, you can find loads of religious items here too that make for great presents: rosaries, prayer books, incense and candles, etc. The stalls under the bridge in Quiapo are mostly known for handicrafts from decorations to household items which are impeccably done but
You said you were going to make time to do some early Christmas shopping, but you got caught in a whirlwind of huge projects, deadlines after deadlines and unexpected gimmicks. You said you were going to set a budget for gifts as early as August, but all you have now is a small portion of your 13th month pay. You try to rationalize with yourself. Even if you did have the time to shop, you wouldn’t have had the resources so no use blaming yourself now. But is that true? You know it’s not. You didn’t get started on your shopping yet because you’ve always been like this: A perpetual crammer. But then there’s a savior for people like you with limited time and limited resources: the tiangges. Tiangges always come to the rescue when you need to shop for gifts. You can visit one and you can do your shopping in one swoop. Even balikbayans can’t resist going to tiangges when they are here. It’s as much a part of their itinerary as dropping by the duty free shops for pasalubong. There’s practically a tiangge at every city, but the more popular are the ones in Divisoria, Baclaran and Quiapo because the items are a lot cheaper there and bargaining is a lot easier. The Tutuban mall and 168 mall in Divisoria still remains to be the best places when shopping
Illustration by Kendrick Tan
nd then panic slowly sets in. Are you the only one left who hasn’t started on Christmas shopping yet? There are a few more days, anyway. “No, it can’t be,” you try to convince yourself as a family of four passes you by—and yes, they were carrying bags and bags of what surely could be their Christmas garb and presents. And then the thought becomes stronger now. Why haven’t you started shopping yet? What happened to you? You promised yourself that this year your Christmas shopping must be completed by this time already. But of course that is the same promise you made last year.
for reasonable prices. Baclaran is like a miniDivisoria, you can find anything here without hurting your budget. For an office Christmas party themed “Glamor Night,” a friend of mine, Edith, bought a pair of long opera-length silk white gloves here for a mere 50 bucks, a price you won’t definitely come across when you buy at the supermalls. Other popular tiangges include Tiendisitas and St. Francis Square in Pasig City, Greenhills in San Juan, Salcedo Market in Makati City. All of the tiangges mentioned are accessible so you wouldn’t have any trouble going there. Step in any tiangge and you will easily spot an item that’s a potential gift item, whether it’s for your
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sister, a friend or an officemate. Walk further and there are heaps and heaps of them. Walk even further and there are truckloads and truckloads of them. These tiangges are never lacking in possible gift items—from shoes to designer bags (knock-offs, of course) to accessories to home decor to tech gadgets—for anyone in your Christmas list. But the trick is to find the most ideal item at the most ideal price. So while at first step you have spotted a buddha bag for your dear sister, this does not mean you should buy it right away. This is the best time to put your haggling or “tawad” skills to full effect—you can even suggest a half price just to get the ball rolling (no vendor would sell an item at a 50 percent discount). Once you settle on a reasonable price, that’s where you make your purchase—at least 20 pesos off the original price is good but much better if you could dwindle the price even further like a hundred pesos. However, keep in mind that the stalls close to the entrances are likely to sell their items at pricier rates than those stalls located in the middle of the tiangges precisely because most people would not make the extra effort of going through stall after stall until they are deep into the tiangge jungle. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to explore every corner of the tiangge to see if you can find the same buddha bag for a much cheaper price—that’s completely up to you. You may find it or you may not. Shopping with my cousin Ate Owie at the Greenhills tiangge a few weeks ago, we spotted a rhinestone-covered velvet cellphone case. My cousin instantly bought three as gifts but I couldn’t decide as the storekeeper wasn’t allowing any haggling to take place. So I said I’d just come back once I’m done with my shopping to ensure that I’ll have enough money. But by the time we were ready to come back after we were done with our shopping, we couldn’t find the shop until we finally gave up. So this was a lesson for me: sometimes impulse buying is good. You really have to have a good eye to know which items are unique and which items are a dime a dozen. Usually, at tiangges, the most common items sold are the “in” in fashion. So these days, you can’t throw a rock without hitting shirts with funny lines printed on them (“Got balut?,” “Tigasin ako,” “Ang taong nagigipit, sa bumbay kumakapit”) or bib necklaces. All in all, anyone who has lived in or has even set foot in the Philippines knows that one’s shopping skills will be put to the ultimate test when you are shopping in tiangges or what is known as “flea markets” in the country during Christmas time. Surprisingly, amidst the cluttered sights of knock-off rubber shoes and the ear-piercing nonstop chants of “Wala na bang tawad?” and “Dito kayo, dito kayo, buena mano,” you will find the perfect Christmas gift. g
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
‘Global Card Systems’:
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Empowering the balikbayan
ealizing the opportunity to help overseas Filipinos, Global Card Systems, Inc. GCS) recently launched the Exclusive One Pre-paid VISA Card just last March. A single mobile-commerce passport that enables cardholders to conduct an array of financial services, features and benefits for the “global mobile workforce,” the Exclusive One Card aims to empower cardholders, opening the road to their financial freedom. “Global Card Systems, Inc. is focused on addressing the growing demands of the rapidly expanding community of our Filipino global workforce here in the United States and worldwide,” said Michael Manansala, President and Founder. “Our vision is to provide financial passport to the global Filipino community, where everyone may qualify.” A second-generation overseas expatriate himself and now a US resident, Manansala explained that the starting point of GCS was his own experiences. Seeing other Filipinos struggle in the remittance process compelled him to conceptualize a fast, safe and secure way. The Exclusive One card is more than a way to send money back home—it is also works as an ATM/debit card and pre-paid phone card with unmatched convenience and cost-effective solutions. It also offers an employee payroll system that rewards employers’ businesses and organizations. The Exclusive One card is a United States banked, FDIC insured, full spectrum VISA card. Cardholders have full access to, and full rights under the American banking system. With the vision to provide a global passport to financial freedom to the Filipino community, GCS has set up the Exclusive One card as an easy way to jumpstart one’s financial life. No hassles of credit checks and requirements such as Social Security Numbers. Using a governmentissued identification (passport, Driver’s License, whether issued in the Philippines or United States), a person can sign up and get a Exclusive One card. Also, partnering with Greendot MoneyPak gives cardholders numerous options to load funds in their account through stores like 7-11, WalMart, CVS, Rite Aid and Kmart among others. The best part is that the Exclusive One card helps the cardholder build their credit standing anytime the card is used to pay utility bills (electricity, water, phone, etc.). This way, cardholders get the opportunity to have a better credit rating. Looking back on how sending money back home, one would be surprised how much it has evolved. From the “paki” (request), a method of sending money to people who are traveling to the Philippines and door-to-door cash deliveries, from bank-to-bank transfers, and finally, through remittance centers. Each system has its downside, ranging from lost money and time, as well as increasing remittance fees. Touted as the “first Hybrid solution” for remitting money card-to-card or card-to-mobile, the GCS Exclusive One Card can transfer money to your family instantly–no more waiting for bank approvals. The money gets to the recipient in a matter of minutes. The GCS Exclusive One Card offers free GCS card-to-card money transfers, compared to banks and other remittance companies who charge hundreds of dollars per transaction. They also took away the difficulty of collecting the funds sent. In the past, recipients would have to take a trip to the nearest bank or remittance center; or wait for hours in the bank to collect the money sent to them. With GCS Exclusive One, a member is given two VISA/Debit cards – a primary and secondary – one for the sender and another for the recipient. After money is transferred to the recipient’s card, the owner can then make PIN purchases at any store or withdraw money at any ATM displaying the Star, Pulse, Interlink, Plus or VISA networks. Being also a debit/ATM card, GCS has removed the risk factor when money remittance service providers only offer a one-time “bulk” withdrawal of funds in cash. This manner of collecting money is a potential danger to recipients of money to robbery. The GCS Exclusive One Card is more than just your regular ATM
debit card as it allows to make purchases wherever VISA is accepted. This means access to a global network of ATMs in almost every country in the world. Also, most foreign ATM/pre-paid debit card companies charge higher transaction fees. With GCS Exclusive One, users are offered the lowest PIN-based Point-of-Sales (POS) purchase service fee. Using pre-paid phone cards to call loved ones can be frustrating. Aside from having to call customer support to reload cards, hidden charges and connection fees shortchanges the user because he does not get to utilize the exact number of minutes he has paid for. With the international VoIP traffic growing 30 percent annually and global border voice revenues for pre-paid phone cards growth at around $52 billion, GCS has made international calling easier and cheaper with no hidden fees. What further separates Exclusive One card from the usual ATM/debit card is the ability offered for business-to-business (B2B) clients, business and non-profit based organizations. Best of all, while it is providing a secure and seamless integration that saves money for check printing and processing, the Exclusive One card also gives clients financial rewards every time their employees and/or members use the card. Global Card Systems, Inc. is a partnership and network alliance by leading financial institutions combining several prepaid debit platforms that provide card members with a wealth of options. Founded by Michael Manansala, a Silicon Valley-based entrepreneur with a 27-year executive experience with high technology companies such as Intel, Sony, Ericsson, Fujitsu and Gateway Electronics, the other Board of Directors include Chief Operating Officer David Symes, Chief Technology Officer Jitendra Mudhol, Vice President for Business Development Ronaldo Salunga, Director and Co-Founder Gabrielle Brown and Corporate Secretary and Legal Counsel Michael Burton, J.D.
