75. ODE TO THE CALENDAR

Calendars are useful for keeping track of events, holidays, meetings, deadlines, and milestones. They help us visualize our daily schedules to make us productive. In the old days, new parents referred to calendars for possible babies' names, as the pages contained feast days of saints--which explains my 2nd name, Maynardo--I was born on Jan. 21, 1957, the feast of an obscure saint, St. Meinrad (Maynard).

 My late father prefers the large Chinese calendars,  the ones that Chinese-owned stores in our town gave away. The numbers are laid out in a graph-like format allowing him to write reminders like the day a new LPG tank was installed, bill payments, addresses and phone numbers of people. 

 In the 60s and 70s, we had all sorts of complimentary calendars for the taking--from our local banks, groceries, hardware shops, PASUDECO (the province's largest sugar mill where my grandfather was a client), and even insurance companies. 

It's sad that we take calendars for granted, ripping a page every month, until a calendar's gone. Now, they are so hard to find, and if you are ever given a free calendar--it's usually the one-page freebie printed on thin cardboard, with small, numbered days that you can barely see. I have already a 2022 calendar containing the picture of a politician whose face occupies 3/4 of the calendar space.

I am keeping this anyway--along with the extinct 1980s Ginebra pin-up calendars that the liquor company distributed to store owners, of which my Mother was a recipient, having operated a friendly neighborhood store back then. She gave these away to drooling, drunken customers, but  still had many left.  I stowed them anyway--they make nice cabinet shelf liners and are useful for my paper craft projects.

More importantly, and kidding aside, old calendars give forgotten details to events past. Take this 1957 calendar, issued the year that I was born. I found out that  I was born on a Monday--isn't a Monday's child supposed to be "fair of face"?. Did you know that Pres. Magsaysay died on a Sunday, March 17, 1957?  All Saints' Day, Nov. 1, fell on a Friday--which probably meant that people went home on Oct. 31 for an unprecedented  4-day holiday! Dec. 25 Christmas was in the middle of the week--Wednesday--but back then, the holiday school break was all of 2 weeks!

Elsewhere around the world, 1957 was also the year of the Asian Flu pandemic that claimed over 150,000 lives world wide, foreshadowing the current, more deadly covid pandemic. Russia also launched its Sputnik satellite in October 4 (thank God it's a Friday!)--thus ushering in the Space Race war.  On the lighter side, the Frisbee came out for sale in January, but this flying plastic saucer became popular here only in the 70s!

These seemingly trivial facts and details don't appear on your FB Memories, they are revealed and recalled only in old calendars. So the next time an unsavory "politico" gives you a calendar, don't throw it away. By all means, use it...keep it...or repurpose it! Fitted with a foam board at the back, that calendar with the candidate's face makes a nice dartboard! Para mawala na sa kalendaryo!

74. 2021: THE YEAR THAT WAS.

And so we come to the tail-end of 2021, the second year of the global covid pandemic, annus horibilis, part II. I am not sure if things are really getting better, or we’re just getting used to how things are going, thus far. ). Cooped up at home, I whiled away the time trying to be a “plantito”, a restorer, a repairman, and a movie marathoner. Yes, we have seen a bit of the light—hooray for vaccines (also for Hidylin Diaz, Maria Resa, Carlos Yulo and EJ Obiena.) But the normal that we knew before 2019 is still blurry—after delta and omicron, there are still 22 letters of the Greek alphabet that we haven’t heard, and which I hope to never hear on the news.

A lot of people I know are still jobless, their careers in Manila put on hold. Our economy has never been in this bad shape. Meanwhile, the cultural projects we were working on were deprioritized (thank God, I have Museo Mabalacat to keep me busy—now on its 2nd year, don't forget to "Like" and "Follow" !) . And yes,  even my planned travel in 2020 did not push through,  leaving me stuck here in Pampanga, mostly in my pajamas.

2021 began on a not-so-good note.  I was plagued with a series of ailments—laryngitis, trigger fingers, eye problems (I had pesky floaters!). But in June, I tore my rotator cuff, causing shoulder , back and arm pains that caused me sleepless nights.  I had to take several trips to the hospital for X-rays, MRI’s and evaluations by two orthopedists. That required months of medication, physical therapy, and in-home exercises that I continue to do to this day. By the way, my favorite 12 year-old car decided to get “sick” as well, right in the middle of my medical appointments. It went kaput and had to be overhauled in the“casa”, for over two months.

Thank God, I got my 2 doses of covid vaccines—the first in May, and the second in July. This December, I got my Booster shot, finally, in Clark. I have all but forgotten the torturous inconveniences that I went through to avail of those shots!

Then of course, I and my family had to deal with personal losses and crisis. In April 27, we marked the 1st death anniversary of my former boss, and tourism secretary Mon Jimenez Jr., through a beautiful online memorial where close friends shared their “MonJ stories”. I still miss him, and his wife and colleague, Abby Jimenez, as I’ve known them all my professional life.

October was the bleakest, saddest month ever. Our university president, Dr. Luis Ma. Calingo—and a friend of MonJ—succumbed to covid complications in the U.S.A. On October 3, my lolo’s 127th birthday, we lost a first cousin, Elizabeth. A day after we buried her, her older brother, Alvin, followed. The next month, the husband of their sister Cynthia, Atty. Eddie Rivera, died unexpectedly. We grew up with these dear cousins of ours, so it was hard not to be profoundly affected by their passing.

We also lost Atching Atang, this year, she was 83. She had worked for the family since my parents got married, and was in fact, a yaya of my eldest sister. At several points in our lives, her hardworking children too, helped my mother with laundry and house chores , and for that we are grateful. Now, 4 of her daughters are all abroad, living comfortable lives, yet they have never forgotten their humble beginnings, and most of all, have never forgotten us.

A major crisis hit our family in September, when my sister’s granddaughter, Olivia, was stricken with an inexplicable disease, which no New Jersey  doctor could diagnose. With multi-organ failure looming, she was airlifted to a Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia, where a doctor diagnosed her as having multicentric Castleman’s disease—the same disease that struck him as a medical student. Upon surviving, this kind doctor, decided to find ways to manage the disease. Olivia required chemotherapy, transfusions, bone marrow tests, and dialysis plus some 2 months’ stay in the ICU. Thankfully, our Olivia bounced back strong, although her health needs to be monitored for the next few years.

God is good, you see. Last year, we had 2 babies born in the family, making 2 of my brothers, Noel and Momel, first-time grandfathers, with the births of Jonah (in Florida) and Levi (in New Zealand), born just days from each other. This year, we welcomed 2 more grandkids—Felicity Nouvel (b. Oct. 16, NY, a first for my brother Mike and wife, Lulu), and Jalin Alexander, our Christmas Eve baby (another one, for Noel).  Our genetic pool is growing and going international! (Not to be outdone, our guard dog Peachy delivered 4 pups in February!).

Ohhh—lastly--on a personal note, 2021 will be the last year I will be proclaiming myself as a young senior retiree (I was 58 when I retired). In a few weeks, I will be 65, the official age of retirement, the official age of a true senior citizen, where you can no longer complain if they call you “lolo”.  65 is the point of no return—there’s no “new 40”, “new 50”—you are 65, and you are old, and you feel it.  I guess it’s time to start putting my affairs in order, because when you hit this number, time just doesn’t fly, it whizzes by like a Ferrari!. Should I download a “Last Will” form? Start auctioning off my ‘cherished possessions? Or maybe leave signed blank checks?.

Something to ponder on, while I water my cactus.

