Category Archives: Art

Adventure, Architecture, Art, Childhood, Children, Death, Faith, Family, Life, Love, Resilience, Travel

Chapter Two: Florida Adventure

January 1, 2017 administrator

October 16

We spent the afternoon resting at home and getting ready for the flight out. Andrè and I took the 10pm red eye flight to Miami, had an hour and half wait at the Atlanta airport, and arrived in Miami at 9:30am. We didn’t sleep at all on the plane, and so were bleary-eyed when we arrived. We took a taxi to the home of Douglas Kamm by the Coral Gables, where we met his friend Angela Younger from New Zealand who was visiting and was just about to leave for the airport. Douglas was delighted that his Australian contact had finally met his Filipino contact after all these years.

Douglas, Andrè’s best friend from his college days, lives in a nice, antiquated house. Feeling grungy from the long trip, I freshened up at his restroom, and was immediately brought back to my childhood days. It seemed that I was back in my grandmother’s house in San Sebastian as the furnishings were so similar. Douglas’ classic sense of style was evident in the blue and white ceramic collection he had in his kitchen, his paintings and his ivory pieces.

Douglas invited us out to his garden. A bit wild at the moment, his garden was the toast of the city back in its heyday, and was featured a number of times in magazines. You could still see what made it famous back then from the variety of foliage planted. Why, it even had a mango tree, which Andrè avers produces the sweetest mangoes. I hurried back to the house when I learned that a few days ago a crocodile had snatched a pet dog away from its master who was walking it by the creek, and that this had happened a few houses away from where we were. I certainly did not want to be croc breakfast.

Douglas gave us a grand tour of the city in his car, driving up to South Beach lined with art deco hotels and restaurants on one side and on the other, Sunday strollers on the beach. He had worked in hotels in the strip, and gave a running commentary that was entertaining. He even pointed out the exact spot where celebrated designer Versace was gunned down by a Filipino named Cunanan. After that, we did a quick spin of Coral Gables, Miami’s version of Forbes Park where the wealthy live. I loved seeing the massive banyan trees. What character they had and what tales they could share if only they could talk, I wondered.

For lunch, we went to Bangkok City for their famous crispy duck. There were several options on the menu but we settled for the basil version, along with tom kha (i.e., chicken soup cooked in lemongrass and coconut milk.) and pad thai. Andrè and Douglas have been going to that Thai restaurant for well over 30 years. We then went to Gilbert’s Bakery to get key lime pie to bring to Cachito’s home, and we ended up getting pecan pie, Grand Marnier and tocino del cielo as well.

The two men enjoyed ribbing each other over lunch, recalling capers over the years. After lunch, we headed to West Palm Beach. Just before Exit 35, the car’s left rear tire blew out, and we had to wait for AAA to come help us. Just that morning, I learned that Douglas didn’t know how to use a mobile phone, much less owned one, and so it was interesting to observe him using Andrè’s mobile phone to call AAA’s customer service. We were told it would take 90 minutes for AAA to arrive. So I began writing this blog while we awaited our knight in shining armor. I kept hoping the aircon wouldn’t conk out before the rescue vehicle arrived, as it was sweltering hot outside.

After much anticipation, the AAA rescue vehicle arrives!

When AAA’s rescue vehicle arrived though, we learned that they could not change the tire as the spare tire was riddled with holes. The only solution was for a tow truck to come and pick up the car. This would take another 90 minutes, we were told, but since only one person could ride in the car being towed, that meant Andrè and I needed to find some other way to get to West Palm Beach. And that’s when I called Uber to the rescue. I accessed my Uber app from the Philippines, and in 12 minutes an UberX came to pick us up. There we were, perspiring from the heat of the sun with our suitcases lined up on the shoulder, when a new Hyundai Sonata driven by a lovely Cuban young woman stopped to help us.

Zuy Alejo, our Uber driver, was making frijoles (black beans) at home when the Uber call came in, and when she saw that we were on the turnpike, she figured that we had an accident. Kind-hearted Zuy decided to get in her car and drive to us. She was truly heaven-sent! Zuy drove us from the Turnpike all the way to West Palms Beach.

Charming Zuy shared her interesting story with us. At five years old, she and her family came to America from Cuba on a 21-footer boat with 22 other people. They were nine days at sea, without food or water. She said they had no choice but to drink their urine. What a life changing experience that must have been for her family! Now happily married and leading the parents-teachers association in her child’s school, she works at a restaurant, and started on Uber in the past two months.

And then Andrè popped the question: “Where can we get the best key lime pie in Miami?” And Zuy said, Key West of course! But the really good ones can be found in the airport, she added. Well, this we must try on the way to Seattle.

We arrived at the home of Cachito, Andrè’s younger brother, and were welcomed warmly. That night, Cachito and his wife Rocio hosted dinner at Hoes Asian Cuisine. It was a big group, and I was a bit overwhelmed at first. I met Andrè’s mom, Tita Dolly, his cousin Margie, his sister-in-law Margarita, and his nieces Stephanie and Angeline, and their partners Andrèw and Chris. The food was nourishing after that long day of travel, but we were so tired as we had hardly slept the night before on the plane.

October 17, 2016

Outside the Cracker Barrel with Andre, Dolly and Gerry

The next morning, we went to the 8am mass at St. Augustine Catholic Church with Tita Dolly and Gerry Humphries, who drove us. It was a beautiful mass, and I felt at peace with the world. We then had a hearty breakfast at Cracker Barrel, a quaint shop selling country items alongside a cafe. We enjoyed sunny side up farm fresh eggs, sausage links, grits with sawmill gravy, freshly baked homemade buttermilk biscuits, fluffy pancakes with old-fashioned maple syrup, jam and coffee. We didn’t know what to do with the grits, but after Gerry told us to mix it with butter, salt and pepper and gravy, the grits turned out delicious! I couldn’t help but explore the store and picked up some shirts. Just outside the store were some pretty rocking chairs, and so had some photos snapped there.

We then went to a mall to check the Apple Store if they had the iPhone 7 Plus available. No luck. We went back home to rest, and went out to dinner that night at The White Elephant, on the invitation of Andrè’s Uncle Jess and his wife Benguet. There we met Jess’s children, Chris, a lawyer, and Michelle, a public prosecutor.

Beautiful Michelle had her Great Dane with here. What a stately dog it was, and extremely well behaved! The pizza was just right and the shrimp curry delicious, though a chutney would have made it amazing. For dessert, we shared a key lime pie. The search for the best key lime pie was still on, but this was more like a vanilla cream pie. Again, we were told that the best key lime pie could be had at Key West.

Jess then toured us around his Wellington Mall, pointing out the five schools that were there, as well as the Post Office. The mall seemed more like a museum than a mall as it had beautiful sculptures around. There were statues of game fish and horses of different kinds, including carousel horses and a unicorn, live fish in aquariums, grandfather clocks, and brass sculptures of children playing and having fun. I was happy to see the Philippine flag together with the American flag hanging in the activity area.

An accomplished gentleman, Jess Santamaria was elected as County Commissioner three times. He believes in sharing his blessings and has two foundations that help provide education to children as well as help for less privileged families.

We stopped to look at a poster he had of Desiderata, and I was amazed when Jess and Andrè started to recite the poem from memory. Andrè’s favorite was: “Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.”

October 18, 2016

The next morning, we had breakfast together with Cachito and Tita Dolly. The night before, Rocio had prepared a Filipino breakfast of longganiza and fried rice. I fried the eggs and prepared the tomato and onion salad to go with it. Rocio’s longganiza was to die for. She said she got them at Kabayan, the Filipino store in West Palm Beach. That night, I asked her the secret for cooking it the way she did. I was happy she taught me how to do it properly.

Margarita then picked us up to bring us sightseeing at Worth Avenue, one of the most exclusive shopping streets in the United States. It is the equivalent of Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles, where all the most expensive brands have stores: Jimmy Choo, Chanel, Ralph Lauren, Kate Spade, and more. I wasn’t paying much attention to the stores, instead enjoying the stroll and talking to Margarita.

Lo and behold, who do we see at the corner of Worth Avenue, sitting down by the shaded bench but Mike Bilbao, hubby of Techie Ysmael. Turns out he was waiting for Tetchie who was meeting someone at one of the shops. Soon, Techie showed up with a copy of the book she had written on her famous mother, Chona Kasten.

After bidding goodbye to Mike and Techie, we continued to look for Pizza Al Fresco, a little restaurant tucked away inside one of the garden alcoves. We had a most delightful meal of Andrè’s favorite, shrimp cocktail, a Portobello mushroom salad, and their famous pizza alfresco, washed down with a Peregrino with gas.

Over lunch, we shared our life experiences, how sad and lonely we were when our beloved spouses passed on, how we needed to get a grip on our emotions and decide to accept fate and move on, how we adjusted to the difficulties of senior dating, and how fortunate we were to discover second chances at love, along with the complexities that come with it. After all, there is so much more life to be lived and happiness to be enjoyed.

We then visited the Palm Beach Outlet Mall where we visited various shops, and chanced upon GH Bass, which had the most comfortable shoes, which Margarita and I bought. We all ended up buying various items. A sudden downpour cut short our shopping spree, and we headed home, as we still had a dinner to attend. Angeline and Chris Gross were hosting dinner at Aglioli for the family. Margarita and I laughed when we realized we both had worn our new shoes to the dinner.

e7f2f62a-b9f1-4ff7-bcdf-64edb9fc7f8f — At Aglioli with Andre’s family

Aglioli is a family restaurant that allows its guests to design their own pizza and pasta using various types of noodles, sauces, meats and veggies. After sharing the fresh house salad, which came in huge bowls, with lots of black olives and crunchy baguettes, we had fun designing our own pasta. Andrè ended up with angel hair pasta with rich pomodoro sauce and a side dish of meatballs. On Angeline’s recommendation, I got a shrimp pesto angel hair with artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms and grilled garlic. It was sublime! When dessert time came, we were too full to order a key lime pie.

There was much banter and lively conversation over dinner. I learned that Angeline, despite her 5’2” tiny frame, is an accomplished industrial engineer, a wind blade specialist at New Era, which used to be the Florida Power and Light Company. She climbs wind towers that are hundreds of feet high to check on the blades. Cachito says that when she sent him photos of how high she was on her first climb, that he was so nervous he had to take a drink. Kudos to her, as she excels in a man’s world.

When Rocio learned that we were on a quest to discover the best key lime pie, she offered to bake us one for the next day when Margarita was hosting dinner.

October 19

Reliving breakfasts of before at Gabrielle’s

Early the next day, Andrè and I together with Tita Dolly and Gerry went to Gabrielle’s Café and Grille, voted 12 years running as the best breakfast place in town. Andrè recounted that this was a Sunday tradition for him and his brother Raymond, their uncle Tony and cousin JJ and a few other friends. He said it looked exactly the same, except the round table where they usually sat was now nearer the entrance.

After breakfast, we went home to Tita Dolly’s where we had dance lessons from Gerry. Gerry Humphries learned how to dance from the Fred Astaire Dance Studio, and eventually put up his own dance studio. His school produced several dance champions of the US. It was interesting how Gerry explained the science of dance so simply that we got it immediately. He made sure we learned the basic “box” and showed us how that box was applicable to various types of dance, how high our hands held should be (level with the woman’s eyes, he admonished Andrè), where to put my hand on Andrè’s shoulder, how to turn gracefully, and so on. I took a video of Gerry dancing with Andrè, and then with Dolly. A few more lessons, and I believe Andrè and I could conquer the dance floor!