For more information about Exclusive One Card, you can their balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com 2010call – January 2011toll-free number at 38 December 1-800-257-2777 or log on to www.GCSOneCard.com.
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December 2010 – January 2011
I was promised a
white Christmas and I got it
Last year, on my first Christmas in the United States, my father-in-law guaranteed a white Christmas. By Candy Villanueva-Lykes
postcards
H
e was joking of course as the December snow in our area was usually slushy and dull. But just like Father Christmas, he delivered. On Christmas Eve, we found ourselves snowed in with 14 inches of an icy white cloud blanketing the world around us—something that had not happened in more than a decade. I guess you really get what you wish for.
Even better than the real thing
Family fiesta
I also wished for holiday good cheer. And that too I got. I remember my arrival, when my hubby waited by the door, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morn. I recall carefully navigating on the slippery road, trying my best to stop myself from running into his arms, lest I land on my bottom on the frozen ground. Inside, the scent of cinnamon and apples surrounded me with the apple cider burbling happily in the stove. I also remember imagining the sound of jingling bells on a sleigh. Suddenly it dawned on me. All these things I’ve seen on TV growing up, the songs I’ve been singing mindlessly (“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening...” while all around me were jeepneys and busses honking for passage in a congested road), Christmas card pictures of carollers in down jackets, half hidden under fluffy muffler scarves, and a brown-skinned Santa Claus in the mall, sweating profusely under a makeshift cotton beard—all of these are now for real. Driving through the night, avoiding crossing reindeers under a perfect dark sky, while my husband hummed along to the radio “all I want for Christmas is a hippopotamus,: I was no longer dreaming of a white Christmas, because a dusting of snowflakes were slowly gathering around the windshield, and I was blissfully bundled up. This is Christmas, I thought.
I’ve been blessed with loving in-laws which made me miss my Filipino family not as desperately. Still, when we sat around the fire while icicles froze like crystal draperies on the window frames, I thought of my clan on the 25th , when everyone—including nieces and nephews—would gather to celebrate not only our Savior’s nativity, but also my mother’s birthday. Carollers outside would sing “Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh...”, although none of them had ever had felt their fingers numbing while “dashing through the snow.” Perhaps some of them had had a kalesa ride on the cobbled streets of Intramuros. If one closed his eyes, he would be able to imagine the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves as that of a magnificent Clydesdale steering through the snow. But then the yell of a taho vendor or the honk of an irritated pedicab driver could quickly break the dream. While we watched the fire, almost mesmerized by the crackling and sizzling, I took a bite of a gingerbread man’s arm and visualized the feast on the table back home. I thought of the lechon golden and gleaming under the Christmas lights. These little stars of Bethlehem twinkled from a plastic tree. From its fake branches hung ornaments of snowmen and children in clunky boots and thick scarves around their neck. Outside, the temperature is cool, but not something that requires layering.
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December 2010 – January 2011
From somewhere I could hear Frank Sinatra singing “Through the years/ We all will be together, If the Fates allow/Hang a shining star upon the highest bough./ And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” Soon everyone back home would be headed out the door for Simbang Gabi. None of them would be grabbing coats or mittens at the doorway. As the gingerbread crumbled in my mouth, I thought, freshly baked bibingka—the cheese melting on my tongue and the salted egg surprising my taste buds—sure sounded good right now.
The scent of pine and nostalgia Having a husband who’s traditional and sentimental makes the holiday celebration even more special and no doubt interesting. Nostalgia flows through his part-Irish blood. This is why we would often spend our idle days driving through his old neighbourhood where he would show me the fort (bushes by the side of their Catholic church) where he used to hide as a kid from his imagined adversaries. It broke his heart, when one day, after church, we passed by the corner to discover that the bush had been torn out. Where will his little son hide when it would be his turn to go to the Catholic school his daddy went to? Like his daddy, he too would drink from the little spout by the playground, huffing and puffing after playing under the son for too long. Like his daddy, he too will pass on the tradition.
Like his daddy, he too, someday, would baulk at the idea of a plastic tree. He too would force his kids to paint their own Christmas ornaments. Last Christmas, I painted a wooden choo-choo train while my hubby dressed up his little toy soldier, because like his father did before him, almost every Christmas ornament dangling from the tree should be handmade or personalized. Every trinket should have a story. Each star should have a meaning, like little Peyton’s first Christmas, or Ben’s favorite football team. God forbid the holidays would be ruined if we bought ready-made ornaments from the store. And while we paint Rudolf ’s nose a shiny red and spray frost on our crystal balls, we will be watching A Christmas Story, a film that my hubby has watched over and over again as a kid every Christmas morning. Maybe I will shed a tear or two while watching It’s a Wonderful Life, another Christmas staple of his while growing up. The plot after all is your typical Filipino telenovella. How could I resist?
Fil-Am holiday Traditions will no doubt deck the halls of the Villanueva-Lykes abode. I will be infusing a bit of Pinoy into the Christmas brew. And while making our own parol may be a bit too ambitious of a project, there won’t be anything or anyone stopping me from getting one on our next trip back to the Philippines. It will
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find its place by our living room window, for everyone to see when they pass by one frosty night, when the air is biting and several layers of fleece and down can’t seem to stop the cold from seeping into the bones. The five-pointed star will be inviting them in, and the smell of apple cider will welcome them mixed with the unmistakable aroma of pancit and lumpia. Greeting them will be the hearty voice of the carollers singing from the player “Sa may báhay ang áming báti: “Merry Christmas na maluwalháti!” because I will be stocking up on OPM CDs. Yes, the second language in the house will definitely be Filipino, and all my husband could say about this is “Sige, sige.” or “puwede,” his most favorite words that he’s learned in our regular Tagalog lessons. Oh yes I have big plans for this Yuletide season, unfortunately, between the breast feeding, the changing of diapers, and the sleepless nights, I don’t think I will have the time to mince carrots and onions for my lumpia. That’s because we’re having a Christmas baby. I’m quite positive that while you’re reading this and feasting on a crispy lechon or a traditional Christmas goose, we’re also home, nursing a beautiful baby while Ryan Cayabyab’s Kumukutikutitap plays softly in the background and Christmas dust are falling lightly on the rooftop, covering it like confectioners sugar on a gingerbread house. Indeed, Christmas has arrived. g
December 2010 – January 2011
Ham for the Holidays Christmas in the Philippines is a feast of pork — lechon and lechon kawali, hamonado meat rolls and stews of braised piggy goodness and, the centerpiece of every laden Noche Buena table, a succulent ham sliced as the church bells toll. By Alma Anonas-Carpio
salt and paper
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uletides past were marked by gifts of ham among my father’s siblings. It was a family tradition in which those who had plenty shared the “fat” of their blessings with those whose fortunes had been leaner that year and the sharing usually revolved among the 10 brothers and sisters who had been through many painful times together and grew closer and whose bond only became stronger as the decades passed.
I remember one particularly lean year when my father did not carve the entire leg of Chinese ham his brother Robert had sent him. “We will save what we can for New Year’s Eve,” he said as he called us to the table to pray and give thanks that, this Christmas, we had a feast of ham to share. It was the only food on the table, but it went very well with water and hot rice. The ham bone was kept for making the soup that warmed us as we wished each other a happy New Year and prayed that the incoming year would be better than the one just past. The Philippines has one of the longest Christmas seasons in the world and, part of that long celebration is working hard and saving up to have enough to buy a good ham and a paraffin wax-coated queso de bola to put on the table alongside the chicken gallantina or relleno, the lechon de leche and the Christmas sweets of tarts and rice cakes. Rich families often purchase large hocks of Chinese hams, the ones with the bones in. Sometimes it is a honey-glazed ham roasted slowly in a hot oven and basted with a pineapple honey sauce and stuck with cloves. Leaner diets don’t mean no ham at Christmas, not in the Philippines — rather, they mean chicken hams that substitute for the porcine variety of ham and the stuffed roast chicken, to boot. Even poor families will make an effort to put ham on the table, even if it is just the ordinary, pre-sliced sweet hams, the small canned hams by Dak, or the jamon de bola of pressed trimmings from the pricier whole hams. The brands of my childhood hams include Excellente and Purefoods Fiesta Ham, which took turns starring in the Anonas family Christmas feast. Some years would see those hams accompanied by my mother’s bam-i and my father’s mechado. When my mother still ran a processed meats business, the hams would sometimes be homemade.
