Category Archives: Church

Church, Faith, Food, Friendship, God, Life

Keeping the Faith Alive at 75

August 5, 2018 administrator

August 5, 2018.. Yesterday, we launched the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines Basic Ecclesial Communities (CBCP-BEC) Fund Drive at Saint Andrew the Apostle Parish in Bel-Air 2, Makati City. The event went well, despite a spotty start involving a quick and frantic re-layout of the reception venue, with the help of Arlene and Rod of Saint Andrew, and the kind waiters of Wicked K.

Officiating priests led by Bp. Joe Cabantan.

Guests started to arrive and register at 3:30pm, just as the heavens opened and heavy rain poured. Fleeting worries about flooding were quickly dispersed as mass began, officiated by Bishop Joe Cabantan, Monsignor Manny Gabriel, Monsignor Ernie Joaquin, Fr. Dodong Billones and Fr. Didoy Molina. Soon, the church began to fill up. After the mass, guests went up to the Jubilee Hall to savor the delicious food and to renew friendships, young and old.

For those who have not had the honor of meeting Monsi Manny before, he is one of the best spiritual mentors and BEC supporters that I have been blessed to know. Charming, intelligent, insightful, funny, sincere, honest…all these and more describe Monsi Manny. No wonder he is much loved and respected. This was palpably evident as people from different parishes came up to greet him during the launch; people whose hearts Monsi Manny has touched in his spiritual ministry, leaving an indelible mark. Just as he has been there for me, through the many trials I have had.

Memories of the past four months came back. In March, my friend Wilma Leagogo and I received an invitation from Bishop Jose Araneta Cabantan to join the Finance and Funding Unit (FFU), tasked to provide financial and logistical support to the Commission’s operations and program implementation, and to establish the financial system of the office in keeping with the spirituality of Servant Stewardship. We were to coordinate with the Commission’s Executive Secretary, Monsignor Manny Gabriel. Wondering what this was about, Wilma and I hied over to Intramuros on April 5 to meet the Bishop for the very first time, and to be briefed on CBCP-BEC and its various projects. On that day, I also met the other members of the FFU who have since become real friends: Amy Cabal, Rory de Vela, Benny Araw, Marisa Calinap. Later, I met other members: Emily Calanog, Mon Jimenez and Bob Prevosa.

I remember voicing out that they must have made a mistake in asking me to be part of the FFU as I was not a finance person, but could help out in other areas such as communications, strategy, marketing, and events. Monsi Manny said we all had our own charisms that we would bring, but the most important ones were faith and a commitment to serve. With that, we set up a Viber group for comms and began meeting regularly in TeamAsia, as most of us hail from the South, to set plans. Always, Monsi was there to inspire us to give our best.

Monsi Manny suggested that we launch the Fund Drive on the occasion of his 75th birthday, and ask his friends to support the CBCP-BEC in lieu of birthday gifts. The date was set: August4, the Feast of Saint John de Vianney, patron saint of parish priests.

MonJ came up with a simple and beautiful electronic invitation: “Keeping the faith alive at 75.”

We looked for venues that would allow us to have a mass and merienda after, but they were either unavailable or too expensive. Then, Andre Kahn recommended we try Saint Andrew the Apostle Parish, across his office. Rory and I checked out the place but they were closed on a Monday. The next day, Monsi and the ladies went, and were welcomed with open arms by the parish priest, saying we could use the venue for free.

With Arlene, the ever helpful angel of St. Andrew the Apostle Parish, and Wicked Kitchen’s Jean Arce and Koochie Laxamana

I scouted for caterers comparing rates and menus, and just like that, two weeks before the event, I learned about Wicked Kitchen which is run by my classmate Jean Arce’s daughter, Koochie Laxamana. Wicked Kitchen offered delicious food within our budget, and was most helpful. It was the perfect choice, as several guests asked later for their number saying the food was excellent.

Bob came up with the encompassing launch PowerPoint Presentation, which I tweaked for the visibility in the venue. We used MonJ’s design to come up with a printed invitation. Then the finance wizards in the group set up the accounting system. Now, all that was left was to invite guests.

Clearly, God was opening doors for us.

The CBCP-BEC is the National Office given the task of coordinating all efforts to initiate, develop and promote BECs in all the dioceses and parishes in the Philippines. The projects they have lined up include:

– the BEC Faith Encounter, a 12-step experience initiating the participants to the BEC mind set focused on Christology, Missiology and Ecclesiology;

– priests’ training on Pastoral Management of BECs to equip them with practical approaches in solving critical issues that may arise in forming and handling the parish/BECs;

– Historico-Theological Reflections of BECs in the Philippines which will collect historical as well as theological reflections on how BEC has indeed become the new way of being Church in the country today;

– BEC Research with DLSU-Manila, a scholarly and comprehensive study on how BECs contributed to the Christianization of the Philippines these past 50 years;

– BEC National Directors Meeting which will gather BEC Directors from all over the country to meet, to update, and to share their experiences of ministering for the promotion of BEC;

– BEC National Assembly which will bring together all BEC practitioners and members from around the country to exchange ideas and experiences as a community of believers and to celebrate their being Church;

– and the more mundane office concerns such as website upgrade and redesigning, securing a new air-conditioning unit (it’s a sauna there!), getting new office desktop, laptop & printer to replace the antiquated equipment, doing minor renovation of office space, and obtaining office furniture & book shelves.

To fund these initiatives, we have to raise at least One Million Pesos each year. That is a formidable goal but with God’s grace, Monsi and Bp Joe’s guidance, our tight knit group at the FFU, and staunch supporters, it can be done, for nothing is impossible for the Lord.

To God be the glory!

Children, Church, Corporate Social Responsibility, Faith, Food, Life, Love, Training

The Gift of Sharing

January 3, 2017 administrator

If there is one thing that is totally satisfying, it is sharing one’s gift of time, talent and treasure to those who need it most. I daresay that the volunteers and sponsors get more out of giving than the beneficiaries themselves. We’ve been so blessed to have this opportunity yearly. Little did we know that what we started in 2008 would snowball into a yearly tradition.

For the eighth consecutive year, the Information Technology and Business Process Association of the Philippines (IBPAP) and TeamAsia organized “My Dream in a Shoebox,” a beloved tradition of collecting and distributing shoeboxes filled with school supplies to less fortunate Filipino children. With the increasing support of our compassionate industry friends, we’ve grown from 200 shoebox donations in 2009 to more than 50,000 in 2015. These shoeboxes were donated to public schools and foundations covering Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao.

This year, we set ourselves a goal of 75,000 shoeboxes, which we are still on the way to achieving. So far, we’ve received over 60,000 shoeboxes, and pledges are still coming in. Early December, we launched a digital campaign called #ShoeboxChallengePH, where volunteers take a short video of themselves pledging to donate shoeboxes, then nominate three friends to do the same. Several people joined in the campaign, and this started the ball rolling.