I enjoyed talking to Andrè’s mom. At 92, she still exudes the special beauty that captivated the heart of Rene Kahn, Andrè’s father. Not only that, she was charming and sharp as sharp can be. She relayed stories of her youth, of their courtship, of being mother to 13 children, of being asked to be a blue lady but declining, of how she and her husband were so in love with each other, and how he would not let her dance with anyone else at parties.

She had met him when she was only 12, acting as chaperone to her older sister. Because she was tall for her age, her sister’s suitors would vie for her attention and start to court her instead. Her parents advised her to dance with other boys, but when she met Rene, she was smitten and all she wanted was to be with him. He would wait for her outside at parties, and she would escape to see and talk to him.

He got a job in Cebu, but after just three months, he could no longer bear to be separated from her that he left to marry her. She conceived on their honeymoon, and nine months later she had her firstborn, Butch. She said Rene vowed he would have just one child after he saw the pain of childbirth she went through. But it was not to be as the children came one after the other. Love was not to be denied.

Dolly and Rene were inseparable, and he would bring her with him on trips domestically and overseas, even living for a year in Hong Kong while he set up the San Miguel Brewery there. As I listened to her, I wondered how she was able to cope with social responsibilities as the wife of the Coca-Cola Corporation CEO, and as mother to all her children – four girls and eight boys. But cope she did, marvelously, as her children turned out wonderfully, with solid values.

When Rene died, she moved to the US. There, she gave in to her love for dancing, and would dance for hours. She told me that once her doctor asked if she did any exercise. She said none, but that she would dance for four hours a day. The doctor was floored! No wonder Tita Dolly has kept her slim figure all these years.

Tita Dolly showed me her treasured albums, especially that of her Silver Wedding Anniversary. It was a beautiful album with black and white photos. Rene and Dolly looked so happy together, and they had a beautiful family! I eagerly looked for photos of Andre as a young man. He was quite handsome!

Andre and his mom’s portrait. He was in her womb when this painting was made.

In her living room, she showed me a painting of her as a young mother, and she told me that she was pregnant with Andrè at the time the painting was done. She looked absolutely gorgeous! No wonder Rene loved her so much, and as Andrè said, put her on a pedestal, teaching his children that this was the way a man should treat his wife. I asked Andrè to stand beside the painting so I could take a photo of him with her.

After the dance lessons, we went to BJ to see what they had on sale. BJ is like Costco, and also has food samples in each lane. We were tired, so we went back home. For lunch, Cachito, Andrè and I made a quick run to Jon Smith Subs for some sandwiches. Andrè and I shared an 18-inch meatball bomb sub. A poster boasted that Jon Smith Subs was voted the favorite French Fries. There was also a cute poster of a forlorn dog with long ears that said “I hate Jon Smith. No leftovers.” Poor doggie, the fries were so good there was none left for the doggie bag.

That night, we went to Margarita’s home and met her Colombian family and friends. There was her sister Beatriz and her hubby, Andrès Gutierrez; Jon Duque, the husband of her best friend Vicky; and the Kahn family. Margarita prepared a delicious roast of prime rib, served the Kahn way with horseradish, creamy mashed potatoes, grilled Portobello mushrooms, and a green salad with avocado dressing.

For dessert, Margarita made a flaky jackfruit (langka) and plantain pie. She told us her jackfruit tree from the Philippines planted by Raymond bore a lot of fruits and she had been wondering what to do with it, so she froze the fruit and made pie. It was heavenly! But, dinner wasn’t over yet, because Rocio arrived with the promised key lime pie she had specially prepared for us. I loved it so much I had seconds! Andrè was naughty and gave me a whole slice rather than the sliver I had asked for. What a wonderful time we had at Margarita’s! Andrè and I agreed that the Colombians were a fun group.

October 20

The next morning, Cachito prepared breakfast for us: toasted Thomas English muffins with melted butter and honey, sunny side up eggs, ham, and Starbucks coffee. It was delicious! Earlier, Tita Dolly had gone to 8am mass to pray for safe travels for us. She came by to bid us goodbye.

Margarita then arrived to drive us to the airport. She was going to have lunch with Douglas and give him our “little fishies” gourmet tuyo in oil pasalubong. This was going to be a long flight, first to Atlanta and then to Seattle.

On the plane, I remarked to Andrè that there were a lot of pumpkins around. The malls were full of all sorts of pumpkins, from large ones I couldn’t carry to tiny ones, with different colors and textures. Restaurants all seemed to incorporate pumpkin as an ingredient in their dishes. There was pumpkin pie, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin risotto, pumpkin sauce, even pumpkin perfume and pumpkin wine! I guess it’s that time of the year, nearing Thanksgiving. But before that would be Halloween, and the malls were replete with Halloween costumes and décor being sold. Several of the houses we had passed were already adorned with Halloween décor, from giant spiders to witches and goblins to eerie lighting and even some cackling. Halloween was going to be interesting, but now we were off to see my side of the family, and I was terribly excited for them to meet Andrè.

Adventure, Architecture, Art, Children, Church, Food, Friendship, Life, music, Tourism, Travel

Balesin Adventure

September 2, 2016 administrator 2 Comments

All this talk about Balesin being the utmost resort had me excited about going there with Andre and his friends. We had gone to a concert of Friends of Distinction at the Arena Friday night and arrived home way past midnight because of the rains and flooded roads. Call time at the hangar was 7:30am, which meant I had to be up by 5:00 am to prepare for it. Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I stumbled out of bed and got dressed.

It was a long weekend, and my children all had their own trips scheduled. Bea and Cara hied off for a weekend of surfing at Flotsam and Jetsam in La Union, while Niccolo went to Punta Fuego with his girlfriend Sam and some friends. We hugged and kissed each other good-bye and went our separate ways. Andre came to pick me up. After a quick healthy breakfast of oatmeal, we were off to our Balesin adventure. We were so excited, we were the first to arrive at the hangar. Soon though, the place began to fill up.

We were a big group: our hosts Poch and Pam Zamora with their children Katrina and Javier, their friends Mickey and Maya Colayco and their 7-year old daughter Katie, and Rob de Leon and his girlfriend Tina Tividad. Poch and Pam are the founders of the Moonwalkers, the famed Alabang walking group, which Andre joins.

The flight on the propeller plane was much shorter than the wait to get on to it. It seemed we had just taken off, and the pilot was already announcing the descent. We were a bit worried about the weather as it had been raining for two weeks in Manila, and more rains were forecasted due to Habagat. We were in for a wonderful surprise, though, as the sun was beaming when we landed. Nary a raindrop was felt during our entire stay.

Poch said Balesin was full, but we hardly saw anyone. Balesin is half the size of Boracay, and twice the size of BGC. We were billeted at a villa in the Filipino-inspired Balesin Village. Quite spacious and comfortable, the villa had its very own outdoor Jacuzzi, a day bed, and two loungers on a deck.

We rented golf carts to bring us around the island and its various attractions. It was surprisingly easy to drive, and I was assigned chauffer for most of our stay.

The mask of Nusa Dua. I don’t know who sported the more infectious smile: the mask or Andre.

Ever the gracious host, Poch kindly toured us around the resort. We marveled at the distinct character of each village. Bali was interesting with its colorful masks, and the villas built on top of the water. Mykonos with its startling stark blue and white theme was invigorating. Phuket, where we had dinner, was on the other end of the island and appeared laid back.

We also visited Rico’s Hideaway, which looked like a great drinking spot, as well as, the Sports Center, where they had courts from basketball to badminton, to yoga studios, an archery, a football field, and even a firing range. Poch pointed out the Balesin Seafood Shack, where you could enjoy fat crabs and seafood to your heart’s content. We made a mental note to try it out during our stay.

Refreshed after the Balesin Spa experience.

After lunch at Mykonos on the first day, we decided to relax and go to the spa. Were we in for a treat! As soon as I lay on the massage bed, I promptly dozed off and only woke up when the masseuse asked me to turn over and then again when she said we were done, and that I could rest five more minutes. Bitin! Truth to tell, I can vouch for Balesin being one great place for rest and relaxation. The first night, I slept 9.5 hours straight. Unheard of! The second night, I had eight hours sleep, and the third night, nine hours. Still surprising as I would be lucky to have six hours of sleep a night. I’ve never felt so relaxed. I guess, the Kyani Sunset, which Andre brought with him, helped as well.

Saturday afternoon, Andre and I decided to attend anticipated mass at the Balesin Chapel. We were thoroughly impressed with the children’s choir, the lectors who spoke in perfect English, and the heartfelt homily of the priest. Now, if only there were less mosquitoes that feasted on us. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful mass, and we were happy to give thanks to the Lord for all His many blessings.

Andre, dwarfed by the centuries-old banyan tree.

Andre and I decided to explore the island on our own on the second morning. We stopped by the enormous banyan tree that must be at least 200 years old as it dwarfed us beside it. Moving on, we discovered the Ifugao Village which had a display store surrounded by native Ifugao huts. Always curious, I climbed up one to check it out. Andre cautioned me not to fall, but being the monkey that I am, I climbed up with alacrity. The store was replete with interesting hand-carved wooden decor. There were a few items we wanted to buy, but there was no one around to sell. Everyone must be at Sunday mass, we surmised.

We ended up at the Italian-inspired Toscana where we were to meet up with our friends for lunch. From a distance, it appeared like a dream. The long driveway led to a country palace with a fountain in front. We just had to stop and admire the view. Walking to the side and then to the back, we were greeted by an expanse of sea and sky.

The stone-walled architecture with red bricks juxtaposed against the white-washed walls was surrounded by the deep green of forest foliage on one side and the sea on the other. The place was deserted, and we had the pool all to ourselves. The air was cool, the deep blue water refreshing, the green grass soft on our feet, and the sun warm against our skin. A flock of birds began to chirp in harmony, inviting us to stay. It was so inspiring I took out my watercolors and started to paint. We learned later from Poch that there were actually three pools: two freshwater and the middle one salt water.

14184274_10209024030372237_6665996865896561836_n — Happy campers

Pam had made reservations at different outlets for our meals, and it felt like we were whizzing around the world to dine at all the best resorts: Greek lunch at Mykonos, Thai curry dinner at Sawasdee in Phuket, Filipino breakfast at the Balesin Sala, Italian lunch at Toscana, and Spanish dinner at Costa del Sol. All our meals were delicious and filling. Kudos to the chefs that prepared them!

We enjoyed Asturian fabada and lengua estofado at Costa del Sol, but it was the crunchy cochinillo that stole the night, especially coupled with Moscat, sparkling wine and Sangria. And since the boys had earlier filled themselves up with appetizers, it was left to the ladies to polish off the cochinillo.

Lunch at the Taverna in Toscana was for me the best. For appetizers, we shared an arugula-topped crispy pizza, then Andre and I split a seafood cacciucco and a bistecca di manz, o ai funghi porcini, ending the meal with a delightful tiramisu. We enjoyed the meal with wine, which Rob shared with us.

Balesin is great not just for adults but for children as well. The children enjoyed swimming at the various pools of Balesin, and began to sport a nice tan. One morning, Poch arranged for a horse for the children to ride while we were having breakfast. Unlike the gaunt ones at Tagaytay, this was a strapping healthy stallion. No wonder since Poch said that retiring polo horses were brought over to Balesin for the guests to enjoy riding.