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Two Christmases ago, a friend who’d lived in Australia for the last 18 years came home and gifted us with a four-pound ham she had carried all the way from the Land Down Under. Under the Aussie accent, she said, “I’m still Filipino and I know this is your family tradition. This is a thank-you for the Christmas you gave us half your ham because we had none.” She and her family had been neighbors, her first cousin was my best friend, and that Christmas she mentioned was a particularly hard one for them. My father had sliced our honey-glazed ham in half and sent me over to their apartment down the hall with the words: “Share our Christmas joy with them, because happiness is always best when shared.” It had been the last Christmas she spent in the Philippines, one that she remembered with a glistening of tears. “We did not even have Christmas lights, but that ham you gave us was indeed a blessing and I never forgot that.” Now our family tradition of sharing hams cover my in-laws and I often spend an entire day picking which ham to bring to my motherin-law and siblings-in-law who live in Marikina City. The last ham was enjoyed cold and with my brother-in-law’s famous pininyahang manok (chicken stewed with pineapple) and the famous Carpio family barbecue. The ham, in this sense, is a symbol of abundance that does not diminish with the sharing. It symbolizes the gifts accumulated over the year, as well as the year’s triumphs and joys. Now my children enjoy the newer brands of ham. They now have more choices in terms of shape (oval, round, square) and flavor (smoked, sweet, honey-glazed, spicy). What does not change is that the ham is always shared, is always a witness to the generosity of heart that is the hub of every Filipino family. g
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
The
Christmas Gift I
balik bayan true story Night plunged the eve of the Winter Solstice in crisp, cold air. Hardly did anyone feel the slight tilt in temperature as the newlylighted Christmas tree, the parols, and blinking bulbs stole the attention of most who had anticipated this annual event held at our ancestral home in Guadalupe. It was Christmas dinner and every one in the family was invited. By Joel Pablo Salud
t was expected of the holiday season to haul in the rush of winter’s breath from the North countries. It was likewise in keeping with the season’s cheer to be in warm, knitted sweaters or jackets, a kind of excuse to perk up the wardrobe and belief in the superstition that a new set of wearables can usher in new life. It was Christmas eve of 1994, half past eleven, and it was the first time I had spent Christmas with my father after much of nearly three decades had passed. He left my mother and I when I was a child of nine years, much to our dismay at the time. I didn’t quite understand why. All I knew then was that he was on the run, perhaps an enemy of the Martial Law state, but that’s getting ahead of myself. I was pretty young to understand the nuances of politics and the brutality inherent in a military regime. Besides, the family seemed to have decided to keep it all a secret. Especially from me. I was made to understand that my father Oscar had left for a job in San Juan, Batangas, our hometown, as he was, for many years, been a medical representative of a top pharmaceutical company in the Philippines. Little did it occur to me that he was hundreds of miles away, in a country I barely knew—
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first, San Francisco, and then Anchorage, Alaska—let alone be familiar with at my age. I lived in a world as trifling and constrained as my thumb, about as accessible only as the reach of my hands. Nearly three decades later, there he was, standing in front me, wearing a face I barely recalled, let alone recognized. His voice was unfamiliar, choking every now and then on a tone as brassy as an out-of-tune wind instrument. At mid-torso, he was a few inches heavier, a far cry from when I last saw him: Slim, not your decathlon runner, but enough muscle to wow my mother I suppose, with hair pomaded to a chic curl in front, somewhat bearing a resemblance to Clark Kent’s hairdo. When again we met, his hairline had receded, his face had aged about twenty years beyond his time. I didn’t know what to make of it then. The first two months I spent with him prior to our first Christmas together wasn’t what I expected. I have played that day in my head over and over and over, expecting some measure of drama as Hollywood writers would draft it on a script, of course, with a tad more emotion or that gut-level feeling between fathers and their sons. Being an unico hijo, I expected to have more of that feeling between us. Well, the day arrived and it had none of it. He looked at me from head to toe with a sort of tenderness men of his visions and experience rarely disclose, and said, extending his hands, “How’s everything, son? I’m your father Oscar.” I clasped his hands and said in return, “Am cool, Dad. I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.” And catch up we did, spending my whole month’s pay for one night on chilled San Miguel beer in a strip bar in Quezon City. Christmas is a different day than the rest, however. Standing in front of him on
December 2010 – January 2011
this occasion made me recall all the other Christmases when he was not around. How much he must’ve missed being with the family, with his brothers and sisters—all 10 of them—the days of love and leisure with my mother Sonia, the food he had grown to love as a boy in that old provincial town, and the camaraderie that was all too obvious among friends. I was trying at that point to muster the courage to ask him why he left without a word, downing beer after beer bottle to get that extra push. He didn’t seem ready to say anything to me as he went about his way greeting old faces and new ones around the house that night. I could almost sense a teary joy welling up inside him, but he was not in the habit of showing such trifling display of emotion. I remember him telling me as a boy that Batangueños are men of strength and courage. “We don’t easily give in to emotion,” I recall him saying. Family Christmases in our home are spent largely with the kind of pomp and circumstance required for Filipino families as closely knit as ours. The food, which my grandmother prepared days before Christmas Eve, beats the grand celebrations of Roman orgies. Needless to say, it could feed a whole city with so much to spare. Everyone has his
or her own expertise to share on the table: The sumptuous kaldereta of my uncle Robert, the sinampalukang manok of my uncle Essen, and the kinilaw na kambing, deep fried pig’s brain and menudo of my grandmother, among many others, were all prepared in huge cooking vats simmered in slow wood-fire. My mother brought her oxtail kare-kare and homemade shrimp paste (bagoong). The rest brought with them their homemade specials, often Filipino delicacies such as sinigang na hipon sa kalamansi, ginataang alimango, adobong kambing, ginataang langka with green mangoes, and a whole entrée of Filipino favorites. Needless to say, it was a fellowship where food and spirits flowed like the Pagsanjan. Where I was concerned, it was a dinner I longed to spend with my father. And as he finished his kaldereta, he took me aside and asked if I was prepared to listen to what he had to say. I looked him straight in the eyes and did not posit an answer. He knew I was more than ready to listen. To cut to the chase, he was tagged by the government as a subversive for his efforts in the past to give some assistance to the masses. As a medical representative, he was able to send supplies of milk and medicine to poor villages in Bicol, working through a network of student radicals in the area. My father assured
me he wasn’t part of the communist upheaval at the time, just a plain Filipino who wished to help. His status then allowed him to extend a helping hand to those whose lives were made more debilitating by military rule. On the eve of the declaration of Martial Law, he took the chance to leave for San Francisco, just hours after former strongman Ferdinand Marcos brought down Presidential Decree 1081. He spent the next 15 years in prison in Oklahoma State Penitentiary as a leader of a small union, helping minorities in the United States get a better deal on life. The cold, crisp air found somehow a way into the room where my father and I spent the next few hours reminiscing about his days at Oklahoma State, how he fought for the rights of Filipinas caught in the crossfire between Iran and Iraq by bringing the issue to the US Senate (and this he did while in maximum security); and how he was able to convince the State of Oklahoma to build a library inside the prison grounds, among others. As an artist, he won numerous national competitions as the first inmate to have won in the prestigious awards. A dessert of maja blanca was brought in by my mother. After a sumptuous kiss between the two, my father asked me what gift I would want for Christmas. I said I have all the gifts I need right here. g
balikbayan is a valentine to everything we love about the Philippines. The people, the places, the faces, the food, the music, the history, the culture, the adventure, the lifestyle, the moments and the memories. It is the balikbayan’s survival guide from A to Zzzz. Simply said, love of country is back in style.