A friend of mine, Bea Tan, vice president at Citibank, gathered her children and godchildren at her home one afternoon to stuff 50 shoeboxes and wrap them in festive paper. They all had so much fun wrapping the gifts, and I am sure the children will remember this for a very long time. I am so proud of her effort to instill the values of generosity of heart in the young!

Another friend, Joel Pascual of PEP Group, did a video on Facebook, and he says there were so many people interested to help, even some from overseas who contacted him through Facebook. Friends of mine from San Francisco have also donated willingly to the cause, as have personal friends who learn about this project. At TeamAsia, we rang the bell one day to signal the stop of work and the start of an afternoon of wrapping shoeboxes.

Last December, I’ve helped out at three gift-giving days, and would like to share what happened then.

December 10, 2016

Early that morning, we trooped to Barangay Payatas, Quezon City for our annual gift giving day of My Dream in a Shoebox at the Payatas Orione Foundation, Inc. (PAOFI). Run by the missions of the Sons of Divine Providence Congregation, PAOFI provides social welfare development programs and services to the poor, vulnerable and disadvantaged persons/families relative to their health/medical, nutritional and educational needs.

That day, however, Fr. Martin was in Lucena tending to their communities in Barangay Dalahican and Talao-Talao in Lucena City. Instead, it was PAOFI’s executive director, the genial Fr. Julio who welcomed us at Payatas, together with Michelle and Shyla.

We expected 500 scholars at PAOFI, but sadly only 300 of the kids could attend the actual gift giving because of the National Achievement Test that was being administered that day. However, 133 volunteers had signed up for that session, and we were a bit worried that we had too many volunteers. This turned out to be a boon as the volunteers had more opportunity to interact with the children.

First, we grouped the children into tens and assigned each group three volunteers to serve as their big sisters/brothers, then had them come up with a group cheer. This was a tremendous success as each group tried to outdo the other in their cheering prowess. Thanks to Bea Lim and Armo Armovit for serving as judges for the cheering competition. The groupings also allowed the volunteers and the children to bond.

We had two games, the Newspaper Dance and The Boat is Sinking, with United Health Group (UHG) volunteers serving as game masters with the help of FIS Global. Emerson and UHG comprised the food distribution committee. The big brothers and sisters took charge of distributing the shoeboxes to the kids in their care, as well as, getting them hotdog sandwiches, orange juice and Picnic shoestring potatoes.

We also had a storytelling session in Filipino, which I led based on a story of a young boy who was at a loss as to what to give to his teacher on Christmas. He was sad because he could not afford to buy a gift because of his poor circumstances but was inspired when his mother told him a story about another young boy in a similar situation who drew on his creativity to come up with the best gift in the world. I told them that the gift of love is the most important thing in the world.

And love it was that we experienced that day. Hearty thanks to our selfless volunteers from Emerson, FIS Global, P&G, United Health Global, TeamAsia and IBPAP. Thanks too to Emerson for sponsoring the food and drinks for the activity, to P&G for providing the prizes for the games, to Megaworld for the Picnic shoestring potatoes, to Asia Brewery for the yoghurt, and to all those who donated shoeboxes filled with school supplies! And congratulations to TeamAsia’s Clah Salindato and Beverly Aguilar and to IBPAP’s Cholo Antonio for organizing this gift-giving day! I daresay that the volunteers left PAOFI with hearts full of happiness and contentment for sharing themselves and their morning with the children. And the smiles on the faces of the children were priceless!

December 22, 2016

One thousand thirty-six children from sixteen damayan centers. That’s how many children awaited us at the covered courts of Parokya Pedro Calungsod in Southville 3, Muntinlupa. This quasi-parish under the stewardship of Fr. Benjamin Molina, Jr., was established on October 14, 2012 to service the spiritual needs of the informal settlers that have located in the housing resettlement in a 50-hectare portion of the New Bilibid Prison (NBP) reservation.

Not one to be fazed by such a daunting task, Fr. Didoy organized two gift-giving days for the children of the community, each one with 1,000 children. We were assigned to the second outreach. Come to think about it, Fr. Didoy has always set big, hairy goals when it came to helping people lead better lives. He was our parish priest at the Ascension of Our Lord Parish for three years, and he was (and still is) very much loved by the community. Which is why there were volunteers from Southbay and Goodwill who came to help that day.

Fr. Didoy telling the story of the first christmas tree during his homily.

But before the actual gift-giving, Fr. Didoy celebrated Holy Mass to remind everyone that we must first give thanks to the Lord for his many blessings. During his sermon, Fr. Didoy recounted the story of the very first Christmas tree that wanted to give homage to the King. The children were enthralled listening to his story, as they were, to my Filipino version of the “punong-kahoy na Pamasko.”

The volunteers distributing shoeboxes to the children.

What is amazing is that despite the large number of children, they were all extremely well-behaved, following the instructions of the youthful volunteers. Soon, the volunteers from the different companies began arriving: Henkel, Alorica, Infosys, Intelenet, Northern Trust, Asurion, DSM Manila, Serenitea and IBPAP and TeamAsia. And just like the multiplication of bread, the blessings overflowed that day. Earlier, we had sent over 1,000 shoeboxes filled with school supplies for the children. On the day of the outreach, however, Henkel delivered an additional 1,500 shoeboxes, followed by Asurion with 150 boxes and Serenitea with 155 boxes. The children were so happy, as they each brought home not one, but two shoeboxes, ensuring that that their siblings too would have supplies for school.

The children sang, danced, and played games with the volunteers eagerly helping out, especially when it came to distributing food and beverages as well as the shoeboxes. I noticed too that some of the volunteers brought along their own children, which is a great way to teach them the importance of sharing with those less fortunate.

After the outreach was over, the volunteers gathered for a souvenir photo. There were so many that we could hardly fit them in the photo, and had to take it from the second floor of the gym.

December 30

Once again, the gifts multiplied, this time at the Ascension of Our Lord Parish outreach. Five hundred children from the developing communities of Estrada 1 and 2, Mangga, Aratiles, Silangan, Villonco, and Waterfun were gathered early in the morning at the parish church. Outside the church, another hundred or so children waited in the hope of being allowed to join the festivities. Earlier, we had delivered 600 shoeboxes to Ascension. To our surprise, Alorica arrived with another 500 boxes. This meant we could give more than one box to each child inside the church, as well as, to the children waiting outside. Wonder of wonders!

While the children were singing in the church, the parish commission and youth volunteers, the corporate volunteers from VXI, Alorica, TeamAsia and IBPAP, as well as, individual volunteers like Michelle Cruz, Olette Gonzalez, Lou Mercado, Juliet and Rene Cinco, Jun and Tess Latorre, the Liwanag family, and many more were busy preparing the games, food and drinks and shoeboxes that would be distributed that day. Everyone had a task to fulfill, some as game masters, others as marshals, gift coordinators, food coordinators, and so on. There was even a clean up committee to pick up debris left by the event.

