Balikbayan Magazine February - March 2010

Love in the Time of Rogelio and CarmenAny Given Wednesday: Baclaran, A Pilgrimage

Everything’s Coming Up Rosy’s: The Houses that Pansit Malabon Built

Volume I number 11

uS$ 5.00•PHP 150.00

february – march 2010

balikbayanmagazine.com

Love in the Time of Rogelio and CarmenAny Given Wednesday: Baclaran, A Pilgrimage

Everything’s Coming Up Rosy’s: The Houses that Pansit Malabon Built

Love, Pinoy Style: A Many Splendored Thing

� balikbayan | february – march �010 | balikbayanmagazine.com

4 keeping a journalHow do We Measure Love of Country in a Year? By roger lagmay oriel, puBlisher

6 editor’s notebookReady for Our Close-up By lito ocampo cruz, editor-in-chief

8 Love, Pinoy Style: A Many Splendored ThingBy joel paBlo salud

12 red carpet Love in the Time of Rogelio and CarmenBy jewel castro

16 essence of place Tagaytay, Heaven on EarthBy joel paBlo salud

25 The Road to Tagaytay

30 scenic roots Hala Bira! Athrob and atingle in Kalibo’s Ati-atihanBy phillip kimpo jr.

37 the unguided tour Any Given Wednesday: Baclaran, A PilgrimageBy althea lauren ricardo

47 tourbuzz A Habit of ShoresBy louie jon a. sanchez

55 past foodEverything’s Coming Up Rosy’sBy marie angeli syjueco

60 balikbayan true stories Gawad Kalinga, Building DreamsBy carlo dela cruz

66 filipinianaThe Heart and Home of The Highest Hiding PlaceBy louie jon a. sanchez

68 people & events‘Tulaan sa Tren’ now on its second trip

by roger lagmay oriel, publisher

Keeping A JournAl

in march last year, as the asian journal was preparing for the gala of the first filipino-american symphony orchestra (faso), Balikbayan was launched, carrying a credo which somewhat presaged not only our pride at promoting love of country, but also the general nationalistic timbre. with the current popularity of patriotic merchandise and renewed sense of being filipino, our tagline “love of country is Back in style” seemed to have driven its point.

this not only proved a point but also reiterated our own sense of wonder in each geographical point of the country we have visited—from the windmills of Bangui in ilocos norte, to the picturesque rolling hills and mountains of davao. around may last year, the state has renewed its commitment to tourism, as it inked the tourism act of 2009, which espouses “a national policy for tourism as an engine of investment, employment, growth and national development.”

along the way, we also found ourselves meeting a lot of friends, old and new. many of them took the journey of discovery with us, bringing us around the places and enjoying with us the sumptuous cuisine. many more continued to share our wonder in what we have discovered in various parts of the country. there are, after all, so many things yet to see in this country of 7,107 islands. a year simply won’t be enough.


how do we measure a year of love of country?as we look Back on the year, we find ourselves carrying some tunes from jonathan larson’s pulitzer prize-winning Rent. for “how do we measure a year”, now that Balikbayan, the magazine in your hands, has turned one? we measure the great leaps we took, and the many miles we have walked, just to chronicle the country of our roots in an altogether new level.

balikbayanmagazine.com | february – march �010 | balikbayan �

merely looking at our scenic and often colorful covers, we could not help but be amazed at the feat our humble efforts created.

coming home has been a pleasant journey for all of us here in Balikbayan. my own odyssey from Binalonan, pangasinan to america and back, has been nostalgic and fulfilling. i have come full circle. on a personal note, it reminds me of that man with whom i share the glory of my hometown, the great carlos Bulosan, who paved the way for many filipinos in america by simply telling his story. our story. he may not had the chance to go back to his hometown, but we will always remember our collective humble beginnings.

there are still many roads not yet taken. Balikbayan magazine will take you there.

the first 11 issues of Balikbayan magazine are the journals of our travels and adventures together. it was worth the trip.

thank you for traveling with us. g

by lito ocampo cruz, editor-in-chief

editor’s notebooKpublisher & ceo | roger l. orielpresident & co-publisher | cora m. oriel

editor-in-chief | evp asia | lito ocampo cruz

associate editor | louie jon agustin sanchez

contributing editors | malou liwanag-aguilar, alma anonas-carpio, jewel castro, cynthia de castro, gayle gatchalian, ruben nepales, janet susan nepales, rhod v. nuncio, rochelle c. pangilinan, d.m. reyes, althea lauren ricardo, joel salud, aldus santos, Walter villa, momar visaya

contributing photographers | joe cobilla, phillip kimpo jr., ted madamba, raphael john oriel, miko santos, andy tecson

art director | le grande dee pedrocheassistant editor | marie angeli s. syjueco

vice president for advertising | noel godinezvice president for marketing | genelyn s. alcalavice president for sales | sharon ann z. bathanvp for circulation & special events | vince samson

staff Writer | billy dela cruz

staff artists | edward dy, napoleon laurel, jr., valory lim, bienvenida salazar, kendrick tan

circulation manager | arthur sibulangcao

accountant | ria fabro

balikbayan Magazine is published by asian journal publications, inc.

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Send subscription inquiries to [email protected], and advertising queries at [email protected].

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how do we tell a love story?in a movie, we establish the shot and place the point of view amidst a

cinematic landscape. it is, in the words of the contemporary american poet mark doty, a gesture of description, that one “encoded desire.” in this issue, we could only think of hometowns and the yearning to come home. this issue is a homecoming.

poet and photographer phillip kimpo retraces his roots in aklan and provides us dazzling vignettes and images of a most revered festival—the ati-atihan. locating his space in both local history and festive revelry, he lends us a fresh glimpse of this one big fiesta of varied colors and mythic proportions. phillip is currently president of the linangan sa imahen, retorika, at anyo (lira), the premiere organization of poets writing in filipino, founded in 1985 by national artist for literature virgilio s. almario (a.k.a. rio alma).

assistant editor marie angeli syjueco visits her popular neighborhood haunt for trips down memory lane and platefuls of the original pansit malabon. she visits the houses that pansit malabon built—norma’s pansit luglog and restaurant of the concepcions and rosy’s pansit malabon of the pachecos. Both pansit malabon houses opened their doors—and even kitchens to us—as they told their sumptuous tales and beginnings.

storylines are important too—and places only make sense if we get to consider their stories. Philippines Graphic magazine managing editor joel salud weaves for us again a brilliant essay on love, pinoy style, returning to the great Books, sages and poets like francisco Balagtas, whose lover’s discourse in Florante at Laura has defined our consciousness. joel’s passion also gathers steam as he writes an ode to an old love—tagaytay.

we opt for twists and turns, even detours. palanca winner althea ricardo, in an unguided pilgrimage, walks us back to Baclaran, and shows the signs and wonders of this marian shrine, embraced by mystique and popular piety. we see once again the ladies walking down the aisle on their knees to the altar of the mother of perpetual help, the cheap bazaars, and the whole paradox of the unkempt in that one convergent space of faith and commerce.

award-winning screenwriter and la salle professor jewel casto returns in our pages with a trailer of filipino cinematic history, recalling not just the love teams that moved us, but also the soundtracks of our lives (a quaint prelude to the filipino-american symphony orchestra’s “faso goes to the movies” show on july 10, 2010, 7 pm, at the pasadena civic auditorium). jewel, our resident auteur, shows us that indeed, our body of romantic films is one cinema paradiso.

we also broaden our viewpoints, setting our eyes not only on romantic landscapes but also to larger contexts and conquests. love of country brings carlo dela cruz to help build homes and dreams with gawad kalinga.

as in a plot, epiphany is always glorious and surprising. in associate editor louie jon sanchez’s piece this issue, he rekindles his love of the sea and accomplishes what he always thought was impossible. in silay, negros occidental, he plants mangrove seedlings with a local community and gets up close and personal with natural diversity. in can-avid, eastern samar, he joins a cast of surfers to ride the waves in the wide pacific.

Balikbayan magazine is our continuing affair with the old country from a new point of view.

in our maiden issue, we posed the question: what is this thing called “love of country”? it is, simply put, the magazine you have come to love. and after only a year, Balikbayan magazine is ready for its close-up.

who says you can’t hurry love? g

ready for our close-up


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love, pinoy style:

its lavish and intricate history has all but made it completely hopeless to replicate save for a few verses here and there, allowing very little improvement in storylines. Be that as it may, novelists, poets and playwrights have proven that they have yet to exhaust love’s wells of twists and turns in this never ending urge of the muses to paint this deeply enchanting emotion as the human heart wishes it to be.

of the languages that had dared put shape and sinew to love, the old greek has been the most illustrious: Eros, meaning sexual love; Philadelphia, brotherly love; and Agape, divine, unconditional love. filipino, with its rich, hispanic background, has likewise contributed much to the articulation of this idea: Pag-ibig, which speaks of desire; pagmamahal, of giving worth or value to the object of desire; pagsinta, which tantamount to worship; pag-irog, to treat one as a sweetheart; and pag-giliw, to treat the dalaga or filipina maiden as darling, the joy of one’s life. that the word mahal is interchangeably used to mean expensive or costly speaks well enough of the weight and worth a love-struck person offers to the object of longing—as the biblical song of songs avers: “if one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

Cien Sonetos De Amor of poet pablo neruda is probably the most poignant collection of love poems ever to grace the modern literary scene, next to the sonnets of william shakespeare.

t has always Been a personal opinion that some of the greatest stories ever told have been about that

strangely intoxicating “feeling” we call love. from the gospels of the scriptures to even Bram stoker’s Dracula, from francisco Balagtas’ Florante at Laura to haruki murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, believe it or not, the drama, theatrics and ritual that go with love have permeated much of human literature to the point that it has, by and large, been quite a thorny, if not demanding, topic to launch upon.