71. I SURVIVED ONE YEAR OF RETIREMENT! 30 March 2015

HAPPILY RETIRED, 30 MATCH 2014

Same time, last year, on March 30, I "disengaged" from my ad agency of 19 years and the ad industry for good--a life-changing decision. 

Today, my pockets may not be as full, but my heart always is--gaining the freedom to pursue the things I love best: I taught, got invited to speak in a national literary conference, gave talks on various aspects of culture in schools, became a consultant for a university, wrote major chapters for two books, provided creative recommendations for the relaunch of the Clark Museum, moonlit for an ad agency, set up a museum exhibit, attended art fairs, book launches and award ceremonies, sat as a member of the board of trustees for Kuliat foundation, won a Xmas essay contest sponsored by the Inquirer, judged various provincial festival contests, appeared on TV, gave museum tours, got recognized for my work in the arts by the provincial government, and most of all had more time to stop and smell the roses. 

Now that wasn't so bad, isn't it?

70. 2019: THE YEAR THAT WAS: Looking at Life From Up and Down

As we start a new decade, I look back at 2019 and realize what a mixed bag of events and emotions it had brought us, and me personally, as I struggled with some health issues ( I am coughing as I write this) and many personal losses this year. But I am still thankful that I weathered the year, and ended it with a better sense of purpose, thanks to a leadership that brought back some optimism to our dispirited city that has been mismanaged for over 2 decades.

INDELIBLE IMAGES FROM 2019

JANUARY began on an ominous note with the passing of my aunt Imang Auring Samson-Castro  on Jan. 3 in Baguio. She was our go-to person when I and my sibling went to school in Baguio (my sister Celine even became their ward), and it was sad to see her go, as this left our 99 year old Imang Elsie (the eldest sister of my late father)—the only surviving senior Castro in the family.

On our way down from going to her memorial service on Jan. 5, we met an accident in Sison, Pangasinan, where a motorcycle rider veered to our lane and crashed his bike on my car. Thank God, he came out of it with just a broken toe, and no one was hurt. How’s that for a double whammy?

Some  days after, our nephew Robby Castro Dizon and girlfriend Macel Bermudez, finished their month-long visit to Pampanga and returned to the Auckland, New Zealand on Jan. 16.

On Jan 17, award-winning GMA TV journalist Howie Severino interviewed me for  his “I-Witness” documentary “Unang Reyna”, that touched on the legacy  of Pura Villanueva, the first true national beauty queen of the Philippines.

I turned 62 years old on Jan. 21, an uneventful number. I had not planned on celebrating my birthday, but my friends at the Center for Kapampangan Studies wouldn’t let me—so they threw a small party for me at the university, bless them!

On Friday, Jan. 25, the second Holy Angel University-produced film ARIA, written by Robby Tantingco and directed by Carlo Catu, had its premiere at SM Clark.

FEBRUARY was a month of reunions and endless get-togethers, beginning on Feb. 3 where the Mabalacat Elementary School Alumni Association held a grand motorcade—and our batch’s float—Class of 1969—led the way!!  Our Golden Jubilee Homecoming happened on Feb. 9, at the Venmari Resort. It was great to reconnect again with my dear elementary classmates, many of whom I have not seen for 40 years!

In contrast, the evening event held at the Aseana Conventon Center in Clark was a formal, but well-attended affair. On Feb. 24, at Lola Nor’s. it was the turn of Caballeros— 1973 Sacred Heart Seminary High School Batch--- to have our mini-reunion. Classmates from Mabalacat, Angeles, and U.S.-based balikbayans attended the spur of-the-moment, but super fun affair!

MARCH was uneventful, but on March 19, I had to go to the Medical City Hospital to have my problem trigger finger checked up as it was getting worse and giving me constant pain.

APRIL has always been a busy month for me, mainly because of the annual observance of Holy Week. On Holy Wednesday, April 17, our Mater Dolorosa was already on its decorated carroza when heavy rains fell, prompting the cancellation of the evening procession. Thankfully, the freaky weather cooperated on Good Friday, April 19, and our Sta. Maria Jacobe—plus 4 more of my santos (Oracion, Christ at the Column, Sta. Salome, Captive Christ) —wended their way around the city without a hitch and we all went home dry.

In the afternoon of April 22, while I was at work on my computer, the hous started shaking and I realized it was an earthquake---and a strong one! By the time I had stepped out, the rumblings settled, but the intensity 6.1 quake had leveled a supermarket in Porac, trapping people inside.

MAY, my trigger thumb was finally operated on by my orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Peter Papio,  at Medical City- Clark on May 8. My troubled thumb was in bandage for 2 weeks! I was well enough to vote during the city election conducted on May 13, at my precinct in Mabiga.

 By May 14, the counting was done and a new leader emerged-my candidate Cris Garbo was proclaimed as the new mayor of Mabalacat, beating his opponent by a landslide. Most of his councilors, too, won their seats, thus putting an end to the 2-decade term of Boking Morales.

On JUNE 23, we marked our Mothers’s (Ester del Rosario-Castro) 10^th death anniversary.

JULY was not particularly busy, but on  Jul. 12, together with CKS friends Robby and Myra, went to Manila to be at the launch of Claude Tayag’s watercolor book at the National Museum. The movers and shakers of the local art and culture scene were all there at the historic and picturesque venue, and needless to say, we had a great time.

Jul. 14, I attended the first Mass of friend and now Rev. Fr.  Jude Belnas, who had planed in from England to officiate his homecoming mass at the Divine Grace Church. In Jul. 27, I toured former Health Sec. Manuel Dayrit at the CKS Museum, who had Angeleño Del Rosario in his lineage,  which made him a relative!

On AUGUST 8, it was back to Manila to join an important meeting at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani Center upon the invitation of CDC Chairman Mr. Ping de Jesus. He wanted to rainstorm on possible ways to improve  the displays at the Martial Law Museum housed in their Quezon City building . The get-together was significant in that me, Robby and Myra managed to meet some of the most well-known victims and oppositionists of the Marcos regime-from Bobbi Malay, Susan Quimpo to Joy Jopson-Kintanar ( widow of late detainee and victim Ed Jopson)

A major project that Golden Jubilee Class of 1969 undertook and which I conceptualized  was the heritage coloring book of Mabalacat, entitled “Bale Matua”. The 20 page book, illustrated by local artist Dodjie Aguinaldo,  featured 18 coloring pages of  ancestral structures. On Aug. 23, some 20 Mabalacat Elementary School alumni , led by valedictorian Elvie Almazar, were on hand to distribute the books for free to select Grade 4 and 5 students, during the Buwan ng Wika celebration. The event was covered by leading local papers and TV stations, as the project was the first of its kind in the region. More coloring books were later donated to the San Francisco Elementary School.

SEPTEMBER marked a family milestone with the Wedding of my beautiful niece Trisha Castro to her longtime boyfriend JC Paras, held on Sep. 14 at the Sacred Heart Parish in San Fernando. Trisha is one of two daughters of my late brother, Christopher Eric Castro, with Fe Bingcang. Reception was held at the Country Garden which was magically transformed into a veritable garden of flowers with crystal accents. I was honored to have been one of the Principal Sponsors. My brother would also have been proud! Long may they live and prosper!

 Clearly the highlight of the month of OCTOBER, and perhaps the whole year for me happened on October 7, when the City Government of Mabalacat, led by Vice Mayor Geld P. Aquino, presented me with a copy of Resolution No. 06, recognizing my contribution to the cultural,artistic, moral and spiritual upliftment of the city, primarily for the song, “Bayung Mabalacat” which I co-created and which was used as the campaign song of the new Mayor’s , and which has now become the new anthem of Mabalacat. I never felt so proud to receive such honor!

