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Hua Hin Adventure

June 2, 2016 administrator 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trying to be superheroes and holding up the titled house

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bella Amarela

May 5, 2016 administrator

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The beautiful expanse of sand and sea and sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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Rodeo Masbateño: Philippines’ Wild Wild East

April 16, 2016 administrator 4 Comments

When I hear the word rodeo, I immediately think of Texas. Mike, my late husband, hailed from Texas, and we had a chance to see a rodeo several years back. When Maloli Espinosa-Supnet invited me to the Rodeo Masbateño, I readily agreed, curious to learn about the Filipino version of this Texan tradition. Little did I know that I was in for an exciting experience.

My flight was to leave at 5:00 am Tuesday, which meant I had to be up by 2:30 am to get dressed for the airport. And since I finished packing at 1:00 am, I literally had just an hour’s wink before my fellow-traveler Andrè Kahn picked me up with cowboys hats in tow. Having served for several decades on the Advertising Board of the Philippines and the Kapisanan ng mga Brodkaster ng Pilipinas in different capacities as chairman, vice-chairman, president and director, Andrè was close to Maloli who owned The Ranch 95.9, the Sound of Masbate.

With us on the plane ride to Masbate was another industry friend of Andrè’s, Boy Pangilinan. A major sponsor of the Rodeo, BoyP took care of marketing and promotions for the event. Listening to him talk passionately about the Rodeo, I could see his eyes light up. Here was a man who loved Masbate and its Rodeo, despite the fact that he is not from there. An independent media buyer/planner, BoyP has a travel blog called boyplakwatsa.com. BoyP’s passion is to travel to all the islands of the Philippines, even to the remotest barrios, and share the beauty of the country in his blog. Needless to say, boyplakwatsa.com is quite popular with nigh over 48,000 followers.

Arriving at the airport, we were greeted by a group of cowboys and cowgirls line dancing at the arrival area. Waiting outside was Maloli who quickly whisked us to her home for breakfast and to get dressed for the rodeo opening and the grand parade. There I met Maloli’s husband, General Mark Supnet, her brother Mark and his lovely wife Gidget Cabreza-Espinosa and their two younger children, Lian and Marcus. We hied off to witness the Grand Rodeo Festival Parade.

Hundreds of cowboys joined the parade, some mounted on horses and others walking.

General Mark Supnet rides by with a smile.

Watching the parade, my excitement mounted as ranch owners, cowboys and cowgirls rode by on horses, followed by representatives from various organizations, all dressed to the nines in western attire. I noticed that many of the cowboys rode the horses confidently, using only blankets to cushion the ride. Mark Supnet and Mark Espinosa rode by on huge, stately horses.

The bull float bearing the RMI organizers.

Maloli, being part of the
festival organizers, Rodeo Masbateno, Inc. (RMI) rode with the other board members on a float designed like a bull. They were all wearing colorful Mexican hats.

There were cowboys displaying their prowess in whiplashing and lassoing, pretty ladies marching down the street, and smartly-dressed drum and bugle bands playing behind them. Storefronts along the main street were decorated in theme with the rodeo.

The day before the trip, Andrè had told me casually that we were guests of honor, and that we had to make a speech. I thought he was pulling my leg, but when I saw the empty chairs on the grandstand with our names on them as guests-of-honor, my heart sank. A speech without sleep? Are you kidding? What do I say?

A cowboy on a horse bearing the Philippine flag signalled the singing of the Philippine national anthem. The organizers gave each of the VIP guests a pigeon to hold and release at the same time together with 100 other pigeons. Anxiety mounted as the person handing the pigeons got closer to me. Being deathly afraid of all feathered birds as a result of a childhood trauma, I whispered frantically to Andrè that I just couldn’t do it. He said it was OK and handed me the camera to document the release. It was a magnificent sight to behold.

We shared the VIP seats with the Rodeo Masbateño Inc. President Judge Manuel Sese; local government officials: the governor, his wife the vice-governor, the city mayor; two congresswomen; and three senatorial candidates: Roman Romulo, Rissa Hontiveros and Sherwin Gatchalian. Even Korina Sanchez-Roxas, wife of Liberal Party Standard bearer Mar Roxas, showed up. Evidently it was campaign season. I admired the organizers when I learned they had limited the politicians’ speeches to a minute each. The rodeo festival was not meant to be a political rally, they stressed.