by joel pablo salud illustrations by kendrick tan | the ajpress


love, pinoy style:a many splendored thingby joel pablo salud illustrations by kendrick tan | the ajpress

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it rants and raves with little apology about the mystique and aura one associates with the strongest of emotions, which some say, is even more virile than hate or death. “set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is stronger than death, passion fiercer than the grave; its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”

delving into love’s labyrinth, therefore, demands passions that burn the lines of being subversive. love is insurgent, if one really thinks about it. and who better else can pen such an attribute but filipinos: “O pagsintang labis ang kapangyarihan, sampung maga-ama iyong nasasaklaw; pag ikaw ang pumasok sa puso ninuman, hahamakin lahat, masunod ka lamang.”

not that true, undying love is brash or uncivil, although some may mistakenly think it to be so. if anything, love, for the filipino, is a chance at self-expression, at feeling remarkably sick to the core (as in the premise of Love in the Time of Cholera by nobel winner gabriel garcia marquez), of knowing the sweet essences that go with pining for someone, while grabbing that rare chance—pristinely—at demonstrating that primeval instinct not to be alone.

and like any other form of worship or adoration, it must have its rituals.

as is love’s wont when it comes to rituals, the filipino way of courtship is at once cautious, oftentimes reckless. the tuksuhan, ligawan, tampuhan, pagdidiga, pagpapakipot and pagsuyo are mere musical overtures that could lead up to something profligate, if not something downright shameless. But wouldn’t you say that love, being at the very soul insurgent, becomes even more electric as it is viewed by many as the sole justification for breaking the rules? doesn’t the good Book say as much, that love justifies all things, believes all things? to scour the memory for those untold moments when all things pale under the luster and glow of a beloved is an experience worth its weight in gold, indeed.

the late great adrian cristobal said it best when he penned these words: “we are a nation of lovers in a way that the legendary latins are not. incurably romantic, we frown on the lover-

boys and lover-girls; we are lovers in the troubadour sense, faithful to one besides, if at all.” and, if at all, love is a tragedy, it is only when some filipinos perjure themselves in the pursuit of it; but never in the way love is portrayed on the silver screen. love is probably the one solitary ideal that has always worn the white pristine veil, with little ruse that seeks to waive its good intentions.

we have seen these time and again, in love stories portrayed by actors nora aunor and tirso cruz iii, vilma santos and edgar mortis, nida Blanca and nestor de villa, rogelio de la rosa and carmen rosales, pancho magalona and tita duran, romnick sarmienta and sheryl cruz and, of course, sharon cuneta and gabby concepcion. theirs was a sickeningly sweet kind of affection marred only by the smallest flake of humanity, almost ubiquitous, at least, in the movies. here, in the world of our own making, the filipino lover is always at his romantic best and for good reason: even with a forbidden aura, love for the pinoy is always exclusive, personal, if not secret. thus, the spirit and nature of our kundiman.

But such tender passion’s hold on the filipino turns fiery at the very onset of threats to his peace and space. it is at this stage when love and devotion take on a new yet deeply familiar face—that of a patriot. insurgent as it always is, love, now for country, makes for a good excuse to “rage against the dying of the light”, and to rise from an embattled state through “love” songs like Bayan ko and Pilipinas Kong Mahal. listen closely to these songs for they bear the melody of love. and it’s in this that we should concern ourselves with flattery as no other people sing of their country in tones that express pagsinta sa Inang Bayan. rizal himself has written about this level of love in his last poem Mi Ultimo Adios: “how sweet it is to fall that fullness you may acquire; to die to give you life, ‘neath your skies to expire, and in your mystic land to sleep through eternity.”

and if the words of the scriptures are true, that to die for one’s friend is truly the measure of true love, then the country’s ang mamatay ng dahil sa’yo says it all. g

1� balikbayan | february – march �010 | balikbayanmagazine.com

it was in high school when i first realized this fact. Being an unkempt and aloof fourteen-year old, valentine’s day for me meant going straight home from school while my friends went to mcdo or jollibee to have sundaes and fries with current or potential boyfriends.

it also meant curling up on the sofa beside my mother in front of the tv to watch soap operas or old movies while restaurants and hotels everywhere filled up with starry-eyed and slow-moving couples. Back then, my mother was just beginning to get used to being single after calling it quits with my father.

i remember clearly the way we were, my mother and i—a thirty-something and a teenager, one burnt by love and one eagerly waiting to be set aflame—date-less but not love-less as we fell in love, again and again, and in different ways, with the romances that unfolded on our television screen.

we found ourselves fascinated with the so-called love teams, and like many other pinoys we couldn’t help but ask ourselves, as the closing credits rolled: “Nagkatuluyan / magkakatuluyan kaya talaga sila? (did they / will they really end up together?)” or “Totohanan kaya talaga yung kissing scene nila? (was their kissing scene for real?)”

of course, for some tandems, the romantic screen story does not manage to cross over to the realm of the real. rogelio de la rosa and carmen rosales, for instance, were the box-office king and queen back in the late thirties to the early fifties, but they did not end up together. still, they kept their fans fascinated with the beautiful music the made together in movies like Maalaala Mo Kaya (1954), where rogelio plays the part of a musical composer and carmen is his muse, a singer.

after doing her laundry, carmen sits beside rogelio to help him compose his new song. when he hands her the scrap of paper with the lyrics of his new song, the melody seems to come to them as naturally as breath, as under the mango tree they begin to sing of their difficult yet enduring love:

huwag mong sabihing ikaw’y hamak kahit na isang mahirap pagkat ang tangi kong pag-ibig ganyan ang hinahanap

the coldest day of the year, i Believe, has never Been christmas. yes, despite the fake snow and the styrofoam snowmen scattered everywhere, christmas in the philippines has been relatively warm, especially in the past few years. for me, the coldest day is that which happens as the melting ice in siberia sends the chilly winds blowing in the direction of our islands during the first quarter of the year, just weeks before summer brings its scorching heat upon us. usually, for some of us, temperatures are at their most biting every february 14—Valentine’s Day.

| red carpet | By jewel castro

Love in the Time of Rogelio and Carmen


aanhin ko ang kayamanan kung ang puso’y salawahan nais ko’y pag-ibig na tunay at walang kamatayan

maalaala mo kaya ang sumpa mo sa akin na ang pag-ibig mo ay sadyang di magmamaliw kung nais mong matanto Buksan ang aking puso at tanging larawan mo ang doo’y nakatago.

although i was not yet born in the fifties, i am sure that the fact that rogelio and carmen had their own respective partners did not stop fans from hoping that they would someday, somehow, fall in love—and this was kept them watching the films of this legendary screen couple.

one of the things i’ve learned by writing for the mainstream cinema is that we filipinos seem to like watching two stories at the same time. the first story is where the fictional characters in the soap or movie meet and fall in love and end up together. the second story—the more important one—is the one where they see the actors getting carried away by the roles they play and fall in love for real, or they manage to portray the roles so realistically because they are truly, redundantly in love.

it is not enough, it seems, that characters are played charmingly

enough, or that romantic conflicts are resolved convincingly enough. we want to believe that what made us kilig and cry is not the creation of some unknown scriptwriter or director. we want our own falling-in-love experience while watching the movie or teledrama to be the reflection of a real love, as if by simply watching the love team onscreen we are able to get an intimate sense of the real relationship between these people we know and care about.

i think this is why the “love teams” or tandems themselves have fan clubs that are different from the fan clubs for the individual celebrities. By “different,” i mean that these love team fan clubs have a different set of members, a different set of club officers, a different tarpaulin—in short, a different identity. they are fans, not so much of the thespian talents of both celebrities involved, but of the love that they represent.

one unforgettable love was that of guy and pip. unlike rogelio and carmen, the team-up between nora aunor (guy) and tirso cruz iii (pip) actually developed into a relationship, and this was one of the reasons that made the love team a hysterical success. another reason was the appeal of the unique pairing of a mestizo guy with a morena girl.

when pip gave guy a doll as a present, the doll became known as Maria Leonora Theresa (mlt). the doll’s name is a combination of nora’s real name, Maria Leonora, and a feminized version of tirso, Theresa. not only did mlt become a symbol of the love between guy and pip, but she was also treated as if it were the couple’s real daughter. it even inspired a movie, and a song.

Love in the Time of Rogelio and Carmen


i remember that scene in the park where pip begs guy for a kiss. teasing him, guy makes him close his eyes, and she offers the doll’s lips instead. they laugh and walk around the park like a real family. meanwhile the song plays in the background:

maria leonora theresa,my gift to youshe was a doll and lasting symbolof my love so true

when the romance between guy and pip died, guy returned mlt to pip—just like it says in the song, whose lyrics are said to have been composed by tirso himself:

maria leonora theresa now she is blueshe knows that you have found a new loveand she’s been crying, too.

maria leonora theresa,forsaken dollnow that you’ve returned her to melove has died for maria and me. maria leonora theresa became the most famous doll in the

philippines in the seventies. she was so real she received expensive gifts, fan mail, went on national tours, wrote editorials, and even collected relief money for typhoon victims. i think it was not simply because of guy and pip’s incredible fame, but it was also because mlt also represented our dream of family—of an unselfish and unconditional love.

also during the height of guy and pip’s fame, the vilma santos and Bobot mortiz love team also prospered. the Bobot-vi love team exemplified the innocence of young love, especially in their 1972 film, sixteen. as the movie’s theme song goes:

kissing on the parkhugging on the boatholding hand in handdown the avenuestrolling down the lanewith castles in the aira kissin’, a lovin’a kissin’, a lovin’a kissin’ all night long

they say i’m only sweet sixteeni’ve never been kissedi’ve never been lovedand all i want is candyice cream, teddy bear, and lollipop

as the fame of the love teams rose, fights between guy-pip and Bobot-vi fans would erupt as if the future of these screen loves depended on public clamor.