Like all Pinoys, NOVEMBER started with a trek to the cemetery on Nov. 1 to remember our dear departed loved ones, in my case my parents, younger brother and both paternal and maternal grandparents.

On Nov. 6, I had my passport renewed at the local DFA. Five days later, on Nov. 11, it was back to the Medical City-Clark again as I am disturbed by these floaters that were affecting my vision. Well, the ophthalmologist said that there’s nothing pathologically wrong—floaters, she says, naturally occur with age. Ouch, that hurts!

My brother –in-law, Nilo Dizon,  landed in Clark from Auckland, New Zealand on Nov. 21 for a month-long vacation. Since he is a certified tramper, I arranged for a trek to Mabalacat’s next best tourist attraction, the hidden Haduan Falls in faraway sitio Haduan. We began our trek in the early morning of Nov. 28,  which required us negotiating a hanging bridge, navigating a rocky river trail, and climbing a steep-ledge to reach the falls. Death defying, but still worth it, despite a bruised rib, scrapes and spills.

The month ended with a bang with the start of the 30^th SEA Games on Nov. 30. The Parade Ground of Clark-Mabalacat was the venue for some of the sporting events like Dancesports, Rugby 7, and Archery,

Before we knew it, it was the Christmas month of DECEMBER!  First thing I did was to have my san Fernando lantern repaired, and it was soon up and blinking! On Dec. 11, I attended the 448^th Pampanga Day’s Most Outstanding Kapampangan Awards at Royce Hotel in Clark. Our two nominees, entrepreneur Mrs. Elvira Machuca and swimmer Kayla Noelle Sanchez won their respective categories—for Business and Sports, respectively.

 As the Christmas week neared, I was suddenly plagued with cough and fever, seems like there’s an epidemic going on, and I am still recuperating as I write this.  In the morning of Dec. 23, we brought my bro.in law to the Clark Airport—for his return flight to NZ, in time to join his family there for Christmas.

I missed this year’s Maytinis in Mabalacat, so I went to Clark for my Dec. 25 morning mass at Our Lady of Remedies Chapel. The rest of the day, I was coughing miserably, so I just spent the rest of Christmas at home and went on an online movie marathon.

I had a reunion lunch with some of my santo-aficionado friends in Malolos on Dec. 29, hosted by friend Leo Cloma. I got to see again their Museum of Incarnation, which was full to the brim with ecclesiastical arts and processional santos.

So now 2020 has arrived, I have all but junked the idea of making my New Year’s resolutions. I guess at this point in my life ( I turn 63 next month), I will just start each day unplanned, relishing what great things each day gives, and accepting whatever news that comes my way, sad, bad or glad. For sure though, I will continue my regular swimming, movie watching (I have breezed thru all episodes of Lucifer, The Hoarders, Gotham, and now, The Witcher)  and my writing, this time for the widely referenced pop culture online blog, FilipiKnow. And we’ll see what happens after that!

 IN MEMORIAM 2019

I will hold dear  the memories of these  relatives, friends and colleagues who all left this mortal world in 2019. May their souls rest in peace.

1.      AUREA Samson CASTRO (+  January 3, Aunt, married to my uncle Mateo Castro)

2.      RENE TIONGQUICO (+ Mar. 29, age 62,  Elementary classmate, died just  a month after our 50^th alumni reunion)

3.      JUSTINO Palao CASTRO (+ Apr. 10, age 66, Cousin)

4.      FR. HENRY GROENEWEGEN (+Jul. 2, age 85, our High School Prefect of Studies, Sacred Heart Seminary, Angeles City)

5.      NORLITO Sanchez DEL ROSARIO (+ Oct. 11, age 77, Uncle)

6.      LUISA del Rosario TINIO ( + 8 Dec. 2019, age 64, First Cousin)

7.      JOSEPH Guazon LAGLEVA ( + 19 Dec. 2019, age 59, MassComm school mate St. Louis University, Baguio)

8.      TINA Isidro ISORENA (+ 20 Dec. 2019, age 56, officemate at Jimenez D’Arcy)

69. THE TWELFTH MONTH , Phil. Daily Inquirer, 2014

 

PASKU NA! PASKU NA! NANANU KO PA? A Castro Christmas in our old Mabalacat home in the early 80s.

There’s a special spirit in the air when December comes, and whoever invented the calendar certainly saved the best month for last—at least that’s what I thought when I was younger.  The tell-tale signs that December is coming are apparent in the dip in the thermometer, the endless carols blaring from the radio, and the ubiquitous parul sampernandu making their appearance on houses and streets.

To a child growing up in the 60s in Pampanga, December will always be a month unlike any other—for it meant shortened school days, a long vacation and one or two weeks of exciting holiday activities before the actual Christmas Day. In my elementary school days, I remember how we turned our classroom into a virtual Winter Wonderland.

 The centerpiece was a Christmas tree fashioned from a real tree with branchescovered with lots of cotton balls. We decorated our tree with chains made from colored paper, and cut-out figures from old Christmas cards. Glitter was made from old cigarette ‘palara’ (foil)  and more generous classmates would donate five-centavo Chinese folding paper lanterns with tassels of string. Traditional star lanterns of bamboo and papel de japon were all hand-made—which, after being graded by our Industrial Arts teacher, were quickly hung above our door.

There would also be hurriedly-practiced Christmas presentations, which consist mostly of singing carols learned from our Commonwealth era music books. We played manitu-manitu, our version of Kris-Kringle, in which mystery benefactors gave small surprise gifts for you every day—Texas bubble gum, a sachet of balitug (corn bits)  a bar of Choc-nut, Señorita lemon drops.  The identity of your donor is revealed on the day of the Christmas Party, where more gifts are given, with the best reserved for our “teacher-in-charge”.

Back home, our Christmas décor was more well-thought of—our neighbors on our street have come to expect the unexpected from us, what with our bewildering displays that never fail to catch passersby’s attention. The second floor window of our house opens to the first floor roof which provided a stage to mount our visual showcase a la Manila COD. 

One time, we had a “Belen” tableaux with figures made from “palis tambo” brooms, which drew mixed reviews—our yaya said frankly that they looked more like “tau-tauhan”(scarecrows) than the Holy Family. The next year, it was back to traditional Santa Claus cartolina cut-outs with Paete papier mache horses that we transformed into reindeers, by adding antlers made from coconut  twigs.

 Our worst display was a character centerpiece that had nothing to do with Christmas, but which we thought was a great idea at that time.  It was 1982 and E.T. was the current rage—so we made a larger-than-lifesize papier mache figure of the cute extra-terrestrial, complete with a pointing finger that lit up. Problem was, we didn’t know how to mount it, so my younger brother hung it by the neck—arguing that it would make a spectacular lantern. It sure became a talk-of-the-town as passersby would gasp in horror at the spectral sight of an alien hanging by his neck, “executed” by that weird family with a taste for the macabre! Eventually, my horrified mother asked us to take E.T. down.

 The remaining days leading to the Christmas Day is marked with more frenetic preparations, as house helps are mobilized to sweep the backyard, wax the floors and scrub the wooden windows and the pasamanos (window ledges) with isis leaves, in a cleaning frenzy.

 Two weeks before Christmas, my Ingkung would give an extra 100 pesos to my Ima for her Christmas marketing. I remember accompanying her to far away San Fernando so she could order special ‘saymadas’ slathered with butter and topped with grated ‘quezo de bola’. This must explain why ensaymadas are my favorite pastries to this day.