That Jolly Bee surprised and delighted the children.

A surprise visit by the Jollibee mascot got all the children excited, as did the various games organized for the children, like the straw relay, balloon relay and Japanese walk. Even my storytelling was listened to attentively by the children.

After the children had their snacks provided by VXI, they lined up to get their shoeboxes and other gifts from the volunteers. After this, they had their photo taken at the belen together with Fr. Joseph Landero, parish priest of Ascension of Our Lord.

Tired but happy volunteers at Ascension of Our Lord parish.

When the happy children had left, the volunteers broke bread and had souvenir photos taken at the parish. From the smiles on their faces, one could see that they were very pleased with themselves. And that’s the real blessing one gets from sharing.

Accountability, Beginnings, Childhood, Children, Church, Confidence, Death, Differences, Discipline, Faith, Family, Food, Forgiveness, God, Gradtitude, Health, Life, Love, Principles, Resilience, Women, Work

Remembering the Iturralde Sisters

November 13, 2016 administrator 6 Comments

Invariably, whenever I would bump into an older graduate of the College of the Holy Spirit where I studied, I would be asked, “How is Miss Maria Luz? How is Dean Julia Iturralde?” And then they would launch on how the two sisters left an indelible impression on them, how much they missed them, and how thankful they are for the values and learning they received. Sadly I would tell them that my two aunts, younger sisters of my father, had passed on.

My brothers and I grew up in the family compound right behind the Basilica of San Sebastian. My mother was widowed early, and so we were raised in a maternal environment: my mom, my father’s mom Lola Ingga, my father’s aunt Lola Teta, and my two maiden aunts: Julia and Maria Luz. My father had another sibling, Tita Rory, but she had entered the nunnery and became a Sister Servant of the Holy Spirit (SSpS) and so we hardly saw her.

My two aunts figured largely in my growing up years, and this is my tribute to the two women who I love dearly.

Maria Luz Iturralde

My godmother and aunt, Maria Luz Alvaro Iturralde died in the wee hours of December 31, 2008 while I was in Texas. I can still remember my sister Pinky’s sobbing voice trying to tell me the sad news over the phone, which she had received from Paz, my sister-in-law in San Francisco, who had in turn been called by my brother Paul. The news had traveled swiftly around the world.

I quickly called my mother in Manila. She had not even heard the news yet. All she knew was that my brother Paul had brought Maria Luz to the hospital at midnight. Then, I woke up Bea and asked her to go to Quiapo to be with my mom and help out with arrangements. Like real troopers, my daughters Bea and Cara, with their cousin Monchoy, took charge of the wake while my brother Paul made the funeral arrangements.

The rest of us siblings (Johnny, Pepito, Pinky and I) felt helpless being so far away. All I could do from the other side of the globe was write down my memories of our aunt for an online memorial. Maria Luz loved to write. This was the best way I could think of to pay her tribute.

Maria Luz or Lucy or Frenchie as her friends would call her or Dada Uds as her grand nieces and nephews called her was a writer non par. She was the longest running moderator of Action (1947-51), Veritas (1980-94), The Profile, and The Faculty Review. Udsy was also the editor of The Search and We the Alumnae. She was an excellent writer and would write under the monicker Sub-Rosa (or chismis queen). I remember many trips to the National Printing Press in Quezon Avenue to check on various publications. She guided the exhibit for the College of the Holy Spirit’s 75th anniversary.

An English teacher at the College of the Holy Spirit, Udsy dedicated herself to helping students learn to love the English language. Quick-witted, she entertained her students with stories about family and life, making her dearly beloved to all of them. She was my English teacher as well, from the time I learned how to speak, read and write. In college, I studied English under her. She prodded me into writing and editing for the school paper. My baptismal godmother, she was always there to watch over me and guide me. And I had to study extra hard to make sure that I earned good grades.

She taught for 49 years at the school that she loved with all her heart, and was guidance counselor for a long time. I remember her anguished crying when she was replaced as the guidance counselor. Her life revolved around that school, and when she was forced to retire, she was terribly disheartened. Writing and editing kept her alive, and when she was removed by the CHS Alumnae Foundation as editor-in-chief of We the Alumnae on the pretext that the newsletter would now be computerized, she lost all interest in life.

As a young girl, Udsy excelled at sketching. Sports-minded, she won two trophies for marathon running. She studied Elementary Education for Teaching Children at Holy Ghost College (now College of the Holy Spirit).

A frequent visitor of the school’s bodega when she was a youngster, Udsy was always sent there for being the naughtiest girl in school. She was the bane of Erundina Fernandez (who later, for a time, became my mother-in-law and wrecked her revenge on me), Teofisto Guingona who called her “kabayo” because of her kicking him with her boston, and Alejandro Reyes who later became dean at San Beda.

Udsy was brave to the point of carelessness. During the Japanese occupation, a man was shot by the Japanese on our street. Without thinking of her own safety, she ran to him to give him the Last Rites. She would always take the side of the oppressed, and if she felt any of us were being given a hard time, she would take it upon herself to defend us.

Udsy loved to clean. Cleaning was her thing. She was very OC about this. The wooden staircase was not acceptable until it was gleaming. Her room was off limits to all us, unless it was story-telling time. She never liked the kitchen, and could not cook as far as I know. Kitchen duties were reserved for her sister Julia. But, oh, how she loved to eat! To the very end, she was always hungry, even if she had just eaten five minutes before.

Story telling was her thing. And for this, no one came even close. She was a master storyteller. And we lapped it all up.

I always credited my love of reading and literature to Udsy. When my brothers and I were young, we didn’t enjoy the usual fairytales like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, or Cinderella or Snow White. Instead, Udsy would regale us with stories of Greek, Norse and Roman mythology. Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Apollo, Athena, Hades and Ulysses. These were our heroes and heroines. The Three Fates – Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos – caused me nightmares. When would Atropos cut the string of my life, I anguished? Why, before The Lord of the Rings became a hit serial movie, we knew the entire story from beginning to end.

We eagerly looked forward to her payday because she would bring us to Goodwill in Escolta or to Bookmark and Alemars in Avenida Rizal and let us buy whatever book we desired to read. We had a complete collection of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. When I got into my teens, she even indulged my love of Barbara Cartland and pocketbook love stories. On my 16th birthday, she got me a dozen pocketbooks. That was a special day!

Hot-tempered, Udsy easily got agitated. But when she was calm, she was very gregarious. She was always the life of the party, or so I remember. She would force my brothers and I to perform for her guests (mostly nuns, teachers and students) during parties at home. We had to recite a poem, dance or sing. Rock-a-bye-baby and Joyce Kilmer’s Tree Poem were favorites of mine.