even today, many fervent fan club members would put up websites and participate in discussion forums lobbying for the teamed-up personalities to end up together. just like in the seventies, members of different love team fan clubs would still argue with one another just to prove which tandem has the better chemistry, whether on or off the screen.

another memorable love team is that of sharon cuneta and gabby concepcion. their love story started with the movie Dear Heart, whose theme song also seems to tell us about sharon’s dilemma at that time when she decided to marry gabby at the age of eighteen:

dear heart, ikaw raw ay batang-bata pa

at di mo pa kayang mag-isasa bawat kaba alam ba nilaang pag-ibig mong nadarama

di ka binigyan ng layang magmahalsa batang katulad mo ito’y bawalBalang araw magugulat ang lahatikaw pala’y di na isang bata, dear heart

like guy and pip, the reel became real for sharon and gabby, but again, the relationship between them did not last. at present, although the sharon is married to sen. kiko pangilinan, fans—including myself—still continue to hope for a reunion movie for sharon-gabby. in fact, when we were working on Caregiver in 2007, as a sharon-gabby fan i had wished that gabby would play the part of sharon’s husband. of course, sharon would not hear of it because, as she had once said in an interview, there was no real closure between them.

many love teams have come and go, but there are those whose appeal continues to persist. kristine hermosa and jericho rosales’s primetime soap, Dahil May Isang Ikaw, for instance, continues to enjoy good ratings, and so does the afternoon series of mark herras and jennylyn mercado, Ikaw Sana. this is despite the fact that both pairs had been real lovers that parted ways for some reason.

personally, i would love to see a more mature romance starring piolo pascual and judy ann santos or one with aga muhlach and lea salonga, because i’ve seen all of their movies together and enjoyed all of them.

i used to think that having a romance movie marathon with my mother was a depressing way to spend valentine’s. now, looking back, i realize it wasn’t so bad. in some ways it was better, for instance, than waiting thirty minutes just to get a table at a crowded restaurant or enduring the valentine traffic, like what happened during my first valentine date.

looking at the stories of my favorite love teams, i notice now how most of them did not live their cinematic happy endings. i only know of fernando poe jr. and susan roces whose onscreen love team and the subsequent marriage remained strong until fpj’s death in 2004. even then, we know that their lives were not as perfect as you would expect a happy ending to be. still, we continue to dream for them, because it is another way of dreaming for ourselves. as the movie theme song goes, “Bakit di na lang totohanin ang lahat?”

oh, how we wish.although their relationships did not last, the great loves of the

love teams in their films continue to endure. replay after replay, they meet by chance, they argue over something petty, they compromise, they kiss, and one unguarded moment they fall in love as the theme song swells in the background but then they lose each other one rainy night, because it is a harsh world for lovers, only to find each other again—and fall in love, again, and again, and again.

year after year, we keep on watching them, celebrating our own lost loves, almost happy that, at one point, in some way, it was real. g


| essence of place | By joel paBlo salud • photos By le grande d. pedroche | the ajpress

Heaven on Earth

Tagaytay

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Heaven on Earth

t’s a little known fact that tagaytay would not have been

the tourist attraction of today had it not been for taal’s fury displayed more than five times in our history. the tremors and subsequent explosions pushed the land upward even more and had created a lake we now view with awe and wonder. molten rock and lava that were spewed for miles around contributed to the richness of its soil, allowing for lush growth.

where filipinos now cruise with a magnificent view of taal lake is in fact the very mouth of a slumbering volcano, waiting for that time when it would once more find an excuse to display its fury. the tagaytay of yesterday was a harsh stretch of jungle and lush green, of sloping hills and thick foliage, blocking the sun in all but a few patches of rich earth. even then the air that bounded a small mountain village of hunters and wood gatherers was crisp, leaving one with a sense of being closer to heaven.

it’s only likely that tagaytay’s history is steeped in myth. legend has it that tagaytay’s name came from the splintered “taga” meaning “to cut with a bolo knife”, and “itay” meaning “father”. the story goes that a father and his son went out to hunt for wild boar. during the course of the hunt, a boar came charging towards the father, provoking his son to yell, “Taga, itay! Taga-itay!” (cut it down, father!). for weeks it became the subject of conversation among the mountain people, leading to the hour when the place where the shouts reverberated became known as tagaytay.

at the onset of the philippine revolution against spain in 1898, the jungles and ridges of tagaytay served as a sanctuary and a place to camp for revolutionaries from cavite, Batangas and other nearby provinces. in fact, the revolutionaries used tagaytay as a secret passageway between cavite and Batangas provinces.


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Pray along the way at the Immaculate Heart of Mary Convent.

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�� balikbayan | february – march �010 | balikbayanmagazine.com

it was in its lush woodland that gen. emilio aguinaldo captured the whole 72nd Battalion of the spanish colonial army while the latter was en route to talisay.

the native word mananagaytay was coined at this time to mean “to traverse ridges”. the jungles of tagaytay was of such breadth and depth that the 11th airborne division of lt. gen. william krueger’s 8th army airdropped military supplies and personnel on top of the tagaytay ridge before the liberation of manila during world war ii. yet prior to this, tagaytay was already declared a chartered city under president manuel l. Quezon.

memories of a trip to tagaytay are always a thing to remember. the cold whip of air and the light scent of pineapples tell the vacationer that he has arrived. the panoramic view of taal volcano of course, is a regular treat: one just cannot have enough of it. in its waters, of course, is where the rare fishes maliputo and

tawilis are found.climbing up the city proper, one would be treated to a row of

eateries and restaurants, hotels, fast food brands, rest houses and a sprawling pineapple patch. the al fresco dining in these places all provide a magnificent view of taal volcano, which is the main tourist attraction of the area. the lake in itself is a place where divers scrounge for ancient chinese artifacts, jars, porcelain, and what is said to have been a military fort about 60 feet below the surface of the lake. it was once said that the rare fresh water sharks used to live within the lake.

tagaytay, for the most part, is a place for rest, for family outings and picnics with the kids, and while the rustic atmosphere hovers comes the invitation to enjoy its scenery. here nature displays its wonders like nowhere else in the philippines, making tagaytay one of the primary tourist attractions for the family. g

balikbayanmagazine.com | february – march �010 | balikbayan ��

tagaytay is an hour and 15-minute drive from manila via the south superhighway or through the coastal road. if going through the south superhighway, take the carmona exit and drive down through the governor’s drive and silang up to the entrance of tagaytay city. or through south superhighway, take sta. rosa exit going straight to tagaytay city.

there are two possible ways to get to tagaytay via the coastal road: indang and mendez roads on trece martirez and amadeo areas. if coming from the neighboring town of ternate, cavite take the naic road and drive straight to indang and trece martirez. from Batangas province, the best way to reach tagaytay is through the new circumferential road. from laguna, you may enter tagaytay through the carmona exit. there are buses and vans that ply to tagaytay from manila on a daily basis from 6 am to 9 pm.

tagaytay played a significant role in the philippine history. during world war ii, filipino revolutionaries found refuge on its vast forest and ridges. it was used as landing site and sanctuary for paratroopers on their way to liberate manila. a marker remembering the 41st division of the united states armed forces

in the far east is located at kaybagal south, tagaytay city.on february 3, 1945, the 11th airborne division of lt. gen.

william kruegers 8th army airdropped military supplies and personnel on the tagaytay ridge amidst enemy ground fire. their mission is to secure tagaytay city and guarantee the easy flow of troops and supplies to manila, an action later proved as significant to the manila liberation. a marker was also made at the silang crossing (rotunda), tagaytay city.

tagaytay is home to many rest and recreation centers as well as religious retreat houses and prayer center. some 77 religious orders maintain facilities here for retreatants and seekers of spaces for silence and solitude.

in february, the city celebrates tagaytay liberation day, the feast of our lady of lourdes and a citywide thanksgiving day called Pista ng Pag-Ibig. in april, pilgrims troop tagaytay for holy week rituals; the city also marks its character program anniversary during this month. in june, the city celebrates Araw ng Tagaytay and the feast of our mother of perpetual help. (www.tagaytay.gov.ph) g

the road to

SATURDAY • jULY 10, 2010 • 7:00PMTHE PASADEnA CiviC AUDiTORiUM

300 EAST GREEn, PASADEnA CALifORniA 91101(213) 250-9797• www.asianjournalfoundation.com

the sounds and sights of film--both american and filipino--past and present would once again

be revisited in another musical journey by the very first filipino symphony orchestra in the

united states. after the astounding success of its previous shows, the filipino-american symphony

orchestra (faso) celebrates the music, the movies and the memories!

from those unforgettable themes to the timeless love songs to the glorious music of contemporary

times; from the resounding kundimans that complemented black and white to the lovely

medleys of our colorful (and at once digital) era; from classics to the symphonic interpretation of current pop—faso would be playing the soundtrack of our lives. let all the wonderful

scenes and tunes come together, the brilliant lines, and the collective magic of the movies. here’s

looking at you faso!

A celebration of music, movies and memories!


Athrob and atingle in Kalibo’s Ati-atihan

y friends had looked forward to the beach’s spell, but like most aklan tenderfeet, they had been naïve to the spell being evoked by the bodies

of akeanons and tourists alike adorned with face paint, smeared in soot, bedecked in colorful costumes, swirling, prancing, and bouncing to the beat of drums, whistles, trumpets, and bell lyres. this spell brews far from the white sands and down aklan’s coast on the asphalt streets of kalibo. this spell is the ati-atihan festival. Boracay epitomizes life’s pleasures; the ati-atihan, on the other hand, is the outpouring of life itself.

and so after pouring it all in the three days and three nights of street dancing and parades, my blissfully exhausted friends already felt that their travel was worth it. Boracay was going to be a mere rest, an afterthought. they passed their judgment—they had just experienced the best.

i smiled. i had already befriended their enlightenment when i was a child.