All three children got along famously, with Katrina acting as the ate. Sunday night, Javier and Katie treated us to a musical performance. The two had composed their own song entitled ‘Five Days of Fatties,’ had written down the lyrics on a notebook and then performed it for us. Their exuberance and creativity was infectious. What a lovely end to the evening!

Birds chirping and cicadas singing formed part of Balesin’s charm. We enjoyed watching different colored birds fly around. There was the blue bird, similar to the one that would fly around Alfonso. Another we didn’t spot had a strong cackle that startled us as we drove by on the golf cart. Black birds sang an opera of lilting music. Yellow birds cavorted in the sky. Balesin’s Aviary featured multi-colored macaws, red parrots, silver birds, and peacocks galore, among others. Why, there was even a huge black bat with a gigantic wingspan that greeted us one dusk.

14088623_10209024031612268_5996226601612609360_n — With my very own DJ, 99.5RT’s Tiny Andy

Not to be outdone by the music of the feathered flock, Andre brought his iPod containing a library of 19,000 songs and his latest gadget, a water-resistant JBL Charge 3 speaker. We enjoyed listening to the top 200 love songs, followed by a mixture of light classical music, and finally his selection of disco music dating from the 70s. I had my very own Tiny Andy DJ of 99.5 RT fame.

On the third day, our friends had all gone back to Manila, and we decided to tour the island and discover the rest of it, which for the most part was deserted. It seems everyone else had left as well.

14115550_10209067819546939_2988814350976727268_o — The dazzling colors of St. Tropez

Being French, Andre was excited to have crepes for lunch, but was crestfallen when we were told by the reception that only the clubhouse and Mykonos outlets were open. We headed off in the direction of Mykonos, but first decided to visit St. Tropez. What a breathtakingly beautiful sight! The colors were so vibrant, and the blue of the water seemed extraordinarily bright.

The multi-colored glass bottles lined up on the windowsill sparkled from the sunlight spilling into the room. We wanted to go swimming but realized that we had lunch reservations for Mykonos. After being assured that we could come back to St. Tropez to swim, we left for Mykonos.

Like everywhere else, Mykonos was deserted. We were the only ones in the restaurant. As we had been eating a lot and adding on the pounds in the past few days, we decided on a light lunch of Greek salad and appetizers: hummus, tzatziki, flaming cheese saganaki complete with Ooompah, soutzoukakia, Greek salad, and for dessert, baklava generously doused with honey. Pairing the meal with Vina Maipo Chardonnay, we were all set and mellow. We sat by a statue of the Goddess of Health, and Andre playfully perched his Kahn cap on of its head. The goddess must have been annoyed, as the cap kept falling off. I enjoyed taking photos of the Mykonos plates that decorated the walls of the restaurant.

14124563_10209032678468434_5715323702025235220_o — Inspired painting at Mykonos

Since we had not yet toured Mykonos, we asked to be shown a villa. We were quite impressed with the blue and white villa that opened right into the Poseidon pool. Once again, we had the place all to ourselves. We enjoyed the Jacuzzi, then Andre transferred to the deep pool to do laps while I started to paint. When Andre swam over and began to chat, I took the opportunity to sketch him using my charcoal pencil.

14125618_10209067785746094_8693967339557112585_o — Korean lunch at Balesin

Our last lunch was at the Korean restaurant, where we had Angus beef short ribs cooked right at our table. The succulent, melt-in-your-mouth ribs were to die for. Naturally, no Korean meal would be complete without the attendant side dishes of kimchi, sweet dilis, sautéed togue, lettuce salad, blanched spinach, sticky rice and clear beef broth. We washed this down with an ice-cold Chamisul Soju rice wine, and ended the meal with a marvelous green melon popsicle. What Andre could not comprehend was that there were two of each dish, but only one popsicle to share. I let him enjoy most of it.

Overall, the Balesin adventure delivered more than what I had expected. It was a great time for letting go of stress, enjoying the company of friends, both new and old, and re-assessing what is truly important in life. I am deeply grateful to Poch, Pam and Andre for inviting me to the paradise that is called Balesin, and hope, one day, to return and explore the rest of the island.

Adventure, Architecture, Art, Beginnings, Food, Friendship, Life, Love, Tourism, Travel

Hua Hin Adventure

June 2, 2016 administrator 1 Comment

You never really know someone until you travel with him. Last week, Andre and I traveled to Hua Hin, Thailand. This was our first international trip together. Andre had made all of the arrangements for the trip. All I knew were the dates and that we were going to Thailand.

Leading up to the trip, I was busy with work and hence did not pay much attention to the itinerary, other than it was a summer trip by the beach and that it was going to be exceedingly hot. This meant I needed to load up on resort wear: shorts, swimsuits, sunglasses and sunblock lotion. I thought I had everything packed up and ready until Andre picked me up and handed me a hat to shield me from the sun. He also surprised me with matching bag tags with a yellow duck design to make it easier to spot the suitcases as they came off the baggage rack. What a neat idea!

At the Mabuhay Lounge, we enjoyed Philippine Airlines’ famed arroz caldo, which we finished off with a banana-langka turon, both our favorites. The night before I had taken my children and their cousins out to dinner at Vask Tapas Bar to welcome Patricia, my sister’s only daughter who was visiting from the U.S. I woke up early the next day to prepare breakfast for the cousins who were going on a day trip to the beach.

With very little sleep the night before, I kept dozing off during the flight to Thailand and the three-hour drive from Bangkok to Hua Hin. Andre had arranged for a private car to bring us to the Sheraton Hua Hin Resort & Spa, where we were billeted. Because he is an SPG (Starwood Preferred Guest) member, we were upgraded to a Starwood Prestige Room with pool access. We arrived late at night and couldn’t find our bearings at first.

Tired and hungry from traveling, we took a buggy back to the main building to search for a restaurant that was still open. Vast as it was, the hotel seemed deserted, as all the outlets we passed were empty. We finally found Luna Lanai, an outlet by the beach serving authentic Thai dishes. The first night we had vegetable spring rolls and a mild scallop curry. It lacked a bit of flavor so we asked for condiments and chilli fish sauce to spice it up. Nevertheless, it was delicious!

We woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. Opening the curtains of the room, we saw that we had our very own lanai by the pool, as well as, a jacuzzi. Just beyond, there seemed to be a little island with a tower encircled by nine white elephant heads. Ravenous, we walked to The Deck where a sumptuous breakfast buffet was laid out. The fresh fruits not only looked gorgeous, they were delicious too.

Trying to be superheroes and holding up the titled house

Walking back to our room, we spied a striking yellow, orange and green house with white windows. It was tilted on its side, seemingly about to fall down. Ever young at heart, we could not resist but take photos holding up the house, which was part of the Star Club for children. Soon, other adults followed suit and also had their photos taken.

Back in our room, the water beckoned invitingly, and we quickly changed into our swimwear and slipped into the pool. Exploring, we realized that the low-rise rooms were built surrounding the swimming pool, which wound around a central island. At one end was the Sheraton main building where the Deck was, and at the other end was the beach.

For lunch, we headed back to the Luna Lanai, where we enjoyed a delicious roasted duck red curry with baby eggplants, cherry tomatoes and lychees; fried red snapper fillet with sweet chilli sauce and mint leaves; and rum raisin ice cream for dessert. We spent the rest of the day swimming and then visited the Spa for a foot massage.

Thoroughly relaxed, we remembered that we had access to the Sheraton Starwood Lounge. We entered to be greeted by the cheerful and ever-smiling chubby receptionist Warisara with a “Happy hour closing in five minutes.” What followed next was a whirlwind of activity. Responding quickly to Andre’s “Here’s the drill, Monette; they’re closing in five minutes so load up,” we took two of each item they had on the buffet, bringing it to our little corner table. We were laughing so hard as we had taken identical items, which we then enjoyed leisurely over sparkling wine.

The next day, Andre had arranged for a day tour to Pretchaburi, which included a visit to the oldest temple, a cave and the king’s summer residence. Pretchaburi was an hour’s ride away, going back in the direction of Bangkok. Naan, our lady guide, was quite conversant with English and knowledgeable about the places we were to visit.

40B9F556-EB8C-4EC5-A95B-CC409754FB2C — The royal temple

Our first stop was Wat Mahathat Woravihara, the oldest royal temple built over 700 years ago during the Sukhotai period. The Khmer-styled sanctuary consisted of five prangs, the tallest of which at 42m high was decorated in white stucco and housed relics of the Lord Buddha. Inside the royal temple, a Buddhist monk sat on a raised platform chanting aloud in a monotonous tone, while worshippers knelt bearing their offerings to Buddha. Offerings came in various forms, from incense, hard-boiled eggs, garlands of colorful flowers, and gold leaf, to live fish, frogs and snakes, and even performances by a traditional troupe of women singers and dancers.

Touring us around, Naan explained that the hundreds of symmetrical Buddhas that lined the temple were actually donations by rich families in the olden days and served as tombs for the ashes of their ancestors. We learned that Buddha was portrayed in seven different positions, one representing each day of the week. I was born on a Tuesday, which meant my Buddha was a reclining one. Quite apt, Andre remarked since I would sleep all the time. Born on a Friday, Andre’s was a standing Buddha with hands folded on his chest.

From the temple, we drove to the Khao Luang Cave, an ancient cave with stalactites and stalagmites where King Rama IV had worshipped and placed Buddhas. Monkeys could be seen roaming around in abundance, gazing at us nonchalantly and going about their daily routine.

EBC974F9-F243-4987-92EC-DDA6BB733B75 — At the caves

Naan warned us that there were 98 steps we had to traverse to visit the cave. She was not kidding! The steep stairs with worn steps seemed to go on forever. Andre decided to stay behind in the first chamber and told me to go on with Naan. The caves consisted of three chambers, the largest of which housed several Buddhas. At one end was a huge reclining Buddha, and on the other end a serene Buddha in sitting position. A female monk tended to the candles, while devotees prayed and made their offerings. Sunlight filtered in from a gap in the cave’s ceiling, creating a dramatic effect. Naan pointed out the seven Buddha figures for each day of the week, with an eighth Buddha for special Wednesday nights.

Going back to the first chamber, I saw Andre at the top of the stairs. He had gone ahead and climbed the steps. From afar, he seemed like a small dot, highlighting the daunting task of having to climb back up those steps. But then again, getting back to him was reward enough to keep on going even if my aching knees wanted to give up.

Our last stop was the Phra Nakhon Khiri, the summer palace of the Royal Family, which was constructed in 1858 by King Rama IV (remember King Mongkut from the King and I movie who was played by Yul Brynner?). The mountain rises 95 meters above sea level. Luckily, we rode a cable car to the top where the king’s residence was. Without it, we would have to walk up the mountain for several hours.

The king's step to mount his elephant — The king’s step to mount his elephant

The gardens were beautiful, especially the riotous fuchsia bougainvillea planted in huge Japanese ceramic vases. We noted a landing on steps that seemed to lead to nowhere, until we learned that it was where the king got on the elephant. Makes sense, I thought. Otherwise, he would have had to use a ladder to mount the elephant’s back, which wouldn’t have been to stately.

The steep steps up to the palace were gruellingly difficult to climb, suffering as we were due to the blazingly hot weather and coming right after the cave visit. Naan kindly handed us frozen orange packets. Thinking they were ice-cream, we opened them eagerly to discover that they were instead frozen orange towels to soothe our fevered brows, and we rested awhile before proceeding on our way.

