Wish you were here

Thursday, September 28, 2006

YSLA DE BINONDO AND THE CHINESE REVOLT

Located at Plaza Calderon de la Barca, Binondo Church, also known as Minor Basilica of Saint Lorenzo, was founded by the Dominican Friars in 1596. It has sustained considerable damage over the centuries from earthquakes and other natural disasters, as well as from fierce bombings during World War II. It wasn’t until 1972 that it was restored, but the octagonal bell tower and some foundations remain of the original 16th century structure, which is typical of colonial Spanish architecture. Today, its maintenance is largely funded by the members of the Catholic Chinese community; most reside and operate business establishments in the area.

Binondo, an hacienda once like Makati, is an island between two estuaries or esteros — Estero de la Reina and Estero de Binondo. The village of Binondo sprang in the banks of the Pasig River, and was once called Ysla de Binondo. It was already a hub of Chinese commerce even before Martin de Goiti and his men forcibly took over Manila in 1570 from its Muslim kings.

Two years before this church was built, in 1594, the Spaniards gave the land to the Catholic Chinese tax-free and Binondo was established with limited self-governing privileges. This was to encourage their loyalty to Spain while keeping them culturally at a distance. Nonetheless, just across the Pasig River, from the gated walls of Intramuros, the Spaniards aimed the range of their cannons at this Chinese enclave in case of an uprising.

The Galleon Trade ensued thereafter which sailed between Manila and Acapulco and linked the Chinese junk trading system to Mexico and to the rest of Europe. For 250 years, galleons sailed 9000 nautical miles. When the Spaniards settled in the country, more Chinese came. And as the population of the Chinese grew in Manila, the mutual feeling of fear and distrust between them and the Spaniards rose as well. Consequently, such mutual suspicions manifested persecution and harassment including large-scale massacres.

In 1581, Governor General Gonzalo Ronquillo Peñalosa's heightened fear of the Chinese led him to issue a directive to round up the scattered communities of early Chinese migrants and forced them to settle at the Settlement of San Gabriel. They were also subjected to forced labor in building the Walls of Intramuros. Travel to the island was through the Duente de Spaña Bridge built by the Spanish authorities in 1632 (where it was replaced by Jones Bridge). At that time, by law, all Chinese were forced to reside in the areas of Ysla de Binondo, San Nicolas and Sta. Cruz.

The Spaniards separated the Chinese in quarters called Parian. By 1596, led by their padrinos, most citizens of Parian, were baptized as Catholics, thus creating the Chino cristianos. By virtue of their new faith, they were granted more freedom than the unconverted Chinese and could marry the natives. In 1790, when the last Parian was destroyed, the Chinese were allowed to join the baptized Chinese in Binondo and Santa Cruz. Sangley, the term used by the Spaniards for the Chinese, comes from the word siong-tay, literally "often comes" in Hokkien. The Sangleys came as merchants, laborers, and artisans. Due to massacres or fires, the Spaniards changed the location of the Parian nine times.

The first major Chinese revolt against the Spaniards occurred on October 25, 1593. It was led by Pua Ho Go (P’an Ho Wu in Mandarin) who, along with 250 Chinese, was enlisted compulsorily as boat rower for a military expedition to Moluc¬ca Islands in Indonesia, led by Governor-General Gomez Perez Dasmariñas.

It was a series of failed expeditions — in 1582, he had to go home after two-thirds of the expedition were downed by epidemic; 1584, no luck, either. Finally, in 1593, Dasmariñas had with him in his galley 80 Spaniards and 250 Chinese galley slaves. The vessel was put into port near Batangas for shelter due to contrary winds. In the silence of the night, when the Spaniards were asleep, the galley slaves led by Pua Ho Go killed them all, except for a Franciscan friar and secretary. Dasmariñas was the only Spanish governor-general and the highest ranking Spanish official in the Philippines ever killed by the insurgents.

On October 3, 1603, the Spanish colonial regime carried out the first massacre of the Chinese in the Philippines, in which more than 23,000 died. It was also the first Chinese pogrom that occurred in Southeast Asia. There was a total of six Chinese massacres in the Philippines in which approximately 100,000 lives were sacrificed. The Chinese, along with the Filipinos, experienced untold sufferings from the brutality of the Spanish rule.

There are now about 1 million ethnic Chinese in the Philippines; a large concentration live in the cities of Manila and Cebu. HIstorically, the relationship between the Chinese and Filipinos has alternated between alienation and acceptance from the pre-Spanish era. However, through intermarriages and the more common use of Tagalog, many Chinese (or Tsinoys) are now active participants in all aspects of Philippine society.