When Udsy was angry, she was like a grenade, hurting everyone within reach. It was wise to stay out of her way. She would run over everyone. She would fly off the handle if she could not find a book, and would accuse us of getting it without permission. But when she would find it, her way of apologizing was to treat us to a Coke. And, oh, how she loved to drink Coke!

She wanted us to be serious about our studies, and thought anything unrelated to school work was the Devil’s work. One time, I was invited to become a model. Udsy was so angry, she threw a basin of water from her second floor window over the agents who came to take my photo. Naturally, that was the end of my budding modeling career.

Near-sighted in one eye, Udsy always wore glasses for as long as I can remember. Red lipstick was her trademark. She kept her shiny black hair short and hated it when white hair started to appear. She commissioned us to pick out her white hair with tweezers and would pay us a centavo for every three white hair we got out. She had her breasts removed when she was in her early twenties because of a cancer scare. She told me the surgeon made a mistake and took out her good breast, and when he realized his error, removed her other breast. She heard him talking about his mistake during her operation through the haze of her anesthesia. This caused her lifelong fear of doctors and medicine. Otherwise, she was in the pink of health for most of her life, all 5’4” and 98 lbs.

Udsy secretly admired my late husband, Mike, and would cut out his articles from different newspapers, save them in a brown envelope and give them to me each time I visited San Sebastian.

In her later years, Udsy became schizophrenic, thinking everyone was out to get her. It was truly sad seeing her fall into deep depression. She would physically hurt her caregivers, and so we decided to put her into a nursing home in Calamba run by nuns. We felt then that she and my aunt Julia would have better care there. We brought the family’s Christ the King statue to Calamba to watch over them. I was relieved though when my brother decided to bring them back home to San Sebastian. This was their home where they were happy.

Julia Alvaro Iturralde

On February 8, 2015 while vacationing in Rome. I received word from my mom that my father’s only remaining sibling, Julia Alvaro Iturralde had passed away. In a way, I was relieved. She had been ill for a very long time, her brilliant mind long gone, her once robust body withered and thin. She still managed a cherubic toothless smile whenever I would visit and remind her that I was Monette, her niece. Sometimes she would remember me. The last time, she did not, and it saddened me greatly. She asked why it was taking her parents long to fetch her.

Julia was born on October 7, 1931 to Jose Manalo Iturralde and Dominga Alvaro. The youngest in a brood of six, Julia or Jill as she was fondly called, was an extremely intelligent individual. She graduated Magna Cum Laude with an AB-BSE degree from Holy Ghost College, and finished two masteral programs: Master in Sociology from Ateneo University and Master of East Asian Studies from Radcliffe, where she enjoyed a scholarship. Jill held the deanship of the Liberal Arts Department of the College of the Holy Spirit for 23 years. She was also moderator of Action, Veritas and The Profile from 1964-67. A prolific poetess, Jill expressed her emotions in beautiful words.

My first recollection of Tita Jill (and later Dada Nings), as we fondly called her, was playing in my grandmother’s warm kitchen with a white porcelain tea set decorated with flowers that she had given me. I must have been less than three then. Pouring real milk tea in the tiny cups, she sat with me on the floor, and we pretended that we were having guests over. Sometimes, we would collect the moss in the garden, place them on the tiny plates and pretend it was salad. Other times, I got lucky and we actually ate food that had just been cooked in the kitchen.

When she came back from taking her masters at Radcliffe University, she brought home a huge walking doll for me. Oh, how I loved that doll with curly blonde hair! It was almost as tall as I was.

Tita Jill taught me how to pray before I slept: “Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love entrusts me here. Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord, my soul to take. Amen.”

Summers, when we were growing up were spent in that kitchen. She would teach us how to bake, decorate cakes, and then let us experiment in the kitchen. I remember crying when my cake didn’t rise because I had forgotten to put baking powder in the mix. My brothers and I would fight as to who would clean up the leftover fudge in the bowl.

I loved watching how she cooked, and she would let me be her little assistant, though I was not allowed to wield a knife. I was assigned to mixing food. Getting egg whites to stiffen up was the hardest task ever. “Whip it 100 times, Monette, and don’t lift the spatula up or the air would escape,” she would admonish me. I would try valiantly to soldier on even if my arms felt like they were about to fall off. Looking back, I realize now that she had nurtured my interest in food.

Dada Nings taught Asian Studies at the College of the Holy Spirit, and to drive home learning, she would host parties at our ancestral home in San Sebastian for her students. They would cook Asian dishes, and wear dresses from the different countries they were assigned. My personal favorite was her sukiyaki. I loved watching them prepare the food, and then perform Asian songs or dances after. Oh, that was a lot of fun!

And she made life fun for her nieces and nephews. On Holy Saturdays, she would herd us into the dining room, give each of us a brush, and we would paint dozens of eggs for the Easter Egg Hunt the next day. I guess she must have hidden the eggs in the garden while we slept because we had fun hunting for them after mass on Easter Day.

We would have our own version of Flores de Mayo. We would dress up as saints using her clothes and stack of ribbons and scarves, parade up and down the house, then have a raffle of little knickknacks that she would collect. Oh, and we were not the only ones who had fun dressing up under her guidance. Her students were also in on it. I remember one Marian festival where she had her students dress up as different versions of Mama Mary and stand up like statues around the garden by the CHS Mendiola chapel.

She was a consummate writer, poet and story teller. She wrote plays about the Old Testament which her students performed in school. She wrote poems for the school paper, the CHS alumnae newsletter, and later for the newsletter she and her sister Maria Luz put up. She penned a book entitled Family Treasures which revealed all of the Iturralde secret recipes, and which I use to this day. Her friends gathered some of her poems and published them together with pieces written by my other two aunts, Maria Luz and Sister Encarnacion.

Early on, she encouraged us to perform during parties at home (Actually, I think a better word would be mandated). We either had to sing, dance, or recite a poem to the guests who invariably were their fellow teachers and nuns from the College of the Holy Spirit.

She was a very kind soul, soft-spoken, and yet you knew you were in deep trouble if you ever crossed the line. When I was in first year college, a classmate from elementary asked if she could visit me at home on a Saturday. I had not seen her for some time and was excited to see her. She came to the house with her father who was an advertising executive. A popular soft drink brand was giving away a car to the lucky person who found the tansan (bottle cap) with the winning mark. Apparently, he was running the contest, and he told me that he would make sure I would win the car, but in return I would have to sell the car and split the proceeds with him. I was to let him know my decision on Monday.