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Tita de Guzman’s Unique
American Dream
Traditionally, people who immigrate to America join the rest of the American people in chasing after “The American Dream”—success, fame and wealth through thrift and hard work. But Filipino American Emerita “Tita” Montemayor de Guzman had a different kind of “American Dream.” “Ever since, my dream has been to earn enough money to be able to set up an orphanage in the Philippines. By CYNTHIA DE CASTRO, AJPRESS
T
o give poor, needy children a loving home, lots of hope, loving care, and training to become good citizens in the future,” shared Tita. “My two daughters, Shalla and Sharon, know that ultimately this is what I will be doing—looking after Filipino orphans. And I thank God, that in 2005, my dream came true,” she added. Tita set up the Angels of Hope Orphanage in Silang, Cavite five years ago. Today, she is “Mama Tita” to 43 orphans she regularly visits from her beautiful home in California. Three of her orphans have been placed in loving homes in Spain, the Netherlands and Finland. Tita de Guzman’s journey to the attainment of her lifelong dream has not been easy but she believes God was leading her every step of the way. Born in Caloocan City, Tita is the 5th of 10 children of Jose Montemayor and Tingting Veneles. After studying in Caloocan High School, she went to National Teachers’ College and then took up her Masters in Biology at the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Pilipinas and University of the East. She taught Biology at Caloocan High School for five years before working as a medical representative for a pharmaceutical company. By that time, Tita was married with two children. Then, an opportunity for her to work as a school principal in Nigeria came her way and she worked there for two years. While abroad, Tita was able to do a lot of traveling, to Europe and the US. “I liked it in the States and told myself that I will go back with my family if God wills it,” said Tita. Upon her return to the Philippines, Tita set up a successful RTW business. Unfortunately, she suffered two setbacks—her marriage failed and Ninoy Aquino’s assassination negatively affected
the economy and her business. With these setbacks, Tita decided to immigrate to America in 1984 with her two children and start a new life. Tita worked through various jobs—as a housekeeper in Beverly Hills, as a cashier at C&R Clothiers, as a teller at a bank in LA, and then with the LA Unified District as an environmental health technician and later, as a safety engineer. “Madali akong ma-bore kasi I usually finish a week’s work in two days. That’s why I changed jobs often. After five years in LA Unified, I kept praying to God to lead me somewhere else if that’s His will for me. Then, what happened was like a miracle. I got together with a friend and we passed by someplace where she was meeting a State Farm agent. The agent ended up recruiting me,” recalled Tita. Taking a leap of faith, Tita started her own State Farm agency in 1992. “It was like starting your own business. Mabuti na lang mahilig akong mag-ipon ng pera. I invested all my savings in it because for two years, there was no income. But, it was all worth it. There was never a dull moment, very challenging and fun. My agency became the top agency in Southern California,” Tita said. “After five years, I diversified and went into another field, while continuing with my State Farm agency. Kasi, may nakilala akong kababayan who was making a lot of money in her home care facility business. I decided to learn about the business so I went to school for a year. In 1997, I opened my first facility in Walnut,” said Tita who soon expanded her business with three more home care facilities in Gardena, Diamond Bar and Artesia. A deeply religious person who goes to church everyday since she was in grade school in Caloocan, Tita decided in 1999 it was time to give back for all of the blessings and success she has received from God. That was when she started her yearly holiday dole-outs to the poor in Caloocan and other parts of the Philippines. “We fed at least 500 poor children with spaghetti and fried chicken and then sent them home with special gift packages filled with rice and canned goods,” Tita shared. One of Tita’s past projects was the donating of used eyeglasses which she
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collected from her parish and given to the poor in Caloocan. “There was such a long line of people eager to get a pair of used glasses. Kahit medyo sira na or hindi nila ka-grado, tuwang-tuwa pa din silang makakuha ng salamin,” recalled Tita. Then in 2003, Tita felt it was time to start her dream of establishing an orphanage. She asked her sister in Caloocan who was a realtor to start looking for a good property. After looking at several options, her sister finally found a 5,000-square meter lot in Silang, Cavite, very near Tagaytay. Tita bought the lot and immediately set into motion the building of the orphanage that was named Tita de Guzman Angels of Hope Orphanage. In 2005, the orphanage formally opened and since then, has been taking in children brought to them by the Department of Social Welfare. “Napakasarap at napakagandang magbigay without expecting anything in return. How can orphans pay you back? When you give freely, God rewards you. For me, the best reward is the joy of giving, sharing and loving. All the children in the orphanage are like my children—para na silang mga anak ko. And my heart goes out to all of them. We have painful and heartbreaking stories, like one baby who was being sold by her mother for P800 so she could buy a cellphone. And two boys who were put in a dog’s cage and were not fed. Neighbors simply tossed food scraps to them in the cage. Kawawang mga bata. That’s why I am committed about placing them in loving homes where they will feel a family’s love and will be taught good values,” Tita explained. The building and establishment of Angels of Hope cost Tita de Guzman almost $1 million, and the monthly upkeep and sustenance around $4,000. “Its funding is 100 percent from me. And I have made sure that should anything happen to me, the orphanage will continue,” admitted Tita. They say that every person was created by God to fulfill a definite purpose. Fortunately, Tita Montemayor de Guzman has embraced God’s will for her life and became an “angel of hope” to helpless, hopeless children in her homeland. Her lifelong dream has been fulfilled by making some children’s dreams come true. g
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giving back
Angels
shoulders
on our
They say that there is no one else who could bring light into the world brighter than children. Seeing their smiles, hearing their giggles and their laughs, encountering their curious and oftentimes out-of-thisworld queries on even the most banal of things are all enough to turn a bad day into a good day. By Rochelle C. Pangilinan, AJPress
F
or us adults, children are a constant reminder of what it was like for us when life was carefree and trouble-free, when the biggest question we faced each day was, “What game should we play today?” That is why we never miss a chance to spend time with kids when we can—only kids can turn the most ordinary of days into a day filled with photograph-worthy moments. A family who welcomes a child into their lives instantly receives a blessing, and they can look forward to much brighter days ahead. Unfortunately, not all people regard kids as a blessing and not all kids are given the privilege to enjoy their childhood under the care of a
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loving family. The reality is there are kids who are abandoned and neglected by their parents. This is precisely the reason why Tita de Guzman decided to establish the Angels of Hope Foundation. Already well settled in the United States and running a very successful business, Tita has always been inspired by the belief,”There is no greater calling than service to others. And there is no better way to have your blessings multiply than helping others.” Ever since she was a little girl, it has her dream and vision to lend a hand to the needy and the less fortunate so when an opportunity opened that would allow her to start and finance her very own foundation for orphaned kids, she grabbed it with both hands. In 2003, she decided to come home to the Philippines and celebrate her birthday. So on Feb. 23, 2003, her birthday, attended by her friends from the US, coincided with the groundbreaking of the site of the Angels of Hope Orphanage. Monsignor James Loughnane of St. Denis Church in Diamond Bar, California, assisted by Monsignor Boenerges Lechuga of San Roque Cathedral in Caloocan City, led a birthday mass for Tita. The Angels of Hope Orphanage was inaugurated on Sept. 3, 2005.
December 2010 – January 2011
Now formally called Tita de Guzman Angels of Hope Foundation, Inc. this center aims to provide a loving home for orphaned children and give them the same privileges as those who are living at home with their parents and families: basic needs like shelter, food and clothing, education which includes Christian values and formation and counseling and health and nutrition. The center is also equipped with a playground, function room, play room, classrooms, TV room, and separate bedrooms for the male and female kids. The Angels of Hope Foundation is a private, non-stock profit organization which provides avenues for adoption of children, strictly observing and abiding by the government standards and laws to safeguard the children’s rights. It is registered with Securities and Exchange Commission, licensed by the Department of Social Services and Development operating as a Social Work Agency implementing Child Welfare Program and most recently a member of the Association of Child Caring Agencies of the Philippines. The Angels of Hope Foundation is also accredited by the Inter-Country Adoption Board. The Angels of Hope admits kids from 0 until five years old. But there have been cases when they had to admit kids over five years old when they are brought in with their siblings who are within the required ages. Administrator Sonny Jose Ferrer says that Angels of Hope specifically hires couples to act as house parents to the kids—41 in all as of the latest count. “The house parents feed the kids, dress the kids, put the kids to sleep like real parents do. When they are in school age, the house parents accompany them to and from school,” he says. The house parents are also present during dayto-day activities like tutorial sessions for those who are below school age. They also supervise meal times, nap times and play times and
assisted by a staff to care for the kids. “They are all like siblings here, like one family,” he says. Sonny, who is a father to two lovely daughters, admits he has experienced heartbreaking moments as administrator, but he believes it is all part of his job: there are newborn babies who are not able to come home because their parents do not have the means to pay for the hospital bills or newborn babies who are abandoned at the strangest places—a comfort room, a grassy vacant lot, a transport bus or even a garbage can—because the parents do not have the means to support and provide for them. The baby who was found at a grassy vacant lot even had an umbilical cord attached to her. “I have seen the reality of poverty, it’s really painful,” he says. The most painful one he recalls was when a mother surrendered a baby to them and the baby turned out to be sick. “I found out during my interview with the mother that she used to smoke and drink even when she was pregnant, and that’s like indirectly killing your child,” Sonny says. “The baby turned out to be what is referred to as a ‘yellow baby.’ We even stayed with the baby at the hospital while the mother was nowhere to be found. I looked for the mother and convinced her to be there for her baby. But the baby had no chance of surviving, and we were all there, even the mother, when it took its last breath.” Still, Sonny, who is called “Daddy Sonny” by the kids, believes that overall, his work experience at Angels of Hope Foundation is something to cherish. “Initially I was tasked to handle the accounting of the foundation, this was back in 2008,” he recalls. “That was when Tita was here for a visit, and then she asked me if I wanted to take over the position of administrator since the administrator then was about to resign at the time. I didn’t hesitate to say yes. It has also
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been my longtime dream to help others.” Having a work background primarily in accounting and logistics, Sonny had a big adjustment to do in stepping in as administrator. “It was an adjustment, yes,” he stresses. “But if helping others is truly in your heart, then adjusting is easy.” g *** You may contact the Angels of Hope Foundation, Inc. at: (Philippines) T.d.G. Angels of Hope Foundation, Inc., Purok 4, Pulang Bunga, Silang, Cavite, phone no. 0466968021, cell phone nos. 09284451050 and 09183106489; (USA) Tita De Guzman Charitable Foundation, 1241 South Grand Ave., Suite H, Diamond Bar, CA 91765, phone no. (909) 348-0447. You may also visit their website at http://tdgangelsofhope.multiply.com for more information.