Labels: Binondo, Early Chinese, Manila history

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:40 AM | 38 comments

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

DON CARLOS PALANCA TAN QUIEN-SIEN

The Spanish and Filipinos, on the other hand, regarded Don Carlos Palanca with mixed sentiments. Their pervasive perception of him was that of a master corrupter; one who would resort to extreme measures just to get what he wanted.

He was thought of as a man obsessed with becoming the Chinese consul. He did assume the interim role of which when his son’s return from China was delayed for several months; unable to immediately fulfill his appointment as consul.

There were speculations among the Filipino intellectuals that Jose Rizal modeled after Don Carlos Palanca his character of Chinaman Quiroga in El Filibusterismo. Jose Alejandrino, a friend of Rizal, confirmed that it was indeed the case. Alejandrino further claimed that Don Carlos Palanca approached Aguinaldo — when he was forming his revolutionary government — about the possibility of creating an opium monopoly.

Despite such controversies, he was, undoubtedly, a powerful force in the Chinese community during the late nineteenth century. When he died in 1901, a statue was erected in the Chinese cemetery as a tribute to his community service and philanthropy.

Labels: Binondo, Early Chinese, Manila history

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:45 AM | 46 comments

Monday, September 25, 2006

ON CARLOS PALANCA STREET

This is Carlos Palanca Street heading towards Quezon Boulevard in Quiapo. The yellow building on the right is the Universidad de Manila (City College of Manila) where the old Clover Theater used to stand and where German Moreno started out as a janitor; behind it is FEATI.

Originally named Echague Street, this strip is quite famous for its affordably-priced housewares.



In addition, there are two longtime stores on this street that are quite popular as well. One is the Kim Chong Tin Hopia Factory; maker of the traditional hopia with thicker and toasted dough as opposed to Polland’s and Eng Bee Tin’s which is thinner and softer. Kim Chong Tin’s mini hopia is its best seller; the hopia mongo’s bag of eight pieces sells for P33.00.

The selling floor may appear spartan, but what most people do not know is that the bulk of this hopia factory’s income comes from the sale of its hopia filling, sold to bakeries nationwide.



Another product this street is famous for is cooked ham. This was where my father bought sliced ham and some freshly-baked rolls to be taken inside a movie theater for the entire family to feast on while watching a movie feature on a Sunday afternoon.



Excelente Cooked Ham is one of two stores on this street usually mobbed during the holidays. One kilo of sweet ham retails at P680.00, but one can buy as small as a quarter of a kilo for P170.00. Besides cooked ham, Excelente also offers other processed meat such as bacon and variants of it.



So the next time you plan on shopping for some cooking and baking wares, explore Carlos Palanca Street. Afterwards, try the traditional mini hopia at Kim Chong Tin and some sliced cooked ham at Excelente. If a ham sandwich is what’s on your mind, the Vienna rolls from the nearby Vienna Bakery are recommended.

At the tip of Carlos Palanca Street (from Plaza Lacson) is the Quiapo Bridge. Many of our wonderful handicrafts are sold at the stalls underneath the foot of the bridge.

Labels: Featured food, Manila history, Quiapo, walking tour

posted by Señor Enrique at 10:40 AM | 29 comments

Sunday, September 24, 2006

MY ENGLISH READING LESSONS

Labels: Growing up memoirs

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:17 AM | 28 comments

Friday, September 22, 2006

NEGROS AT ROCKWELL

The featured exhibitors are just a trickle of the many other designers, manufacturers, and food creators from the Negros island that are making this trade fair festive and fun. If nothing else planned for the weekend, check out this fair and enjoy yourself.

posted by Señor Enrique at 10:08 PM | 27 comments

Thursday, September 21, 2006

BANKING AND THE EARLY CHINESE TRADERS

This landmark building (now owned by the GE Money Bank) located on the corner of Plaza de Santa Cruz and Ongpin Street was once home to the oldest savings bank in the Philippines, Monte de Piedad and Savings Bank. It was founded by Fr. Felix Huertas (de Huerta) of the Franciscan Order with the funds of the Obras Pias.

Inaugurated on August 2, 1882, it was originally located at the ground floor of Santa Isabel College, corner of Arzobispo and Anda Streets in Intramuros. In 1894, it was transferred to the Roman Santos Building at Plaza Goiti where President Manuel L. Quezon was at one time employed as clerk. It was then moved to this landmark building in 1938, but the building was destroyed during the Battle of Manila in 1945. It was rebuilt in 1946 and resumed operation in 1947. It was administered by Archbishop of Manila until 1949 when it was incorporated.