True enough, I was called to the podium to give a speech, and I decided to focus on the benefits tourism can bring to Masbate especially with regard to job creation and inclusive growth. I urged Masbateños to promote not just the Rodeo but the province’s other attractions like its marine sanctuaries and beautiful beaches, cautioned them to take care of the environment to ensure sustainability, and invited everyone to become ambassadors and promote the province by posting positive news daily about the Masbate on their social media networks like Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Up next was Andrè, and he congratulated the organizers on placing the Masbate Rodeo Festival not just on the Philippine map but on the international map of rodeos. When Andrè said that the Masbate Annual Rodeo has become as popular as the Sinulog of Cebu, the Maskara of Bacolod, and the Panagbenga of Baguio, the crowd cheered. Since Andrè had been visiting Masbate since the early 90s when there were still no hotels, he spoke from the heart when he observed that indeed Masbate has changed and that the Rodeo has branded Masbate as the cattle capital of the country. Strong words from a pillar of the advertising broadcasting industry!

The competing teams hailing from all over the Philippines were then called in and took their oath of sportsmanship. The teams consisted of professionals and vet med students who would compete in eight main events: cattle lassoing wrestling on foot, steer lassoing on horseback, steer wrestling from horseback, casting down, two-person carambola, four-person carambola, bull riding, and load carrying. It was interesting to note that teams included women. Inclusiveness and diversity was in force. Other events included bull riding for women, team penning and bronco riding.

The opening ceremonies ended with the ceremonial branding of the rodeo bull. Praying that it would not be too painful for the bull, Rissa Hontiveros and I held the branding rod and pressed it in the bull’s haunch. It was Andrè’s turn next to brand the bull.

I learned that the Rodeo Festival upholds Republic Act 8485 or the Animal Welfare Act of 1998, which calls for the safety of animals. There is even a resident certified rodeo veterinarian, Hernando Durongon who looks after the safety of the participating animals. Participating cattle are lent by ranch owners and RMI is responsible for their well being during the festival.

Later that day, we were lucky to watch the rodeo from the media bleachers where we were closer to the action. There were bronco rides where the rider had to stay eight seconds on the horse, waving his hand without touching his head. There was a team competition where cowboys on foot had to lasso a bull and bring it to the

ground, then tie up its legs. And another where cowboys on horseback had to do the same. There were heart thumping moments when the bulls were huge and mean, and the cowboys fell and were seemingly trampled or kicked by the bull. And other funny moments when the bull refused to play and just lay down by itself, prompting the cowboys to coax it up.

Wednesday at 9am was the cattle run. We went to the starting point in the midst of town where about 30 heads of cattle would be released with cowboys herding them. The streets were packed with Masbateños eager to watch the run. I asked if there was any risk to the spectators seeing how some of the bulls yesterday were pretty mad and charged the cowboys. The organizers told us the cowboys would make sure we were unharmed. Nevertheless, we marked a quick getaway path just in case a rogue bull went berserk. It was so exciting I forgot to take a picture of their release, intent on saving my hide. What a coward I was!

13001295_10154280627934672_2210111524426646609_n — Waiting for the cattle run to come by, safely behind the grilled balcony.

We moved to another location for the second release where over a 100 heads of cattle would be released. This time, however, we were safely behind an elevated and grilled veranda with the doctors from the Department of Health. Best company to be with. Maloli, on the other hand, proved to be the real cowgirl as she clambered fearlessly over an open pick-up to better see the cattle run.

The Filipino sense of humor spilled out as people awaited the arrival of the cattle. Here was a cowboy galloping down the street as if a whole tribe of Indians were after him. There was another elderly man, possibly in his 80s, doing cartwheels on the street. Another cowhand sat on his haunches, rolling his lasso. We, on the other hand, took selfies with the doctors, another Filipino tradition.

And then the cattle arrived with cowboys. What a sight to behold! I felt like I was in a Western movie, except this was the real thing. The cattle run was over in a matter of minutes, but not before some decided to make a detour and enter the side streets, with the cowhands running after them to herd them back out into the street. We were laughing as they were brought back out. In one case, the cowhand came out riding the bull, drawing laughter from the crowd. Maloli recounted how in one instance a bull entered a BIR office and refused to leave. It probably wanted to see Henares!

After the cattle run, we proceeded to the rodeo arena where the cattle were kept for the herding competition. It was interesting how there seemed to be leaders in the pack. When they moved, the rest followed. Most of the cattle stayed together as a herd, but there were one or two loners that stayed apart, and another lazy one that refused to stay under the sun, and kept close to the shaded area. Could be a senior citizen, we surmised.

A hut on stilts. Such a serene view of the sea

Late afternoon, we decided to take a break from the rodeo and go swimming. Mark and Gidget brought us to Buntod Marine Sanctuary. Buntod is actually a powdery white sandbar on one end and a mangrove on the other. In the midst is a house on stilts where people could eat the picnic food they brought, and rent snorkelling and dive equipment.