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
room with a viewpoint
Baguio You Can’t Take
Country Club Out of the
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December 2010 – January 2011
That morning, I was reading Claude Levi-Strauss’s seminal work Tristes Tropiques on my favorite bed, in my favorite room, in that favorite cottage facing the complex of the Baguio Country Club. I stayed here twice or thrice already before, and it was perhaps because of the French windows that provide a serene view of the country club and its rolling fairways that moves. BY Louie Jon A. Sanchez, AJPress
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December 2010 – January 2011
As
I was leafing through the pages of Levi-Strauss’ adventures in structural anthropology—he is after all the founding father of that lonely but otherwise exciting sojourn into mythic culture—I was suddenly transported into a time when Baguio was still the virgin highlands of the Ibalois, a dwelling yet to be discovered for its crisp, cold climate. Soon enough, as we have read in the annals of history, the Americans had it their way and founded this summer capital, away from the tropical heat of the flat lands, after their pursuit of the renegades of the Philippine Republic. The leaders had fallen into their hands, and as if putting down the white man’s burden even for while, they savored the
sweet life in the midst of pine woods embraced by thick fog. Out in my window, I saw the same thing, as I heard some birds chirping. Apparently, some birds had come by the window sill to pay me a visit. The bird chatter I was overhearing made me listen closely to what seems to be said. It sounded like an invitation to enjoy the cool breeze and the warm sun outside. The pages recounting the the book’s sad tropics just had to wait. I went out of the cottage and walked along the stone path that led to the road. A lonesome cab— it was the only one plying that road—sped through. It was empty and from the open window—cabs here need not really close their windows since no air conditioning was needed for the climate—I saw the driver trying to see whether I’m taking a ride. I just smiled, gestured my decline and walked briskly to the Baguio Country Club complex. On the way up, I saw vehicles going down, apparently after bringing their guests. Some caddies too were waiting along the road, perhaps anticipating the arrival of some golfers. It was, after all, a good day to be in the fairways. As I was climbing the stairs to the country club lobby, a familiar scent wafted in the air—the comforting scent of freshly baked bread. My nose had its way and I walked right through the Baguio Country Club Bakeshop, where they sell various pastries, including the famous Baguio Country Club Raisin Bread. The raisin bread is such a daily
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hit among patrons and club members, and it is not really surprising. The flavorful mix of raisins and ground cinnamon in that heap of rolled bread is not only satisfying—an understatement indeed. It is an experience in itself, one that borders the literary, if we recall Proust and his Madeleine. It’s not childhood that I remember, however, but the various times I went up to Baguio City and took home some raisin bread rolls. The sweetness in every bite brings with it memories of the city, the fine weather, the tall pine trees, and the warm sunshine that envelopes the city in midday. The raisin bread itself has a very interesting history. During the term of Mrs. Kate Reed Crosby, the former general manager of the Baguio Country Club (1955-1968), she once offered this as merienda to her patrons who were enjoying their coffee. I had been told that it was her personal recipe, and it became an instant hit. And from merely being a companion to the patrons’ coffee— and I surmise it is pure Cordillera—it had easily become a trademark pasalubong for Baguio—and of course the Baguio Country Club—visitors. The old family recipe had indeed come a long way. On my table at the country club’s famous hang out, the Verandah, where it was first offered some 50 years ago, it had found me again in this piece of the raisin bread that I was enjoying, while savoring a cup of hot chocolate—reminiscent of the days of the batirol and thick cocoa. It was like
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
remembering the days of the coffee patrons and their first encounter with this bread, hot off the oven. However, the sweet life at the Baguio Country Club began way, way back from the wondrous days of coffee and raisin bread. Just after the Americans have established themselves in the Philippines, Governor General William Cameron Forbes, happened to visit the locality through the then newly built Benguet Road, which was put in place to further complete the process of colonization. Forbes saw the city on the rise, and according to accounts, he fell instantly in love with it. The weather of course brings so much comfort to him and his fellow administrators that soon enough, he ordered the construction of a “Governor’s Hill” which would house a club house and what was then a three-hole golf course. Amazing black and white photographs made available by Baguio Country Club management show how the country club has grown from a simple shack to that grand establishment with “fine dining facilities, a bar, locker rooms, shower, reading rooms, great open fireplaces in which pine logs will crackle merrily night and day, a few bedrooms, and a billiard room” the governor envisioned in the 1906 prospectus. In 1907, the Baguio Country Club was formally incorporated. A permanent clubhouse was put up in 1908. The Verandah is certainly one of the priced centerpieces of this clubhouse. I must say that the Verandah, aside from the cottage, is my favorite spot on earth. So many things have surely taken place here that shaped the life of the city. This was after all where the expats converged after a day’s round of golf. The expats of course were the first administrators of the City of Baguio, when it was still a summer hometown on the rise. The men met up here and they probably made some major
decisions while enjoying their coffee or sumptuous meals. The ladies of course also gathered around here to enjoy conversations. The Verandah evokes a lot of memories from the American colonial times, since it has maintained that quaint, colonial feel one can’t help but feel transported to the jolly old days of merriment. Every time I am here at the Verandah, I make it a point to look for my favorite chair not only to read whatever book I have brought along. The food is of course sweet indulgence at the Baguio Country Club, and there’s the continental Cotter Room and the Japanese Hamada, aside from the Verandah, which offer diverse dishes that easily whet the palette. Golfers meanwhile may end their day at the fairways at Par 7, a sportsman bar. After enjoying my breakfast of authentic Baguio longganisa, Dagupan bangus, scrambled egg and fried rice, I decided to take a stroll at the fairways, not only to burn the calories, but also to discover the rolling woods. Aware that golf balls might be flung in the air and I might figure into some funny accident, I followed what seemed to be a trekkers’ path, which apparently led outside the Baguio Country Club complex, and onto the road which passed through the cottages. I went on with the walk and went past the scenic fairways, which was behind a metal fence. It was a safer walk after all, since fairways are always surprising. I continued the walk, and was led to a rendezvous where a monument with the bust of Don Potenciano Ilusorio stands. The Ilusorio surname is a very important one for the Baguio Country Club. The man himself is fondly remembered at the club. As a president of the country club for 27 years, he has seen the institution through thick and thin. Country club veterans like Mary Lou Galiste,
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executive assistant manager, remember how hands on he was, and how sincere in relating with people. Today, the monument is a testament to the man’s ingenuity as chairman for life and chairman emeritus of the Baguio Country Club. To say that the Baguio Country Club and Baguio City are one is nothing but apt. Both of their histories are running in parallel, with the country club only a few years older. The city has recently celebrated its centennial and the role of the Baguio Country Club in its glorious history is undeniable. The country club is of course a powerhouse, where not only the affluent, but also the decision makers take refuge. Under the able leadership of current club president Federico Agcaoili, the country club is gearing up to reach further heights in providing the hospitality the Baguio Country Club is known for. After visiting the other country club facilities— there’s a gym for people who want to stay fit despite the holidays, and even a swimming pool for people who could brave the cold—my walk had brought me back to my room where Levi Strauss awaited. Upon opening the book, my eyes were suddenly fixed upon a paragraph which probably summed up my sweet day at the country club, a very striking one, which talked about the author’s amazement with the local cultures he had studied. And then I began looking around the cottage and found local culture within the four walls—gayangs or spears, some indigenously designed tapis, a few antique pieces, perhaps of Kankanaey, Kalinga or Ibaloi origin. In the end, no matter how much American history and heritage it keeps, the Baguio Country Club remains Filipino, remains sweetly native. And the thought mak``es each stay more homey and comforting. g
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essence of place But it wasn’t meant to be. All the old things we had accumulated over 15 years fit perfectly into our beautiful house with its high ceilings and its polished wooden floors, its sweeping staircase and elaborate wall carvings, its old-world airs and graces. BY CRISTINA PANTOJAHIDALGO
The Houses in Which T I Have Lived (THE LAST INSTALLMENT)
he gamecock farm thrived. Tony wrote a series of books on cockfighting which he translated into Filipino himself, and both the English and the Filipino versions became bestsellers. He joined the local Rotary Club and attended its meetings when he happened to be in town. He contributed to the reconstruction of the little Catholic chapel when a small delegation came to call on him.
I spent some of the happiest hours in my life in my garden, and wrote two of my books in the azotea, my mind made sharper, my senses keener, by the amihan blowing in from the mountain, across the rice fields, and the music of the wind chimes, and the jasmine fragrance. At the end of each semester, I would bring my graduate students for the weekend. And we would discuss their papers or their stories, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, or gathered around the long dining room table. And as the sun was setting, we would move to the azotea for ice cold beers and chicharon bulaklak. And, yes, there was a resident ghost. Some of our guests—but only the men—who stayed overnight and slept in the room at the back of the house, near the door that led to the azotea, would rise the next morning bemused. And over breakfast, they would tell us about what they thought might have been a dream… or maybe
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December 2010 – January 2011
not… of being awakened by a presence—a femine presence, they were certain—sitting beside them on the bed, contemplating them serenely, or maybe just a bit curiously. They didn’t actually see the woman; they just sensed her there. It was not a frightening experience, they said. Just a strange one. This did not bother us. It was part of the poetry of the house. But when Tony rejoined the government, he sold off the brood fowl and every single chick, and closed down his gamecock farm. Our daughters had never understood the charm it had for us. They would only come one weekend a month, to oblige us, their backpacks loaded with music and videotapes and books they needed to finish reading, or reports they needed to finish writing by Monday. And they would retreat to their separate rooms, emerging only for meals. Road repairs made the trip longer and more aggravating. Eventually, it
became too much trouble and too great an expense to maintain the house. It seemed to me that whenever Tony and I came for the weekend, Delia our housekeeper, and I would spend all our time scrubbing and sweeping and dusting. Eventually, we decided to shut the house down and offer it up for sale. From the start, I had felt that the house had a destiny of its own, and that we were just a small part of it. We were transients, not its true owners. But it seemed that no one else wanted it. San Miguel had never been developed as a tourist destination, despite its lovely old houses and the Biak-na-Bato cave. A house that isn’t lived in quickly deteriorates. It attracts spiders and termites and bats. We brought back the things that could squeeze into our town house. Friends offered to buy the larger pieces and came to cart them away in hired vans. It was a
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painful dismembering. Never again would I allow any house to become so much a part of me. When only a few pieces were left—the largest pieces that could not be accommodated in any of our friends’ houses, four-poster beds, large china cabinets, and the like—someone telephoned to say that he had a buyer. Tony drove out to meet the man, and was glad to learn that he was a hometown boy who had struck it rich in Japan. Later, Tony described him to me as a stocky, youngish man, simply dressed—in a collarless t-shirt, shorts, rubber slippers. But he had acquired a bit of a swagger, which was amusing rather than offensive. He was buying property all over town—a school, a hospital, the land adjacent to ours—and paying for everything in cash. He was even interested in the remaining pieces of furniture in our house. In fact, he asked Tony if he would leave his golf trophies behind as well. He meant to
December 2010 – January 2011
live in the house, he said. And he wanted to turn the backyard and the adjacent lot into a resort. It was all over in a couple of hours. I took comfort in the thought that the house would not be torn down. Without actually speaking of it to each other, Tony and I never suggested revisiting our adopted hometown to teach other. Now and then, we would run into someone from San Miguel who would give us a bit of news. The new owner had replaced the grilled iron fence, that Tony had taken so much trouble to restore, with a high cement wall. He had turned the whole property into a resort, with a swimming pool with a water slide. Someone had convinced him that the Japanese had buried gold in the garden during the war, and he had started digging for it. We shook our heads over that one. Had we sold our precious house to a fool? One day—some years after we had sold it—our friend Virgilio Almario (National Artist for Literature, also known by his penname Rio Alma, and referred to as “Rio” in the next paragraphs-Ed), whose hometown actually is San Miguel, said to me: “Do you know what happened to your old house? I think it isn’t there anymore.” Its roof used to be visible over the wall, he said, but the last time he had passed the place, he couldn’t see anything. I was certain Rio was mistaken. Perhaps he had been looking in the wrong street. But the thought disturbed us. It dismayed us. Finally, we decided to see for ourselves.