Naturally, I was very much tempted. Since my father died when I was ten, we were hard up. The funds would come in handy so I could pursue my dream of studying law, buy things I’ve always wanted, give my family a more comfortable life. At that time, I was studying on scholarship. I discussed the options with my Tita Jill, who advised me of the importance of being true to the values of honesty and integrity. That night, she gave me two cards she had drawn. Depending on my decision, I was to open one of the cards. That weekend was excruciatingly difficult for me. I decided to turn down the offer, and opened the card. Here’s what was written:

“Dear Monette,

You lost. W-a-a-a-a-h… sob sob… Boo hoo… Boo hoo. Hikbe… Sniffle… Sniffle…

But to me, after Monday, you are taller than a giraffe, taller than Empire State, taller than Mt. Everest.

You are one of us – born losers whose poverty is their (sic) our wealth.

At any rate, I’m so proud of you, so proud that I can treat you to a Shakeys pizza tonight!!!

Love,

Ninang

October 23, 1975″

And then, I opened the other card. It said simply:

“Dear Mongga,

Hooray!! Tsup!!!

Love,

Nings”

I knew then that she was very proud of me for making the right decision. That for me was the most beautiful gift she had ever given me. I treasure those two cards to this day.

I always wanted to study Fine Arts but we didn’t have the funds for this. But the summer after the softdrink incident, Tita Jill enrolled me in a summer class in painting at CHS. I was in heaven! The next summer, she enrolled me in theatre class, along with my brother Pepito.

She was always looking for ways to encourage our various interests. I remember the day the encyclopedia set she had purchased arrived. Pepito and I who were in grade school then were so excited, we spent the entire summer reading the encyclopedia from A to Z. We also played Scrabble and Monopoly with her. Tita Jill’s bed could be spotted a mile away because of the mountains of books and papers that littered it.

College studies was a different matter. Because I was on scholarship (which was the only way I could afford studying at CHS), I had to study very, very hard. It was made more difficult because my aunts worked at the school: Sr. Encarnacion taught Theology, Maria Luz headed the English Department, and Julia served as dean of Liberal Arts. They were stricter on me than anyone else, because they wanted to prove that I could make it on my own. They were thus ecstatic when I graduated with a Summa cum Laude.

Although she was the youngest sibling of my father, Tita Jill appeared to be the head of the family when it came to decision making. She was always protecting her older sister from harm. When Tita Jill and Tita Udsy (Maria Luz) were forced to retire from CHS, they started a newsletter to keep their minds busy. I suspect that Tita Jill used her retirement funds for this as Tita Udsy who had unceremoniously been removed as editor-in-chief of We, the Alumnae, had gone into deep depression. She wanted to make her sister happy. Tita Jill bought a computer and learned to use it.

Things got worse when my cousin Jose Rene and his mother Vicente died and Tita Jill was left to cope with the legal issues on inheritance. The stress was too much for her, and she suffered one stroke after the other, with complications from diabetes. She lost her eyesight, and this was a crushing blow to someone who was as widely read as her. As the years went by, she became less and less interested in life, and would just lie down, seeming to wait for her parents to come and fetch her. And now, they have finally and they are all reunited in their real home in heaven, with Christ.

Though I miss them terribly, I am happy that they are now at peace. I thank the Lord for the gift of having had them both as my aunts, and will always keep them in my heart. May they rest in God’s embrace forever.

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, 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, Beginnings, Childhood, Church, Food, Life, Love, Travel

Seeing Baguio with a Different Lens

February 28, 2016 administrator 3 Comments

When our friend Elaine Mapa asked Andrè Kahn and me to give a talk to the Girl Scouts of the Philippines (GSP) on branding and the use of their new logo, we readily agreed. First of all, the prospect of visiting Baguio, the country’s summer capital, after more than 26 years was exciting. Second, I have always wanted to be a girl scout but there was no opportunity when I was a child. Instead, I had encouraged both my daughters to join the girl scouts at St. Scholastica’s College, especially since their great grandmother, Pilar Hidalgo Lim, was one of the founders of the GSP. This was my chance to be up and close to the GSP.

About 120 council executives representing 97 councils nationwide were gathered for the GSP’s National Meeting of Council Executives, with the theme, “Exceeding Possibilities: Facing Challenges Toward Excellence,” from February 21 to 24, 2016, at Ating Tahanan National Program and Training Center, in Baguio City. Andre was a big hit as he talked on logo love and the importance of consistency in the use of the GSP’s logo, while I drilled down to their guidelines on the use and applications of their logo.

We both enjoyed the presentation, and were pleasantly surprised when Ma. Dolores “Beng” Santiago, GSP’s National Executive Director suddenly announced that I was going to be inducted as an adult girl scout volunteer. I was so happy I actually jumped on stage. After being given the GSP kerchief and pin and reading aloud the Girl Scout Promise and pledging to abide by the Girl Scout Law, I was sworn in while the council executives sang the girl scout song in unison. Oh, it was a dream come true!

With February 25^th declared a national holiday, we decided to stay on after the talk and do the tourist rounds. Armed with friends’ recommendations on what to see, where to go and what to eat, we looked forward to the trip. His gym friends highly recommended we eat pizza at Amare la Cucina at Albergo de Ferroca, Leonard Wood Road, even saying the pizza there was much better than any in Manila. Another suggestion was to eat at Ketchup Community opposite The Wright Park which supposedly had the best baby back ribs this side of the country. It helped that Andrè had spent many summers up in Baguio in his youth, and he was eager to show me his usual haunts.

We stayed at the Baguio Country Club, where the air was thick with the scent of pine. Memories of my childhood visits to Baguio came flooding back. After praying at the Cathedral, we walked down Session Road, hardly recognizable with the thick throng of people walking up and down, the modern fast food joints, the malls and the outdoor advertising screaming for attention, and yet here and there I could still spot the facade of edifices that spoke of my youth, like the Session Theater. We ducked into one of the small bookstores where it seemed that time stood still. I yearned to see the store where my dad had bought me my first comic book, the Chinese restaurant where we would eat, and the Pines Hotel where we would stay. Alas, they were no longer there.

We crossed over to Burnham Park traversing the dusty football field, and entered the walkway now lined with stalls selling various merchandise opposite a row of creative and attractive flower installations set up for the Panagbenga Flower Festival. Baguio is renowned for its beautiful and colorful flowers, and it was a special treat to see this flower exhibit.

Colorful bicycles for rent lined another part of the park, another blast from the past. Once again, I was transported to my youth, when my brothers and I would ride the bicycles around the park. The manmade lake was still there, but this time, the little boats sported figures from Sponge Bob to Micky Mouse. Andrè offered to rent one with a swan, provided I did the rowing, which I naturally refused with a smile. We meandered through the park, enjoying the bright sunflowers, the warm sun on our skin, dispelling the coolness in the air.