The place was packed with people frolicking on the sandbar and swimming. Teenagers were playing patintero, fathers were teaching their young how to swim, and mothers were packing as the sun was setting soon. We noticed one mother scrubbing her caldero with sand while her little daugher watched. And because we are all Filipinos, most everyone had their mobile phones out taking photos of the fun they were having.

The view of the setting sun from the mangroves.

We swam in the crystal clear blue water, and walked along the mangroves. It was so peaceful by the mangroves, a popular date place for lovers according to Mark. A flock of birds flew in formation, momentarily disturbing the calm. We marvelled at the fruit of the mangrove tree, like a string bean growing out of a chico with horns, as Andrè described it.

Soon the other boats had departed and we were the only ones left. Except for the gentle lapping of the waves against the stilts, all was quiet. We feasted on turon with langka and cassava boiled in coconut milk while watching the sun set, and the colors of the sky change from blue to pink to grey. It was magical!

Thursday morning, we set off for the 500-ha ML Ranch in Punta Tigbao with Mark, Gidget and their children. ML stands for Moises and Ludivina, the parents of Mark and Maloli. Moises was the former governor of Masbate. His youngest son Mark now managed the ranch.

Mark and Gidget Espinosa with Lian and Marcus on the motorized banca as we headed for Sitio Punta Tigbao.

To get to Sitio Punta Tigbao, we first took a 45-minute car ride to Calasuche, then take another 45-minute boat ride on a banca with bamboo outriggers. The waters at first were calm, but became rather choppy as we went further out to sea. White caps appeared on the waves, a sure sign that the waters were rough. Pretty soon, my denim pants and rubber shoes were drenched.

Disembarking at Sitio Pinta Tigbao, we toured the 100-families strong fishing community. Mark explained that his father had allowed the community to settle there. It was a self-sustaining community, with a small chapel, an elementary school from kinder to grade six, a basketball court, and a smaller plaza. Funds came from a project called ‘Piso sa Kilo’ which the Espinosas started. For every kilo of fish caught and sold, the fishermen donated P1 to the fund.

It was clear that Mark was respected and loved by the residents of the community. The men approached him for advice, guidance and orders, speaking to him in gentle voices, and the women smiled and greeted us. We walked to the fenced cattle corral and climbed the raised hut in its midst. There we enjoyed a sumptuous meal prepared by the villagers: freshly steamed crabs, stuffed crabs, crispy fried dried squid, and piping hot rice.

Grateful to get out of the scorching hot sun, we watched as the cattle were herded into the corral. Soon the corral was full with about 400 head of cattle. It was interesting to watch them as there appeared to be some alpha males in the group that would lead the herd. Inside the corral, two bulls challenged each other. Calves followed their moms, while their moms showed their maternal instinct as they waited to ensure their calves were following them. Mark showed us a contraption shaped like a giant inverted forked tong that would keep the cattle still while they were branded or given vitamins. There were narrow walkways between fences that would allow cattle to pass one at a time. I caught myself counting the cattle as they passed out of the corral to pasture.

The children garbed in colorful clothes followed us, just like they did in the fairytale, the Pied Piper of Hamlyn. They climbed trees and perched on the fence, watching from a distance and waiting patiently for us to leave the cattle corral. No wonder they appeared excited as we learned that each time he visited the ranch, Mark brought candies for the children. This time around, he had a carton full of assorted colorful candies, and he kindly asked his Lian, Marcus and me to throw the the candies in the air for the children to run after. Oh, were they happy! And so were we! I made a mental note to include the 350 children in our yearend My Dream in a Shoebox campaign that provides school supplies for children in shoeboxes wrapped in festive paper.

Soon it was time to board the motorized banca and return to Masbate City. This time around, the boatride was fast and uneventful. Andrè explained that this was because we were going with the tide.

Back at the Rodeo Arena, we watched the Street Barn Dance Competition as 14 teams performed to the rolicking anthem of Rodeo Masbateño. The creativity of the teams was obvious in their costumes, props and dance moves.

We retired to the Espinosa home to have dinner with the family and pack for our early morning plane ride the next day.

With the Espinosas at their home. Behind is a beautiful painting of their father Governor Moises riding on a horse with the cattle behind.

I am so grateful for the warm hospitality of the Espinosa family, especially Maloli and her husband Mark, Mark and his wife Gidget, and Carmen, Maloli’s sister-in-law who prepared a delicious sansrival for dessert. They all made our visit extra special and took such great care of us. I enjoyed the friendly family repartee during meal times, their delicious spread at the long wooden dining table, and the serious discussions as to how tourism can be developed in Masbate. I greatly admire them for the passion they have to improve the lives of Masbateños.