Before the 1800s, without any banks in the Philippine archipelago, anyone with a sizeable venture that needed funding would have to obtain a loan from the obras pias.

The obras pias were pious foundations in which two-thirds of their holdings were allocated for the furtherance of commercial maritime ventures at interest — a voyage to Mexico was 50 percent, to China 25, and to India 35 — substantially increasing the foundation’s original coffer. Earnings from such interest rates were then assigned to other pious and benevolent purposes. A third was generally kept as a reserve fund to cover possible losses. Among the biggest obras pias was the Hermanidad de la Miscericordia, established in the late 16th century.

The opening of the Suez Canal largely contributed to a global economic growth during the decades from 1820 to 1870, and thereby producing similar significant changes in the economy of the Philippines as well. With the Spanish government granting shipping subsidies, local commodities such as sugar, fibers, coffee, and many others were briskly exported. A dramatic spike in foreign trade in the Philippines emerged as a result of such bustling commerce.

The British and Americans dominated the foreign trade in Manila while the local Chinese traders acted as primary intermediaries between them and the domestic market.

But access to the funds of the obras pias was absolutely forbidden to the Chinese. Therefore, before 1850, there wasn’t much capital available for the Chinese communities who were, ironically, Manila’s astute merchants.

Nonetheless, a number of Chinese enterprises struggled to remain lucrative. One could borrow at six percent interest from the Chinese community chests or caja, but the funds were never large. Outside of the community, individual Spaniards were a source of venture capital to individual Chinese entrepreneurs during the middle and late eighteenth century. But everything was more of personal level, nothing organized and of larger scale. Although there were a few private banking efforts initiated in Manila during the second quarter of the nineteenth century, it is not known whether they opened their doors to the Chinese.

However, banking was a key function of American and European businessmen in Manila. Funds were entrusted with them by rich families, the Church, Manila entrepreneurs, and even by the native banks that have slowly sprung up. These funds were then loaned out in the form of crop advances. But advances were also made to the Chinese wholesalers to help them dispose of European imports and to buy up produce for export.

Soon thereafter, another source of funds became available to the Chinese. In 1851, the Banco Espanol Filipino de Isabel II (later renamed BPI - Bank of Philippine Islands) was founded to promote the use of savings for commercial investments. Most of the funds from obras pias were transferred to it and the government added other funds of its own, turning it into a government-regulated, quasi-official institution. Although the bank’s first transaction was the discounting of a promissory note for a Chinese, regular transactions with Chinese merchants were facilitated by non-Chinese guarantors for a fee.

When Banco Espanol Filipino de Isabel II would ask the European merchant firms for the names of Chinese businessmen who were good risks, sensing opportunity, they did not provide the names of the Chinese jobbers and purchasing agents they did business with. Instead, these European firms became guarantors for Chinese borrowers from the bank, including forwarding their payments to the bank, and assuming responsibility for settlement with the bank in case the Chinese defaulted.

For the Chinese focused on wholesaling or retailing ventures, obtaining goods on credit was more important than access to cash loans. Hence, the European and American firms advanced their imported goods to the Chinese dealers while these dealers, in turn, made their profits without having to raise the capital to procure the products.







.

Labels: Early Chinese, Manila history, Philippine history

posted by Señor Enrique at 11:04 AM | 38 comments

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

THE EXCHANGE

The incorporation of the Philippine Stock Exchange on July 14, 1992 was the culmination of exhustive efforts to integrate the Manila Stock Exchange and the Makati Stock Exchange as a unified entity. It has two sites: Tektite Tower at Ortigas Centre, Pasig City; and PSE Plaza, Ayala Triangle, Makati City — twin trading floors belonging to a single Exchange. The One Price-One Market exchange was achieved through the successful link-up of the two existing trading floors on March 24, 1994; hence PSE was established as the sole Exchange of the country.

These photos were taken at the PSE Plaza, an ultra modern structure on Ayala Avenue with a beautifully landscaped park behind it.

Unfortunately, the Exchange will soon relocate to its new home in nearby Fort Bonifacio. The reason: Makati City has been a bad host for business.

Although hailed as the country’s financial center, it has also become the political rally capital of Metro Manila. Major rallies, unarguably, produce chaotic traffic jams, which in turn, precipitate lost man-hours and decelerated productivity; hence, bottom line figures awashed in red ink.

Notwithstanding, with or without these rallies, Makati City continually accumulates traffic build ups due to the glut of residential and commercial complexes confined in such a small area. In addition, Makati City's skyrocketing costs of property taxes, rentals and leases compel the bean counters to seek other viable, cost-effective locales.