E1C907EB-979C-4095-A885-609A485BD358 — The king’s residence

There were three peaks to the mountain, but we decided to visit just the Eastern Peak where the king’s residence was. We were not allowed to take photographs of the house, which was heavily decorated in European, Chinese and Thai styles. There were bronze and brass sculptures around, and ceramic objects from England, China and Japan. Despite the luxurious furniture and décor, the house itself seemed small and relaxing, and I could almost imagine the king and his wife enjoying the fantastic view from the dining room.

After a rather disappointing lunch at the only hotel in Pretchaburi, we decided to return to the Sheraton for more swimming before visiting the Starwood Lounge, this time eating at a leisurely pace and enjoying their champagne.

The next day, I convinced Andre to take the shuttle into town instead of a private car for a shopping and foot massage expedition. Before going to Thailand, I had told Andre that I wanted to visit the Jim Thompson store to pick out some bags for me and my girls. Ever the resourceful person, Andre had researched and found that there were two JT stores in Hua Hin, one at the Hilton Hotel and the other at Sendara Hotel.

Little did I realize that it was a long walk from the Clock Tower where we got off the shuttle to the Hilton Hotel, especially in the baking heat of the early afternoon sun. Poor Andre! With each step, I felt more and more guilty making him walk, seeing how he was suffering from the heat. After buying the bags, we searched for a suitable foot massage place but the one we chose was fully booked till evening. We then walked some more in search of an air-conditioned restaurant but each one we passed was not air-conditioned. My heart sank with each step I took. After buying a few items, we trekked back to the Clock Tower where we waited for the Sheraton shuttle. Andre looked exhausted and unhappy from the trip, and I made a mental note next time to follow his lead about shopping expeditions.

Back at the Sheraton, we enjoyed another late Thai dinner, packed our bags and slept early for the 7:30am pick up the next day. It was a truly wonderful trip, and Andre and I look forward to our next one. One thing I know for sure is that I will let Andre take the lead when it comes to travel. From planning the itinerary to choosing accommodations, making sure we had everything we would need for the trip bag tags and hats included, keeping me on schedule, and ensuring we did not forget our pasalubong, Andre is the perfect traveling companion. As for me, I need to rein in my spontaneity, trust him, relax and wait for his signal, “Here’s the drill, Monette” and dutifully follow him.

Adventure, Architecture, Art, Children, Church, Faith, Family, Food, God, Life, Love, Travel

Bella Amarela

May 5, 2016 administrator

The moment we arrived at Amarela and wooden steps were put to help us alight the van, I knew we were in for some serious pampering. And we were not disappointed.

Everywhere I looked there was something interesting that caught my eye. It seemed a magical place where artists, sculptors and artisans were given free reign to create and do as they please. Whimsical creatures were carved on posts and repurposed old wood. Animals, birds, people, flowers, sea creatures were released from bondage in discarded tree branches, trunks and roots.

Here was a tarsier, its big torchlight eyes oggling at me. There was a cat lazily reclining on a bench, a dog by its side. A newborn babe with its umbilical cord still connected to his spent mother was carved out of a huge root. A child nested contentedly in her mother’s warm embrace hung on the wall. A carabao seat served as a swing by the main entrance. Serving as a downspout, a huge wooden seahorse thrust its neck out on the balcony like a gargoyle, seeming to lunge out into the waters.

Old Bohol is Amarela’s theme, according to its owner, Atty. Lucas “Doy” Nunag whom I met the next day. He wanted to showcase Bohol’s unique culture, incorporating woodwork and woven textures into the place.

Gracing the wall along the stairs were “urnas” or personal saints, some done as triptychs, or three panelled paintings that were hinged together and could be closed. Doy said he wanted to revive this lost art, and encouraged local artists to paint them. Prints and paintings of scenes from yesteryears lined the walls.

Doy had a collection of antique kitchen utensils and equipment, including a large shell as nutcracker and a paddle board for mixing dough. He also had an antique telephone, the kind that hangs from the wall.

The advent of Catholicism in the Philippines by Nene Borja-Lungay

Giving me a quick tour of the place, Doy pointed out several paintings that were done by Hermoginia “Nene” Borja-Lungay, an 85-year old Boholana who had studied under Amorsolo and was a contemporary of Joya and Abueva. Using her gift of art, Nene is a master storyteller. In Amarela’s museum was a painting that showed three scenes flowing into each other: first on the left is a friendly encounter between the Spanish conquistadores bearing gifts and Datu Sikatuna, then in the canter is a Spanish priest preaching to natives with the galleon anchored out at sea visible behind him, and then to the right is a scene of Filipinas dressed in Maria Claras apparently coming from a church. What an ingenious way of portraying the start of Catholicism in the Philippines!

Ravenous from the trip, we settled in the dining room with a breathtaking view of coconut treetops, lush greenery, beautifully landscaped gardens, and the brilliant sea. Brunch was filling and delicious, and the staff solicitous. Exhausted, we retired to our rooms for siesta. The air-conditioned rooms were spacious and bright, the beds comfortable and inviting. I loved the little design accents scattered around the room.

The first night, Niccolo developed a high fever. Feeling light headed and wretched, he asked if we could bring him to the hospital. I approached Chef Nick Matias who quickly arranged for transportation to bring us to the Tagbilaran Community Hospital. Upon reading his test results, the doctor said it might be dengue, but it was too early to tell. He sent us off with a prescription for meds and instructions for Niccolo to rest and have lots of fluids. Learning that my 81-year old mother was sharing the room with us, the doctor recommended we keep her and Niccolo apart as she might catch what he had.

The ever-friendly staff who made tawa-tawa tea for Niccolo. The Filipino hospitality and warmth shines through brilliantly in Amarela.

Luckily, the resort had one last room free which we quickly took. When the staff learned about what happened the next day, they searched for some tawa-tawa and made an herbal tea for Niccolo to take. What a thoughtful gesture!

We decided to stay in the resort on Good Friday. Ramon, Cara’s friend, arrived from Mindanao to take photos of Cara’s new bikini line for DiwataSwimwear.com. I took to writing, Dada to watching her Spanish telenovelas, Bea to reading by the beach, and Niccolo to resting in his room. Cara came back from her photoshoot giggling, looking like Princess Leia from Star Wars.

She was wearing a yellow towel which Ramon had fashioned into a headgear that could serve as a travel head pillow. In stitches, we took turns wearing his invention. In the afternoon, we gathered to pray the “Siete Palabras” in a quiet little room to the side of Amarela’s art museum.

That night, we broke our fast and went to Giuseppi Pizzeria and Sicilian Roast on the recommendation of Ramon and Cara who had visited it before. We enjoyed a repast of pizza Siciliana, pizza quattro formaggi, rigatoni arabiata, and tagliolini limone e gamberi, washed down with a Montepulciano red wine. To complete the meal we had warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream and a tortino de cioccolato.

Saturday morning, the girls and Ramon decided to go to Balicasag to visit the marine sanctuary, swim and snorkel. Niccolo continued his staycation to recuperate.

Dada at the chocolate hills mirador. One more site ticked on her bucket list.

Meanwhile, Dada and I decided to go off sight seeing. The chocolate hills and tarsiers were on her bucket list, and she intended to tick them off her list. I, on the other hand, wanted to see the churches of Bohol. I’ve been feeling guilty about going off on vacation with the family instead of serving at the parish for the Easter triduum, and not going to church Thursday and Friday. I also wanted to visit some markets and see if there were any nice handicraft I could bring home.
Our driver cum tour guide Rey was very accommodating and would point out places of interest, like the manmade mahogany forest and the Shiphaus, a hotel made to look like a ship along the roadside with nary a drop of water around. He also made sure we went to senior-friendly places so that Dada would not have a difficult time getting around. We went to the Philippine Tarsier Foundation in Corella because the trails were easier for senior trekking. At the Chocolate Hills, we took photos at the roundabout as Dada would not have been able to climb the 200+ steps to the top of the lookout. I had been there before, so after snapping a few photos, we left for the rest of our tour.

Do you want to see a python, Rey asked, and when I said yes, he promptly stopped at Bilar Hill Park & Restaurant in Casumbol, Bilar. Conquer your fears, the sign outside said. After paying the entrance ticket, we entered the dimly lit hut.

Inside, the first thing we saw was a large colorful bird perched on a branch. It looked menacing and squawked shrilly. I moved away quickly, but my intrepid mother approached the bird, a kalaw, and started to pet its head.

The bird appeared to be enjoying the petting it was receiving from my mom. Further on, I saw a bench where two women were posing gingerly with a large albino python draped across their laps. We were up next, and I was given the python to carry.

It seemed easy enough but quite heavy. Next up we were invited to enter the large cage where a dark Burmese python and another albino python slithered slowly. Don’t worry, the caretaker said, you’re safe; they have just eaten a chicken each. My stomach started to knot at the thought, and so we quickly posed for the souvenir photo and got out of there.

Rey then told us about the tug-of-war that was happening in Bohol. To seal their friendship on March 15, 1565, Bohol chieftain Sikatuna and Spanish explorer Miguel Lopez de Legazpi performed a blood compact or Sandugo, paving the way for the friendship between Filipinos and Spaniards and ultimately over 300 years of Spanish influence. This we learned in history books. The issue revolves around the actual site and date of the blood compact. Both Tagbilaran and Loay are laying claim that the Sandugo happened in their area. Loay’s marker says it happened on March 25, 1565 aboard the flagship San Pedro which was anchored off Hinawanan Bay, with the leaders drinking wine mixed with blood from cuts they had slashed on their chests. Tagbilaran’s version says the Sandugo happened ten days earlier on shore. Following the local custom, Datu Sikatuna and Lopez de Legazpi drew blood from a small cut on their arms, mixed this with wine, and drank from the goblet. The National Historical Commission upholds the version of Loay. Whichever version is true, the fact is Sandugo happened in Bohol and Rey says he is happy about this.

We stopped at Bohol’s famous heritage churches along the way: Saint James the Apostle parish church in Batuan, Paroquia del Senor San Isidro Labrador in Bilar, Church of San Pedro Apostol in Loboc, Holy Trinity Church in Loay, the Sta. Monica Church of Albuquerque, the Church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Concepcion in Baclayon, and the Assumption of Our Lady Church in Dauis. We were unable to do the Visita Iglesia on Holy Thursday, and so I was happy we completed the seven church visits on Holy Saturday. The 2013 earthquake that shook Bohol had sadly destroyed most of its churches turning them into rubble, and reconstruction was ongoing for most of them, making it difficult to enter.

Of the seven churches we visited, Albuquerque seemed the only one to have survived the earthquake intact, perhaps because of the massive tree trunks that supported its roof. Looking up at the ceiling, I saw the beautiful religious paintings and trompe l’oeil that covered it. The altars were made of intricately carved dark wood, decorated with saints, angels, flowers, and sea shells.

In front were two carrozas covered with colorful flowers — one of the risen Christ and the other of Mary – made ready for the salubong next day.

I felt saddest at Dauis, recalling how beautiful and vibrant the church was when I first visited it many years ago. It was empty now, with scaffolding covering the altar. Even the miraculous water well at the foot of the altar was covered. Outside, however, a temporary structure was set up, beautifully decorated with an angelic scene for the risen Christ.