Looking back on the past three days, I can see clearly that Masbate has a lot of potential for tourism, especially with its beautiful beaches and its ranch life. While the Rodeo Festival brings in as many as 50,000 visitors as shared by the Department of Tourism representative I chatted with, Masbate can ensure a more sustainable tourism industry by developing more attractions. All it needs is a few enterprising people to package and promote the ranch experience and allow tourists to learn about the customs and lifestyle of ranchers, meet and talk to real-life cowboys, eat what they eat and live as they do. And while they are at it, enjoy the pristine sand and clear blue waters of Masbate, and marvel at the rich marine life it harbours in its corals. And once a year, give everyone unforgettable memories of the Wild, Wild West. I vowed to go back next year, with my children in tow, so they too can experience the unique and authentic Rodeo Masbateño.

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.

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

Romancing the Ruins

October 28, 2015 administrator

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

20151028_183616 — Don Mariano Ledesma Lacson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

20151016_190435 — The main entrance to the mansion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What makes your soul happy?

July 19, 2015 administrator

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adventure, Childhood, Family, Food, Friendship, God, Life, Tourism, Travel

Sibling Trip to Coron

May 23, 2015 administrator

Siblings, five years apart, on an unplanned Coron adventure.

May 16, 2015, 5:30am. Coron. The city is waking up, and so am I, wondering why my entire body seems to ache. For a second, I am unsure as to where I am, and then I remember yesterday’s adventure.

This was a sudden, unplanned trip. My Seattle-based brother Jean Pierre (Johnny) breezed into Manila for a dental visit and to stay a few weeks. This time, he was alone. During breakfast last Sunday, we talked about places we’ve always wanted to explore: Vigan, Batanes, Banawe, Coron, and more. I told him I would love to visit them. Well, he took it seriously, bought the tickets, booked a hotel he found on the Net, and called me to say the deed was done.

Just three days ago, I was running all over town busy with meetings. It was a hectic and interesting day, starting at 6:00 am when my driver’s wife called to say he wasn’t coming to work. With an 8am meeting in Ortigas and staff to pick up at the Alabang office at 7am, I quickly changed to flats and drove my car, with Wayz guiding me to meetings in Ortigas then Alabang, then to Makati, back to Alabang and finally to Paranaque in time for the 8pm mass to celebrate the feast of Our Lady of Fatima. I imagine there were quite a few white-knuckled moments and fervent prayers said. Sometime in between these meetings, Johnny called to announce we were confirmed for the 8am flight to Coron the next day.

I readily agreed to go. The last time, Johnny and I traveled together was 30 years ago. We went to Iligan for his ‘pamanhikan’ and wedding to Tita. I figured a sibling trip was long overdue.

With bags packed, we were off on our adventure! Arriving at the Busuanga airport, I was surprised to see the Cabuslays, friends from our village who were also visiting Coron. Sharing a van, we dropped them off at their resort and proceeded to Coron town where One Averee Bay Hotel was. The hotel was in the midst of town facing the plaza.

Courtesy visit to Fems Garcia, fellow CHSian and mayor of Coron

My friend Wilma Leagogo who owns Julie’s bakeshop came by to greet us. First off, we paid a courtesy call to Hon. Clara “Fems” Reyes, fellow CHSian and mayor of Coron. We then had lunch at Lolo Nonoy’s, then hurried back to the hotel for my 1pm concall with a client. After that, Johnny and I walked around town, looking for tours to take. The umbrella Wilma lent us came in handy as the fierce sun was beating down on us.

Wth my friend, neighbor, fellow servant parish leader, CHSian and all around nice person, Wilma Leagogo. Wilma owns the Julie's Bakeshop in Coron and took very good care of us. — Wth my friend, neighbor, fellow servant parish leader, CHSian and all around nice person, Wilma Leagogo. Wilma owns the Julie’s Bakeshop in Coron and took very good care of us.

Coron Town is a sleepy laid-back municipality. We visited small stores, mostly run by Muslim traders. An ancient looking sungka in the shape of a crocodile caught my eye but the proprietor refused to sell it. We ended up at Julie’s Bakeshop, and Wilma treated us to the most delicious freshly-baked pan de coco. It was so good I ate two of them. The poster said it was nakaka-loco and I wholeheartedly agree! Goodbye, figure. Oh well, I may end up shaped like a dugong later, but the food is hard to resist when it is this good.

The lobster was so fresh and delicious I almost cried while eating.

After freshening up and taking a stroll by Lualhati Park, we had dinner at Lobster King, as guests of Mayor Fems. The lobsters in kalamansi butter sauce were divine! Many thanks, Fems!

After dinner, Johnny and I decided on DCC’s tour package and went there to sign up. According to Mr. Kim, the Korean proprietor, we would share the boat with another couple who was going diving.