Other businesses may soon follow PSE’s lead and join this exodus; reminiscent of when Makati’s Ayala took away from Escolta, Manila its title as the premier financial district of the Philippines. Now, Mandaluyong and Taguig have emerged as contenders for this prestigious distinction.

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:23 PM | 24 comments

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

HISTORY WEEK

September 15 to 21 is History Week in the Philippine Archipelago

Source: MLQ3

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:00 PM | 21 comments

SEVEN SONGS

I was tagged by Bugsybee to name seven songs I prefer listening to these days.

They can be in any genre; with or without lyrics -- as long as they’re mellifluous.

So, here they are:

Masquerade by Leon Russell
Manha de Carnaval by Toots Thielemans
Remember the Future by Nektar
Bali Song by Rivermaya
Pachabel Canon by George Winston
Take it to the Limit by Etta James
Stay by David Bowie (with Earl Slick and Chris Spedding on guitars)


Now, I will tag seven other people to see what music they’re into these days:

Minotte
NeilDC
Cathy_bythesea
Kyels
Ferdz
Jase

Although I’m supposed to tag only seven blogmates, what I’ve done with the book meme I'll do here also -- invite everyone to join in if they feel like it. You’re welcome to put the list on my comment box if you don’t want to create a separate entry of it on your site.

Thanks and have fun!

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:31 PM | 29 comments

Monday, September 18, 2006

MANILA'S PLAZA GOITI

I was inspired to post this entry about Plaza de Goiti after seeing a very old photograph of it with horse-drawn carriages, as well as a postcard published in 1932 showing the area teeming with what look like Model T Fords. What a remarkable difference compared to the above photo.

It is now known as Plaza Lacson; a tribute for the soccer player at Ateneo de Manila University and amateur boxer who once challenged Ferdinand Marcos to a fistfight and called Ernesto Maceda (who was then a Manila councilor) “so young and so corrupt.” Arsenio Lacson was supposedly the best mayor the city of Manila ever had. His statue stands tall on a pedestal across the old Roman Santos Building.



To the left of Mayor Lacson’s statue is the LRT Carriedo Station. It was on Carriedo Street and Avenida Rizal where Henry Sy’s original ShoeMart once was. One block south of Carriedo is Carlos Palanca Street, named after Don Carlos Palanca whose real name was Tan Quien-sien; a wealthy and influential Chinese trader in Manila during the late 19th century. And right off MacArthur Bridge was the popular Clover Theatre; a vaudeville theater where Don Jose Zarah’s Extravaganza and jazz pianist Ping Joaquin (brother of writer Nick) entertained many of Manila’s inhabitants. The annex building of City College of Manila now stands on its spot.

The very first school, however, that established itself at Plaza Goiti was Adamson University, but it was originally called Adamson School of Industrial Chemistry. The Philippines’ steady progress towards industrialization during the early thirties demanded people to be trained in technology to man the increasing number of local industries. Inspired by this economic trend, three Greek cousins — Dr. George Lucas Adamson, Alexander Adamson and George Athos Adamson — founded the Adamson School of Industrial Chemistry on June 20, 1932. The School, which was set to train young men and women in Industrial Chemistry, was housed at the Paterno Building at Plaza Goiti. It opened on July 1, 1932 with only 42 students. A year later, the population grew to 300, which necessitated its transfer to more spacious quarters.

After the war, Dr. George Lucas Adamson re-opened the school, this time, in the premises of the Vincentian Fathers at San Marcelino Street. In 1964, the University was turned over to the Vincentian Fathers, which signaled the transformation of Adamson University to a Catholic Institution of learning.

Another learning enterprise that had its start at Plaza Goiti is the Far Eastern Aeronautics School, which in 1946 offered the first aeronautical classes in the country. It consequently received commendation from the Philippine Educational System for having pioneered in aeronautical education. In 1959 it became FEATI University with expanded academic programs, including architecture and fine arts. Among those who became dean of FEATI's School of Architecture was Juan Marcos de Guzman Arellano who designed the Post Office, Metropolitan Theater, and Legislative building. FEATI's five-storey building at Carlos Palanca Street behind the Plaza Fair building was completed in 1953.



A major banking concern established on June 18, 1951 at Plaza Goiti was Security Bank and Trust Company. It has prospered even in the most trying times, remaining steadfast amidst the economic, political and social upheavals in the country’s history. It has steadily moved with the brisk pace of economic growth that characterized the 1950’s. Three years later, the corporate headquarters moved to Escolta, fittingly at the nation’s pre-eminent business district.