A child’s 800-year long celebrationi am akeanon by blood—all my forebears hail from this most

northwestern part of panay island—but i was born and raised in the metropolis. my ears have a satisfactory handle of the akeanon language, but my tongue fails miserably to grasp its syllables. i am practically a tagalog city boy.

aside from the occasional homecomings—weddings, funerals, family reunions—the ati-atihan strengthens my otherwise tenuous bond with my motherland. when my normally shy self suddenly dances uninhibited in the streets, surrounded by people whose chatter i can understand and whose jubilant roars resonate in my chest, surrounded by natives who know my father or my uncle or my surname, surrounded by friends whom i initiated myself into the ritualistic feast, i feel that i belong. as the most homebody of children back then, the festival also gave me the rare chance to travel.

since being freed up from the demands of school life, i have made it a point to join the yearly merrymaking. Join is the operative word here. while other similar philippine festivals confine tourists to being mere camera-wielding spectators, the ati-atihan draws you to participate and flow with the rivers of color and clamor snaking their way through kalibo’s canyon-like streets, which are narrow and lined with two- and three-story houses. homeowners and revelers taking a breather watch from the windows and balconies, cheering and egging on the competing bands below. the heaving mass of humanity erupts with raised palms and fists and spontaneous cries of “viva! kay señor santo niño, viva!”; the onlooking crowd responds with a united, euphoric “viva!” of its own.

my two left feet have made kalibo’s town-wide party their stomping ground for around seven years. the ati-atihan, on the other hand, has been around for almost a staggering 800 years, making it arguably the oldest festival in the country. this year, 2010 marks the 798th edition.

aklan brandishes an array of ati-atihan festivals, such as those found in the towns of ibajay, makato, Batan, and altavas, among others. the kalibo ati-atihan is the most prominent. held every third week of january, the mardi gras of the philippines began as a pagan festival. during the course of hundreds of years, christianity wove its way into the celebration, ultimately becoming the centerpiece in the person of the christ child, the santo niño, whose figure is carried atop the parade floats and sometimes on devotees’ heads. the festival lasts for a whole week and culminates in a crazy weekend when thousands upon thousands of people release a year’s worth of anticipation.

Their first taste of Ati-atihanBefore my first-timer friends and i threw ourselves into this mad

throng last year, they had a limited inkling of what was ati-atihan. my friends knew it as a byword, a generic term even. mass media had exposed them more to the more-publicized Sinulog of cebu and Dinagyang of iloilo.

we arrived friday afternoon in kalibo. from my family’s ancestral home right smack in the middle of the town, my pack of writer-poets—ynna abuan, debbie nieto, carla payongayong, rom peña, and rey santillan—took a short walk to the Museo it Akean near the plaza. gracing us with his presence was our mentor, the national artist for literature virgilio s. almario (alias rio alma) and his affable wife, emelina.

the brief stroll to the museum allowed my companions time to take in the first rumblings of the coming storm. it happened that the roving “tribes” or bands were away in distant streets, and our ears caught the drifting drumbeats. souvenir vendors dotted the road. people walked to and from the throbbing heart of the celebration.

inside the museum, we were reminded that the town was just

picking herself up from the devastation of a recent typhoon. typhoon frank had ravaged western visayas in july 2008, engulfing kalibo and parts of aklan in deadly mudslides. the museum lost priceless relics of akeanon culture; the people lost dozens of their loved ones.

what the akeanons lost in lives and treasure, they readily made up for in spirit. our group went up the museum’s balcony and the view opened up before us: the crossroads and plaza full of people, framed by towering trees and crisscrossed power lines. some people watched from the sidewalks. many more gyrated and strutted on the street. Banners of green, orange, pink, and purple fluttered in the cool breeze. and here and there, fast approaching: the bands were arriving. to the north was a splotch of red; beneath us emerged a group in yellow. the drums pounded, the trumpets blared, the lyres tinkled, the whistles shrieked.

we watched enthralled. our nerves tingled, our skin goosebumped. from time to time, a camera clicked, a wow let loose, an astig escaped one’s lips. after letting my friends blow bubbles above the revelers, i took them down to the plaza. they had witnessed the show; now, they were going to be part of it.

Below, the drums pummeled our senses from all directions. we could feel our bodies reverberate with each thud, and every second was pregnant with those thuds coming from a seemingly endless stream of bands. our heads started to bob up and down to the beat. our body swayed from left to right and back, matched by the shuffling of feet.

one by one, we got hold of cans of beer sold in the open. after a few gulps, my friends became more intrepid, venturing ever closer to the middle of the street. their motions became faster, wilder, rawer, and more…genuine. soon we were dancing to the music of every band that passed in front of us, unmindful of the equally carefree crowd. when there was a lull in the action, we even roamed the road looking to get closer to where the drums were. (thank heavens for beer.)

one might expect that revelers under the influence would prove unruly, but this is hardly the case in the ati-atihan. the spirit of joy in the air is sincere, without nary a taint of malice. as the book Viva! Kay Señor Santo Niño, Viva! quotes dr. federico oreta icamina, kalibo’s longest-serving mayor:

“the ati-atihan draws out the ‘child’ that is in everyone of us to assert itself even for only a day…the ill-conceived notions that bind age to meanness and artifice are exorcised, as one lets himself go in the merry-making.”

it also helps that the police are pretty visible. should a pocket of scuffling youth erupt somewhere, it remains just that—a pocket. still, in last year’s festivities, there was a caucasian guy who, heavily intoxicated, proved indiscriminate in spitting mouthfuls of beer on the road. he might have thought he was a fountain of booze. rest assured, the beast was the exception rather than the rule. people steered clear of him. it’s a wonder the passing bands didn’t percuss his head with their hardy instruments. credit that to akeanon hospitality.

no matter, beer isn’t really a necessity—the concoction of the music energetic and the air electric is in itself a heady mix to wash down one’s inhibitions.

as my friends partied the night away, they had their first encounters with some of the ati-atihan’s motley crew of characters: a native dressed as the grim reaper with the scythe; tribes sponsored by local businesses, in one case a hair salon; a fil-canadian contingent from vancouver; “manny pacquiao” hustling on the asphalt and giving his bondying foe clad in underwear a smackdown. the soot-smeared atis in colorful costumes, made famous in photos, had yet to make an appearance, but i assured my friends that they would be present tomorrow to make their acquaintance.


Saturday’s street-searing Sadsadthe drums roused our group the next morning. it was 7 am and

we hadn’t gotten enough sleep. we were quite quick to get up from bed, though; the frenzied thumps from just outside our house pumped adrenalin into our veins. there was no need for coffee.

saturday marks the friendly competition among various ati-atihan “tribes” as they make their rounds of kalibo’s streets. as we peered from our windows, the festival’s full spectacle lay from one end of the road to the other, as far as the eye can see—trains of ati performers in their choreographed march-dance with their drum and percussion bands. every inch of their skin was covered with charcoal dust. their shiny ebony bodies were festooned in abaca hemp costumes dyed in vivid tints. they impressed me as black lions whose manes had gone to the salon, or the art shop.

from the east approached a tribe decked out in red, black, and yellow costumes. from the west rolled in a tribe adorned with white, black, and green outfits. as they met on the road, just beneath our windows, the bands’ percussions intensified. the drummers’ pounding hands became a blur. it was a showdown between the two tribes, and it was as if their music proxied as their charging knights.

as the two bands passed by each other, their tempos calmed down to their steady beats. i dragged my friends outside before the next clash could begin.

soon we were in the midst of more tribes, as well as caucasian, asian, and filipino tourists who scurried in and out of the formations just to fire shots with their rifle-long cameras. as i promised, my friends rubbed elbows with the ati performers, holding back the parade while posing for a shot for their personal photographer, yours truly.

the ati-atihan claims differing origins, although eminent among them is the story of the ten Bornean datus. legend has it that the malay nobles purchased the lowlands of panay from king marikudo of the aeta natives. the price: a golden salakot and a long pearl necklace for Queen maniwangtiwang. after the barter was consummated, feasting and merrymaking ensued wherein the malay settlers painted their bodies black with powdered charcoal, in homage to their new brethren. thus the first “ati-ati”—to pretend to be an ati—was born.

after lunch at our house, we drew animals, swirls, stars, and suns on our faces with poster paint, then dived back into the sea of people. the afternoon proved similar to the previous day, except that the costumes were more colorful. there were more people out to celebrate, and they were more animated in their dancing. at any second, it seemed possible that the heat of their stomping feet would set ablaze the streets.

aside from the ati performers, we encountered several aetas partaking in the festivities named after them. some simply watched the parade with wide smiles, while some took to begging for alms from passers-by.

joining the mock atis and the true aetas in the menagerie of characters were drag queens, men painted as dalmatian dogs, a “pregnant” male stetoscophing his own round pillow-tummy, an old woman clad in gold and red medieval attire with matching pink hat and blonde wig, and a crossdressing man carrying a sign that read “where r u now / wanted/part time husband.”

as we moved from one tribe to another—many revelers search for the ‘right’ band to trail, the one with the ‘right sounds’ to match their taste—my friends mastered the rhythm of the ati-atihan drums. the beats would start slow and steady and remain that way for quite some time; the people would sway their bodies to the music and stomp and shuffle their feet as the procession moves forward. then, without warning, the beats would rapidly rise to a crescendo that induces the people to frantic and tantric parasoxyms of their bodies.

each band played their own distinct music but there were some unanimous choices. the limbo rock simply won’t go away, being a staple since my childhood. the drums and lyres interpreted songs that had recently topped the charts and novelty tunes.

the celebration continued well after the dusk set in. the night was capped off by a fireworks display that soared above the town’s modest buildings.