 Ati Bo, my father’s former yaya and our resident cook would also be preparing the big ‘kawas’ and ‘kalderas’ for our special noche buena based on my Ima’s menu, scrubbing the copper ‘tachos’ to bring back their gleam, which she will use for cooking tibuk-tibuk. Banana leaves would be gathered from our backyard garden, cut in size and then smoked to make them supple for wrapping suman and bobotu (tamales).

 Around this time too, while the adults are absorbed in their holiday chores, I would also be snooping around to see what I would be receiving for Christmas. There were years when we got ‘stateside’ gifts bought from Clark made possible by an American friend--my favorite were the stockings stuffed with mint candies, small toys, crayons and activity books.

 When that was not possible, my big sister would find something appropriate at Johnny’s Grocery in Balibago or in the school supply stores of Angeles like Josie’s Variety and Estrella’s. I always looked forward to receiving  Classic Illustrated comic books (they cost 80 centavos back then) that featured both classic novels and fairy tales. I still have a few issues saved from those past Christmasses.

 Children were also expected to attend religious festivities during the holidays and the ‘pastorellas’ of our church in Mabalacat were always a delight to hear.  Latin hymns are sung during the 9-day Christmas masses , and the songs include “Kyrie” (in Greek, actually) , “Gloria”, “Credo”, “Sanctus” and “Agnus Dei”. Though I could not understand a word, the operatic hymns, sung by a full choir and accompanied by violins, accordion and flutes, completely enthralled me, leading me to believe that these musical pieces must have been composed in heaven. Today, the pastorella tradition lives on a few other towns like Floridablanca, Betis and Sta. Rita.

 The final prelude to Christmas happens on Christmas Eve with the holding of the kid-anticipated ‘Maytinis’ (derived from Matins, or evening prayers)—the spectacular procession of holy images—patrons of  every barangay,  accompanied by colorfully lit lanterns or parul. Village choirs singing “Dios te Salve” accompany the faithful as they wend their way through the main streets of the town and back to the church.

 As a young boy, I could only see the procession from afar—on the other side of Sapang Balen river—as our narrow street was not part of the designated ‘limbun’ (procession) route. How I often fretted those nights away! Which is why, when I was asked to judge the Maytinis competition in 2004 (yes, prizes are now being given away for the Best Lantern, Best Carroza, Best Barangay Participation, Best Choir, etc.), I did not think twice and said yes. Through the years, the level of artistry has grown by leaps and bounds, evident in the creatively-designed lanterns and imaginatively-decorated floats;  I pray that the depth of devotion has grown too.

 Call me killjoy, but the excitement over Christmas drops drastically for me the day after—December 26. Then I start counting the days, weeks,and months all over again  till the next December 25. For a chance to bring back scenes from one’s childhood, 364 days is worth the wait. 

NOTE: This article was one of the winning articles in the "Christmas In My Memory" Essay Writing Contest launched by Philippine Daily Inquirer in December 2014:

58. TALES OF THE TAPE

TALES OF THE TAPES

 Yesterday was a free day, so I decided to do a bit of cleaning around the house. I must admit I am a pack-rat like my parents, who never threw things away. Instead, we had the habit of stowing away things in the nooks and crannies of old cabinets, shoeboxes, biscuit tins and other secret compartments—until they are forgotten forever.

 So, great to my surprise when I found again my old cassette tapes stashed in one drawer of an antique altar table. Of course, you know what a cassette tape is—that thing which you wind with a pencil and plopped into a cassette tape recorder, around which our family music entertainment revolved for many decades. I had my Dad’s Xavier Cugat tapes, tapes from the folks in America, study tapes from my former ad agencies Ace Saatchi (from the 80s!) and Jimenez DÁrcy.

Lo and behold, even my school tapes from the mid 70s, are here—used for my radio productions as a Communication student. I can’t believe they’ve survived hours of playing, mold infestation and countless scotch tape repairs!! More amazing was the fact that many of them were still playable.

 I plunked one into my trusty cassette recorder and the garbled, but recognizable sound of a commercial I taped for a class assignment in 1976 spewed out of the speaker. It was a radio ad for a milk brand “Grow-Up Milk”, where I sang a jingle plagiarized from Nino Muhlach’s Milk Maid commercial. I even voiced the announcer part as well, in which I enunciated the address of the milk company—“siete doble siete, tapat ng poste, Manila!”

 The same tape contained assorted recordings I did that are almost 40 years old! I recorded for posterity, my friend Vic Lamug singing “Simple Man” when he guested on a folk program over at Station RMN. This must have been around 1976, when most us were in the folk scene. Too bad didn’t record my version of “Scarborough fair”.

 There was also several takes of my folk group rehearsing the song “Hurry Sundown”, for Visioned Link IV, in 1977. I had a nasal voice then, as now, but much tinnier! I was floored when I flipped the tape and heard the strains of “Dahil Sa Iyo”. It was our competition song for the Commerce Talent Show, Group Singing. We were a shoo-in to win as most of our members came the talented “Rhymes and Rhythms”, and we were coached no less than Levi Granadosin, one of the famous singing Granadosin brothers. Our vocalization sounded good on the tape, but onstage, we flopped and had to settle for 2nd.

 The most fun was listening to us rehearse the songs for our college day presentation night, entitled “Come Alive”. I wrote the lyrics of the theme song (“What do we need to survive/ We need love to come alive!/ Well I guess there’s no other way/ Come alive with us today!) with music supplied by my talented classmate Francis Cardona—who doubled as the music conductor!

The highlight was the staging of the musical “Timmy”, with all-original songs written by classmate Jojo Barreiro. I could distinctly hear Tina Chua singing the title tune, “T-I-M-M-Y…that’s Timmy! Something out of a fantasy…”. And guess who played the title role? Me!! Also in the cast--and on tape-- was Cya Jonson, leading the ensemble with the rousing “Welcome to our village…we hope you feel at ease…welcome to our village…and sing!! , Well, at 18 years old, we could certainly sing our lungs out! Such verve..and such nerve!

 My tape compilation grew when I went to work in Manila—and a few saved cassettes yielded jingle studies done by the prolific jinglemaker Caloy Agawa for the Ministry of Tourism account, then handled by Ace Saatchi. There were 3 studies done for a domestic tourism jingle that had for its theme “Huwag Maging Dayuhan sa Sariling Bayan” (Don’t be a Stranger in your own Paradise, English version). I did the English lyrics and my CD, the Famas Awardee Jimmy Santiago wrote the Pilipino version which completely knocked me out for its lyricism and imagery.

 My agency ,Ace Saatchi was a regular in inter-agency competition that were all the rage in the 80s---and in 1987, we joined the Inter-Agency Christmas Chorale Competition. Caught on tape were the voices of our choral group singing a most unique competition song—“Jellicle Song””, from the musical cats.

 The song had been reworked to include Christmas lyrics, and included lively purring, meowing and caterwauling!. Listening to the song, I was transported back to the big final night where we came in feline outfits and belted out our song under the musical direction of Betsy Basilio. It was no-contest from the start--we swept competition away, winning Best Choreography and Best Chorale Group! What other stories could these ancient cassette tapes hold?

Well, I haven’t listened to all of them and I plan to do that in the next few days. Maybe I’ll start with my 30 year old home recordings doing my versions of those “”I-am-just-a-poor-boy-though-my-story’s-seldom-told” folk tunes. Or maybe I’ll have the contents transferred to a disc or digitized some day.

Then again, maybe that’s not necessary--I’ll just play them on my vintage cassette recorder and relive once more those carefree days when our pleasures were simpler, when things were less complicated, and where worries were solved with a familiar song, a guitar and a tape recorder on hand.