Mines View Park was another destination, and we shopped for souvenirs at the little shops. Baguio fare was still the same as I remembered it: delicate silver trinkets, colorful ponchos and sweaters, native woven cloth, and wooden items from baskets to keychains with the ubiquitious Barrel Man still sitting proudly amongst the items on display. I settled for some thick brooms with “eight fingers,” a far cry from the thin ones available in Manila. I noticed that these days they sold brooms dyed in different colors, and I wondered if the dye would run off the wooden floors if the broom got wet. Of course, a visit to Baguio would not be complete without buying “pasalubong” from the Pink Sisters, a veritable institution. We loaded up on strawberry and mango jam, santol preserves, and their caramel alfajor.

At the Baguio City Market, we bought upland rice, Arabica coffee, vegetables, cut flowers, and fresh strawberries. I got throw rugs, soft white handwoven Ilocos blankets, and colorful kitchen handtowels. At the Easter Weaving Room, we viewed various native fabric from different tribes, and got some table linen. Naturally, we could not leave the Baguio Country Club without a dozen of its famous raisin bread, another standard pasalubong.

I had a great guide in Andrè as he pointed out landmarks like Mansion House, Casa Vallejo Hotel, The Wright Park, Teachers Camp, the Botanical Garden, the Crystal Caves, City Hall, the Convention Center where several Ad Congresses took place, the Baguio General Hospital & Medical Center, the hotels, the churches, with a running commentary on how it was when he was young, and the fun he and his siblings would have exploring and playing. We walked at Camp John Hay, enjoying the cool breeze, checking out the new stores, and chanced upon the Hill Station Bistro where I spied a Tajine, which I immediately bought. Ever since I sampled my Rome-based sister’s delicious dishes prepared using a Moroccan Tajine, I have been searching for one, and now I finally had one.

I had long wanted to visit the Ben Cab Museum, hearing about it from my daughters who would go up to Baguio, and so we made sure we checked it out. The collection was beautiful, although there was much more of Ben Cab’s work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where he has an ongoing exhibition. Antique wood sculptures seem to be a favorite of Ben Cab, with bulols or “Ifugao rice gods” occupying a prominent wall. A bulol is a carved human figurine which Ifugaos believe is inhabited by an anito or spirit, and is thus worshipped with rituals involving pig’s blood, wine and rice cakes. Carved from narra wood, the bulol usually comes in a pair, and represents happiness and riches. I loved the gardens around the museum, the strawberry patch, the little manmade lake with the hut in the middle, the beautiful view of the mountainside, the lush greenery and the cool crisp air. Ben Cab also had a whimsical cafe with vibrant colors.

It was interesting to see Baguio from Andrè’s lens. He rued the fact that the mountainside which was once a green expanse of verdant trees has been replaced by a myriad of houses that dotted the view. The scent of fragrant pine has been replaced by diesel fumes of vehicles gnarled in traffic. The horses at Mines View Park had beribboned manes dyed pink, and sad-eyed Saint Bernards lazed on the benches, waiting for tourists to have their photos taken with them. Despite these troubling changes, Baguio still had its charm.

Being the foodies that we are, eating was a natural high, and Baguio delivered handsomely on the promise. From Mario’s to Café by the Ruins to Hill Station in the historical Casa Vallejo Hotel established in 1909, the food experience was superb. The teppanyaki dinner at Hamada at the country club hit just the right spot, with our chef showing off his knife juggling skills, then forming the food into hearts with a whisper of “Para sa forever.” Even the daily breakfast buffet at the recently renovated Veranda was heartening, with the promise to become even better as we ran into celebrated Chef Myrna Segismundo who is now consulting with them.

Even the drive up to Baguio was a pleasant experience. We left the South at 4:45am, afraid we would be bogged down by the busy Monday EDSA traffic. The Triplex cut down traveling time to three hours from the start of NLEX. We broke our fast at the S.O.U.L. Café, short for Spice of the Urban Life, another recommendation from his gym friends. SOUL Café featured an extensive menu, and I was eager to try their Dr. Seuss-inspired green eggs cheese omelette and ham for breakfast, while Andrè opted for their longganisa breakfast. The food was so good, we decided to eat there too on the way back to Manila.

Everywhere we went, we bumped into people Andrè knew. It was great meeting his friends, but even more wonderful was the chance to just be alone, talk, discover each other, walk hand-in-hand, and be with someone I love. I am learning to slow down from the hustle and bustle of work and smell the flowers, as they say. I will always remember Baguio for this idyllic adventure, and look forward to the next trip, and perhaps try that famous pizza one day.

Children, Church, Corporate Social Responsibility, Family, Food, Friendship, God, Life, Love, Tourism, Travel, Women, Work

2015, A Most Challenging Year

December 31, 2015 administrator

Bea, Cara, Niccolo and I are in the car driving to Tali where we will spend New Year’s Eve with the Lago family. Their daughter, Mandy is Cara’s best friend from St. Scholastica’s College, and they have invited us to their lovely beach home.

We’ve traditionally spent New Year’s Eve with family at home. After attending mass, we would gather the family and our househelp together in the dining room for Noche Buena, with the usual fare of chicken relleno, homemade ham, and queso de bola. Over dinner, we would play High-Low, where each one of us would share our high and low experiences for the year. We would then thank God for our many blessings, especially the gift of family and friends. After dinner, we would head for the balcony to watch the fireworks around us. At the stroke of midnight, we would toast to the New Year with champagne, hurriedly eat 12 grapes for good luck in the coming year, and hug and kiss each other. And then the children would go off to see their friends.

Two years ago, we did the usual New Yea’s Eve celebration, but it was so sad because Mike was no longer with us. We resolved then to have a different experience each year. Last year, we went to Palms Country Club, and this time we will be spending it at Tali.

Looking back at work, TeamAsia has had its best year in more than two decades under the able leadership of Bea as managing director, with the help of our committed and strong ManComm, and our growing family of enthusiastic, innovative, and young TeamAsians. We’ve organized several conferences like Arangkada, the 7^th International IT-BPM Summit, the Zomato Restaurant Summit, the IMMAP Conference, and the Pacific Insurance Conference, as well as, supported various APEC events and the inaugural Madrid Fusion Manila. We’ve brought the delegate experience to a higher level with our event mobile apps, audience response system and B2B matching, and our digital and social media marketing. We’ve continued to work with stellar clients like Capital One, Globe, Pepsi, Chevron and Google. And we are so very thankful for staunch partners like Mart Miranda, Vince Feliciano, and Manolet Tobias who have been the wind behind our wings. It’s also been a year of strengthening operations and cleaning house.

On the family front, our Dada is just as beautiful and charming as ever, a rock for all of us, but more frail than usual. She is now 81 years old, and still threatens to travel to the US to visit her children and grandchildren and to Madrid to visit her sisters, already hatching travel plans.

My first born Bea has blossomed into a strong leader, inspiring everyone to do their best, working with each director to ensure everything is on track, gaining the confidence of clients, and bringing sunshine and sparkles to the office each day. She has attended the wedding of two of her best friends, one in Texas and the other in Hawaii, and will be going to another one in India next week. One day, a very lucky man will be able to win her heart, and I pray that he will take care of her and love her with all his heart.