Back at the hotel, I stationed myself at Breakfast at Sydney’s, the hotel’s restaurant, to work. It was the only place with wifi and I had to complete some forms online for GCG. The website was not very friendly and I was getting frustrated whenever it would suddenly refresh and everything I had written was erased. Finally, by11pm, I was shooed off as they were closing.

That night, Johnny put on a movie entitled “Into the Woods.” The musical was quite interesting and had great actors but sleep took over quickly.

We woke up with much anticipation for the boat trip we had signed up for. But first we had a hearty breakfast of lamayo, Coron’s version of danggit, tapa and eggs. The brewed coffee was surprisingly robust. Wilma came by with a bag of Julie’s Spanish bread and bottles of water for our trip. What a thoughtful and kind gesture!

After last minute shopping for clear plastic ziplocks for my phones and slathering ourselves with sunblock, Johnny and I were ready to go. We met up with a young couple from Washington who were going diving: Matt who works for Starbucks in the US and handles their airport outlets and his friend Mihee who is a nurse. Matt and Mihee turned out to be from Seattle, so they had a lot of things to talk about with Johnny.

Our first stop was CYC Island which was chockfull with tourists. Donning my snorkeling gear, I went swimming but noticed there were so many black sea urchins around with scary looking spikes, so I turned back not wanting to be impaled. I didn’t realize I had gone so far and had a difficult time swimming back to our boat.

Next stop was Skeleton Wreck, named after the remnants of a Japanese supply ship. I’ve never seen a wreck before and was a bit nervous as it was in deep water, but with a life vest on, felt pretty safe.

Hearty meal by the shack with our guide.

We had lunch in a tiny hut on Skeleton Wreck. It was a simple meal of steamed rice, cucumber salad, grilled liempo and mackerel. While eating, I noticed a young couple paddle to the shore then climb onto a tall bamboo hut.

Members of the Taganua tribe, guarding Skeleton Wreck.

We walked over to say hello and they turned out to be from the Tagbanua tribe. They were assigned by their grandfather to collect fees from the boats that docked there. They told us there were 13 lakes on the island, and they had only seen two of them.

We transferred to Twin Lagoon, which required us to swim underneath some rocks to get to the hidden lagoon. The guide warned us it was brackish water, where fresh water from the lake mixed with salt water from the sea. Johnny and I snorkled, circling the lake’s perimeter. We were amazed at how the water would turn alternately hot and cold. It was exhilarating!

Barracuda Lake was up next. Our boat navigated between forbidding grey cliffs, with hardly any vegetation. It was eerie. Johnny commented that it seemed that anytime King Kong would make an appearance. The boat docked and we entered a break in the cliffs, walking on a slim bamboo walkway flanked by tall jagged rock formations on either side. Holding on to the flint-like rocks for support, I found them brittle and sharp.

After a short walk, we were greeted by an amazing sight. I gasped at the beauty of the lake. It was serene and still, hidden from view by the jagged cliffs. We jumped from the bamboo platform into the cool blue waters below. I looked down and hardly saw any fish swimming. However, there were black dots everywhere, as if someone had sprinkled too much black pepper on white spaghetti sticks. Curious, I picked up one of the black dots and it turned out to be a black spiral shell, much like what my grandmother used to cook as ginataang kuhol.

I relaxed and floated on my back, looking up at the cliffs and the blue sky above, thinking of my loved ones and thanking God for them. My companions and other tourists jumped from the cliffs, laughing and enjoying themselves, but I tuned them out. It was so peaceful! Soon, our guide told us it was time to go Kayangan Lake.

Kayangan Lake was the best of all, he promised, with caves to explore, a fantastic view, a beautiful lake, and a mountain to climb. Three hundred steps, he said: 150 up and a 150 down. Just 300 steps, I thought. I should be able to climb that. Johnny warned me not to count the steps saying I would just get disheartened, but that’s exactly what I did. I started counting, and by the 50th step was wondering as I tried to catch my breath if I would make it to the top. And when we reached the top, we realized that the guide was right, there were another 150 steps down to the lake. We hurried down, excited to get into the water.

A bamboo platform ringed half of Kayangan Lake and it seemed that there were people everywhere. We walked to the very end and stationed our things there. We checked out the cave which was but a short one. I started getting claustrophobic as more people entered the narrow cave, and escaped fast. Our guide boasted there was another subterranean way out. He dove into the water and came out a few seconds near the entrance. I heard Johnny saying he was going to do the same thing. I waited outside and when Johnny didn’t come out after several minutes, I started to worry, imagining him stuck in the rocks under water. How will I ever explain to his wife and children that I had not taken care of my brother? I was about to go back in to check on him when he appeared. Thank goodness!

Because of this incident and the fact that there were too many people around, I did not enjoy swimming in Kayangan as much as I did Barracuda or Twin Lagoon. But the guide was right. It is a beautiful place and one I would like to visit again during the lean period.