Before party town shuts downsunday is Kaadlawan, the feast day wherein santo niño figures

become more prominent and mingle with dancing merrymakers in an odd mix of religious procession and unadulterated partying. in these last hours, everyone gives it their all, their last surge of energy, their final hurrah, no matter the fatigue or illness—Hala Bira, Puera Pasma!

after the traditional early morning mass at the plaza fronting the kalibo cathedral, the doors of our ancestral home opened to friends and relatives for a fiesta. as usual, lechon was the centerpiece of the long table.

a brief onslaught of rain failed to wash away the colors and dampen the people’s spirits. it reminded me of 2008’s festival, wherein a fiercer downpour, almost a little storm drenched our sweaty bodies in the midst of our dance-procession. we continued to jig to the music that rose above the din of the rain. neither of us turned in sick the next day, which we attributed as a mini-miracle of the santo niño.

the child christ was the king of the day. his ivory figurines stood above the sea of flesh, gliding on his regal caros suffused in flowers as the parade inched forward. several of the santo niños had their heads wrapped in transparent plastic bags to protect them from the intermittent drizzles.

nightfall came, and the last hours proved anticlimactic for our group. we opted to detach from the procession and join our mentor, sir rio (as we fondly call him) in a drinking session. he and his wife were already flying back to manila the next day, while we young ‘uns would be going to the beach.

while we did enjoy our little booze-fest, we missed out on the climax, like popping off fireworks from 11 to 11:50 pm, new year’s eve, and getting to bed just before the clock struck twelve. still, it didn’t matter. we felt that we had enough fun already. in the vernacular, solb na kami.

the next morning, no drums stirred us from our sleep.outside the window, the streets lay naked of marching bands,

spectators, and vendors. only the litter remained. as we went around the town shopping for pasalubong before

our van ride to Boracay, a friend remarked, “kalibo’s like a ghost town.”

i nodded, but deep inside i wrestled with the idea. ghost town? the people still moved around, going to work and school, back to their humdrum lives. the palengke was still bustling, overflowing with vegetables, fruits, and crafts, reeking of fish and meat. the tricycles still plied their routes, roaring in joy, for they had the streets back to their wheels.

But my friend might have been right. compared to the past days’ party town, after-festival kalibo might as well have been a memorial park.

or so the façade read. on that dull monday, i was sure that every akeanon was already planning, waiting, and enacting within their minds and hearts the next year’s ati-atihan. the drum rolls could already be heard in the distance. three hundred and sixty five days to go to the next celebration of life! g

Some of the historical information cited here comes from the book “Viva! Kay Señor Santo Niño, Viva!” by Marcela Mijares Reyes-Tinagan.

| the unguided tour | By althea lauren ricardo • photos By le grande d. pedroche | the ajpress



of course, childhood fantasies like these were not meant to last, and when i was older, my mother finally allowed me to tag along with her, making me promise not to cry or whine at any point in our trip. while at first the rationale behind the promise wasn’t clear, it soon was, as i tried to follow her as closely as i could in the crowd, trying my best to ignore the rotten stench of the street corners and keeping my sandals off the pavements sticky with muck. all i saw were feet, dirtied with black mud. i knew right then and there that i hated Baclaran—but that someday, like many other places i’d felt strongly about, i would be back, perhaps to affirm my aversion, or, mostly, to give it—or myself—another chance.

the next time Baclaran found its way back into my own geography, i was a college freshman at de la salle university, riding a bus that crawled all the way from las piñas to taft avenue, passing through coastal road that blended into roxas Boulevard. for years, Baclaran would be there for me as a landmark: passing it and its perennially busy peripheries would mean i was 45 minutes closer to my stop. for years, as well, i would be part of the weekly wednesday dialogue so embedded in our culture that goes:

“traffic.”“Ano’ng araw ba ngayon?” what day is it today?“wednesday.”

“ah, Baclaran day pala ngayon.” oh, it’s Baclaran day today.that speaks volumes of what Baclaran has come to mean to the

filipinos.Baclaran, a locality on the borders of two metro manila cities,

parañaque and pasay, serves as both a thrift shopping mecca and a catholic pilgrimage site. it’s now difficult to tell which came first, retail or religion, because its traffic, pedestrian and vehicular, most especially on wednesdays, is always made up of a mix of people who are after both. that is also what makes it a bustling center of trade and commerce that is second only to old manila in terms of price and product variety.

most balikbayans and tourists should be familiar with Baclaran. Before naia iii was opened, everybody had to pass by the place to go to the airport. and yes, those who had wednesday flights had to make allowances for the Baclaran day traffic.

the redemptorist church, also called the mother of perpetual help national shrine, is more popularly and simply called the Baclaran church by people from all walks of life—from beggars to members of high society, famously socialite tessa prieto-valdes, designer rajo laurel, and celebrities kris aquino, Boy abunda, and dolphy—who make their weekly pilgrimage to the place.

aclaran, like divisoria, was one of those places my mother always refused to bring me to. she’d make arrangements with her friends to go thrift shopping there—for school supplies, for christmas presents—and i’d always beg to be taken with

them, only to always receive a flat no. i’d sulk at home and conjure up images of fabulous flea market spreads, rich with cheap, but beautiful items, all sourced from lands distant from my little suburban home in sleepy las piñas.


an estimated number of 100,000 devotees come on regular wednesdays, with the number going as high as 120,000 on the first wednesdays of the month. with numbers that high, there’s no telling how many people go to the shrine on ash wednesdays. Baclaran church is definitely the busiest in asia.

the sheer number of people who attended the church was said to have pleased pope john paul ii, who once held mass there as cardinal karol wojtyla, bishop of krakow, poland on a stopover in transit to a eucharistic congress in australia.

according to jesuit priest fr. james B. reuter, the then-cardinal, upon learning he had three hours to while away before his connecting flight, immediately expressed a desire to celebrate mass. he took a taxi to the nearest church, which happened to be the Baclaran church, knocked on the door, and asked the redemptorist priest, “may i say mass here?” and he did, at the main altar. it was a wednesday night. he was said to have later observed, “this is the most prayerful country on the whole face of the earth.”

what is interesting about the Baclaran church is that there is no marian apparition attributed to the place, and yet, it is at par with places like fatima and lourdes, as far as devotion to the Blessed virgin mary is concerned. the novena to our mother of perpetual help in Baclaran started in june 1948, and since then, the number of people who troop to the shrine to pray to the replica of the miraculous Byzantine icon mounted on the high altar has kept growing. it is, thus, a pilgrimage site that has the filipino people’s faith as its basic foundation.

like many filipinos, i’ve also dished out another Baclaran-related line embedded in our culture: “luluhod muna ako sa Baclaran.” not that i’ve ever done that—perhaps the memory of sticky streets have made the act of faith unappealing to me—but many

devotees do cross the church’s aisle on their knees as an act of sacrifice. many prayers have been answered, and many of those whose prayer requests weren’t granted have sworn to have been empowered by stronger faith.

i’ve been to Baclaran a number of times, usually desperately praying for some personal concerns, and it was always busy. once, it was so crowded i couldn’t find a pocket of peace inside the place. i stepped out and was surprised to find a statue of my favorite saint, st. therese of lisieux, in a quiet little spot in the churchyard. this, apparently, is part of the replica’s history. when the redemptorist priests and brothers moved to Baclaran from malate in 1932, the ynchausti family donated a high altar for the new church, requesting for it to be a shrine of our mother of perpetual help. fr. denis grogan, who built the first church, was a st. therese devotee and had made her the patroness of the church. he had to be convinced—and he was.

i am now convinced that to like Baclaran, you have to come to an understanding of the filipino fiesta: religious devotion enjoys a healthy relationship with commerce and everybody’s happy. the image i always have in mind is of the church—not so tall, to follow aviation restrictions—overflowing with people, flanked by even more people hawking various colorful wares, and near it makeshift stalls selling rows of glistening lechon. every time i go to the church, i end up having lechon for dinner. a fiesta, i tell you.

seafood lovers would also do well to visit Baclaran. more famous for its dry goods, the place also has a lot to offer in terms of wet goods. near the Baclaran church is the original site of seaside mart, which has now expanded into a business of palengke-paluto places all over the metro, with a booming branch along the diosdado macapagal Boulevard a few minutes away from Baclaran.


it is a relatively clean wet market that boasts fresh seafood, both sourced locally and shipped from other parts of the country. if you come at the right time—a very doable 8:30am and 11:30am, if you want to catch goods direct from their flights—you’ll find an excellent selection of lobster, king crabs, tiger prawns, salmon tuna, blue marlin, and more. for carnivores, just alongside seaside mart is an air-conditioned branch of lydia’s lechon.

and then, of course, there’s Baclaran and its numerous flea markets, where you can find anything from plants to school uniforms to fashion items. an often said half-joke, half-rule-of-thumb among fashionistas goes, “if it’s already in Baclaran, it’s time to dump the trend.” most of the goods come from china, vietnam, and thailand by way of our local indefatigable viajeras. designer knock-offs are a-plenty, but a more discerning eye will often find some hidden treasures.

i don’t recall buying clothes in Baclaran, but on that uncomfortable first trip with my mother, if memory serves me right, i did manage to nag her into buying me small clay pots and a matching stove that could be used for real cooking. the pots were red and decorated with flowers. they were the stars of my play-cookware collection and the source of endless joy as, for many summers, i concocted different variations of stone soup—which, unknown to my mom, i often cooked with real fire.

shopping in Baclaran is not for the faint-hearted. the streets around the shrine are littered with shops of all shapes and sizes, manned by all sorts of people from all parts of the country, selling an endless array of wares. on one street, Bayanihan street, for instance, you can find multiculturalism in retail: there are garden plants and orchid supplies, pet supplies, curtain supplies, and baby supplies.

those who have had enough of flea markets and still want to do some budget shopping can head for the high-rise shopping malls, like the Berma shopping center and smokee fashion house.