At the patio behind the church, several carrozas bearing saints were being readied: San Juan Evangelista, San Pedro, Santa Maria Magdalena, Santa Cleofe, Santa Jacobe, Santa Salome, among others. As it was well past 1pm, we decided to have lunch at the Dawis Café, and sample their Ube Kinampay Souffle. It was divine, well worth waiting for.

Despite the sad state of the heritage churches we visited, I observed parishioners busy cleaning the temporary structures built for the celebration of masses and decorating carriages for the processions that would take place for Easter. In some of them, parishioners were practicing for the Easter Vigil Mass and the salubong that would follow. I realized that no matter what hardship Filipinos go through, they keep their faith steadfastly burning. I felt humbled, suddenly missing the Lenten services I would serve at back in our parish.

The beautiful expanse of sand and sea and sky.

Each afternoon Dada and I would walk along the beach, determined to complete our exercise goal of 10,000 steps per day target. We saw lovers embracing and frolicking on the beach, families sharing a meals, fisherfolk bringing their boats in, teenagers pitting their strength against each other in a tug-of-war, and children playing with their dogs.

Arm in arm, we walked, sharing family stories of days long past, loves gained and lost, highs and lows, always ending with the realization that no matter how far you travel away from home, you come back to the people you love.

Saturday night, we decided to go to the Bohol Bee Farm. As there was no van available, we went by tricycle, while Bea, Cara and Ramon rode the motorbike. Bea had always regaled us with stories of her vacation there after college graduation, how serene it was, and how good the food was. She was spot on. We enjoyed the delicious dinner, starting with crisp cassava chips paired with a pesto vinaigrette and warm squash bread with a duo of honey mango and malunggay jam. The organic flower salad, clear vegetable soup, honeyed ribs, red rice, and fresh cassava lumpia were all delicious, as was the homemade malunggay ice-cream in cassava cone that I had after. Before leaving the Bee Farm, we visited their little store for some pasalubong, and bought some honey for home.
Easter morning, we spent cooling ourselves in the pool, and enjoying each other’s company. At last, Niccolo left his room and joined us. Before we knew it, it was time to leave for the airport and return to Manila, but not before finally trying out the carabao swing by the entrance.

Once again, I was just a little girl having fun on the swing.

As I swung back and forth, I thanked the Lord for the long weekend spent with family. Often, we are too busy with the daily grind of work and school commitments to spend time catching up. It was indeed a lovely time to bond, not just with my children but with my mom. Salamat, Lord!

Adventure, Art, Church, Confidence, Food, Governance, Resilience, Tourism, Training, Travel

Discovering Bacolod

November 20, 2015 administrator 2 Comments

October 19, 2015, Bacolod City, Negros Occidental. When Atty. Jocelle Batapa-Sigue of Bacolod invited me to speak at the 2^nd Trade and Tourism Expo and Conferences, entitled MassKaraCity 2015, I immediately agreed. I’ve long wanted to visit Bacolod, capital of the province of Negros Occidental. The only other time I’ve been there, I was just 17 years old and on a Goodwill Mission to Cebu, Bacolod and Iloilo together with the Most Outstanding Coeds of Metro Manila.

We stayed with foster parents in each city, paid courtesy visits to local government officials, and met with student leaders. To a city girl like me, Bacolod seemed laid back, especially when we were driving down roads lined with sugar plantations behind what seemed to be an endless string of trucks craning under the weight of sugarcane. What has changed, I wonder?

What hit me this time is that Bacolod seems to be booming. Perhaps it was because of the Masskara Festival that was happening at the same time as the conference. Arriving at the airport, we were greeted by dancers dressed in colorful garb, prancing to the beat of drums. The main streets in the center of town were brightly lit, festooned with decorative buntings. We passed several malls, a sure indication of prosperity. The event itself was being held at the year-old SMX Convention Center Bacolod.

Cutting the ribbon to formally open the 2nd Bacolod Trade and Tourism Expo and Conferences, SMX Convention Center, Bacolod City

At the opening of MassKaraCity 2015, I listened intently to local government and business leaders speak of the city’s tourism and trade potential. I heard the passion in the voice of City Councilor Atty. Jocelle Batapa-Sigue as she spoke of the accomplishments in tourism and industry, especially in the IT-BPM sector, thanked all those who helped, and announced that she would no longer run for office in the upcoming elections. Jocelle chairs the Committee on Tourism, International and Local Cooperation and the Committee on Trade, Commerce and Industry of the Sangguniang Panlungsod of Bacolod.

I was happy to note that the IT-BPM industry is flourishing in Bacolod. Two years ago, Bacolod was recognized by the Department of Science and Technology as a center for excellence for information technology and business process outsourcing, joining the ranks of Metro Manila, Metro Cebu, and Metro Clark. That’s when I first met Jocelle, and was impressed by her fervor and efforts to develop the IT-BPM industry in Bacolod. Several locators have set up shop in Bacolod, like Teletech Philippines, Teleperformance Philippines, Data Solutions Outsourcing, Panasiatic Solutions-Bacolod, Interface Techno Philippines, A&E Global Fusion, Hit Rate Solutions, Alliance Call Centre, Solutionz Call Center, Magsaysay Global BPO, Transcom Philippines, BPO TeleQuest, Shorecloud Corp and Focus Direct Services. No wonder the place was booming!

20151016_141111 — Meeting the gracious and multi-faceted Atty. Juan N. Orola, Jr.

Tourism is definitely a strong pillar for Bacolod’s economy, what with its wildly successful Masskara Festival. I was fortunate to have met Atty. Juan V. Orola, Jr. (John) who was intimately involved in starting and developing the Masskara Festival. Formerly a diplomat, John served as Tourism Attache of the Philippine Embassy in Tokyo, Japan and the Philippine Consulate in Losa Angelas, USA, North and Latin America. He is a lawyer as well as a Doctor of Ecclesiastical Law. I also found out that he was a member of the Lower House representing Bacolod from 1998-2001. But what struck me most was his enthusiasm and commitment to develop Bacolod’s tourism potential.

John recounted the festival’s beginnings in 1980 during a period of severe crisis and tragedy. The global price of sugar had just dropped with the introduction of sugar substitutes in the United States, hitting Bacolod, which relied on sugarcane exports as its main source of revenues, at its core. To make things worse, Bacolod was reeling from the death of 700 Negrenses in a mid-water collision of inter-island MV Don Juan and tanker Tacloban City, throwing the city into gloom. To bring the people out of the doldrums, the local government, business and civic groups and local artisans banned together to launch a festival of smiles. They called it Masskara, taken from the words mass (people) and cara (face) and had revellers wear masks with smiling faces. In essence, Bacolod declared it would not allow itself to be vanquished. And the city has not looked back since.

Because it was festival season, all the hotels and flights were full. I was booked at Luxur Hotel, or what used to be the Bacolod Convention Plaza Hotel, now home for Teleperformance Bacolod. It was safe, Jocelle promised, being in front of the Bacolod Police Headquarters. And though it was not in the center of town, it was just 50 meters from the Negros Organic Market and 20 meters from Aboy’s, the best Bacolod restaurant. I made a mental note to try out Aboy’s.

After the ribbon cutting on Friday, we toured the trade exhibition at SMX. I was impressed by the creativity of the local artists and the variety of products on display, from food to paintings and intricately woven baskets. Desserts appeared to be a strong point, with the abundance of sweets, a natural course given Bacolod is sugarland. All I remember from my first trip to Bacolod was piaya, but this time I was introduced to Napoleones, mango tarts, caramel tarts, barquillos, bizcocho, broas, and more. I kept getting suggestions to visit Calea and Felicia’s but didn’t have the time this trip.

Bacolod seems to be a paradise for foodies, and everyone I met urged me to try chicken inasal. But since I shy away from chicken, I opted for seafood instead. The first night in Bacolod, I toyed with the idea of having dinner at Aboy’s but was told not to walk there as it was already late and dark; instead I just stayed in the hotel and worked on my presentation.

20151016_205744 — Meeting Aboy’s founder, with Mrs. Josefina Puentevella.

20151016_200422 — Riches of the sea: oysters, angel clams, squid, blue marlin.

On my second night in Bacolod, the mayor’s wife Mrs. Josefina Puentevella (Tita Paching) brought me to Aboy’s and ordered a delicious repast of seafood. I was introduced to diwal (angel wing clams), squid fat, their version of laing, and I was hooked! We feasted on scallops, oysters and blue marlin. What made it more special was meeting its amiable owner. Tita Paching recounted how it grew from being a small eatery in 1992 catering to pharmaceutical reps to this big expansive restaurant we were eating in. She pointed out the owner’s wife who was behind the till, still hard at work.

Early the next day, Tita Paching picked me up and we heard mass at the Cathedral of San Sebastian, originally built in 1876. Seeing the familiar figure of San Sebastian tied to a tree with arrows sticking ut of him, I remembered my childhood. Every Sunday, we would go to mass at the Basilica of San Sebastian behind which we lived. I would stare at his statue at the main altar, and wonder how strong his faith was to be martyred for it. After mass, we visited the Organic Market, picked up a refreshing dayap and cucumber juice and then had breakfast at Luxur.

20151017_104216 — Tom Hanks, Captain Phillips’ lifeboat behind us at the VMA Training Center.

After this, Atty. John Orola came to pick me up and show me his school, The VMA Global College and Training Centers where they prepare students for lifetime careers ranging from maritime to tourism. It was interesting touring the school’s facilities, especially the MV VMA, a full mission simulator where students can experience how to navigate a vessel using the Poseidon simulator, maneuvering under various conditions and situations and avoiding collision. A group of students was then undergoing survival training, learning how to swim under difficult conditions and to jump from heights. There was an enclosed 28-foot lifeboat, which apparently had been used by Tom Hanks in the movie Captain Phillips that I wanted to enter, but we could not as survival training was ongoing. Next trip, I thought.

After VMA, we moved over to Sum-Ag, Bacolod City where we met Tomas “Tomiko” Claridad Casiano, a retired floral designer from Beverly Hills. When he decided to come back to the Philippines, Tomiko packed up his collection of over 2,000 vintage glass pieces in 66 crates, and built a two-story museum next door to his home to house his beloved collection. Opened to the public on December 12, 2012, Laguerta, home of the Vintage Glass Museum has been recognized as the largest collection of depression glasses outside of the United States, and the first in Asia.

Tomiko’s love story with vintage glasses began when he searched for interesting vases for the floral creations he would use in the homes of the rich and famous. Attracted to vintage glass, particularly depression glasses manufactured in the Unites States from 1904 to 1940, Tomiko had his collection of dinnerware, decanters, commemorative plates and decorative objects arranged by color, from yellow to amber, pink, ruby, fire, green, aquamarine, cobalt blue and delphite which is an opaque blue glass.

He eagerly showed us the stars of his collection, explaining the difference between carnival glasses, which are pattern-molded iridescent glasses sprayed with metallic salts while the glass was hot, and opalescent glasses, which have two layers of glass: one colored and the other clear. He explained that washing the latter several times would wash away its color completely. He showed us his Vaseline collection, which is no longer being made because it requires uranium to produce its yellow to yellow green color; a Jadite collection that is milk green, a pearlized mustard collection that is milk yellow, and a milky white collection.

Tomiko pointing out the finer details of the glass bowl.