Another interesting, though somewhat morbid piece of trivia I dug up online: Citing its source as Turn of the Century by Gilda Cordeo Fernando and Nick Ricio, DLSU-D Website mentions La Funeraria, the first funeral parlor in the Philippines. It was supposedly established by Carlos March at no. 3 Plaza Goiti. It advertised hermetically-sealed coffins imported directly from Europe, embalming at moderate prices, “French Style Packing” of corpses, and an assortment of epitaphs. La Funeraria sternly warned the public against imitations and assured the public of guaranteed airtight coffins!

Its main competitor, the Phelipino Undertaking, a funeral parlor owned by Mr. Feliciano Quiogue, located at Calle Salazar, Trozo No. 2, offered luxurious funeral services consisting of one hearse with four horses, a metallic coffin and four attendants, with two carriages for mourners, all for P85.00!

The DLSU-D Website also mentioned a John Bancroft Devins who in 1905 wrote that the Spanish Friars collected varying fees for funeral services, depending on what robe they wore for the service and the length of prayers they offered. Every stroke of the church bell announcing the death would cost from tent cents to a dollar (P0.20 to P2). The Funeral itself could be ordinary, solemn or most solemn, with corresponding fees. Burial charges were extra. If the friar went all the way to the grave, it is twice as expensive if he went only half way. If death and funeral fees were not forthcoming, there can be no bells rung, no services held. Dying was expensive even for the poor who paid P30.00 for burial services!



Martin de Goiti, for which this plaza was originally named after, was a Spanish conquistador and explorer who tricked the Muslim kings into believing that the Spaniards who came and camped in the shores of Manila Bay on May 8, 1570 were only visiting for a short period. As what usually happens with any overstaying visitors, the welcome mat would eventually get worn out and the host’s inhospitable thoughts would begin manifesting themselves. In short, the natives grew restless and started bickering with the visiting Spaniards.

Only sixteen days after their arrival, Goiti has had enough of these quarrels. He marched his 300 soldiers towards Tondo were they met thousands of native defenders, but somehow managed to defeat and kill most forces of Suliman, Lakandula and Matanda. Goiti took the rulers as prisoners; summarily torturing and executing those who refused to accept Spanish rule. Goiti and Juan de Salcedo, his second in command, then marched their armies towards the Pasig River and captured the city of Manila on June 6, 1570 and burnt it to the ground, killing more natives in the area.

After the battle, both sides were still unable to negotiate an agreement; hence, sporadic bloodsheds and sieges continued for another ten months. The Spaniards, on the other hand, fortified their outposts by erecting Fuerza de Santiago. Nonetheless, some battle-weary Spaniards would sometimes seek shelter aboard their fleets in Manila Bay.

Upon Legazi’s arrival in Manila on June 24, 1571, the Spaniards had finally taken control of the settlements and a peace agreement was put into effect. It was Goiti's bloody conquest that paved the way for the establishment of Manila as a permanent Spanish settlement and capital city of the Philippines. He later explored Pampanga, Pangasinan and founded several cities in Luzon from 1571 to 1573.

in the early periods of 1574, Goiti also fought against the invasion of 3,000 Chinese pirates and warriors who attacked Fuerza de Santiago, besieged certain parts of the city of Manila, and massacred most of the Spaniards in the city. Goiti was killed by the pirates’ leader, Lin Tao Kien, now known as Limahon or Li Ma Hong.

Spanish reinforcements came all the way from Vigan and Cebu. Juan de Salcedo left Ilocos Sur after learning of Goiti’s death and headed for Manila, which he later discovered as having fallen to the Chinese pirates. Salcedo's forces succeeded in driving out the Chinese pirates out of Manila. Li Ma Hong and his surviving soldiers retreated to Pangasinan, but were later captured. The death of Goiti was avenged by the Spaniards by burning Li Ma Hong and his warriors alive. Their warships were also burnt.

Martin de Goiti was laid to rest in a tomb inside the San Agustin Church in Intramuros.



And finally, this Greco-Roman building — The Roman Santos Building — built by a successful businessman who also founded Prudential Bank.

Dona Marta Rodriguez y Tuason married Don Hilarion Santos. They had two children: Rafaela Santos y Rodriguez who married Vicente Fernandez and Roman Santos y Rodriguez who married Juliana Andres. After the death of Don Hilarion Santos, Dona Marta Rodriguez, viuda de Santos married Don Domingo Carlos.

Roman Santos y Rodriguez was raised as a ward by his first cousin Dona Florencia Sioco de Gonzalez in Barrio Sulipan, Apalit, Pampanga. Her elder sister, Dona Sabina Sioco de Escaler, lent him the initial capital to purchase his first bamboo "casco" (raft) with which he ferried the dry goods he was buying and selling in various towns.