Once again, we had to climb the 300 steps to get back to the boat but not before a quick picture at the very top where the bat cave was. Our last stop was Twin Peaks where our companions were going to dive.

Donning our snorkeling gear, Johnny and I jumped into the water, discovering a most amazing world down under, with verdant coral, teeming with a myriad of fish in all shapes and sizes, colors and hues, nibbling at the coral. I wanted to take out my paints right then and there and capture the beauty of the seaworld, with its vibrant colors that would put any palette to shame. Various schools of fish passed us by, like ribbons of pulsating color, from matte to brilliant neons. I could have stayed there forever. Oh well! Back to reality. We returned to Coron Town, where we met up with Wilma for dinner and to make reservations for the next day’s tour.

Walking to Julie’s, we wondered why the streets were dark. Apparently, there was a brownout which had been going on for four hours. Luckily, electricity came back on as we made our way to Bistro Coron. Dinner was pizza, pasta and Hungarian sausages. I must say that their crusty French bread was very good. Tired, we went back to the hotel and promptly fell asleep.

The next day we were up early once more. This time around we were joiners at the JY tour. The trike picked us up and brought us to the Pantalan where we boarded our boat and met our companions for the tour.

New found friends. — New found friends who warmly welcome us into their group.

Ryan and Michelle are psychiatric nurses at a Riyadh Hospital on vacation. With them was Kaycee, Michelle’s sister who is a home-based software programmer and their cousin Knarf who was visiting from Canada. Then there was Randy and Abby who were celebrating their 12th wedding anniversary, and a young couple April and Ryan who were honeymooning. This was the second tour of our companions together so they were pretty friendly with each other already and warmly welcomed us to the group.

Henderson, our amiable tour guide, briefed us on what to expect. He was much more knowledgeable than our guide on the first day. He pointed out the sleeping giant, asking us to hazard a guess as to whether the giant was male or female. We all agreed it was a “she.”

Johnny and I perched on the side of the boat, trading stories of our childhood.

The boat ride to Malcapuya was and hour and a half away. Johnny and I sat by the side of the boat with our toes touching the me water, reminiscing childhood memories.

Malcapuya has a long stretch of white sand beach, perfect for lazing around. The beach was dotted with nipa huts. Our group settled on the farthest nipa hut, set down our things, and went straight into the water. Johnny showed me a bed of giant clams, their membranes opening and closing, each one different from the other. Some were tiger striped, others had green or blue or red mouths.

We had a veritable feast for lunch, with sinigang na lapu-lapu, grilled mackerel, grilled squid, chopsuey, adobong pusit, steamed rice, and an amazingly delicious salad of apple, mango, banana and Chinese petchay prepared by our guide. Henderson refused to share his recipe no matter how much we begged. Fresh coconut in their shells and sweet mango rounded up the meal. We were ready to hit the hammocks after lunch, but was given only a few minutes, so we tredged back to the boat. We must have all eaten so much as the boat refused to budge when we were all on it. The poor men had to disembark to push the boat out into deeper waters.

Banana Island was our next destination, but on the way there, our boat’s engine sputtered then died. Henderson asked us to help him call for help using our mobile phones, but there was no signal where we were. I texted the situation to my chidren and Wilma, hoping they would ge the message. Somehow, we were able to reach Banana Island’s bamboo raft, and we all disembarked to ride the bamboo raft to shore, while the boat captain and his assistant tried to fix the engine while waiting for help to come.

Luckily, the other boat was at a nearby island and they came over to check on us. Soon, we were on our way to our last stop, Bulag Dos. Our guide warned us that we had lost too much time and that we could only stay half an hour. This was enough time to have pictures taken and check out the beach. We climbed the little hill for a better view of the surroundings.

As we were about to board the boat, we learned from our companions that there were a lot of clown fish popularized by the movie “Nemo” in the area. We just had to take a look at them. While we were all hunched looking at the clown fish swimming in and out of their stone house, I noticed a much larger fish circling the stone, seemingly agitated. It suddenly attacked me, nipping me in the leg. Apparently, it is a territorial fish intent on defending its stone house which it shared with the family of Nemos.

We headed back to Coron. Wilma was patiently waiting for us at the dock with a trike that would bring us to Maquinit Falls. We were glad we went, despite being terribly tired. Wilma had packed a picnic dinner of grilled liempo, roast chicken and pinakbet from Lolo Nonoy’s. It was dark by the time we reached the resort, but there were still a lot of people there. We ate at one of the rustic picnic tables and made friends with the people at the next table who reveled us with stories of hidden treasures discovered in Palawan.

Basking in the warm waters of Maquinit Falls, I felt all the pains and aches slip away.