Tomiko held up some bowls to the sun so that we could appreciate the patterns. I was intrigued by a night lamp he held up that was etched all around with a ship, a spouting whale, a swimming whale and anchors. I imagined it lit by a candle, and a young mother during the depression telling her child a bedtime story of maritime adventure as the flickering light of the candle threw shadows on the wall. Another interesting item was a bedtime jar, whose cover was actually an upturned glass. Tomiko had two of those in his collection.

Listening to his stories and watching him as he toured us around, I was impressed with Tomiko. Here was a man, totally unassuming, who loved what he did and was eager to share it with the world. When I asked when visiting hours for his museum was, he explained that we had to call ahead to make a reservation so he could be there. He did not have staff to manage the museum, and did everything himself, afraid that they would not take care of his collection as well as he did.

Tomiko then invited us to visit the church of San Juan Nepomuceno that he has been supporting. The church housed his Escayola Collection of Mutilated Religious Arts. Since many Catholic families in the Philippines have “santos” or images of saints made of escayola (plaster of Paris), owners are unsure what to do with them when they break. Missing limbs or heads, the “santos” are no longer displayed. As it is considered bad luck to throw them, they are instead buried.

One night, Tomiko dreamt that he was being asked by God to take care of broken religious icons made of escayola. The very next day, a neighbor came by and gave him a broken statue of a saint that he had unearthed while digging in his garden. This started his collection, as news spread and friends and even people he did not know would come up to him and gift him with their broken statues. I asked him if he knew who all these “santos” represented, and he admitted that he did not know all of them, but that a researcher was helping him identify the statues for proper labeling. I am sure that just like his vintage glass collection, Tomiko’s escayola collection will someday be recognized as unique and outstanding.

20151017_144337 — With John Orola and Atty. Danny Cruz of the VMA Global College

My last stop before going to the airport for my return trip to Manila was the stadium. I was adamant to catch even one Masskara dance, and was lucky to see the group that performed in Hong Kong. It was an amazing performance, and a fitting end to my quick trip to Bacolod City. I vowed to come back next year for the Masskara festival and stay the entire weekend. Now to look for tickets and book a hotel.

Adventure, Architecture, Art, Death, Family, Food, Goodbyes, Life, Love, Tourism, Travel

Romancing the Ruins

October 28, 2015 administrator

I’m a sucker for love stories, and I was enthralled when Raymund Javellana, great grandson of Mariano Lacson personally toured me around his family’s ancestral home in Talisay City, Negros Occidental. Acclaimed as one of the 12 most fascinating ruins of the world, The Ruins is a monument to the undying love of Mariano Lacson and Maria Braga.

20151028_183616 — Don Mariano Ledesma Lacson

It was my second night in Bacolod City, and Mrs. Josefina Puentevella (Tita Paching) was taking me around. She brought me to Talisay to see The Ruins. She said it was a house that was bombed during the Japanese occupation so that the invaders would not use it as headquarters. I told her about my own ancestral home in San Sebastian that was actually used by the Japanese commander as his headquarters. I was thus quite interested to see the house she was referring to which had belonged to Don Mariano Ledesma Lacson, a sugar baron in the early 1900s.

The youngest of ten children of Lucio Lacson and Clara Ledesma, the dashing Mariano fell in love during one of his frequent visits to Hong Kong with the beautiful Maria Braga, a Portuguese lady from Macau, daughter of a ship captain. He proposed to her and brought his young bride home to Negros. There, they lived happily together and had ten children.

When Maria was pregnant with her 11th child, she suffered a bad fall and began to bleed heavily. Alarmed, Mariano quickly drove his horse-drawn carriage to the next city to summon a physician. It took four days of travel traversing different sugar plantations, asking permission to pass from the landowner each time. I can just imagine how distraught he was throughout the trip. By the time he got back with the doctor, Maria and her unborn child was dead.

Grief-stricken, the heartbroken Mariano decided to build a mansion to commemorate his love for his beloved wife. With the help of his father-in-law who sent over workers from Hong Kong, Mariano built an elegant two-story mansion in the midst of his sugar plantation. Here, he lived with his children with the rule that once any of them got married, they would have to leave the mansion.

Two Ms facing each other, standing for the initials of Mariano and Maria, are forever etched into the posts.

No expense was spared in building the structure made of oversized steel bars encased in solid concrete. The walls were finished in cement mixed with egg whites, lending a marble-like finish to the mansion. Each post of the house was emblazoned with two letter Ms facing each other, initials of Mariano and Maria.

There were four rooms downstairs for his boys, and four rooms directly on top of them for his girls. A wide staircase led directly from the side entrance to the second floor. This way, Raymund explained, Mariano could go up to the master’s bedroom without disturbing any of the guests in the living room. The family could enjoy sunsets through the bay window of the belvedere facing west.

20151016_190435 — The main entrance to the mansion

A wide porch wrapped itself around both floors of the house, reminiscent of the mansion in the movie “Gone with the Wind.” Twin columns lined the porch with graceful arches in between. Colorful Machuca tiles from Spain lined the veranda, while thick meter-wide, 20-meter long wooden planks served as flooring for the various rooms. Starkly silhouetted against the dark sky was the scalloped roof.

On the eve of World War II, this beautiful mansion was razed to the ground by guerillas during the Japanese war upon the orders of the United States Armed Forces in the Far East or USAFFE, to ensure it would not fall into the hands of the Japanese forces and made into headquarters. They say it took three days for the house to burn, engulfing all the beautiful wooden floors and ceiling, leaving behind the shell of the once beautiful mansion.

When Mariano died, the plantation was subdivided amongst his ten children, and later further subdivided amongst the grandchildren. No one wanted the portion of land on which the burnt out shell stood. After all, it was thought to be useless since sugarcane could not be planted in it. For six and a half decades, The Ruins remained just that, a sad reminder of the opulent lifestyle of the sugar barons, slowly succumbing to the ravages of time.

That is, until Raymund Javellana, a scion of the prominent Lacson-Javellana and Lopez-Heredia families, inherited the land with the burnt mansion and pondered what to do with it. Just like his ancestor Mariano, Raymund was widely traveled and had been to many interesting historical places in Europe. He toyed with the idea of developing The Ruins into a tourist attraction.

One day, Raymund saw children climbing up and playing at the four-tiered fountain fronting the house. Looking closely, he noticed how strong and beautiful it was and decided to rehabilitate it, along with the expansive garden surrounding the house. In its heyday, the mansion’s garden laden with imported lilies was maintained by a Japanese gardener under the supervision of Angelina, Mariano’s daughter. This same gardener turned out to be an informant of the Japanese Military.

Raymund installed lights in the house, running the electric wires through the original pipes embedded in the ceiling. I asked him if the globes were made of capiz, but he said they were made from sturdy resin to withstand the strong wind from storms. He showed me where the living room, dining room, kitchen and kitchen preparation areas had been, and pointed to the thick cement flooring underneath where the wood-fired ovens were located.

It’s a pity there are hardly any photos of the house as it was in its prime. Raymund remarked that the old photos were kept by one of the children but they were lost in another fire. “There’s something about our family and fires,” he said.

Walking with us around the beautifully landscaped gardens surrounding the house, Raymund invited us to have a picture taken in front of an outside glass table. He said that most everyone who comes has their photo taken there with the house silhouetted behind, as the glass of the table reflects the house and it appears magical. Naturally, we just had to do this too.

And as I looked around I saw in the distance what seemed like a tree sprouting from a column. I learned that this was the simborio, or smokestack of the sugar farm’s mill where they heated the juice of the sugarcane before allowing it to cool and crystalize into what we know as muscovado, unrefined brown sugar imbued with the strong flavor of molasses.

20151016_192715 — Tita Paching and me with our personal guide, Raymund Javellana.

Just as we were leaving, we passed by the café that Raymund had built and bought piping hot piaya or unleavened flatbread filled with muscovado and glucose syrup. What a treat it was to bite into the delicious piaya! Closing my eyes, I was once again transported to the very first time I had tasted piaya, savoring its goodness, and for a fleeting moment, imagined how beautiful life must have been for Mariano and Maria. And thanks to Raymund, the story of their love will continue to inspire generations to come.

Adventure, Art, Childhood, Church, Family, Goodbyes, Life, Love, Travel

What makes your soul happy?

July 19, 2015 administrator

July 17, 2015. Taywanak, Alfonso. “Take time to do what makes your soul happy.” This post on Pinterest caught my eye yesterday morning, and I reposted it immediately, determined to carve out me time from the busyness of work and commitments. And then, I got to thinking. What makes my soul happy?

The first thing that entered my mind was I’ve always been happiest loving someone. Love makes my heart sing. With Mike and my children, life was perfect. When Mike died, I died too, going through the motions of life with a big dark hole where my heart used to be. That is, until Rollie came barging into my life and for a blissful and exciting six months, I felt alive again. But then, God took him away too. Once again, I burrowed into work. The busier the better, so I would not have time to dwell on my unhappiness. Time and again, though, grief would make its presence felt. Yes, my beloved children are there, but they are now grown up and have their own lives to lead.

One thing Rollie taught me was that I was responsible for my own happiness. When he lost his wife to cancer four years ago at the same time he turned 60 and retired from work, he coped with his grief by keeping busy, writing a book, traveling, biking, meeting people, helping develop young leaders at AIESEC, and more.

And so, I’m back to thinking what makes my soul happy since the two people I’ve loved are both gone?

Painting. One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor drawing and coloring, and my mom commenting that I was just like her sister Conchi, a talented artist. I treasured my coloring books, read and reread my art books, and hoarded my art supplies. I was chagrined when my art teacher in elementary declared I had no talent at all. This didn’t stop me from spending recess time in first year high school drawing on the chalkboards at the empty music room. The manang was probably wondering who the culprit was who left the drawings and used up all the colored chalks.

I desperately wanted to take up Fine Arts in college, but we didn’t have the funds for this. Nevertheless, I took the entrance exam, which required us to draw still life. Dean Faustino passed by, looked over my shoulder at what I was drawing, and told me I must take up FA as I had the gift of drawing. Unfortunately, we simply could not afford it so I ended up instead taking up AB Psychology. I was overjoyed when my Aunt Jill enrolled me one summer in Art Classes at CHS. Learning how to use charcoal, watercolors and oils, and do pen and ink drawings, I was in seventh heaven!

This helped me earn funds to buy my college textbooks. Summers, I taught young children drawing lessons. My aunts’ co-teachers at CHS would commission me to sketch their family members. When I had an oil painting framed at an art shop, the proprietor told me that a customer wanted to buy it. I refused to sell it, as I wanted to keep that painting. It is still hanging in my mom’s house.

One day, acting on my Aunt Jill’s request, I drew a young child with big round black eyes. She loved that drawing so much that she had it framed and hung in her office, and later, when she retired, in her home. I had forgotten about that drawing until I visited her almost two decades later with little Bea in tow. I was amazed that Bea looked almost exactly like that child in the drawing.

At 25, I went to Spain and lived with Tia Conchi and Tio Mariano. While they were at work, I would paint. Tia Conchi mentored me in watercolors and oils, her forte. Weekends were spent in the Museo del Prado. I learned that the best art was in churches, and so while my aunt and uncle prayed, I soaked in the art of the masters, and marveled at the beauty around me. When I visited my aunt a year ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see all the paintings and sketches I had done during my apprenticeship framed and displayed in her house.