We didn’t head straight for the house. We chose the longer route, driving through the little town center, postponing the discovery. It seemed to have changed little. The old post office had not been demolished to make room for a new mall. Save for an internet café or two, the town looked the same. And then we entered our street, and slowed down as we passed the chapel, to which we had donated perhaps one pew or perhaps the small holy water basin where the devout dipped their fingers before crossing themselves... and came to a stop by the little store in front of our house… But the house wasn’t there! We scrambled out of the car, and stared at the blank cement wall. Rio had spoken the truth—nothing was visible over that wall. Even the coconut trees had vanished. How was this possible? “He must have torn it down,” Tony said. “But why?” “Maybe he sold it to one of those people who buy old houses and rebuild them somewhere else,” I said, but somehow I knew that wasn’t it. And then this elderly lady, the storekeeper, a neighbor, came up to us. Did we remember her? she asked. We assured her that we did. “What happened to the house?” Tony asked her. She was eager to tell us—it spilled out of her in one strong gush. “Oh, it’s terrible what happened,” she said. “He built that wall to hide what was going on. They were digging… digging all the time. He
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believed those people who claimed there was gold there. Some of the workers told us… he dug all over the place, including in the foundations of the house. And then, one night, we woke up because of this awful sound. Like an explosion. We got up, frightened. We thought something had exploded in there… But when we looked, we could see… nothing. The house was gone. It had collapsed. Gumuho! Walang natira! Nothing was left.” She went on talking for a while. She and her husband and the neighbors had their own theories about what had happened. Perhaps those people had indeed found gold. But it may have been cursed. Perhaps it didn’t want to be found. The people who had buried it were dead after all. Perhaps when the house collapsed, it buried someone alive. Perhaps there was a curse... No one knew for sure. No one would talk after that. The workers were sent away. The owner never came back. People say he went away. He owed a lot of money. His businesses were all failures. The gold was his last chance… But we had stopped listening. We thanked the lady and got into our car. “Ingat kayo,” she called out after us. We drove away in silence. I had always felt the house had its own fate. But I had never imagined it to be this—to be swallowed up by the earth, to vanish without a trace. It was only much, much later that I remembered the elderly gentleman who had come to call one
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afternoon shortly after we had moved in. Some of the restoration work was still going on. We had not finished unpacking. There were cardboard boxes piled high in all the rooms, and the floor was covered with dust. He came into the room where I was sitting, perched on one of the boxes, sorting out the contents of another box. He looked very neat, even dapper, in a long-sleeved polo shirt and slacks. And he carried an old-fashioned wooden cane. He apologized for bursting in on me without an appointment, and gave me his name. He was a neighbor, he said, so he hoped I didn’t mind the intrusion. His manner was very courteous, almost courtly. I couldn’t offer him my hand, which was grimy. Nor could I offer him a seat, since there weren’t any. So I gestured awkwardly toward a large cardboard box. He accepted as graciously as if it had been a throne, made himself comfortable and proceeded to explain the purpose of his visit. He had heard I was a writer, he said, and he had come to tell me a story, which he thought I would find interesting, since we were going to be citizens of the town. He was himself a writer, he said, adding that he used to write a column and naming the Manila newspaper where it used to appear. But now he was retired, he said, and no longer wrote. And then he told me his story. He had a strong, pleasant voice, and spoke in a Tagalog as elegant as it was precise. This was the first time he was stepping into the second floor of this house, he said. He and all his relatives had not been welcome here. One of those family feuds the beginnings of which no one remembers, but which everyone continues to cling to. There was a young lady—it was said she was quite beautiful—an ancestress of the old owners of the house we had bought, who had been in love with a bright and rather dashing young man, who had been his own ancestor. Both families naturally disapproved of the match. The young man’s family sent him to the States to become a dentist. And the young woman’s family intercepted all his letters to her and all her letters to him and told her that he had married another woman. At first she could not believe he would do this to her, after all his promises of fidelity. But when the months passed without her hearing from him, she was convinced. She grew listless and pale, which alarmed her parents. When they suggested that she marry someone else that they had chosen for her, they expected her to refuse. To their surprise, and relief, she consented without an argument. After his graduation, the young man returned with his diploma. His parents had set up a brand new clinic for him. But he was not interested in it. He asked only after the woman he loved. When they told him that she had married someone else, he went a little crazy, and hit out blindly, wrecking the clinic and all its shiny new instruments. Why had she done this? he demanded. Why had she betrayed him? His parents were forced to admit that the girl
had been deceived and that, in her despair, had not cared what happened to her. The young man was determined to see her again. He decided that the only way was to go to her husband, and humbly beg to be allowed to do so, one last time, just to say goodbye. The husband, having a good heart, felt pity, and gave his consent. So the thwarted lovers saw each other one last time. Not long after that, the young woman died. I stared at my guest. “She died?” I repeated. “Yes,” my guest replied, “sometimes people do die of a broken heart.” After a few moments during which I groped around for an appropriate response, he asked me what I thought of his little story. “It’s a bit like Wuthering Heights, isn’t it?” he said. “But it’s a true story, I assure you. After she died, a great composer and musician, her lover’s best friend, wrote a song for her. It is a famous song—I’m sure you know it.” He mentioned the song’s title, and indeed, I recognized it. “As I said, I am retired, and no longer write,” he said. “But perhaps someday, you will find some use for the story I have told you.” He had risen, and after giving me a small bow, he moved toward the door, walking a bit stiffly, leaning on his old-fashioned cane. I walked him to the top of the stairs, apologizing for not being able to offer him any refreshments. He waved the apology away and told me there was no need to come down with him. I must return to what I was doing; he had interrupted me. He had just come to tell me the story, he said. It needed to be told. Their families had done the lovers wrong. Since this house would be ours now, he thought we should know the story. It took a few more months, after that unusual visit, for Tony to complete the restorations on the house which we were already calling Casa Hidalgo, and for me to unpack everything and put them in the right places. Then Tony built the cages for his fighting cocks and bought the brood stock. By then, it was June. I began to work on the garden with one of Tony’s farmhands. Mama had told me that if I wanted to retain the authenticity of the place, I should not have the garden landscaped. The house was built in 1930. In the ‘30s, housewives were more concerned with practicality than with aesthetics, she said. They grew trees and plants for the fruits they could provide, or the shade would offer; or for other useful purposes, such as leaves or fruits with medicinal qualities (like the ecucalyptus and the guava and the chico); or seeds that could be used for food coloring (the achuete); or flowers whose fragrance made them suitable as ornaments for the hair of the daughters of the house, or for stringing into garlands to be draped on the family altar (like the champaca or the sampaguita). When they did think of beauty, it was balance and harmony they took into consideration. An aratiles tree growing to the left of the front steps was balanced by another tree on the right. Jasmine
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bushes had to border both sides of the driveway. “But you don’t have to follow all of that strictly,” Mama said to me. “It’s your house, so you should put your own self into it.” I pointed out a kalachuchi tree that had grown dry and scrawny. “Is it dying?” I asked her. She shook her head. “It’s just sick. You might plant a bush under it—a flowering one, a gumamela or a camia, and maybe some small pretty mayanas. Trees like company.” I did as she suggested, and soon, my sick tree had sprouted, not just new branches and bright green leaves, but pale pink blossoms. Then came that rainy weekend. It wasn’t a downpour, just a steady rain through the night, and into the morning. We didn’t pay much attention. It was monsoon season. Tony had an errand in another part of town, and drove off with one of his farmhands. I was in the breakfast room, folding some tablecloths and napkins. King and Rocky, were chasing each other around the table’s legs. Earlier, I had absently noticed that our garden seemed a bit flooded. And that there were bits of debris floating about. I wasn’t alarmed. We had been through other rainy days, and the rainwater had always drained off quickly. Suddenly I heard a loud sound. Like a clap of thunder, only stronger. Like an explosion. I rushed to the windows, and to my horror, saw a wall of water rushing toward the house. Somewhere at the