Don Roman Santos y Rodriguez founded Prudential Bank. The building named after him still stands across from Plaza Goiti.

Labels: life, life in Manila, Manila history

posted by Señor Enrique at 2:54 PM | 31 comments

Sunday, September 17, 2006

AVENIDA RIZAL

The proverbial "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" may have caused the eventual decline of this strip once agrind with bustling commerce.

Imelda Marcos’ original intention was to have a modern mass transit system — Light Rail Transit — to alleviate the gridlocks that paralyzed Manila’s main arteries, especially Rizal Avenue. Cursed with excessive delays, the project lingered for many years; leaving Rizal Avenue virtually impossible to traverse. Thus, many people were unable to continue patronizing the establishments on either side of it.

By the time the Light Rail Transit system was finished and began its regular operations, the fully air-conditioned SM shopping malls had sprouted throughout the metropolitan area and have earned the city shoppers' return visits. Regrettably, many of Rizal Avenue’s emporiums had lost too many of their regular customers; left with no other option but to shut their doors for good.

It took Mayor Lito Atienza’s tireless efforts to once again infuse life into to this area through a series of revitalization projects. From Carriedo Street to Claro M. Recto Avenue, Rizal Avenue has now become a colorful pedestrian’s haven.

Subsequently, more shops reopened to serve the public and all the facades of the buildings along the avenue were repainted. The ornamentations selected by the mayor to adorn the pillars that hold the overhead railway system were inspired by those he had seen during his visit to Spain.


The two new National Bookstore buildings flank Soler Street. I remember the time when I hurriedly finished off a hamburger and a cup of vanilla ice cream bought from a food shop next door to National Bookstore. General MacArthur had returned to Manila for a visit and his motorcade was supposed to pass by at any minute. I ate so fast that I felt nauseous afterwards. My father had to take me home immediately as soon as it was all over.

New Year’s Eve in the afternoon was the time of the year I enjoyed the most in this avenue. There were myriad vendors boisterously hawking various kinds of colorful noisemakers and firecrackers. Except for firecrackers which my mother had forbidden us to fool around with, my father and I would buy as many noisemakers as we could manage to carry for everyone in the household, as well as for cousins and friends in the neighborhood.



Sadly, the movie theaters along this avenue that brightened the night with their glorious neon lights — from Galaxy to Ideal — have ceased to exist. More recently, Avenue Theater, designed by National Artist for Architecture Juan Nakpil was torn down (read Carlos Celdran’s entry about the chance meeting he had with the owner of Avenue Theater who had it demolished).


I enjoyed many movies in Avenue Theater. A favorite, which got me riveted to my seat, was Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn. She played the role of a blind housewife being terrorized by an intruder in her ground floor brownstone apartment.

Also, in this very same building, up in the banquet hall of Avenue Hotel was where my father’s business association held their annual soiree. He took me along on a couple of occasions. The most memorable was the night I sang some Beatle tunes accompanied by the band hired to provide the evening’s musical entertainment; a delightful experience, indeed.


The old Odeon Theater was also demolished and replaced with a shopping mall, which was recently opened for business. It was in this theater I saw the Beatle’s Help, Steve McQueen’s The Great Escape, and Sean Connery’s Goldfinger.

The overhead rail system in front of the now Odeon shopping mall is the new MRT (Recto to Antipolo line) which has an interconnecting walkway with LRT that serves the Rizal Avenue route.

From this corner of Rizal Avenue and Recto (formerly Azcarraga), a couple of blocks to the left was where my father’s office was at Florentino Torres Street; whereas, a couple of blocks down the avenue is Doroteo Jose Street where MIT’s high school division was located. Ironically, when I started high school, not once did I walk over to my father’s office during recess or after school; I was already growing up and thought it uncool for my high school friends to take notice that I was still a papa’s boy. But nonetheless, I still went to the office with him on Saturdays.

Labels: life in Manila, Manila, Manila history, Rizal Avenue

posted by Señor Enrique at 9:57 AM | 47 comments

Saturday, September 16, 2006

MY DAILY BREAD

Abundant with affordably-priced cafes and restaurants, some friends in New York often equate my living in Manila with a daily indulgence in great meals that one would pay for handsomely like in Soho’s Filipino restaurant, Cendrillon.

There would be dead silence on the line whenever I’d mention my eating habits could be so bland at times that some well-heeled cousins had ascribed my sometimes austere gastronomical pleasure to some undisclosed life-threatening disease — followed by a whisper of, “Maybe that’s why he came back to Manila … to spend the end of his days.”