Painting requires a lot of time, and this I had in short supply when I started work and more so, when I was raising a family. It seems that the only free time I had to take up my pencils and brushes was when I was pregnant and had to stay at home, or much later, when we had our family vacations in Club Paradise. No wonder then that most of my paintings are of beaches and the people I love.

Rollie got me painting again, or should I say we encouraged each other. We had painting sessions together. Once, I sketched him and emailed him the sketch. He was so proud of it that he had it enlarged, framed and hung in his living room. For Christmas, he gave me a box of oils. I have yet to open it. Someday, when I can bear to open it without crying, I will. For now, though, I will stick to another thing that makes my soul happy.

Writing. I never thought I could write until second year college when my English teacher asked me to take the exams to join the editorial team of Veritas and Action, the school papers. We were instructed to write an essay on whatever topic we wanted within half an hour. My mind was a blank. Where to start? Listless, I moved my chair, and promptly got bitten by a little ant. And then, I saw the procession of ants crossing in front of me, resolutely carrying tiny bits of food that had crumbled on the ground, some seemingly bigger than they were. And suddenly, it dawned on me. I was just like that little ant. Feverishly, I started writing about ants, their resoluteness, their tenacity, their work ethic, their sense of community and teamwork, and their strength in numbers. Apparently, I nailed it, as I was appointed as Associate Editor.

Taking up my masters at the Asian Institute of Management, we were required to do voluminous reports and analyze case studies. I once got back a report with my professor’s comment that it was a joy reading my work. When I started corporate work though, creative writing took a back seat. Business English was the order of the day. Besides, I was married to a brilliant writer who wrote effortlessly on far ranging topics from business to management, economics, current events, social issues, human nature, information technology, and the like.

Mike authored several books, some together with Professor Philip Kotler, the marketing guru, and wrote a regular column for the Manila Bulletin. Mike could string words together so beautifully while making perfect sense, like pearls forming a perfect necklace, and I felt wanting in his presence. He did, however, ask me to edit his writing and comment before submitting it to his editor. Another pair of eyes to spot mistakes that crop up when writing.

Mike encouraged to me to write but I didn’t take it up until I was on a plane enroute to Spain nine months after he died. And then, it seemed like the floodgates opened, and I started to write. And write. All the pent-up emotions just came rushing out in my writing, and I started a blog. I wrote for myself, but it was heartwarming when people would come up and say then enjoyed reading what I wrote, or that I had helped them cope with their own situation by reading about mine.

For my mom’s 80th birthday last year, Rollie suggested I write a book about her. He had written one on his wife Isabella three months after she died, and he said it was great catharsis. He gave copies to all her friends, and said they loved him for it. I was intrigued and excited with his suggestion but didn’t know where to start. He offered to collaborate on the book project, and promised to scan all the pictures I could find. And so we did work on it together. My mom loved the book, and I gave copies to each of my siblings for Christmas, so that their children will have a memento of their grandmother.

Rollie then encouraged me to write a book on Mike, before the memories disappear. He said it would be a beautiful and lasting gift for our children, plus it would help me move on, and we could then begin our own story together. That was what I was working on the long weekend when Pope Francis visited the Philippines.

It was hard going as I wept most of the time I was writing it. Rollie called from Hong Kong to check how I was doing. When I told him I had spent the better part of the weekend crying and that I was only half way done, he praised me, saying “Keep going, my courageous girl. I love you,” Just a few days later, he was gone. Forever.

As for poetry, I never knew I had it in me until I met Rollie. For some reason, he unleashed the poet in me. I would wake up in the wee hours of the night and start penning. He was overwhelmed with what I wrote and eager to receive the next one. When he died, this gift seemed to have died as well.

But I continue to write, feeling this connects me to people even when I feel so alone. And then I come to my next passion.

Cooking. My love of the kitchen was nurtured in my paternal grandaunt’s warm kitchen, watching her prepare meals for the family and for feasts. I would eagerly wait for Lola Teta to come back from the market in a calesa, and take out the wonderful goodies from her market basket. I guess that’s why I get excited seeing plump and colorful vegetables and fruits and nice smelling herbs growing in farms.

Inevitably, my lola would bring home two or three live chickens, which she would later kill and dress. She would let me play with the stomach lining, which I would blow up like a balloon. And the myriad little yellow eggs that had not yet come out were prepared as adobo as a special treat for me. All these happened before my 7^th year when a beheaded duck started my phobia with all things feathered.

Summers growing up were spent in that kitchen. My aunt Jill would teach my brothers and me how to bake, decorate cakes, and then let us experiment in the kitchen. I loved watching her cook, and I was her designated assistant, though not allowed to wield a knife. My brothers and I would fight as to who would clean up the leftover fudge in the bowl.

I remember crying when my cake didn’t rise because I had forgotten to put baking powder in the mix. Or the time my chocolate cake caved in because I had taken it out of the oven prematurely. My brothers mercilessly teased me about this, and called it my chocolate volcano. And now, chefs brag about their chocolate lava cake. I should have had it patented then. Or that time I tried to make lemon squares and forgot an ingredient so they came out really hard. Lemon cardboards, they were called. I guess all that teasing made me stop kitchen experiments, and I concentrated instead on studying.

Later, when my boyfriend asked for my hand in marriage, my mother asked him if he was sure about me as I was hopeless in the kitchen and all I knew was to study. I was flabbergasted, made my mind up that I would learn, and bought several cookbooks.

There were some hiccups along the way. In the early days of marriage, I decided to make coffee and wondered why the coffee machine wouldn’t work, only to find out I had not plugged it in. Another time, I was at Farmer’s Market and was convinced to buy stingray. The market vendor told me it was delicious as adobo, and taught me how to prepare it. Well, it was so bad that even our dog refused to eat it. I confided my travails in the kitchen to a friend at work, and she agreed to help me. She put together a menu for my house blessing with detailed instructions on how to prepare it: chicken a la king presented in puff pastry and vichyssoise. It was a hugh success!

One of the first things I learned was to make spaghetti bolognese and I would do this a lot until I perfected it. I did not realize that my poor sister developed a strong dislike to spaghetti because she had to eat it a lot while I was practicing. This was a huge disincentive to her moving to Rome, but luckily she has learned to make peace with pasta, though she still shys away from bolognese to this day, and makes sure she rubs this in each time we eat pasta.

My work in publishing entailed a lot of travel, and I was exposed to different cuisines. All these left their mark on my cooking. I was comfortable with different spices. Soon, I stopped referring to cookbooks and ventured into experimenting in the kitchen. I enjoyed going to the market, checking out the fresh produce, and interviewing the vendors how best to prepare them. If I liked the food I ate at restaurants, I would start guessing what went into it, already planning how to do it at home. Mealtimes, I would look at what was available in the pantry and ref, and start imagining the dish I would concoct. Invariably, my family would love it. Their happy smiles and comments were well worth the hours I would put in the kitchen.

Over the years I developed some family favorites, like adobo which my children swear by, different pastas, stuffed peppers, Christmas ham, chicken relleno (though someone else had to do the stuffing and the sewing), and paella. My love affair with paella started when Mike bought me a paellera for our anniversary. I had learned how to make it from my Tia Conchi, who gifted me with a hundred-recipe paella book. I would have so many requests for paella during family gatherings and especially during the Christmas season. For years, my paella was a staple at the Cyberpress yearend party. From one small pan, I have now graduated to various sizes of paella pans, even some big enough for a barangay.

Mike loved to eat, especially if it was spicy, and preferred beef and seafood over pork. He bought a huge barbecue grill for our home, and would grill steaks often. This was men’s work, and so I was relegated to preparing the sauces and sidings.

When we had our farm in Alfonso, I was excited to finally have my very own herb garden. Weekends with Mike in Alfonso were spent in the kitchen. We would cook together, and it was such a joy! We would walk around the farm early in the morning, and pick vegetables and fruits that would go into the meal. His last project was building an outside grill. I thought he meant a small barbecue grill but I should have known better, as it turned out to be a stone-walled double oven and grill, wood-fired and gas-fired. Sadly, it has not been used as often as we would have wanted.

So there you are, the top three things that make my soul happy. Tell me, what makes you happy?

Art, Food, Friendship, Life, Women

Unplanned Weekend Adventure

July 6, 2015 administrator 1 Comment

“What is the most daring thing you’ve done,” I asked my single girl friend yesterday as we were driving to Tagaytay. She couldn’t think of anything, except for perhaps driving to Subic or Baguio alone after work. She asked me what I had done, and I said, cliff jumping at Tali a year ago. The conversation went around to what we couldn’t do, and I confided, “I never eat alone in public if I can help it.” My friend could not believe what I had just said, as eating alone in public was something very ordinary to her. “Are you afraid of being picked up?” she asked, “or that people will think no one wants to be with you?”

This got me thinking about the whole situation. I’ve always been around people all my life. From when I was young, meal times were family bonding events. We had to eat together; that was the house rule, and I carried this over to my household. Every meal was an opportunity to keep abreast of what was happening in each other’s life, to share stories, to discuss or sometimes to debate important issues, and to give thanks to God for our many blessings.

Eating alone in public was thus anathema to me. It was just too sad to eat without anyone to talk to or share the meal with, and so I would rather not eat. When I got truly ravenous especially when I was traveling alone for work, I would order room service and then turn on the television as I ate.

Alone in the house over the weekend except for Bugsy, I decided to call my friend and ask her out to dinner. She agreed to have lunch on Sunday instead. She was test-driving a car, and asked if I was willing to drive anywhere for lunch. I agreed, ready for an adventure. Her first suggestion was Baguio, but then it was raining pretty badly, and so we settled on Tagaytay. Searching for a place to eat, she asked me to look up Chateau Hestia on Wayz. After a few false starts, we finally found the place.

Hidden away in the back roads of Tagaytay, Chateau Hestia Garden Restaurant and Deli is a gem of a hideaway, a quaint bed-and-breakfast with a charming garden restaurant. Lush green foliage greeted us as we entered the driveway. A stone-paved trellis pathway led to the restaurant. Shaking off the droplets of rain water, we entered the warm and cosy restaurant.

To the left was a bright deli with European sausages, cheeses and breads for sale. They also had local handicraft made by indigenous people for sale. To the right was the dining area, and being quite hungry at this point, we made straight for it.

We were surprised to see several tables still full with guests despite the fact that it was way past the lunch hour. Settling down, we were greeted warmly by Len who took our order. The warm bread they served was most welcome to the hungry pair we were. The whimsical teddy bear ice cubes were a big hit. Their pizza Margarita was one of the best I’ve tasted, and the shot of their homemade limoncello was simply divine! I liked it so much that I bought a bottle to take home.

Ever so curious, I looked around the restaurant, filled with sturdy wooden furniture, bottles of varying sizes and shapes, old magazines, and knickknacks seemingly collected during the owner’s travels. I spied an antique cash register in the corner which I longed to touch, but a sign held me off. Lining the walls were paintings of such vibrant and happy colors they caught my eye immediately. I learned that these artwork were done by Sandra Colis, a 23-year old wheelchair-bound artist who used her mouth to paint. What an inspiration that there are people like Sandra who do not let their handicap deter them from achieving their dreams! This put me to shame when I think of all the times I worried and focused on what I cannot do, rather than on what I can.

I discovered that Chateau Hestia also has a dining area upstairs which can sit a hundred people. We didn’t have time to check out the rooms, but I filed this away for when I need a venue for events.