55. The Kapampangan Traveler: G'DAYS IN SYDNEY

(Originally published on K Magazine, 2005 issue)

How would you like to blow my didgeridoo? Pet my wallaby? Catch a kookaboora? Or better still, diddle with my dingo? Anything and everything is possible in the amazing land of OZ—Australia, that is—the island continent down under, where I had the chance to do all these (well, almost!) when I took off for the 2000 Olympic City—Sydney—on several business and leisure trips. Mates, do I love my job!

 Sydney is just an overnight sleep away on a Qantas flight, seven hours and twenty minutes, to be exact. After a quick stop at Melbourne, I arrived in Sydney wide awake and all my pre-conceived notions about this country populated in part by 19th century convicts and prisoners vanished as quickly as a kangaroo kick on my face. Sydney is a people-friendly place, a melting pot of cultures that has become inexplicably and uniquely Australian, blending English aristocracy with aboriginal pride, with a dash of Asian and Pacific flavors thrown in.

 The first thing that hit me upon arrival was the thick Paul Hogan accent that sounded like English spoken while chewing extra-thick bubble gum. That took awhile to get used to, and it was indeed fascinating to converse with expatriated Filipinos speaking with that distinctive Australian brogue, which, after awhile became quite affecting, g’ness gracious, mates!

 En route to Darling Harbor, I surveyed the perfectly-preserved historic districts that date back to the Victorian age, still functional after all these years. Ancient church spires and Victorian gingerbreads gave way to a sleeker, modern skyline as I neared the harbor, the commercial heart fo the city. One can cover the different districts from here, with a Monorail providing quick, convenient access. Right across my hotel was the Harborside shopping area, lined with seafood restaurants, boutiques and hundreds of tourist traps!

 But shopping was not on top of my priority list of to-do’s. Soon as I dropped my bags at Novotel, I hied off to tour the city, starting with the famed Australian cultural landmark, the Sydney Opera House. The house sits majestically on Bennelong Point, overlooked by the great Sydney Harbour bridge. Like 3 orange segments, the sectioned roofs with their pure curving shapes, rise from the harbour, a family of forms rooted in expressionist modern style. The house was designed by Jorn Utzon, and was built from 1957-1973, an awe-inspiring architectural and engineering marvel of the 20th century.

 Hyde Park was another sight to see, a wide expanse of greens dotted with old world obelisks, monuments and statues, including that of Captain Cook. The Victoria shopping district is a fine example of the successful preservation and conservation programs of the Australian government, re-engineering old, otherwise inutile buildings for contemporary use as malls, commercial and business spaces.

 Sydney isn’t Sydney without the surf, sun and sand, and so Bondi Beach was my next stop, a beach bum’s paradise with an endless coastal line perfect for swimming, surfing and sailing. But with the nippy September weather upon us, the much ballyhooed bikini-wearing Baywatch babes and hunky Aussie lifeguards were nowhere to be found!

 For the culturati, Sydney has a lively arts-and-culture scene that is not quite West End or Broadway, at least, not yet. But the few entertainment offerings are still of world-class quality. At the Capitol Theater near Haymarket (famous for its weekend flea markets), I watched the Australian staging of Miss Saigon, starring our very own Cocoy Laurel and Joanna Ampil. There was a sizeable Pinoy crowd judging from the shouts of “Mabuhay” during the curtain calls, audible from my seat. For one moment, I swelled with pride as the international audience gave the Pinoy-dominated cast a standing ovation after another. I was humming “Last Night of the World” in my fake Australian accent all the way to my hotel.

 The natural wonders of Australia were next on my itinerary. I had delirious visions of wild bushlands, inhospitable terrains and savage heat that would put to shame the hellish conditions dramatized in the “Survivors” reality TV show. However, upon arriving at the Wildlife Park, I went a-goo-goo and a-gaga over the furry little koalas, the spritely kangaroos and their joeys, wallabies and even cute wombats in this well-maintained animal sanctuary!

 An hour’s drive from there, the landscape drastically changed as the Blue Mountains loomed in sight. Echo Point provided a look-out vantage point to the awesome natural marvels that include an unusual rock formation called “Three Sisters”, three rock towers jutting sky high from the ground. There was a legend surrounding “Three Sisters”, but I doubt if it’s as colorful as the account of our very own Sinukuan and his 3 daughters. Definitely not for the faint-hearted is a ride on the Skyway that takes you across the deep gorge while suspended inside an iron cage!

 My last trip top Sydney was arranged under different circumstances in 1999, for this time, I came back to shoot a commercial for Jag Jeans with my producers, creative team and clients. That meant staying in a budget hotel at the celebrated Oxford Street, which I didn’t mind really. Much like New York’s Greenwich Village, Oxford is the bohemian enclave of Sydney, where quirky artists, leather-clad skinheads and pierced punks, gays and lesbians congregate with their own kind amidst surf shops, 2nd hand book stores, porn and fetish boutiques, gay clubs and bistros.

 My interest though was more on the quaint antique shops on South Dowling Street and at Woolhara, which carried an assortment of antique frames, books, playthings, furniture, jewelry and plain junk. Here, wheeling and dealing is the name of the game and I haggled until I was blue in my face over a large green apothecary jar which I finally got for my bottle collection. But if Oxford is non-conformist, nearby King’s Cross is hardcore. This is a tamer version of Patpong, a more sophisticated Fields Avenue, but still as notorious for its promise of sex and sleaze at every bend.

 Sydney’s open, tolerant attitude—a broadened perspective that is shared by most of Australia—may as well be its biggest attraction. With little exception, Asians will feel welcomed here, and the motley of Vietnamese, Chinese, Indian, Thai and Filipino communities co-habiting peacefully are a testament to Australia’s open-arms policy, regardless of creed, conviction, and yes, even sexual orientation. The annual gay and lesbian parade, a festival that celebrates alternative lifestyles and which has grown into an event of international proportions, further solidifies the country’s liberal stance. 

So, mates, if you want to resist the usual, if you crave unbridled adventure to the extreme—Sydney, with all its wild, amazing wonders, a rich cultural heritage and a happy-go-lucky, anything goes approach to life—is the place to be!

50. TAKEN FOR A RIDE IN A CAR, CAR!

Your first car is as important as your first job, as unforgettable as your first love, as thrilling as your first kiss. That is probably why I kept this picture of my very first car all these years, bought from my hard-earned lifetime savings.

How can I ever forget this fire engine-red super Beetle which served me for a year or two? (or it could have been less). I found it for sale in a Buy and Sell ad in 1984 that specified even its new upholstery. The 1964 model Volkswagen I thought, was a classic, as my father had a similar one, which he often took for long drives to Baguio. I figured if a Volks was that roadworthy, I might as well choose the same trusty brand for my 1st car!

I paid Php11,000 for this red Volks, and, as I was still an amateur driver then, I asked my art director, Mildred, to accompany me and drive it from Mandaluyong to my Makati office. It sputtered and stuttered and stopped every step of the way, but we did reach our destination. Since I didn't have the courage to drive it all the way to Pampanga, I called my Dad to take it home.

Oh, he was livid when I told him I got a car and he asked me so many technical questions about its past ownership and performance (Have you test-driven it? Has a mechanic checked its motor and the condition of the carburetor, accelerator, tires, etc.? I said, No to all his questions, but I told him it's got new upholstery. I only heard him heave a deep sigh.