Maquinit Falls has three pools, catching the hot spring water from Mt. Dalara, a dormant volcano. They say the 40-degree Celsius water has healing powers, and that an egg left there will actually get cooked. I enjoyed dipping into the pool and letting the hot salt water ease away my aches and pains. I

Johnny walked around and came back saying it was beautiful at the other end of the resort. Curious, I went around to the other side of the pool, and walked on the bridge by the mangroves. It was dark and I was alone. True enough, when I looked up, I saw the vast expanse of the sky, twinkling with an array of stars, arranged by constellations. A shooting star crossed the skies. Moved by all this beauty, I praised the Lord, and thanked Him for all the many blessings I’ve received, praying for all the people He had sent my way, for those I have loved and have gone ahead, and most of all, for my family. And at that very moment, I felt one with all the generations of people everywhere who have looked up to the sky and felt an upwelling of emotions. We have an awesome Creator!

That night, Johnny and I put on the movie, Into the Woods, again, intent on finishing it. As you can imagine, we both fell asleep from being so tired. Someday, I will finish this movie, but for now, I’m glad I took this sibling trip to Coron with Johnny. There is still so much to discover about Coron and more adventures to experience, but those I will keep for another day.

Adventure, Children, Confidence, Death, Faith, Family, Food, God, Life, Love, Travel

Moalboal Fam Trip

April 4, 2015 administrator

April 4, 2015. Moalboal Fam Trip. It’s 6:00 am, and I am all alone in the lanai, waiting for my children. We’ve reserved a banca for a 7am trip to Pescador, an atoll where they claim the marine life swim in abundance. I’m excited yet apprehensive, not being a strong swimmer. The lifeguards told us that the drop off is quite steep so I was undecided about joining the children.

I get nervous when I can no longer see the bottom while swimming. When Mike and I would snorkel in Club Paradise, he would always hold my hand and lead the way. I felt safe with him always. Now, he is no longer here. Still, I’ve decided to go with the children, especially since Mama Becky told me I should go and that she would take care of Dada while we were exploring.

When Mike died, I vowed to do the things I’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance or the courage to do so, like wearing a bikini, jumping off a cliff, riding a bike, going paddle boarding, traveling by myself. And that’s what I’ve been doing these past two years.

Hale Manna where we are staying is true to its name. Hale in Hawaiian means good energy, and Mana means home. So it means home of good energy, of which there is much in abundance. Mama Becky Pestano-Smith, its owner, wanted to praise and thank God for His many blessings by spelling Manna with a double n. My children were right in deciding to spend Holy Week in this place. I feel at peace and happy.

Months ago, Bea and Cara were backpacking in Cebu and chanced upon Hale Manna as they were exploring the beach. They said a nice lady called out to them from the cliff, inviting them over. They accepted the kind invitation of the lady who turned out to be Becky Pestano-Smith, the owner. The girls said they immediately felt at home as the kindly Mama Becky enveloped them in her warm embrace and treated them to merienda. They vowed they would return, and so we are here now.

Arriving at Hale Manna Thursday afternoon, we were welcomed warmly by Mama Becky. She had prepared hot cassava chips drizzled with honey and the most delightful lemongrass tea to soothe our thirst from the long drive. Ravenous, we feasted on the lechon and puso, which we had bought at the Carcar market on the way here. Our spacious room has eight comfortable beds covered with colorful quilts, which beckoned us to sleep. And that we did since all we had was a couple of hours sleep the night before.

Just as we were going for dinner, there was a sudden brownout. We were worried about the trip because super typhoon Chedeng was expected to hit the Philippines the next day. Also, Bea had just finished regaling us with stories of how she and her barkada ended up one summer vacation in an island in Cebu when there was a massive brownout, and they had to survive for days without electricity and mobile phones and with just one vat of water for all of them to bathe in.

Using our cellphones as flashlights, we walked over to the lanai where the other guests were already having dinner. It was quite romantic, with just candles lighting up the place. Halfway through dinner, the lights came back on. Bea commented that she had enjoyed the candlelit dinner more. Still, I welcomed the return of electricity.

The beach at Hale Manna is rocky, not sandy, but there are kayaks to bring you to a floating raft where you can swim. I did this the first afternoon we were here, but preferred yesterday morning to just write at the Inspiration Point, the highest part overlooking the water while the children swam in the waters.

Hale Manna has several secluded areas facing the sea with bright red lounging chairs where you could laze all day. There are also cabanas, with mattresses and large soft pillows, set far from each other so that you could enjoy the serenity of the place. Despite several vehicles at the parking area, we hardly bumped into anyone, except for meal times when we would all congregate at the lanai.