there’s a new mall set to open just outside the lrt’s (light rail transit) Baclaran station. still, if you want rock bottom prices, it’s better to head for the sidewalks. you can shop until you drop, as shopping can start from airport road all the way to edsa rotonda.

while it may arguably be the most prayerful spot in the country, unfortunately, it’s not really the safest. Baclaran is a major transportation hub. Buses that travel through edsa and jeepneys from the cities of manila, pasay, parañaque, las piñas, and muntinlupa make it their final stop. the lrt, the trains of which reach caloocan city, ends the line at its Baclaran station. most of the people in Baclaran are there for an honest living, but it is undeniably fertile ground for small-time crime. those who make the pilgrimage—for retail, religion or both—would do well to dress down and leave their valuables at home. they should also be constantly aware of their surroundings. it probably wouldn’t help to first make a stop at the Baclaran church.

my favorite Baclaran story is of two people, a man and a woman, who were individually praying the novena to find a good spouse. eventually, they took notice of each other, became friends, fell in love, and got married.

on redemptorist road stands rosy’s Bridal center, the most established among the many bridal stores in Baclaran. run by manang rosy and her son ogie, the shop, which has some celebrities for clients, has helped many a budget bride have a beautiful wedding dress. if you don’t have enough money to buy the gown of your dreams, you can still have it made and pay for it as a rental. and if you don’t have a gown of your dreams, ogie will happily fashion one for you.

i wouldn’t be surprised if the couple whose prayers for love were answered went to manang rosy’s for their wedding garments and those of their entourage. g

WE GO BEHinD THE SCEnES TO ADD MORE COLOR TO THE LifE

AnD TiMES Of OUR COMMUniTY

have never Been a lover of the sea, despite encountering sand and water for much of my travel life, even in childhood. it’s

something i have always seen only from afar, and basking on it was usually far from my mind. the sea is a calming sight for me, and for a long time, it was almost always enough for me just to see it. two reasons keep me from enjoying its wonders and waves: i was never confident of my swimming skills, and i seemed to have never gotten over my childhood swimming accidents by the pool.

A Habit of Shores


Surf’s up. Waiting for the wonderful waves of Can-Avid.

| tourbuzz | By louie jon a.sanchez • silay photo By sol racelis | can-avid photos By karlo de leon

always, the sea is by and large a vast and unfathomable presence in front of me. its restlessness is a thing to behold, and the mere feeling of its waters touching my feet has been enough for me to understand its vital depths. and indeed, the poet carlos angeles was never wrong, about the sea’s “ageless tide,” retrieving for us, “all things forfeited (which) are most loved and dear.” “it is the sea pursues a habit of shores,” tells the poet, time and again, in all the seas, and not just in his gabu.

in my mind, the sea most of the time turns into metaphor, supple in my hands, reminding me of beautiful human ironies. i never expected that during the last holiday season, it would turn its waves on me to teach me so many other things about itself—and in two coasts even.

the first coast was in quaint silay, in negros occidental, where i had not visited for a long time. silay is a personal favorite for its history and heritage. But this trip was indeed a different one, and it proved to be quite amusing. straight from the new Bacolod-silay international airport, nestled in the middle of a sugarcane field, i was led to a journey back farther in history, where the sea was of much importance in this locale.

silay, once dubbed the paris of negros for its being the seat of arts and culture, began in a small locale named carobcob. in the

language of kiniray-a, the rough sounding word means to scratch or scour from the ground. upon the arrival of my group led by the philippine contingent of the japan international cooperation agency (jica), an international organization promoting understanding and socioeconomic development, we were advised at once to prepare for one rough journey into the mangroves.

the closest that i got with mangroves was a journey through a mangrove forest in palawan many years back. it was fascinating because it was a world of its own—there’s much flora and fauna of course, and mangroves recently are hitting the headlines because of its importance in biodiversity. sea life flourishes because of the mangroves, and this was not lost on jica, which helped organize a local organization involved in protecting and planting mangroves in Barangay Balaring, a thriving community which now stands in the lands that was carobcob.

the organization, manned mostly by japanese student volunteers, is known in Balaring as ako-ikaw, formed in 1997. they had been involved in much of the locale’s mangrove reforestation efforts, and the projects expanded and even earned praise for its ecotourism potential when local government included as one of its destinations. “Barangay Balaring is very important for silay, not only because



Time to plant in Balaring, Silay.

everything here began there,” said silay mayor jose montelibano, in one of our conversations at the favorite Balay negrense. “if not for the mangroves, it could have been wiped out by the yearly habagat.”

Balaring is a fish sanctuary and is also home to a silay favorite, the king mud crab. its mudlands are very rich in shell life too, and this we have been told as we entered into the carobcob mangrove forest, after a short walk into the small byways of the barangay, which was much alive by that time. carrying our mineral water bottles and some packs of silay empanada, we entered the forest through the makeshift bamboo pathways, which led to some makeshift huts and much later on, a large viewing deck almost hidden from the sun by tall and mature mangrove trees.

it was almost time for lunch in the deck, and following our group was a bunch of kids whose parents actively help propagate ako-ikaw’s advocacies in the locality. they were all barefoot, apparently ready to get down to the morning’s business—which i will only understand a few moments after. we walked a little farther, and the bamboo decks showed a complex of paths and even stairs down the mud. with the kids, our grouped stopped by one which faces guimaras straight, and everyone started to move down the thin

bamboo stairs. while many of us wore socks, i joined the kids in their barefoot journey to the brackish silt and sand lands.

some older women in skirts walked before us carrying pails of mangrove seedlings. they walked confidently, as if only striding in what really felt like grainy mud for most of us. the kids too, looked cool, and very excited. my mind told me this was the farthest thing i was planning to do straight from the airport, but it was proving to be quite an enjoyable and amusing trip. we walked a little further ashore, where water remained only feet deep. it was the most perfect time to plant, said one of the locals. the water though was getting a bit warmer, and one japanese girl from ako-ikaw, who spoke hiligaynon fluently having stayed in Balaring for at least three years already, said we had to really plant fast.

we reached the field, and i started to stretch a bit to prepare myself for the real deal: the kids started to huddle to the mangrove seedling-filled pails, taking the plant off its plastic cup and returning the cup to the older women for safe keeping. “else, we keep on littering the seas,” says a local, a man in his mid-30s probably. the kids scrambled for space as some young men started to make holes, at least five inches deep in silt and mud using bamboo poles. we also took our own mangroves to plant.


with our number, we had covered, i think, at least half a hectare of mud and silt. i had no idea how many mangrove seedlings we had planted, but most of us had a repeat of at least two or three. the experience of planting a tree was exhilarating, beyond words. the mere thought that we were planting something living is already a fulfilling (sages say that planting trees is something worth doing, at least once in a person’s life, apart from writing a book and having children) but being part of something as big as saving the environment is altogether a different, beautiful habit. in the age of many inconvenient truths, getting this close to the sea and sea life is learning the real beat of oceans, being one with its profound vastness.

the japanese, who now frequent Balaring as a major ecotourism center, apparently has a soft spot for the whole of silay, at least historically. after the war, local historians noted that some members of the japanese imperial army came back to pay homage to what was for them a great and culturally rich city. in medias res, they were

also instrumental in keeping much of silay in tact—their respect for artifice and appreciation for beauty kept this city of lights up and standing in grandeur up to this day. time and again, their continued presence through jica and ako-ikaw reiterate not only this amazing ecological concern, but also the commonly shared culture and love for beauty and balance.

some few weeks afterwards, i found myself on the other side of the shore. upon receiving the invite details from my good friend, tracey santiago, the brilliant mind behind travel tales inc., i read a most unusual name for a filipino town. it sounded far enough for me to imagine, that name Can-Avid, and the only thing i could muster was my strength at the comfort of having my own samar-leyte roots.

i had long known that my mother’s mother was born and raised in ormoc, a few kilometers away from tacloban city, my trip’s gateway to that sleepy, quaint town in eastern samar. i came not only to see can-avid, but also to finally set foot into a place of origins. the trip


Bamboo rafting at Ulot River in Can-Avid.

was simply thrilling: being in that point of in between-ness, where the islands of samar and leyte converge, i was once again brought back to the where my own story began.

of course, the lands in here were instrumental to our country’s colonial discoveries (in 1521, at limasawa, with magellan, and during the liberation in 1945, at the leyte gulf, with gen. douglas mcarthur, who simply fulfilled a gentleman’s pledge). i simply had to keep that frame of mind, since the real virtue of discovery is getting into the journey wholeheartedly.

from the air, tacloban boasts of a scenic landscape of greens and rolling hills and mountains. within it, the san juanico straight provides a steady green stream between the two islands. i’ve seen nothing like it in recent trips—not a usual breathtaking view before setting foot to the islands but simply grandeur.

from above, the famous san juanico Bridge, a foremost landmark i had only seen in travel shows and postcards crosses the straight

in a scintillating fashion, turning sideward to a middle island and finally touching base at samar’s southern tip. the view was at first partially hidden by the green mountains, and once revealed, it was exhilarating. By touchdown, i saw the crystalline waters of the samar-leyte seas by the plane window. some fisher folk have just started their morning search for the day’s fresh catch. the air was clear, the day sunny. our arrival at the daniel z. romualdez airport presaged a wonderful journey to a well kept paradise.

the trip to tacloban was quick though, as if only providing me an image to carry in memory—the busy streets, the tricycles here and there, and some amusing structures, like the santo niño shrine, which is an ode for both the sacred and the beautiful. the centerpiece here of course is the holy child, who first set foot in these lands, in the first light of colonialism. surrounding it are memorabilia of imelda romualdez, once crowned Queen of tacloban, before she set foot in manila and took the heart of ferdinand marcos.