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back of my mind I had guessed that the sound I had heard had been the back wall crashing under the weight of that monstrous wave. Behind it, where the rice fields had been, was a brown sea. The boys had heard it too, and had seen the terrifying wave heaving toward us. They were racing frantically toward the house. I screamed at them to hurry. I was rooted to the spot. Delia, our housekeeper, had come running up from the kitchen and was beside me, wringing her hands and muttering over and over, “Diyos ko, Diyos ko!” The thought crossed my mind that if the water were to come all the way up to the second floor we had nowhere else to go. Instinctively, I had picked up Rocky, thinking perhaps that, being tiny, he was most at risk. And then the water had breached the distance between the back wall and the house. It had swept over the boys’ quarters, and the cocks’ cages, and was now inside the house, beneath us. I had felt the force of it—like an earthquake—as it assaulted our walls. It had burst in through the open doors and windows. I waited, hardly breathing, wondering if it had come for us. King and Rocky were barking fiercely, and Rocky was trying to wriggle free of my arms. But I held him fast. When I could move again, Delia and I walked to the top of the staircase and saw that the water had covered the entire first floor, and reached the staircase’s first landing. Our entire garden, like our neighbors’ gardens, had been transformed into a sea with a strong current, pushing toward the lower part of town. In it floated planks of wood, a chair or two, a tin basin, an old rice pot, several pans, a blue pail, clothes hangers, bits and pieces of everyday life… Had our front gate been closed, it would have been torn off at the hinges. Had Tony left the car in our driveway, it would have been carried away, dashed against the fence, perhaps plunged into the street which was now a rushing river. The boys had managed to swim to the azotea steps and, though stunned, were unharmed. Tony and the boy who had gone with him reached the house, wading chest deep in the swirling waters. After he had ascertained that we were all unhurt, Tony rushed to the azotea to look at his farm. The yard sloped down slightly toward where the back wall had been, so it was obvious that all the chickens in their cages had been drowned. But he figured he might still save the brood fowl, who were in tall cages closer to the house, and had flown up to their roosting perches. The water was still rising, so they were still in danger of drowning. Guessing Tony’s intention, a watching neighbor called out that he shouldn’t jump into that water. It was too risky, the man said, the current was too strong. But Tony couldn’t bear to have the cocks
drown before his eyes. He dove in, and the faithful King jumped in after him. He did manage to pry the doors of their cages open—with King paddling furiously beside him, trying to help—to reach in and grab the frightened birds, and toss them up to the safety of their cages’s roofs. Hours later, we were to find the carcasses of the rest of his farm. The house itself survived the flood without damage. The appliances in the kitchen had to be repaired. Some dishes and drinking glasses were broken and had to be thrown away along with a waterlogged mattress. But the old furniture which we had bought from our friend Pete Daroy, was unscratched; and our winter clothes, stored in travelling bags and suitcases which we found floating about in the flooded sala downstairs, were dry and safe. Back in Manila the next day, and in the days that followed, we were to learn of the Mount Pinatubo eruption, and of the storm which had chosen that very day to blow in; and how the ash ejected by the volcano had combined with the water vapor in the
air transforming the rain into a deadly mixture; and of how the gates of the dam up in the mountain had been opened to prevent its bursting and causing even more damage. We were to learn of the devastating effects of that eruption (the second largest in the 20th century), of the more than 800 lives lost, the hundreds of thousands left homeless, the livelihoods permanently ruined… Perhaps we should have taken that flood as a first sign, a warning that Casa Hidalgo had been a mistake, that we did not belong in San Miguel. But having grown up in the city, and gone to live for many years in other cities in strange lands, we had forgotten how to read such signs. Or perhaps we had never learned to. We recovered from the shock, and decided that, of course, we would carry on. After all, what had happened to us was nothing compared to what others had been through. So Delia and the boys and I set to scrubbing and brushing and mopping. And soon our house’s first floor was spic and span once more. Tony
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repaired the collapsed wall, built more cages and bought more chickens. And soon his gamecock farm was running again. Today we live in a townhouse in New Manila. We bought it in the late ‘80s, so we would have a place to stay in during our annual home leaves. At the time, it seemed a bit small for a family of five. But now that two of our daughters live abroad, it is more than adequate. King and Rocky are gone, but now we have Joey (a Siberian Huskie) and Yoko (a lovable askal, a rescued dog). I miss having a garden, but I do have a pocketsized stretch of grass and a flower box in front of the house, a lanai beside the living room, and double row of potted plants in our share of the common garden behind the house. My present job is not as stressful and timeconsuming as the last one, and allows me some moments of stillness. And tending to this “garden” is a great source of joy. I have a lot to learn, but I care a great deal about my plants, and I think they sense it, and reward me by growing fat and looking happy. In one corner of the lanai is a jasmine bush which has grown into a little tree—a gift from a dear friend, who gave it to me when her late mother-in-law’s old house was torn down to make way for a row of townhouses. I have spent many quiet hours beside it, breathing in the scent of its delicate little white flowers, drinking my cup of herbal tea, and listening to Chopin’s Nocturnes, or Loreena McKennit, or Billie Holiday, or some song played on a solo saxophone. Sometimes a light breeze will blow in through our slatted brown gate which I usually leave ajar, and I will look up from the book I am reading or the papers I am marking, surprised by the memory of the jasmine bushes in that other house, the house that we lost… And my mind will trace the links… links we did not recognize until many years after… between the elderly gentleman with the cane, and the tragic young woman of his story... the silent woman who haunted the dreams of the men who fell asleep in the room that had been hers... and the great flood, and the strange man who made a fortune in a foreign land, and came back to claim the big house that might have been a part of his dreams when he was a poor boy growing up in the town’s outskirts… And I will wonder if it was she who had chosen him, she who had led him to our wrought iron gate, she who had whispered in his ear, and roused his blood, and fevered his brain… so that in the end, he would do as she willed. And the house that she had hated with a fierceness that outlasted her life, would be no more. g The photographs in the article are taken at the Balay Negrense in Silay, Negros Occidental. They represent the many houses we all live in in our lifetimes–Ed.
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December 2010 – January 2011
Getting and keeping those curves Hi Dr. MJ Valdecanas, o-surgery and lipo I’d like to inquire about lip erested in learning more therapy, please. I’m also int p in losing weight? it hel about Resonax. How does skin? Hope to hear from the to s efit ben its What are you soon.
Lose bulge
Thanks, Reggie Teodoro ons, Inc. Business Dev’t, Itech Soluti Thank you so much for the e-mail inquiry, Reggie. There has been a growing concern among Filipinos with being overweight and obese. Women are especially at risk of android obesity, a condition where one’s waist-hip ratio is not proportional according to healthy standards. Anyone can come in at the Zen Institute for a free consultation so we can determine one’s body mass index and body fat ratio. After determining these numbers, we would then recommend treatments and nutritional counseling so that you can achieve the ideal weight gradually and naturally. At the Zen Institute, we offer the Body Sculpting program to lose and keep-off excess fat and weight. Clients who have undergone liposurgery and are unsatisfied with results are perfect candidates for this program. Those who have already achieved their ideal body weight through exercise and diet and yet carry visible fat deposits in some parts of the body can also benefit from body sculpting. Together with nutritional coaching and body conditioning, our body sculpting program is a combination of lipotherapy and Resonax treatments. Lipotherapy or mesotherapy is a localized spot fat reduction program that shrinks stored fats at the abdomen, upper arm, thighs, buttocks and other problem areas. This treatment is introduced to the body through injections and works by dissolving the fats cells. The fatty acids are then slowly reabsorbed and flushed from the body over a period of time. Developed in Italy, Resonax technology targets cellulites in specific parts of the body by using quantum molecular resonance frequency. Each treatment lasts for 45 minutes with several patches delivering controlled, intensified heat. Many find this treatment so relaxing that they cannot help but doze off during the session. Results are readily visible by being religious to the weight management program and scheduled treatments. In comparison, liposurgery is a cosmetic surgical procedure wherein fat and skin is cut away for an instant weight reduction. This medical treatment carries with it the same risks just like any other major surgical procedure and requires some down time for healing and recovery. Such procedure then is recommended by a certified medical practitioner only after weighing the benefits and risks involved with the client. Going back to Resonax, this technology can also be applied to achieve a more prominent facial contour. Fat deposits on the face and neck can be flattened and dissolved with the same treatment passing through a rod with a blunt end. The emanating heat is warm and soothing to the face. As a result, sagging skin slowly diminishes with improved facial curves one can immediately notice. g balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
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effortlessly! Belly bulges are common among us, Filipinos, with our penchant for food and drinking with friends, families and office mates. These celebrations are treasured moments and we have our belly fat as our proud testimonies of the good times. Sadly enough, the fat around our tummy are first ones to show and the last one to go.