Yesterday morning the children were bitten by jellyfish, so they came back early and we decided to go for an early lunch at Club Serena, two resorts away. CSR boasts of a sandy beach and more modern amenities, but there were a lot more people around. I prefer the quietness of Hale Manna as the houses are far apart from each other. We took a tricycle going there, and it was bumpy and dusty, an adventure in itself.

Arriving at Club Serena, we were warned that they were full and we would have a long wait. We decided to stay as the girls who had been there before were adamant we should try the suman with tsokolate and mango. It was well worth the wait, though it was way past 2pm before we had our first nibble. While waiting, the children played Places, Animals, Names and Things (PANT) while I sketched Niccolo and his girlfriend Sam from a photo I had snapped a week ago. Earlier that morning I did quick sketches of Bea and Cara at the house.

It was almost 3pm, and we wanted to pray. I tried accessing my mobile bible, but unfortunately, CSR did not have wifi and Globe Internet was spotty. I walked over to the bar and asked our amiable waiter Rolan if they had a bible we could borrow. He had one, he said with a smile, except it was in Bisaya, which only Cara would have understood. I went back to the table sad, but when I checked my phone, there was my mobile bible online!

Niccolo wanted to go back to Hale Manna to pray because CSR was a bit noisy, but we insisted to stay as the hour was near. Reverently, Niccolo read the book of Mark from the Last Supper to Christ’s death. As I listened intently, all the ambient noise drowned out, and I was there at Gethsemane witnessing Christ’s agony as the apostles slept, beside the anguished Peter as he realized he had denied the Lord three times, amongst the angry crowd as calls for crucifixion rang loud, beside Simon of Cyrene who was tasked to carry His cross, at the foot of the cross as Christ gave up His spirit, and beside His mother as she embraced His dead body. We were all quiet as Niccolo finished reading, each engrossed in her own thoughts.

We were aghast when we learned there were no more tricycles available for the return trip to Hale Manna. They had all gone home to observe Good Friday. We were worried about how Dada would be able to walk back to Halle Manna. Kind Rolan offered his vehicle, which could not carry all of us, so Niccolo and I walked back along the seashore. It was good to be with him alone, and we talked about plans for summer.

We slept siesta, then went back to the beach intent on going swimming by the raft, but the lifeguards refused to let us go, warning us that the current was very strong. Instead, we plopped down in one of the comfortable cabanas and shared stories, as we are wont to do when together. Soon, we were joined by Niccolo and Cara’s boyfriend Ramon who had arrived from Iligan. We stayed at the cabana until sundown. As we watched the sun go down, Bea asked, “with such beauty around you, how can anyone not believe in God?” We all agreed.

We turned in early because of the planned boat trip. And now, I have to stop writing and pack up as the boat has arrived.

12:00 nn. We’re back, and we just finished a delicious brunch of Arroz a la Cubana, Paksiw na Isda, and Ampalaya. The children and Dada have gone back to the house to sleep, and I once more have the lanai to myself.

I am so glad I joined the boat trip. There we were in the middle of the vast sea, basking in the early morning when the boatmen pointed to dolphins far away. We went nearer, and the playful dolphins decided to put up a show.

As the boatmen tethered the boat at Pescador and we were getting ready to jump in, I realized that in our excitement, we had forgotten to bring along life jackets. Cara, Niccolo and Ramon are all strong and confident swimmers and don’t need the life support. On the other hand, I am a floater, meaning I have a very difficult time diving, and I get nervous swimming in the open sea without a life jacket. Luckily, the boatmen were able to borrow two life jackets from another boat, one for Bea and another for me.

Once in the water snorkeling, I was lost in the beauty of the marine life teeming around me, sporting a myriad of colors unseen on dry land. Truly, there is a God, I thought! After Pescador, we traveled to another place where they said the turtles could be found. I was told to put on my life jacket as we would have to swim to where the turtles were.

As we were quite far from the shore, I worried about the drop off. As the bottom kept dropping and the water became darker and colder, I began to feel afraid, but then the kind boatman took my hand and led me swimming along the drop off, spotting turtles and pointing them out to me. Once in a while, he would let go of my hand, and Niccolo would take over. Soon, the excitement of seeing the huge turtles overcame my fear of the deep, and I happily relaxed, even getting over the sharp stinging I would feel once in a while as jelly fish brushed against me.

Our final destination was where the sardines were. Oh, and it was amazing! The school of silver sardines, why, there must have been millions of them, was like a gigantic ribbon undulating and pulsating in the sea as far as I could see. The water would alternate between very cold to warm as the sardines swarmed around us. It was truly an exhilarating and awesome experience! Mama Becky was right. It would be a pity to come to Moalboal and not see the marine life. Next time, I intend to swim with the whale sharks.

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