Well, once on the Expressway, I heard more sighing from my father as the engine coughed and sputtered, the glass window fell down, and the recapped tires started giving in. We had to stop every now and then to pry loose rubber from the damaged tires. Midway through the trip, the car overheated, rattled and wiggled, so we had to slow down our speed to about 40 kms. per hour. My father's sighs never ceased, not even when we got home.

The super Beetle went straight to the mechanic's shop, and I think I spent more for its repair than what I paid for it. It really never lost its wiggle, but it was still serviceable for taking me from Point A to Point B. I used it to go to the University on weekends where I took a teaching job, and after classes, a few of mys students would pack the Beetle to hitch with me home.

One night though, while driving home, my car just wiggled violently and its headlights flickered and died. I was never so frightened in my life! I thought it was possessed and from that moment, I decided to get rid of it. Luckily, a cousin of mine was remodelling my kitchen, and was glad to take home the red Volks as part of his payment.

Car-less again, I spent the next few days looking for a 2nd hand replacement. But this time, it was my father who looked for a car for me. Few weeks after, he found me a white Saturn-engine, lady-driven 1978 model Lancer. Oh, what a snappy-looking car! I loved it the moment I laid eyes on it. I drove it to Manila, drove it to work, drove it everywhere, and even drove my sister to Church in it on her wedding day..

Everything went well until that one fateful Sunday afternoon when I figured in a 4-car collision along the Expressway. That's another story that caused more sighs. Sigh!.

(5 January 2009)

47. HOTEL ART

Living in hotels is a necessary part of travel. Hotel bookings are made in advance, often sight unseen. Expecting the unexpected, it is always amusing when you get to your temporary residence. First impressions do last--and the first thing I take note of are the hotel interior decors. Cheap prints, works of unknown artists, campy sculptures, horrible watercolors--perhaps I've seen it all. Of course, I realize that hotels are not museums. That is why when I am on the road, I make it a point to visit a museum or a gallery, which to me is the quickest and most convenient way to immerse yourself in the local arts and culture.

In a recent trip to Europe, however, I didn’t have to go out or look far to view excellent works of art. Right in a modest Spanish hotel where I stayed—Melia Fernan Gonzales Boutique Hotel in Burgos—I was surprised to see authentic colonial antiques as well as faithfully reproduced sacred art scattered all over the hotel premises.

It is obvious that the hotel has imbibed the sense of history of this city. Burgos began as a fortified city and was a major stop for pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela. It has also been the site of many wars: against the Moors, Napoleonic French and the Spanish civil war. Its Gothic Cathedral—just a stone’s throw away from the hotel—is beautifully preserved and so are the numerous ecclesiastical monuments that dot the place—more than any other Spanish city.

 Upon entering the Lobby, the first thing that I saw was a beautifully polychromed image of our Lady with the Child Jesus.

The centerpiece of the hotel lobby is this beautiful antique Nativity tableaux encased in a protective glass urna to secure it from overzealous santo art lovers like me. I had to admire this set with exquisite gilt work first--the hotel key can wait!

A solo image of a naked Salvador del Mundo--which I wanted to bring home-- stands guard at the Lobby Lounge. This is an obvious reproduction, but still excellently made.

Going up my 2nd floor room, I saw this old painting of Crucified Christ, which reminded me of the old Cuzco style of painting popular in Peru.

 En route to the restaurant for my breakfast, an antique cabinet displayed various religious vestments--chasubles, a cope and dalmatic--some heavily embroidered, others with great floral appliques.

Next to this dramatically-lit cabinet was this large santo base that had lots of charming little cherub carvings with amazing details. This base was displayed as is, sans a santo, perhaps to show off the artistry that went into this exquisite piece.

There was a big detalyado San Agustin image at the exit of the restaurant, a very impressive piece. It was missing its staff and mitre though, but the detailed church on his left hand was intact.

 At another lounge, I gazed at this folk-looking Madonna that adorned a plain brick red wall. It reminded me so much of the Black Madonna of Montserrat which was also on my agenda, but this one has a fair encarna. There is a Gothic feel to it...

On this same wall was this painting on a gilt frame that looked like the Mother of Perpetual Help without the angel attendants.

Flanking this piece was this San Juan Bautista complete with his sheepskin loincloth. If this were mine, I would add a base and a banner and use it as a processional santo instead of hanging it on a wall.

Adjacent to this inner lounge was the main dining section that featured more vibrant colonial pieces. This retablo housing our Lady and the Child Jesus was a real stunner; the rococo decorations are outstanding:

 Finally, at the restaurant downstairs, a niche housed this ancient San Pedro tabletop santo, which would look perfect on my antique mesa altar.

 Sadly, I stayed only for a day at the hotel. I would have wanted to explore the Swimming Pool. Goodness what I would have discovered there. A carved retablo diving board perhaps, or an antique kneeling angel lamp post. When you are travelling, wonders never cease, there's always a surprise at every bend. And that's what I found at this small boutique hotel on a narrow street in Burgos.

(6 November 2008)

37. LOST IN THE CITY OF ANGELS

 THE OLD MUNICIPIO OF CULIAT

Memory is a wily keeper of the past, so they say-- often true and faithful, but at times elusive or even deceptive. Mine, however, are still sharp and bright, especially when it comes to Angeles City—a special place that I have always associated with a joyful time of youthful discoveries, when everyone’s idea of risky adventure was a quick trip to Pampanga’s playground--the “city of Angels”.

Growing up in a sleepy town-on-the-border that is Mabalacat, the nearby city of Angeles represented just about everything an idealistic “promdi” teen dreamed of. Angeles provided the ultimate escape, a 20 minute jeepney ride away to where the action is—there, in her downtown movie houses and cheap restaurants along its crowded alley roads serving Hollywood magic and meriendas; in its bustling commercial streets crammed with hawkers, shoppers and Muslim vendors; and in the famed avenues of Balibago lined with bright neon lights spelling familiar names straight from roadside Las Vegas: Copa Cabana, Stardust, Nina’s Papagayo.

More than just a center of escapades, Angeles was the place to kick off your shoes and get really comfortable, a city known for freely extending its unconditional welcome to one and all. They say in Angeles, everyone has a chance to make it and to this city gravitated every one – entrepreneurs, missionaries, U.S. servicemen, backpacking tourists , students, bar girls, artists, German and Australian retirees and even lost souls out to make a quick buck or two. Such was Angeles in my mind’s eye.

One could never imagine that this freewheeling city was once the farthest barrio of San Fernando, a clearing started by spouses Don Angel Pantaleon Miranda and Dona Rosalia de Jesus in 1792. Its early name was Culiat, from the woody vines that proliferated in the area. Inaugurated as a town in 1829, Culiat was dedicated to its titular patrons, the Holy Guardian Angels , hence the name “Angeles”, but it is certainly a strange coincidence that its founder was also named Angel.

The handful of nuclear families and their descendants that settled in Culiat soon expanded and grew, with family members often intermarrying. Large prominent families like the Nepomucenos, Hensons, Nepomucenos, Paras, Lazatins, Del Rosarios, Tayags have common genealogical roots, which explains why today, it is possible to bump into a distant relation just by walking the streets.

It is also the best way to discover the city’s soul, with its unexpected surprises that lurk at every bend. Recently on a week-end, I went on my own to revisit my old Angeles on foot, to retrace familiar haunts, half-expecting to relive my big city experience while exploring its contemporary attractions. After years of living in Manila and in other parts of the world, I was not disappointed.

Historic Sto. Rosario Street was my starting point. On this street stands the city landmark—the imposing Holy Rosary Parish, started in 1855 by Fr. Guillermo Masnou but opened to the public only in 1890. Its massive intricately carved doors feature religious figures central to the city’s story, most specially the Virgin of the Most Holy Rosary.