Cara has left her beloved Boracay to come to Manila and work on slow food research for Chele Gonzalez of ArroZeria and Gallery Vask fame. This gives her the freedom to pursue her entrepreneurial dream. A week ago, she launched her online swimsuit line Diwata Swimwear, creating cheeky bikinis for young women who, like her, love to explore islands and oceans (www.diwataswimwear.com). I remember scouring the streets of Trastevere in Rome two Decembers ago with Cara looking for a shop that sold Lycra fabric for her bikini line, and trying to communicate in Spanish to the Italian shopkeeper what she needed. Watching her doodle on her drawing book, contact possible suppliers, search for a suitable seamstress, and travel to different islands for inspiration with Ramon to take photos for her website, has revealed a whole new dimension of my once shy little girl.

Now a strapping young man and all of 20 years old, Niccolo is working through his double degree of Applied Economics, major in Financial Economics, and Marketing Management at De La Salle University. He is buffed from regular visits to the gym, and still goes biking sometimes, but spends most of his time with Sam, his girlfriend, who has gotten him interested in baking cookies and exploring the art world. While he’s grown to be a young man, Niccolo continues to be sweet and caring.

As for me, I started the first day of 2015 in Hong Kong with my then boyfriend Rollie Gosiengfiao. We talked about a future together, but it was not meant to be for by the third week of January, he was gone, taken suddenly by a massive heart attack. This came on the heels of a crisis in my professional life. Grief-stricken, I was once again thrown into deep depression, and escaped to Madrid and Rome to be with kin and lick my wounds. Coming back, I arrived too late to see my dear aunt Julia alive. I focused on work and my various commitments to associations. I’ve visited Bangladesh three times for a World Bank related project, and learned how life is in that part of the world. Visiting other places in the world and experiencing their cultures have made me appreciate life even more, and whetted my appetite for adventure.

This December, I’ve closed the chapter on my three-year stint at the Tourism Promotions Board (TPB) as director representing the Meeting, Incentives Travel, Conventions, Exhibitions & Events Services & Facilities Sector. I’ve also graduated from being president to chairman of the Philippine Association of Convention/Exhibition Organizers and Suppliers (PACEOS), and continue to be chairman of Hopkins International Partners, and trustee and board secretary of the League of Corporate Foundations (LCF). I’m very proud of the organizations I am part of as I believe these have a positive impact in the industries they represent.

I’m also very happy with our yearend CSR project, My Dream in a Shoebox Year 7, where we encourage volunteers to donate a used shoebox covered in festive Christmas wrapper and filled with school supplies. Jointly organized by TeamAsia and the Information Technology and Business Process Association of the Philippines (IBPAP), the annual project has helped thousands of children continue with their education. From 200 boxes collected in the first year, we’ve breached 35,000 so far this year, and with the help of volunteers from various BPM companies and the Armed Forces of the Philippines, have organized several outreach activities, distributing the shoeboxes where they are most needed. I’ve also done storytelling about the beauty of love, friendship and giving to 300 children at the Payatas Orione Foundation, to 1,000 children at the San Pedro Calungsod Quasi Parish, to 60 children at SOS Village, and to 500 children at the Ascension of Our Lord Parish. And through all of these, I realize that we actually gain more than the children, as we leave with hearts full of joy that we have made them smile.

Challenging times have a knack of revealing who your real friends are, the ones who stay with you through thick and thin. I am happy and grateful to learn who they are. I’ve also made new friends, like my Gee Whiz Girls and my L2C group, and my Bible Study Fellowship group that has kept me grounded in the Lord. And wonder of wonders, I’ve met a farmer who has turned out to be a great friend, bringing light and laughter into my life again. It’s been a challenging year, but as it turns out 2015 has been good overall, and I look forward to an awesome 2016.

As we close the year and greet 2016, I wish you all a long, happy, healthy, prosperous and wonderfully meaningful life.

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.

Children, Church, Death, Family, Forgiveness, Friendship, Life, Love, Women, Work

Honoring Cathy

September 30, 2015 administrator 3 Comments

10574634_10204406469656105_1381062784_o — Cathy and her cousin. Noche buena 2014.

When I first met Cathy, she was dark, skinny and had a haunted air around her. It was the 27^th of April 2012. I was in dire need of a maid, and so was my mom, and she was referred by the helper of a neighbor. Interviewing her, I learned that she had run away from her husband and come to Manila to look for a job. She said her husband’s family had a history of mental illness, and he had started to beat her up. Her husband’s family was well-to-do, she said, and they looked down on her as she came from humble beginnings.

Her father had left them when she was young and had taken up with someone else. Later when he was ill, he returned to their family so that they could take care of him. She told me he used to be quite violent when drunk and would beat up her mother. This scarred her for life. Her mom, on the other hand, is very religious and serves the church. Her sole source of income came from donations from people who would ask her to pray for their dead. Cathy could not understand why her mother took her father back after abandoning them, and even nursed him until he died.

The eldest in her family, Cathy graduated with top honors in high school, while working as househelp for relatives. She was studying to be a teacher when she fell madly in love with the man she would eventually marry. They eloped and she got pregnant. Living with him, however, soon became a nightmare, as relations with her in-laws was strained, and her husband began exhibiting disturbing tendencies. She suffered silently until she got beaten up in front of her daughters. She could not bear inflicting the same hurt on her daughters that she had suffered as a child, and she planned her escape.

Cathy left her daughters with her mom for safekeeping and got on a bus to Manila, showing up at our home the day after she arrived in Manila. We agreed that if she stayed a year working for us that I would buy her a ticket home so she could visit her children.

Cathy had two daughters, a year apart. The eldest was barely two when she left them. She missed them terribly, and transferred her motherly love to Niccolo. At first, she was worried about communicating as Mike and Niccolo spoke only English. Nosebleed, she would say. But later, she was able to adjust quickly, and soon became the interpreter of the other househelp.

10856097_10204293419029910_174125328_o — Helping me make Christmas ham, a yearly tradition.

Cathy had an amazing zest for life, and was always upbeat. She loved to learn new things, and would watch me as I cooked, asking questions as to how things were done. I encouraged her to read my cookbooks, and essentially gave her free reign in the kitchen to experiment various recipes. Sometimes, it was hit and miss, but she soon mastered the art of pasta. She learned my recipes by heart and could whip up any dish I asked her to make. She specially enjoyed helping me prepare Christmas ham.

10876846_10204406679501351_2102868092_o — Cathy was my rock at home. Here she is with me, one Christmas eve. Bugsy refused to be left out of the photo.

Long before the Kasambahay Law came in, I enrolled her in SSS, Pag-ibig and HDMF. Each Christmas and New Year, it was our family’s practice to celebrate Noche Buena together with our househelp around the dinner table. We would invite their close family members to join us. In Cathy’s case, it was Jay-R, her younger brother, who would come.