Truth be told, I sometimes wonder if my persona does tend to bring bad luck, for my favorite local eateries, which I could tirelessly go to on a daily basis, had disappeared — one is Juan Soy in Greenbelt, the other is Pinoy Don in Robinson’s Malate. I don’t even know if they have any branches anywhere else in the city.

Be that as it may, something I enjoy every morning is the pandesal. I call it the two-biter because its size nowadays only requires two bites to gobble up; average price is two pesos each at the neighborhood bakeries.

A couple of years ago, in my regular attempt to make sure my brain doesn’t go anywhere without my consent, I took a one-week baking class in Diliman, Quezon City. Now, here is what some bakers in my class told me (they were there for the certification required for overseas job applications): the texture of the morning pandesal differs from that of the afternoon which is more airy inside and toasted on the outside. How's that for trivia?


Chow King’s wanton noodle is another favorite of mine, which I would have for lunch whenever possible. It’s tasty and light — I don’t feel so bloated and lethargic afterwards. It costs about 68 pesos for the large bowl. It’s usually served very hot (the camera even caught the steam coming from it) so give it a few minutes before digging in.

I used to go to Ma Mon Luk in Quiapo for mami and siopao, but I noticed I felt sleepy afterwards. It wasn’t until another blogger had written about this restaurant that I found out about the true cause of this sleepiness — excessive MSG (monosodium glutamate). That was the end of that.

Now, some of you may be too young to remember Little Quiapo, but it was once very popular, especially among the students in the university belt area. Like Chow King, they were famous for their mami, siopao and halo-halo.

Labels: Featured food, life in Manila, pandesal

posted by Señor Enrique at 11:17 AM | 31 comments

Friday, September 15, 2006

MANILA BAY SUNSET - 9/15/06

I'd like to think that a beautiful sunset is God's way of saying "I love you and goodnight" to all His creatures, great and small.

But these pictures are my way of saying, "Have a wonderful and magical weekend everyone -- wherever you may be!"

Both pictures were taken this evening, September 15, 2006 at Baywalk, Roxas Boulevard, Manila.

Labels: Manila Bay Sunset, photography

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:41 PM | 15 comments

SOLO TRIP TO CHINATOWN

For the very first time in ages, I was able to gallivant on my own in Manila’s Chinatown and felt completely confident. Joining Ivan’s Big Binondo Food Wok tour certainly got me reacquainted with this area’s narrow streets, which I was once very familiar with as a kid.

Some of the things that piqued my interest as I enjoyed my solo flight walk were the foodstuffs being sold out in the streets such as the roasted chestnuts, which I used to enjoy especially during Christmastime in New York. I even had a friend who showed me how to roast them in a microwave oven.



There was also the tubo or sugar cane which brought back fond memories. As little kids, my friends and I would buy a long cane and have it cut into several pieces for us to share. They were always a sweet and refreshing treat, especially during the hot summer afternoons; however, it was rather challenging for the jaw. Also, you’d better have a good set of teeth to really enjoy them.



The atis was another delight – sweet and delicious, but a lot of work to eat because of its many seeds. This is my brother Taba’s favorite (he was the sixth sibling and aptly nicknamed Taba because he was chubby when young.) I remember him patiently peeling off the skin until there were only those at the bottom left. He would then slowly enjoy eating it, with ecstasy etched on his face. I would get more of a kick by watching him eat one instead of having one for myself.



These red things look fierce. They’re called dragon fruit. Never had one of these intriguing fruits before, but told they’re good. Considering they’re found more in Chinatown than in any other Manila neighborhoods, I’m afraid that if I had one I’d be off hallucinating for days and finding nirvana. However, the vendor assured me this fruit, though red, is not of the Papaver somniferum kind.




In the end, I settled for one of these — tikoy!

I'll be back in Chinatown more often with or without anyone in tow. Now that I know my way around, I will be enjoying this neighborhood as I used to when I was a kid.

Labels: Binondo, Featured food, life in Manila, Manila Chinatown

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:13 AM | 32 comments

Thursday, September 14, 2006

BIRTH OF JAZZ IN THE PHILIPPINES

On August of 1898, as a measure to suppress the brewing discontent of the Filipinos, the U.S. Secretary of War, Elibu Root, ordered the transfer of American military troops to the Philippine archipelago. Part of this contingent who arrived in Manila were four Negroes — David Fagan, Lester Strongman, Paul Broduck and Waller Colts. Subsequently, having had enough of the racial insults constantly thrown at them by their fellow soldiers who were white, they deserted their ranks and sought refuge at Aguinaldo’s camp. These colored soldiers were then made members of the Filipino revolutionary forces as conscripts.