Most of Angeles’ ancestral buildings are clustered in this district—from the old Pamintuan Residence that was once occupied and transformed by Pres. Emilio Aguinaldo as his presidential headquarters, (now a Bangko Sentral regional branch), the restored Bale Herencia to the Nepomuceno’s Kamalig, an ancient barn turned specialty pizza restaurant, adjacent to Bale Matua, the old stone house of the original founders of Angeles.

The old regional court across the church has been converted into Museo ning Angeles, a repository of the city’s historical and cultural treasures. The city’s more organized commercial center—Nepo Mart—is just a stone’s throw away. PX goods were once the lifeblood of the stores here. I remember, from school, I could dash here for my favorite fig newtons or Lay’s potato chips. Nowadays, Bangkok goods are peddled side by side U.S. products obviously purchased from Clark Field PX shops.

There are so much food choices here—from Everybody’s Café, a branch of San Fernando’s most popular restaurant known for its local delicacies like kamaru, betute and tapang damulag, Delyn’s Restaurant inside the Nepo complex, Susie’s Cuisine and its famous tibuk-tibuk, the outdoor Cely’s, with its array of Kapampangan value meals to this once-nameless snack house on nearby Corazon St. noted for its unique pastillas de leche-enriched halo-halo.

Recently, the age of malls has come to Angeles with the rise of Jenra and the multi-storey Nepo Mall, the city’s latest concession to progress. But the height of adventure begins in the downtown market occupying Miranda and Rizal St., where one can get lost amidst life’s most trivial pleasures. Snake in and around the stalls—if you have hunger pangs, munch a turon, eat suman, snack on pancit palabok. Kitschy gift shops stand next to hole-in-the wall beauty shops here. Down a narrow street, I checked if “Cool Spot”- everyone’s favorite high school snack hangout—was still around. It still is, thankfully, serving up the the tastiest pancit and pineapple-upside down cake this side of town.

Every Friday, the “tiangge ng Apu” comes to life on Burgos St., where the wildest assortment of merchandise at dirt-cheap prices abound for the picking—from CDs, VCD’s and DVD’s , batik dusters, ukay-ukay finds, tropical aquarium fishes, car tools, leather goods, glassware, fake GI surplus to pots, pans and what have you. The city’s own version of Divisoria has been around for years—but this baratillo paradise is much noisier, rowdier. Before, second-hand shops and thrift stores would also be located in this area, selling Clark Air base odds and ends—vinyl records, army trays, pocketbooks and girlie magazines.

Along Jake Gonzales Boulevard., the main artery linking Balibago and Angeles, motels and cocktail lounges abound. I remember a U.S. style hotel being built in the 70s here, called “Pauline’s, with surreal interiors embellished with concrete stalactites and stalagmites. It was never finished, and for years, was the boulevard’s signature landmark. No longer a hotel row, the strip is now known for its sisig stalls by the old railroad track, a legendary haven for beer guzzlers and pulutan lovers. Balibago, past the Abacan Bridge, has always had a honky-tonk feel.

In here, the attitude is a bit more brash, a little looser, a touch of the wild, wild west on Kapampangan soil. Balibago was both a residential and a commercial district—with prime villages like Diamond Subdivision providing major housing for American G.I.s and their families. The premiere hotel in the area was Marlim Mansion, which still stands today, and across it—the celebrated Angeles Fried Chicken restaurant—host to many birthday, anniversary and graduation bashes, owned by Taus family.

Other Balibago “institutions” include Johnny’s Grocery (where we went shopping for our Junior-Senior Prom food supply) and Del Rosario Swimming Pool Compound, located at the foot of Abacan Bridge, where many an Angeleño kid learned to swim. Balibago subsisted primarily on Clark, and the myriads of shops and businesses that dotted its landscape naturally reflected complex American tastes: swanky bars with go-go girls, galleries that peddled velvet paintings, Kon-Tiki carvings and artworks with exotic South Pacific themes, fastfoods with American names (Spic ‘n Span, A&W), rattan furniture shops, dozens of hotels and motels with pretentions of poshness. Along the main highway, animated neon signs advertised the clubbing pleasures of Little Brown Jug and Cock and Bull. The whole stretch of Friendship Hi-Way and Fields Avenue housed the seedier establishments that promised more wanton delights.

Nearby Clark Field was terra incognita for a lot of us teeners back in the 70s, an exclusive enclave reserved for a privileged few (Americans and their dependents). People spoke of a commissary with endless rows of the freshest apples and peaches, Pacex milk, Hershey’s kisses, macadamia nuts and more! There were stories told about fancy restaurants like Top Hat and Coconut Grove, of Olympic size pools with gleaming white tiles at the Officers’ Club and of visits by celebrities like Xavier Cugat and Bob Hope. I remember going there only once, as part of a group invited by Wagner High School officials, for a tour of their art-and-crafts facilities. I came away foolishly impressed by the American dream, and for some time, relished the thought of Philippine statehood as espoused by Cabangbang.

Now, more than a decade after Pinatubo, the atmosphere around this perimeter is more sedate, the din of raucous laughter a bit quieter. It still is a people-friendly place, and shopping here can be quite a thrill. Art galleries and frame shops --with their precious old stock of artworks, are concentrated here, and there is still that delicious possibility of unearthing a masterpiece from the 60s and 70s painted by Jose Bumanlag David, Patricio Salvador or Felix Gonzales—noted masters of the brush who once plied their talents here.

Astro Park, fronting the Clark main gate, provides the ideal green spot for games and afternoon gambols. Next door neighbors to galleries and furniture shops are modern-day KTVs and coffee shops, catering to a whole new community, more local than international. German and Australian retirees have replaced the Americans, even the Koreans have arrived, giving rise to thriving multi-cultural businesses and all-new relationships.

The big city of my youth seems so much smaller now, but with so many attractions (and, surprising distractions!) to assault the senses, it still is so easy to lose one’s way . In a sense, you can never find your way out of Angeles, because the city—like some giant magnet—will draw you back in. Perhaps it is its “there’s something-for-everyone” patronage to diversity that makes people stay. Or the fact that it has retained its human scale in the midst of growth and modernity.

To me, its enduring appeal lies in it capacity to make the most lasting impressions, a place of the rich past which has created its own vital present--where people can take comfort in knowing that they can leave Angeles, for half a lifetime or more, and return to find most of their fascinating memories of this proud city still safe and intact.

34. BAGUIO BOY III: Where Have All the Folkies Gone?

 FADED FOLK. The Gingerbread Tape, recovered. 

Over the weekend, I was rummaging through my desk, when I found, in the rear compartment, a tape I made in 1975, of a one-night gig at Gingerbread Man Folk House. I plunked this about-to-be-extinct 33-year old tape in my still-functioning cassette player, and out came a familiar voice, accompanied by a single guitar, singing the message songs that caught the fancy of my generation—Baez, Dylan, Guthrie, Lightfoot, Collins, CSN&Y, Simon & Garfunkel, Peter, Paul and Mary, Denver, Taylor, Young, King, and many more.

I am instantly transported back to my Baguio student days, when I, too, joined the folk bandwagon by serendipity, jamming with the same folkies whose voices I had saved on my Scotch cassette—Caloy Medina, Tito Mina, Bubut Olarte—considered as one of Baguio’s finest troubadours. That time, the city had a growing reputation for having the best folk houses around, populated mostly by hip college kids, before the advent of internet cafes.