Wondering where the name Hestia came from, I googled it and learned that Hestia, according to Greek mythology, was the virgin goddess of the hearth and home, who presided over the baking of bread and the preparation of the family meal. What an apt name for such a homey place!

Myth says she was the first born child of Kronos and Rhea, Titans of the old world. Kronos swallowed Hestia and her five siblings at birth, but was forced by Zeus, the king of the gods, to disgorge her and her siblings. Since she was the first to be swallowed, she was the last to be disgorged, earning her the title of eldest and youngest of the six Kronides. First in, last out. Apparently, she was quite the beauty as both Apollo and Poseidon wanted to marry her, but she refused and instead asked Zeus to let her remain an eternal virgin.

I definitely will be return to Chateau Hestia to sample their interesting European menu, and perhaps next time, take my friend’s challenge to eat in public alone. I promised her an Instagram when that momentous event happens.

Art, Childhood, Children, Faith, Family, Forgiveness, God, Life, Love

On Father’s Day and Angels

June 21, 2015 administrator 2 Comments

This week, there has been a slew of posts about Father’s Day, and I feel somewhat cheated that I only had my dad with me for a very short time. Earlier this week, I viewed a post of a father giving away his beloved daughter at the altar. His speech was funny yet so heartwarming I cried. It was obvious how much he adored his daughter. And I wondered what my father would have said if he had been alive when I got married, or when my marriage broke up and I filed for annulment, or when I got married again, happily this time. I wonder if he would have been proud of me when I graduated with honors, or when I got my first job, or got promoted, when I was first published, or when I set up TeamAsia. That father in the video obviously was very proud of his daughter. So many unanswered questions. So many what ifs.

My father died when I was but ten years old. All these years, I’ve wondered how my life would have turned out if he had not died early. How I wish I had more time with him! I even wrote a blog about it one Father’s Day (https://monettehamlin.com/2014/06/15/how-i-wish-i-had-more-time-with-him/). While thinking of the many conversations I wish I had enjoyed with my dad, a memory long forgotten popped up.

Do you believe in angels? In 2003, I met a woman by the pen name of Avi Maria at the home of a friend. She told me she had died one day, and gone to heaven where she met angels and Jesus Christ. She described her experiences in heaven, and said it was beautiful beyond imagination. What she thought of first as gentle rain, turned out to be shimmering glitters of all colors and hues. When she asked her guardian angel what it was, the angel said the glitters were all the answered prayers of the faithful.

Avi Maria wanted to stay in heaven, but she was told she still had many things to accomplish on earth and a son to take care of, and was thus sent back. She told me about seeing her baby son about to fall from the bed unnoticed, while her whole household was crying over her dead body. She rushed back into her body and woke up. All these had happened in the span of an hour during which time she was thought to be dead by her anguished family.

When she came to, she started seeing angels. One day, she ended up in a bookstore and bought a lot of painting materials. When the cashier asked if she was a painter, she said no and wondered why she had done this. From that day on, she started to paint guardian angels of people she would meet, even if she still had not met them by the time she painted. Before this happened, she had never even used a paintbrush.

Avi Maria’s paintings were sought after; in fact, my friend had several in her home. She confided in me that each angel painting had a designated owner, and she could only sell it to that person. She once sold a painting upon the insistence of someone who wanted it, and by the time the person brought the painting home, the angel in the painting was gone. It was returned to her, and the angel once again appeared when she finally met the rightful owner. She was compelled to paint, as if she were a puppet in the hands of a master. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but it was quite an interesting story.

I didn’t think much of it, until several months later when I got a call from her, saying she had my painting ready. I protested that I had not commissioned anything, but she insisted I get it because she had made it for me and it could not be owned by anyone else. Besides she said, it was different from all the other paintings she had made. I asked her why, and she said that a big handsome man had sat beside her and asked her to paint it. It took her just 20 minutes to paint it, a mean feat considering its size.

When she had finished painting, he asked her to tell me that I was not to worry anymore, that everything would be all right, that I would never want for anything again. He also asked her to tell me he was sorry that he wasn’t there physically when I needed him most, but that he was always there, watching over me. I asked her to describe the man, and she described my father exactly. By this time, I was gripping the phone tightly and crying, prompting Mike to ask what was wrong. Needless to say, I bought that painting and it is hanging in my home.

My angel painting by Avi Maria, circa 2003

The painting is that of a beautiful angel coming out of what seems to be a dark blue tunnel. At her feet are three angels, and a little to the side is another angel. I asked Avi Maria what the painting meant. She told me that the angel was my guardian angel; the tunnel was all the hardship and pain I have gone through, and is now behind me. The angel’s wings are spread over the children, protecting and taking care of them.

The slightly larger angel to the right represents Bea, my first born. Avi Maria said Bea would always be there for me, watching and taking care of me. And this is exactly what is happening now. Bea came back from the US after finishing her masters with honors to take over the reins of TeamAsia. She is doing a wonderful job at it too.

The quiet little angel in front of me represents Cara, my middle child, who we’ve always called Cara bonita, being so fair. Avi Maria said that Cara would always be close to me. I’ve wondered about this because Cara has the wanderlust and loves to travel and explore. But it is true that she comes home often, and would call out “Marmee” the minute she enters the door.

The little angel flying around to the left represents Niccolo. Avi Maria said he was a happy angel. Niccolo was just five when the painting was done. He is now in the United States visiting kin and learning to be more independent.

Mike was the one to the left, seemingly engrossed in something, yet always there to keep me company, making sure I was safe. Little did I know that just ten years after I got that painting that God would claim back Mike. But I know in my heart that he is there, still watching over me.

So, do I believe in angels? Yes, I do. Do I miss having my dad around? You bet I do. But then, I have him in heaven watching over me, as I do Mike and Rollie. And I am sure all other dads in heaven are doing the very same thing. So Happy Father’s Day to all!

Art, Family, Food, Travel

Beautiful Taormina

Image November 8, 2014 administrator

December 2, 2013. Taormina is beautiful! Mario Monforte, Cara’s boss, made reservations for us at Hotel Diodoro, Our room has a fantastic view of the Ionian Sea. The hotel is right beside the public gardens, which surprisingly has cacti, bamboo and banana trees in them. Very quaint. It also has a statue of soldiers from WW1, and a cannon.

Cara and I walked all over town. Such a pretty place. We were ravenous by 2pm but could not find any place open. Every place we went to was either closed for the winter, or would open at night. We finally found a wine bar which served an antipasto siciliano with formaggi and salumi, Caprece salad,bread and Vino Rosso from Etna.

After this we walked a lot more, entering tiny shops for a look see. There was one store on the second floor that sold angel paintings by Anna Corsini and another that sold originals by Pino la Vardera of mixed Spanish and Sicilian descent. We met the artist who apparently has several paintings in various museums. We really loved his work but one small painting cost Eur400 and the larger ones Eur4,000. Mama Mia!

We entered at least four churches and there were many more, almost one in every corner! There was even one church that was being prepped up to be a chocolate museum. I wondered if Sicilians went to only one church as their parish or were able to choose depending on their mood or the petitions they had, something like a smorgasbord of churches. Churches here are generally simpler than those I’ve seen in Rome, Madrid or Barcelona.

We saw one really slim street called Viccolo Strata which had a restaurant. It looks like only slim people can enter, and they better not eat too much or they would never get out!

Oh, and we chanced upon a roman amphitheater behind Sta. Caterina church. Almost every nook and cranny of Taormina is picturesque and all I want to do is sit and paint.

Cara had been looking for a resto that serves pasta ricci and a pistachio pasta that Pinky and Ken raved about. She also wanted to eat granita, and I’d been dreaming of gelato since Madrid. But tired we were, so we headed back to the hotel for some much needed rest.

After resting a bit, Cara and I went down to the reception and asked for recommendations for dinner. The front desk officer suggested we try Trattoria de Nino, close to the funicular. It was quite a hike but well

worth it. We had spaghetti ala bottarga and involtini de vitello with vino rosso Siciliano. The trattoria was quiet, but soon filled up with a party of well dressed Sicilians celebrating a birthday. Walking home in the rain was not much fun, though we had gelato at a cafe beside Don Bosco.

I woke up to a dreary gray morning. Mount Etna was shrouded in heavy clouds, mysteriously silent. It was raining kittens and puppies. After a hearty breakfast, we trooped to town, Cara with her bright yellow umbrella and me with the rainbow colored umbrella. We visited the Taormina museum for some glimpse of its history and art. Cara loved the old clothes and dainty lace. I enjoyed looking at the sculptures and paintings. Interestingly enough, there were several images of San Sebastián.

Back at the hotel, I quickly fell asleep. The next day, Cara told me she could not sleep because the wind was howling and the glass windows were rattling. She was afraid that Mount Etna which we could see from our window would erupt. Little did we know that that was exactly what Mount Edna did that night.

After the museum visit, we hied off to the Greek amphitheater, marveling at its majesty and wondering how performances were done. Both of us being theater buffs, we thought how busy backstage would have been with costume changes and props, and wishing we could enjoy a play or opera there. Cara complained about the grainy volcanic black earth entering her boots.

Walking back to town, we visited shops along the way, looking for a trinacria for Cara. A trinacria is a winged head of Medusa with its three legs symbolic of the triangular points of the island of Sicily. Trinacia is also the ancient name of Sicily. Our quest for a beautiful face led us to enter almost all the curio shops. After settling on one, we then trooped to Bam Bar for a granita, cutting through a secret garden with Roman walls.

Bam Bar is famous for its granite. Saro Bambaro who owns the 17-year old bar was very gracious, telling us his story and showing off the photos of famous people who have sampled his granite, including Antonio Banderas, Michael Douglas, Marisa Tomei, Dolce and Gabbana, and many more. We met his 75-year old mom, who every morning still opens the shop. Cara’s strawberry and almond granita was delicious, taken with fresh cream and a toasty warm brioche. My espresso coffee granita was just right for a rainy day. Inside Bam bar, the ambiance was homey, with colorful fresco on the walls.

We meandered through Corso Umberto, window shopping until it grew dark, and searching for a restaurant that serves pasta ricci to no avail. We ended up in Il Cyclops for a pistachio pasta and Taormina pizza, opting to stay outside. A troubadour sang love songs in Italian, which made me miss Mike so much. I slipped on his wedding ring which I keep on a necklace with a champagne pearl he gave me, and momentarily felt his arms around me. The troubadour introduced himself to us. Rosario was his name, and he explained that he sang by night and was a music therapist by day. His introduced his cousin who played classical guitar and was a music teacher by day.

A trio of young men could not help but approach Cara to introduce themselves. Cara immediately introduced her mom, thinking this would stop them. Well, it did not. Italians as a rule are not shy when it comes to expressing themselves. Several times in the past two days, men have whistled, honked, greeted us. So this is Italy!

Cara was so tired she fell asleep right away. I tried staying up, hoping to glimpse Mount Etna venting a little. Well, it did not, but this morning, I finally saw it, washed in whites and grays, mysteriously beckoning. I got up and took out my paints and started feverishly painting. And as I worked, Mount Etna’s tip began to glisten in yellows and oranges as it caught the sun’s rays. Slowly, the the grays and whites gave way to vibrant greens and blues. I put away my paints and just soaked in the beauty that God gave us. What a marvelous and awesome Creator we have!

TeamAsia founder and president, trainer, event organizer, food and art lover. President, Philippine Association of Convention/Exhibition Organizers and Supplier Philippines · teamasia.com