the shrine was once a home of the marcoses during their heydays, and boasts of finely designed rooms and halls, and a collection of fernando amorsolos. it stands at real street, where we passed through, before taking a quick breakfast, preparing for the long trip to can-avid.

after almost three hours by land, we reached an amazing isthmus facing the pacific ocean. the town can-avid, a sleepy town of some thousands of residents, is now home to a new discovery: surfing. Borongan and the other areas in the same eastern samar province have been home to some of the most exciting homegrown surfers, and most recently, this new town was found to have an equally appealing and challenging kind of waves.

our host, engr. nelson irasga, grew up in this town, and fondly remembered how he usually took a stroll in what was then a very mystical isthmus, “which by 6 pm, everyone was supposed to vacate for fear of mysterious sightings.” “my uncles had stories about it, but when we were developing the property, i tried to woe the supposed creatures to appear. there was none.” the 29-hectare peninsula with a 3.6 kilometer shoreline (even larger than all of the Boracay stations combined) is now known as unique hideaway where the big ulot river and the great pacific converge.

named, playa de catalina, the resort today not only boasts of its family oriented facilities. with the hosting of surf’s up in can-avid, a benchmarking tournament in the town for local surfers, playa de catalina has become the surfing center this side of town. the entry of the surfing craze here in can-avid is expected not only to boost tourism, but also to create a stir among locals that indeed surfing is one great and promising endeavor, an industry that complements tourism potential.

what is notable for playa de catalina is its amazing vision of becoming a responsible travel destination. while building tourism and creating jobs for the community, the resort is bound to make sure it “contributes to the conservation of natural and cultural heritage.” “this project is very community-centered,” said tracey, whose first venture, the viajeng cucina matua, a culinary tour of pampanga kitchens and cuisines, is now a by-word in local travel. “we intend to keep much of everything here, while keeping development in mind. also, we want to create a new paradigm for travelers to travel responsibly. they after all have a stake in keeping our environment alive.”

with us during this tournament was ace surfer and cool dude paolo soler of the philippine surfing academy, and the first filipino certified by the academy of surfing instructors australia. a familiar face in surfing promotion, he was one driving force of the invitational, sharing jokes at one time, and sharing the surf stage with the locales in another. in my conversation with him on the way to manila, he shared with me the general growing interest of filipinos for surfing.

“it’s a big business really, in the world at large. merchandising, surf wear, all of it. people like the lifestyle,” paolo said. “and the philippines is steadily growing its own market. it’s catching up with the other asian surfing destinations. we just need some more push. we have a long, long shoreline and there’s a lot of space to surf on.”

and it is indeed one very exciting skill to learn in this country surrounded by sand and seas. straight from the airport (yet again), only after a few hours of rest, our friends prodded me to join the mini-surf clinic at the beach front of playa de catalina. my mind told me to refuse, and all of a sudden, some nagging soreness started to pop in different parts of my body. me, in the sea? on top of a board? gliding in the waves? come on! But my friends dragged me to get the feel of can-avid waters.

joining our other friends, we were first taught the parts of the board. Quiet easy. then the safety precautions. of course, the board is quite intimidating at first and it really reminds you of a possible one big slap. there’s also the pointed nose which might poke the rider with just one wrong move. “the most important thing,” added the instructor “is to keep a good distance from the board. and always make sure that the board’s strap on your ankle is tightly fastened.”

we didn’t go to the sea alone though, and that was really comforting. we had each of us, a guide, one local who would compete in the invitational. the boy of about 18, dark–skinned, helped me get into the board, which almost always turned over every time i got into it. he was very patient and even cheered for me as i attempted by wave glides. i was able to ride the waves at least three times, reaching the shore more than ecstatic. my only fan that time was my surf “coach” at sea, who would eventually bring home the championship in his category some days after.

much had been learned in my latest conquests of the sea, in different coastlines and beaches. and one thing’s for sure, there’s a lot more where they’re coming from. g

The Houses that Pansit Malabon Built

Everything’s Coming Up Rosy’s| past food | By marie angeli syjueco | photos By le grande d. pedroche | the ajpress

side from its Being considered as the venice

of the philippines, for year-round obvious geographical reasons, there’s this one thing that proudly carries the name malabon. it completes every fiesta table, every occasion. its rich ingredients of greens and seafood speak of the bounty available in the land known for so long as a food processing paradise.

pansit malabon in itself has become a by-word in philippine culture, and important culinary event in a bilao. while the noodles of course could be traced to the chinese, who rightfully believes that there’s longevity in the eating of the pansit, pansit malabon has created a truly authentic filipino flavor, fusing in the colors of a lively fiesta, a healthy vegetable garden, and a beating and thriving sea life, which surrounds most of the locale.

growing up in malabon, i am accustomed to eating pansit malabon in every occasion we celebrate at home. whenever there’s a celebration, i would wake up early to fetch our order of pansit malabon from our suki in niugan, malabon. this pansit dish completes our holiday feast. it is a true family favorite.

moreover, to those who make pansit malabon, this dish is not just a source of living, but also a treasured family recipe. two of the oldest pansit malabon restaurants are norma’s pancit luglog and restaurant in navotas city and rosy’s pancit malabon in cuatro cantos, malabon. Both are family-owned restaurants, situated in each family’s residences/ancestral homes, that have been in the business for decades.

norma’snorma’s pancit luglog and restaurant began in the 1980’s,

when it was still situated along the c4 road in navotas. today, norma’s has been in its new home in yangco st., navotas for 20 years.



rosy pacheco preparing her pancit malabon.


when i went to norma’s, i met Boying concepcion, the owner of the restaurant. norma was actually Boying’s sister. the restaurant was named after her because she was believed to be a good luck charm in the family. “Si norma ang suwerte sa amin kasi siya yung pinakamasipag, pinakamabait, pinakatahimik at masinop,” Boying said.

then i noticed the use of pansit luglog in the restaurant’s name. Boying told me pansit luglog and pansit malabon are the same. “Pareho lang iyan. Noong hindi pa naghihiwalay ang navotas at malabon, pansit luglog na talaga,” he said.

pansit luglog or pansit malabon are made of fat noodles plunged in boiling water. the term “luglog” actually meant the act of plunging the noodles using bamboo strainers. these noodle dish is topped with shrimp-achuete sauce, vegetables, boiled eggs, crushed chicharon, pork, and seafood such as shrimp, squid rings and sometimes, oysters (talaba) and smoked fish (tinapa), which are all abundant in malabon and navotas. often times, pansit malabon is mistaken for pansit palabok, which uses thinner noodles.

for Boying and his family, cooking pansit luglog has been a family legacy since the business was ran purely by the family. Boying, now the business caretaker, has been helping out in the business since his teenage years. “high school pa lang ako nag-aaral na ako magluto ng Pansit Luglog,” Boying said. and today, his nieces are the ones helping him cook pansit in their restaurant.

i was served with pansit luglog and special puto. it was definitely a treat. norma’s pancit luglog is rich with toppings of nothing but fresh ingredients--squid rings, slices of big shrimp, crunchy chicharon and pork. all of which are on top of the white al dente noodles. Boying reminded me, “haluin mong mabuti at lagyan mo ng kalamansi.” yes, kalamansi is the secret to a more flavorful pansit meal.

norma’s pancit luglog’s secret to success must be because of norma’s luck. nevertheless, it is the delicious flavor of norma’s pancit luglog that made it stand out all these years. “Masarap at malinamnam kasi yung pansit namin, at saka yung pakikisalamuha sa tao,” Boying said. with good food and a harmonious relationship with the customers, norma’s pancit luglog kept the people coming back for more.

as i sat with Boying behind the cashier counter, our conversation was interrupted every now and then with numerous phone calls from customers ordering bila-bilao of pansit luglog, and a number of dine in customers. some chatted with Boying about his sisters. more than just customers, they are like friends to Boying’s family, as well.

customers are treated like family, and this is the reason they frequented norma’s even more. “Lalong dumadami ang customers namin. Mayroong galing ng makati, pasig. May mga foreigners, balikbayan, artista,” Boying said.

manila mayor fred lim, former senator robert jaworski, congresswoman tessie oreta, angelica dela cruz, Boying mentioned proudly, are just some of the famous personalities who frequent norma’s.

Rosy’sBefore there was rosy’s pancit malabon, there was just a

karinderya selling lugaw and biko. nery pacheco remembers the time when she and her sister rosy were still kids and their mother was the one cooking and selling food.

“Talagang nagluluto na nanay namin noon, eh. Nagkakarenderya siya. Maliliit pa kami noon. Nagsimula yan sa isang bangko, isang lamesa lang, at tsaka yero lang yung bubong. Madalas pa nga masagasaan yoon noong araw, dahil doon sa kanto yoon nakapwesto,” nery said.


rosy was the first to learn cooking from their mother, thus, the restaurant was named after her. rosy’s pancit malabon has been around since the 1970s. it’s branch along the roxas Boulevard is now celebrating 30 years.

the secret? nothing but fresh and quality ingredients. “fresh lahat ng ginagamit namin. Kaya kapag ubos na ang mga sahog, wala na talagang tinda,” nery said. and, of course, with the whole family taking care of the business, every thing is in good hands. while nery and her sister, Belen pacheco, take care of the branch in roxas Boulevard, the rest of the family together with rosy works at their home in malabon. “Siyempre, kapag hind kasi naasikaso, babagsak ka rin,” nery siad.

and until now, even the grandchildren are already taught how to prepare the ingredients for pansit malabon.

rosy’s pancit malabon has traveled far and wide, as balikbayans crave for their favorite pancit. “Nadadala sa states, sa guam at singapore yan. May bumili samin, tapos dinala niya sa vancouver. Sa san francisco nakarating na rin yan. Kahit kinabukasan pa makakain pa rin yan,” nery said.

rosy’s pancit malabon has been in the business for decades, it has pleased the appetite of many customers including political figures like the former first lady imelda marcos and president gloria macapagal-arroyo.