 Fireplace, strategically located along Assumption Road was always packed with a motley mix of students, residents and tourists. On Bonifacio Road, at the foot of St. Louis University was Gingerbread Man, operated by Mars Cuesta, which had mainly students as captive audience. These two became the enclaves of Baguio’s bohemians, beatniks and plain folk music lovers—of which I would soon find myself a willing participant.

 JUST DUET! Tony Marasigan and I, singing at a school concert. I believe we performed a reworked version of P, P & M's, "Rocky Road". 1976. 

I discovered American and English folk music when I was 12, from my big Sis who sang these songs in "Rock Masses" with 2 guitar-toting friends. They would cover “All My Trials”, “Kumbaya” and “If I Had a Hammer”. But they would also dish up "protest songs" like “The Times They Are A-Changing”, “Sounds of Silence”, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” and “If I Were Free”.

 FOLK DISCOGRAPHY. Part of my extensive collection of LP's (long-playing records) that got me hooked on folk music. 

While I was fascinated with the melody, I was caught up in the storytelling of a love gone so dreadfully wrong, of Johnnies going to war, of an answer that’s blowing in the wind, and of the travails of young and tender ladies, wayfaring strangers, rebels and royalties. Thus, after their rehearsals, I would borrow my sister’s guitar and virtually taught myself how to play those chords from a JINGLE songbook.

With 3 chords mastered, I could actually do half-a-dozen songs in no time at all. Learning to pluck too a lot longer; I learned calypso plucking by spinning the records of Joan Baez, over and over again, which must have driven my siblings nuts. I was also responsible for damaging countless stereo needles using this technique.

 *********** 

Fast forward 1975.
Baguio’s construction boom was in full swing. Cashing in on this economic boom and riding on the folk wave, bistros and restaurants were hastily put up to cater to a new listening audience. Bahay Kubo Restaurant was one such place along Session Road. With the place finished, a call was sounded for folksingers. The building contractor (my Manong Nanding) told the owners not to look far---for he has 2 brothers-in-law (meaning me and my elder brother Gregg) who could provide entertainment for 10 bucks a night. A repertoire had to be quickly drawn up, songs memorized and my career was on the way!

 HIGHLY-STRUNG. With my treasured 850 peso classic guitar which I always lugged in school, for my after-class gig. 

 “You can get anything you want, at Bahay Kubo Restaurant”, a reworked “Alice’s Restaurant”, by Arlo Guthrie was a favorite opener. Melvin Tampinco popularized that song for Bahay Kubo, and every folk singer learned to play it. The same formula worked when one concluded Denver’s song with “Take Me Home, Session Road” (instead of Country Road). It was not uncommon too, to incorporate a local folk song in one’s song list. “Salidum-ay”, with its tri-lingual lyrics was a top sing-along song (“Lipistik ka ng a-lipistik, di ka naman ag-brush ng teeth! Ay, ay salidum-ay..”). Bawdy songs were also de riguer, if you want to work up a sleepy crowd. (“Ang lalake pag umihi, iniipit pa sa daliri”…). 

While I have performed before an audience in school productions, I have never sang for people just a few feet away from you. This made the experience even more nerve-wracking. Bahay Kubo, I now conclude, had the worse crowd of all; but it can’t be blamed. With a dissonant name and ambiance, it was really a restaurant masquerading as a folk joint.

By now, I had gained a measure of confidence insofar as performing in public was concerned. Out of audacity, I auditioned for a slot at Gingerbread Man Folk House, 10 pesos a night—with free sandwich dinner. I remember rushing from my class to the nearby folk house with my guitar to sing for Mars Cuesta, and after 3 or 4 songs, he told me I was in! I can’t believe my eyes—Gingerbread Man was THE big league and I made it! Whoopee!

 BAGUIO'S FOLK MUSICIANS, UNITE! Over 20 folk singers trooped to U.P. Baguio Auditorium to perform in the city's biggest folk gig. As usual, I sang my trademark "Silver Dagger", "Fennario" and sang "Shule Aroon", a duet with Vangie. 

I tell you what. My voice is anything but good. Someone once described it as the singing of a man with a bad nasal drip. Many times, I have been heckled for it.

But what the heck, Dylan's voice was once likened to that of a dog caught in a barbed wire fence. Looking back now, I think it was my obscure repertoire that separated me from the other singers. I was the only male singer that tripped on Joan Baez and Judy Collins folk, wailing unheard-of ballads like “Silver Dagger”, "The Trees They Grow High", “Henry Martin”. 

 FOLK CONCERT OR WHAT?. What's JC Superstar musical excerpt doing in a folk concert like this?

My material was so strange, I researched on the earliest precurors of familiar folk tunes and sang them. So instead of “Pretty Peggy-O”, I would sing “Fennario”. “Blowin’ in the Wind” was “No More Auction Block for Me”. “ Cruel War” was “The Warfare Is Raging”. The most extreme was “Scarborough Fair”, which I introduced in a radio program as a “lyric song so old, it was documented in Ravenscroft’s Melismata in 1611..”, --to the total bewilderment of the DJ.

 THANK GOD, I'M A COUNTRY BOY. Caloy produced this hootenanny at St. Louis' Girls' High. I don't even remember what I sang here. But our Group Finale was "Enter the Young"--and it wasn't even a folk song! 

And so now, I am listening once more to this tape. I smile as I hear Caloy Medina and his repertoire of Simon and Garfunkel songs ("Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall", "Hazy Shades of Winter") , with an occasional Mclean ("Pride Parade") and Denver originals ("Gospel Changes"). Caloy was my favorite singer; he had an easy, casual style and was handy with a 12-string guitar. He was also enterprising, producing folk concerts that gathered the best folkies of the city. Caloy was also a Philosophy teacher, and years after, I heard that he secured a scholarship in Belgium and is now a Ph.D holder.

Tito Mina came next after Caloy’s set. Tito was the most accomplished musician of the bunch; he played wonderful guitar and brought a more edgy approach to his songs that were such unconventional choices to sing in a folk house. On tape, he sings Minnie Ripperton’s “Lovin’ You”. Just a few years later, he would record his most well-known hit, “Ikaw Pa Rin” and move to Europe with his Belgian wife. He recently had a homecoming concert this year. I wonder if he still remembers his co-folkie every Thursday nights at Gingerbread. ;-).

 I was also surprised to hear myself singing a duet with my schoolmate Jane. With my nasal voice, we did “Hangman” and “ Paper o’ Pins”. Striking solo, she sang “If I Had Wings”, a Peter Yarrow song I taught her. In my mind, I hear again classmate Veronne Perfecto and her college sweetheart. As Mike and Veronne, they made the rounds of the folk circuit and wowed campus crowds.

David Medina, Caloy’s younger brod, also was a Gingerbread regular. Many years later, I would become an officemate of his ex-wife at Saatchi & Saatchi. Bubut Olarte, a law student at that time, was a gifted Dylan interpreter. Johnnie Chan was another schoolmate with amazing presence but he would migrate to the U.S. while still in college.

Tony Marasigan, Joey Carino, March Fianza, Jojo Barreiro, Mannix Santos, Vangie and Ira—these were the talented people I recall having worked or jammed with, in an open, artistic milieu possible only in Baguio, even under a regime of repression.

 PALAK-FOLK-KAN. Yet another concert--WEN DAKAMI DAYTOY-- at the Baguio Colleges Foundation. I would hang up my guitar strings a year after. 

Those years may have gone, but for one brief shining moment, up a cool, mountain city, we raised our voices as one, singing our hearts out and our personal convictions through the music of the common people—nasal twang and all.

(28 May 2008)