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F
ilipinos have this notion that we are “pusonin” or prone to having stomach fats because we are rice eaters. I believe that our sedentary lifestyle coupled with emotional eating is more to blame than anything else. Clicking on your mouse or drumming the keyboard while staring on the Facebook site is not exactly the kind of exercise that will burn calories. Comfort eating or eating as a personal reward is one sure way of sabotaging a healthy diet plan that monitors one’s salt, fat and sugar intake and overall number of calories per meal. Ab exercise machines simply do not work and are just junk laying around your house waiting for the next garage sale. So, what is one to do? Couple a full body workout plan with healthy eating is the way to go. Your goal here is to minimize your body fat ratio so that your abdominal muscles will develop and eventually show. And yes, dear, this will take time and effort on your part to achieve that sexy curve in your middle area where it counts. For those who would like medical treatments to jump start one’s fight against the pot belly, the Zen Institute has many options for you. The latest medical treatment we can offer is Ultralipo. As a non-invasive and non-surgical procedure, this procedure utilizes ultrasound technology to remove stubborn fats and cellulites around the abdominal area. The ultrasonic waves are fat-bursting after which in a liquefied state will be naturally eliminated by the body through lymphatic drainage. The treatment lasts for an average of 30 minutes with no sweat, strained muscles or fatigue afterwards. The precise removal of fat layers is painless, safe and involves no scars. After
the procedure, you can simply walk away and continue on with your daily activities while looking slimmer and more sexually appealing. Results can be visible even after the first treatment with several centimeters instantly lost within minutes. Please come to our branches and check out Ultralipo. We are more than willing to discuss with you this exciting new treatment than can improve the way your body look and feel this New Year. You can also ask from our staff about our on-going promo to get you all prep up for the love month. More on that on our next issue so keep on reading this page. g
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Be a lucky e-mail sender this January and receive gift certificates by simply sending your inquiries at naturallyzen@thezeninstitute.com. For your free consultation, visit The Zen Institute at the 5th Level of The Podium (635 4708), C1& C2 Bonifacio Stopover, Bonifacio Global City (856 2027 to 28, 09175481117) and our Timog, Quezon City branch (441-1712, 441-0692, 0916 5141232). You can also log on to our website at www.thezeninstitute.com.
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
Experience Filipino Traditions at the
Mabuhay Manor E
ver heard of a Balikbayan Hotel? In case you haven’t, then The Mabuhay Manor should give you an idea. As the first balikbayan hotel in the country, The Mabuhay Manor brings back all the great Filipino traditions for the balikbayan to enjoy.
7 to 10 p.m. It’s a big hit among our balikbayan and foreign guests,” he says. Another unique Mabuhay Manor feature: the big rooms. Every room is designed to be spacious so as to accommodate the balikbayan boxes that guests carry with them. “We found out that they bring an average of 8 to 15 balikbayan boxes, so the rooms have ample space for these. We also noticed that balikbayan usually arrives by himself or with his travel companions on the first day. On the next day, the number of occupants have increased due to the arrival of their relatives, “he laughs.” “We
Since they have been away from the country for so long, they would definitely want to relieve those practices and culinary delights that they have missed. The Mabuhay Manor is so designed as to be as balikbayan-friendly as it can, from its cuisine to its rooms. No new guest can get past the door without a welcome drink in the form of sago’t gulaman. As soon as he enters the festive Mabuhay Manor, everything Filipino is displayed and ready to be enjoyed. There are sungka and dama boards at the lobby, games seldom played nowadays. From here on, the balikbayan guest can choose from Mabuhay Manor’s abundant list of things to do. “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 unique menu that includes balut and iced candy. Yes, balut, that love-it-or-hate-it delicacy made of fertilized duck egg. 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
are always ready for these sudden increases in numbers.” True enough, guests can choose from The Mabuhay Manor’s well-appointed rooms. These are the Balikbayan, Executive, Family, and Team suites, as well as Deluxe, Premium and Superior rooms. The Mabuhay Manor has three restaurants that offer Pinoy cuisine. Lola’s, found at the second floor, showcases traditional Filipino breakfast fare as dried fish and kakanin. Sutukil is The Mabuhay Manor’s favorite and brings to the merry mix of sugba (grilled), tula (simmered in broth), and kilaw (drenched in vinegar). Guests can choose their seafood and have it cooked
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the way they want it. Or they can dine off to Sala at the lobby where light Pinoy snacks and lunches such as bibingka, beef steak, binakol, pancit guisado, and the hotel’s signature banana chocolate chip cake. “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. The Mabuhay Manor continues the Pinoy way with even more traditional favorites. How about playing piko (hopscotch)? The hotel has areas for this game, with the staff willing to moderate the round. Guests will soon be able to check out the Manor’s shelves for their fill of classic movies. They can borrow these discs and watch them in the comfort of their own rooms. Since it’s all about coming back together at The Mabuhay Manor, the hotel is offering a reunion package for homecoming parties. Sebastian adds, “We will be the one to organize your class reunion for you. We will do your invites, we will ask for the database and do the calls & even set up the videoke. We are going to take the pictures and put them together in an album. Once they leave, we’ll hand them the album as well. Just tell us how you want it and we will customize your budget.” “We are on the right track.” He declares. “We take the concept of value for money very seriously. The Mabuhay Manor has lot more in store in the coming year, and we are confident that balikbayans, foreign travelers and locals will be proud of what they will experience here. g *** The Mabuhay Manor is located at 2933 F.B Harrisson cor. Ortigas Street, Pasay City. For more information call (02) 702-2700 or (02) 519-7893 to 98 or log on to www.mabuhaymanor.com.ph.
December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
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December 2010 – January 2011
CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AT KULTURA FILIPINO
Charm both loved ones and friends with pandan or tinalak office accessories, like laptop sleeves, notebooks, utility boxes, picture frames, document holders and desk organizers. Desktop decor like a shell butterfly ornament in brass settings (by Borders) and Ifugao statues are perfect complements for the work place.
Clutches and handbags embellished with mother-of-pearl chips are unique gift items that will remind the recipients of the beauty of the Philippines.
Snakeskin clutches, handbags and wallets by John Carlo are the perfect Christmas stocking stuffer.
Give and bring home these perfect treats from Sitsirya: Antonio Pueo chocolate in tablea and instant variations, delicacies from all over the Philippines like Yema Tart from perfect for chocoholics. Camarines Norte, Roasted Casuy from Palawan, Banana Chips, Pastillas de Leche and Pili Tart from Bukidnon. balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com December 2010 – January 2011
Paradise Mango Rum, available in single serve and large bottles, are best for the typical Filipino salu-salo.
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embers of the expat community and foreign clubs, civic leaders, corporate executives and lovers of all things Filipino recently did some early holiday shopping during Kultura Filipino’s Christmas Bazaar in SM Makati. Former Tourism Secretary Gemma Cruz Araneta, together with Doña Soledad Arias, wife of HE Spanish Ambassador Luis Arias graced the event, as did RC Development Corporation President Mrs. Carmen Yulo and former DTI Undersecretary Carissa Cruz-Evangelista. Also seen shopping were Irene Marcos-Araneta, Patricia Araneta, and Soly Borromeo; Inquirer President Sandy PrietoRomualdez; beauty mogul Vicki Belo and her daughter Cristalle Henares; and international designers Yvette Floro and Ale Walsh.
Irene Marcos and Patricia Araneta with SM Retail President Tessie Sy-Coson.
EchoStore founder Chit Juan and Zonta District 17 Governor Beng Puyat.
Doña Soledad Arias, wife of the Spanish Ambassador, and Ms. Gemma Cruz-Araneta.
Holy Family Home Foundation’s Sister Luz Maria Buitrago and Ms. Leisy Plantada.
Kultura Filipino Vice President Ivy Yap and RC Development Corp. Crafts President Mrs. Carmen Yulo.
Kaibigan Ermita Foundation’s Evelyn Muniosguren.
Beauty mogul Vicki Belo with daughter Cristalle Henares.
Jewelry designer Ale Walsh with Yesika Reveilhac and Paddy Starnes.
Philippine Tatler editor-at-large Mia Borromeo.
Kabisig ng Kalahi President Vicky Weineke and VP Aimee Gloria with Kultura’s Aida Ursua.
Noted civic leaders like Beng Puyat, Carol Llianillo, Olive Ang, Tere Boyer, Diana Collins, and Shirley Bangayan graced the occasion; as did social entrepreneurs like EchoStore founder Chit Juan, Kabisig ng Kalahi’s Vicky Weineke, Aimee Gloria and Lu Limjoco; Kaibigan Ermita Foundation’s Evelyn Muniosguren; and GKonomics President Cecile Manheimer. SM Retail President Tessie Sy Coson and Kultura Filipino’s Vice President Ivy Yap welcomed them. The Christmas Bazaar showcased Kultura’s Holiday Collection. These included holiday décor like jolly Santa Clauses, traditional nativity sets, dazzling topiaries, and tree décor; accessories like stylish scarves, luxe pearls, and embellished bags; and gifts like fine native wine and cigars. There were also corporate gifts for business associates like embellished pens, and ethnic inspired desktop accessories. Shoppers could also give gifts of hope with Kultura Filipino’s Crafts for a Cause collection—products from livelihood projects of various foundations that have adopted marginalized communities as their beneficiaries. These crafts put the heart into retailing and celebrate the joys of recycling with items like parols made from foil packs, ornaments from soda cans, and wreaths woven from vines. g
Discover uniquely Filipino holiday finds at Kultura Filipino stores located at SM Makati, SM Megamall, The Block at SM City North-EDSA, the SM Mall of Asia, SM City Cebu, and at selected SM Department Stores. balikbayan • balikbayanmagazine.com
Also visit our website at http://www.kulturafilipino.com
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December 2010 – January 2011