“Kasi nung araw, mangangampanya sina first lady imelda marcos. Dito kumakain yan, kasama mga blue ladies. Si gloria arroyo kapag emergency meeting umo-order yan,” nery said.

nery also remembers sweet memories from the past. instances, which proved that rosy’s pancit malabon pleases the appetite of its customers. “Alam mo si julie yap-daza nga eh, sabi niya, nasa eroplano pa lang daw gusto na niya kumain dito,” nery said. “Sila cuneta, ayaw kakain ng iba yan. Nung binyag ni sharon sa amin nagpaluto ng pansit yan,” she added.

this pansit dish is a true pride to malabon. its long-lasting delicious flavor is indeed a treasure that bears the legacy of the families who cooks it. “Kahit kainin mo yan araw-araw, di ka naman magsasawa eh. Ako nga kahapon di nakakain eh, kakain ako ulit ngayon,” nery said. g

the concepcion empire: imelda, marina lucas, Boying, and veronica.

text and photos by carlo dela cruz

gawad kalinga


| balikbayan true stories |

awad kalinga (gk) is a philippine based ngo that strives to create

homes and sustainable shelters for the poorest of the poor. this past summer, i had the opportunity to spend two months with the organization in Bicol, much visited by typhoons in recent months.

through community empowerment and livelihood projects, gk seeks to not only create homes and adequate shelter, but to uplift entire communities and promote a culture of bayanihan.to this day, what remains with me are the memories of the people and communities i interacted with, not only the houses i helped to build.


| balikbayan true stories |

Before leaving for the philippines, i was advised to be grateful for the generosity and hospitality of the people i would work with. i did not understand what this meant until a colleague and i interviewed an elderly couple in the Bicol region. they immediately invited us in and, as we explained our project, the husband discreetly handed money to the wife and sent her to the store.

when she returned, she carried two cold bottles of coke and a bag of sweet bread, which they offered to us. we accepted the cokes and the bread, reluctantly. the cost of the snack was around 100 pesos, or about $2. this was equal to their weekly earnings, and they gave it up to make two visitors comfortable in their home.

repaying the money would have been an insult, so i decided send them the photographs i took of the experience, which from the start really belonged to them. g



sm supermalls open global pinoy

sm supermalls recently launched global pinoy center, a one-step hub tailored to provide a more accessible way to meet the needs of our global pinoys and their families.

“the global pinoy center serves to honor their great deed for the country and promote their interest in welfare. the global pinoys should enjoy the fruits of their labor abroad,” annie garcia, president of sm supermalls, said in her speech.

the global pinoy center includes services which provides its members the convenience of getting valuable information; an easy access to ofw remittances; and effective means of communication for ofws to get in touch with their families.

a global pinoy member will have the convenience of getting updated, relevant and valuable information, such as finding information on investment opportunities. prospective ofws can also benefit from the global pinoy center, as it accommodates several terminals with direct access to government employment agencies like the philippine overseas employment administration (poea), overseas workers welfare administration (owwa), and department of labor and employment (dole), making it easier for them to finish their paperwork and to get important materials from the international electrotechnical commission.

the member’s family can pick up remittances directly from their loved ones, even on weekends and holidays, creating instant hassle-free transactions.

the global pinoy center is a contact point for ofws,

balikabayans, and their relatives. at the global pinoy center, families of ofws can talk to their family members overseas using email, chat, and videoconferencing for free.

and since the global pinoy center is situated inside the sm supermalls nationwide, members are sure to enjoy accessible and hassle-free services.

availing the global pinoy card entitles the members and their families a wealth of privileges up to a total of php 80,000 worth of discounts in health services, hotels, restaurants, various shops and education, like 20% off on tuition in the asia pacific college or 15% off in the national university.

the global pinoy card lets ofws and their families enjoy rewards, discounts and freebies from sm supermalls and partner establishments. it also grants access to the global pinoy center lounge and to several fun events and informative seminars held by the sm cares, making every family’s stay at sm supermalls worthwhile.

any overseas filipino worker who has an active contract abroad is qualified for membership. to become a member, applicants must fill-up the global pinoy membership application form and submit it with any valid id, and proof of remittance for beneficiaries.

“sm salutes them. and to them we offer our services,” garcia said. the global pinoy center is just one of sm’s ways of showing their appreciation for the hard work and sacrifices of our fellow filipinos abroad. g

by marie angeli syjueco | photo by noel g. godinez | the ajpress

ndeed, the contriBution of the ofws to our country is immeasuraBle. this is not lost on sm supermalls group, which bench-marked a unique mall feature that would cater to the needs of their families.


this collection is in itself an ode to habitation, an ode to home, where the heart is, as they say. But what mostly gathers here with domestic bliss is primal experience—something untamed albeit brimming with generous wonder. in the journey that is ypil’s book, one is being reminded of the sheer irony of the abode, wherever it may be: it is both embracing, but at the same time keeps its door shut. one of its poems, “house” talks about this paradox, rather deftly—

a kind of wantingit was. a kind of notwanting…

the collection is a landscape of the particular, of the familiar. it thrives in images of beaches (there’s so much water here, curiously), of village (middle class?) people, gardens and greens, and of course, homes and their intimate nooks and crannies—a library there, a piano by corner, the porch, some well loved trees, the whole family, with of course, the strong female figures.

the book is inhabited with so much life and vigor that one can actually hear the children’s laughter at a family gathering which seemed to have gone wrong at first, in the poem “porch”. towards the end of the story of a nudged glass, we could sense a lot of tenderness in the insight:

how could we not love what it cost?crack on the marble floor just set,dent on a polishedkitchen door. a small windowoverlooks the children. one nimble,one frail, balancing on the faredge of the porch.

But a journey had been taken, and by extension, a home had been left. in this book, we are seemed to be brought back, not only to nostalgia, but also to those meaningful but primal places of home. the first poem in the collection, “the discovery of landscape”, embodies a sense of wonder to a witnessing of the new—a city being discovered (or rediscovered perhaps), described to us as a “(l)ine of the tall spires and the bend/ of a bright sky.” Both space and time are recalled in this lyric moment, where the persona enjoins an addressee (perhaps the reader) to gaze at a personal history (“look. there…”) and make that initial gesture of stepping back. the need to do so is in the main, the heart of the collection. the persona utters this necessity in a fleeting manner too, where words speed their way towards the natural gravitational pull of their concepts. the past in itself is fleeting, and the experience of the poem reiterates this timeless truth:

we named it progress. the pastwas not warm, so we named it dead.we named everything we could not touch

passed. we believedagain in what was large.might of the long road andthe risk of the big wish…

ypil’s crafty hand created for us sterling lines of benevolent seeing, keeping the utterance as homey and as primal as it aspires to be. in shimmering language, controlled and finely cut, pieces of home had been steadily re-imagined for us. for in reality, it is only in the highest hiding places where we indeed come to return to our truths. the in between-ness mentioned previously makes this collection a superb read among the latest book of poetry released recently. g

| filipiniana | By louie jon a. sanchez | the ajpress

the heart and home ofThe Highest Hiding Place

there is something palpaBly warm, and at the same time, cold, about these poems in the collection The Highest Hiding Place (ateneo de manila university press, 2009) by cebuano poet l. lacambra ypil. in a book of six sections, composed of at least five or six poems, he traversed the luminous experience of going in and out of a familiar landscape—a home perhaps—but somehow a place where habitation is sweet and light, despite the fact that real living and existence are more of planes of various contradictions.


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| people & events |

for the daily commuter, the national Book development Board (nBdB) and light rail transit authority (lrta) bring back the much-loved tulaan sa tren to give the general public something to look forward to on their daily train commutes.

tulaan sa tren 2 features new poems by the country’s best poets and the winning entries of the tulaan sa tren 2 poetry writing contest, launched by the nBdB in 2009. during the contest duration from june 22 to july 30 2009, the nBdB received a total of 262 entries (170 in filipino, and 92 in english) from different parts of the country and the world. featured alongside the works of revered poets like Bienvenido lumbera, rio alma, jose lacaba, marra lanot, marjorie evasco, and alfred yuson are the winning entries by joselito de los reyes (1st prize, filipino category), gexter ocampo lacambra (2nd prize, filipino category), abdon Balde, jr. (3rd prize, filipino category), kristian sendon cordero (runner-up, filipino category), danilo diaz (runner-up, filipino category), raymond falgui (1st prize, english category), louella santiago suque (2nd prize, english category), and raymund reyes (3rd prize, english category). national artist for literature Bienvenido lumbera and italian premio feronia recipient gemino abad selected the winning poems.

tulaan sa tren 2 also brings back celebrities like nikki gil, christine Bersola-Babao, rhea santos, lyn ching-pascual, jm rodriguez, robi domingo, chin-chin gutierrez, julius Babao, romnick sarmenta, harlene Bautista, and lisa macuja-elizalde who read the poems that are now being heard in lrt line 2 stations.

this year’s poems are all about travels and places, from moving house and leaving behind one’s childhood memories, to the ofw’s longing for his own country and family, the filipino’s globalization experience, escaping the hustle and bustle of the city, and many more. the poems range from happy and nostalgic, to distressing and heart-breaking, so that even for just a few minutes, the train passenger gets a momentary break from the daily stress of every day commute. the featured poems are compiled in the book Off the Beaten Track, printed by vibal foundation.

tulaan sa tren was first launched in 2008 to bring philippine poetry closer to the general public. posters of poems are posted inside lrt trains, while the audio versions recorded by celebrities are played over the lrt’s public announcement system. g

‘tulaan sa tren’ now on its second trip

National Artist for LiteratureBienvenido Lumbera, Tulaan sa Tren judge,

addresses the audience during the contest kick-off.

Balikbayan Magazine February - March 2010

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Transcript of Balikbayan Magazine February - March 2010