Hardworking and diligent, Cathy soon became indispensable to our household. She endeared herself to everyone, including my mom. They would spend hours chit-chatting about everything under the sun. Dada would teach her how to take care of the house and of us and give her advice on life. Cathy reciprocated by taking care of Dada whenever she would visit us, and making sure Dada took her medicine properly. When Dada was in Quiapo, Cathy would call to check on her. They were phone pals. Niccolo too was dependent on her for almost everything, from his clothes to his food. Even Bugsy transferred his allegiance to her, as she was the one who fed him, bathed him and took him for walks.

When Mike took ill with cancer in October 2012, Cathy helped me take care of Mike, especially when he stopped going to work and I had to do double time at the office. She and I would take shifts at the hospital when he would have chemo, blood transfusions or stem cell injections. She prepared his meals while I was at work and would cajole him to eat. When Mike died, Cathy was there too, crying with the family. And she was a tower of strength during that dark period after Mike died, making sure I ate, and keeping me company. When I hurt my back and was in terrible pain, Cathy would help me get up from bed and put on my back brace.

524155_3842057244220_1210320727_n — With Malie and Cathy, a year before Mike died.

When Malie, my other maid left, Cathy offered to be the sole kasambahay, saying she preferred to be alone. Anyway, she argued that she only had Niccolo and me to take care of since Bea was away in the US and Cara was in Boracay. I agreed and gave her a hefty raise. She ran the house well, and gained our full trust and confidence. We loved her, and we believe she loved us too.

10849419_10204340979418890_249879269_o — Lectors’ Christmas Party. That’s Cathy in the center seated on the floor.

Knowing how intelligent she was, I asked Cathy if she wanted to serve in our parish after Mike died. She accepted eagerly but was worried how she would be accepted by the village. I took her under my wing and taught her how to become a lector. We would practice her delivery of the English readings before the mass. At home, we would pray the rosary and I would let her lead. Soon, she gained enough confidence and was at ease in front of the congregation. She was warmly welcomed by our lector family as an equal, and was even chosen to head the secretariat for the last Parish Renewal Experience (PREX). The kasambahays in the village looked up to her, and wanted to emulate her. She was their star, the most popular househelp of the village.

When Yolanda hit Leyte, Cathy was beside herself with worry. Her family lived in Carigara, near Tacloban. There was no news of her family as communication lines were down. We searched on the Internet and TV for news of her children and posted their photos on the portal for survivors. A week later, Jay-R said he could not stand it anymore and would go home and look for them himself. We sent him off with money and supplies. For days, Cathy worked non-stop to get over the fear of not knowing what happened her family. We were overjoyed when Jay-R texted to say he had found them unharmed, other than the house which had lost its roof and kitchen. We sent funds to help them rebuild, and offered for them to come to Manila and stay with us. But Cathy’s mom refused to leave as there were so many dead who had to be prayed for.

Cathy’s children were her pride and joy. Her eldest was studious and got good grades, but it was her spunky and strong-willed youngest who kept Cathy in stitches. The first time Cathy went home, she felt so bad because her children did not recognize her. By the time she was going to return to Manila, the eldest had started calling her mama. I remember the second time she went home, she had huge dolls for her daughters. Cathy always timed her home visits to make sure she was there when her daughter would receive her medals.

When the Kasambahay Law came into being, Cathy began to take leaves more often and not come home for the night. There was nothing I could do as this was the law, but I cautioned her to be careful and to keep safe. I noticed that she started putting on make-up and nail polish. I chalked this up to her youth.

When she came back from her last trip to the province, Cathy was often sick. Worried, we sent her for a check-up but she said she was OK. We noticed that she started slacking off as the house was no longer as spic and span as it was before, and clothes would not get washed or ironed right away. We hired someone to come in and help her.

When I got home late from work one night in June, I was surprised to see the house completely dark. I never brought my keys with me as Cathy was always there to open the gate and greet me. Worried that something had happened to her, I called the guardhouse. The security officer said Cathy had left in the morning and not returned. I waited until Bea got home with her keys so we could enter the house. We were surprised to find all her clothes missing. I felt stabbed in the heart. How could Cathy do this to me? I sent a message to Jay-R, asking if he knew why she left.

Later we discovered the letter she had left us. She asked for our forgiveness and said she had to leave because she was pregnant and didn’t know what to do. I was so angry and disappointed! She could have told us, and we would have been the first to help her. We learned that she had planned her escape, sending sealed boxes in the car whenever my mother would go home to her house in Manila. I spoke to Manang, my mom’s maid who was Cathy’s townmate, and she admitted that Cathy had sent boxes of her things to be sent to the province and that they had all been collected by another of their friends. What a cowardly thing to do!

I asked my caretaker in the farm to come with his wife and help us out while we searched for a new maid. His wife learned from the village kasambahays that Cathy had said she was not being paid well and that’s why she left. This incensed my caretaker’s wife, as she knew how well we treat our helpers. I decided to cut clean and removed her from my contact list.

Last Saturday, when I visited my mom, Manang told me that Cathy was very sick. She started to cry, but since Manang was prone to drama, I told her to stop crying and not to tell me anything about Cathy as she had made her decision to leave us. Sunday night, an FB message popped up from Jay-R. Cathy was dead. He said she had died of typhoid fever in their province, her unborn child with her. I felt stricken to the core.

Jay-R told me that she had been ill for weeks, going in and out of the hospital, and since he could not take care of her as he worked, she decided to go home to the province and get well there. It was not to be. She became gravely ill in Carigara. He told me too that while she was delirious, she kept on saying she loved me and Niccolo and was sorry she had hurt us.

Reflecting on what happened, I guess Cathy did not know how to face the community when she learned she was pregnant, especially as she was a lector. We were always told to give a good example. How could she explain that she was pregnant when everyone knew she was separated from her husband? It is sad, but Cathy had a pattern of failling in love, and then running away when the situation became difficult.

13904_10203466142788521_3486103470985968514_n — On August 9, 2014, I posted this pciture of Cathy and me on my IG and FB: “Cathy is my super woman. She takes care of my home, my children, and me. We all love her! Oh, I forgot! She takes care of Bugsy and the kois too. And she serves at the parish as a lector.”

Our last conversation before she ran away was about second chances. She had always wanted an annulment from her husband so that she could begin life afresh. She wanted a second chance at love, just as I had with Mike. I told her to start writing down her life story as this would be needed, and promised to help her get that annulment. How, I wish I could have helped her!

I write this now to honor Cathy. Yes, she had hurt us deeply, but what I choose to remember is the love we had shared. I trust that she is now in heaven, where there is no pain and only the everlasting joy of being with our Lord. Thank you, Cathy!

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?

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