And during times of leisure, they introduced their Filipino counterparts to their own kind of music — blues and gospel — though still taking shape in the States at that time. These early American contemporary music became the backbone to what would eventually transpire as jazz.

This historical piece was part of Artemio Agnes’ story as featured in the book, Pinoy Jazz Traditions by Richie Quirino. I came across it when searching for listings of foreign musicians who performed in the Philippines after WWII; trying to figure out what concert performances my parents might have gone to during that time. My mother is not one to remember every name of foreign musician she saw with my father at Manila Hotel, Manila Opera House, or other clubs in the city from that period up to the sixties so I have to do some digging on my own.

Also mentioned in this book was the development of a particular style of jazz that was becoming popular in America in the early ‘40s, which found its way to Manila during the liberation. It was called bebop.

Supposedly, "bebop is a word which mirrored, onomatopoetically, the vocalization of the then best-loved interval of the music: the flatted fifth. The term ‘bebop’ came into being spontaneously when someone attempted to sing these melodic leaps.” In the next ten years, the flatted fifth had become a blue note, as common as the open thirds and sevenths familiar to the blues.

But Richie Quirino claimed “the characteristic sound of bebop seemed to be racing and full of nervous phrasing, frenzied and angry. Everything that was obvious was excluded. Most if not all the bebop jazz musicians of that era were addicted to alcohol and drugs. This was a way of deadening their senses and shutting out the realities of a world involved in struggles over power and dominance. As musicians are lovers of peace, bebop was an expression of their frustration and inner turmoil.” And there were many Filipino musicians eagerly learning and adopting this new kind of music into their respective jazz repertoire.

The liberation, among other things, brought with it a euphoric sense of festive mood, which made jazz synonymous with a celebration of victory. With thousands of entertainment-hungry GI’s roaming Manila, the local big bands found themselves heavily in demand.

But even before the liberation period, Filipino bands were playing jazz not only locally, but in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Singapore and Tokyo, as well as in oceangoing vessels plying the Pacific route. Notably, the '20s were known as the Jazz Age, the '30s and '40s were the Swing era. And just as band leaders Count Basie, Xavier Cougat, Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman were stars in America, Pinoy jazz had its own stars like Pete Aristorenas, Tirso Cruz, the Mesio Regalado Orchestra, the Shanghai Swing Masters and the Mabuhay Band.

My mother’s sister’s husband, Simeon de Luna, played clarinet for Tirso Cruz. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a big enough name to make it on Richie Quirino’s book, Pinoy Jazz Tradition, which also contains 100 rare photographs, poems and artworks; a must read for jazz lovers. It is available at all popular bookstores.

Labels: jazz, music, Philippine history

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:14 AM | 24 comments

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

THE PHILIPPINE PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA

It was after seeing the Lincoln Center in New York City that Imelda Marcos had the vision for a similar cultural and arts center to be built in Manila, which was soon erected on reclaimed land in Manila Bay and designed by famed Filipino architect, Leandro Locsin.

The Tanghalang Pambansa, more commonly known as the CCP Main Building, houses four theaters — a museum of ethnographic exhibits and a changing exhibit of Philippine art or ethnography, galleries, and a library on Philippine art and culture. It also houses the administrative offices and facilities of the CCP. Security personnel at the main building strictly enforce a no picture taking rule; therefore, I’m unable to provide a photo exhibit of the incredible interior of this venue.

There are so many performances going on here, but the one which attracts me the most is by The Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra; formally inaugurated on May 15, 1973 as the CCP Philharmonic Orchestra, initially intended to assist artists performing at the CCP Theater. In 1979, Imelda Marcos commissioned Prof. Oscar C. Yatco to reorganize it.

Three years later, the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra was reborn as a world-class orchestra ranked among the best in the world. Under Music Director Eugene Castillo and Resident Conductor Cecinio Ronquillo, the PPO has consistently kept a busy concert schedule each year.

Its next performance at CCP will be “Noble Visions,” on October 13th, Friday at 8:00 pm. It features Najib Ismail on piano; Eugene Castillo will be conducting. However, the music they intend to perform has not been announced, yet. Tickets are from P350 to P900, which are incredibly cheap for a world class philharmonic orchestra performance.

Now, I am not nor have ever been an aficionado of classical music in a strict sense, but have always enjoyed listening to it whenever possible. What my friends and I often did in New York when young was buy the cheapest tickets at Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall just to enjoy an afternoon or evening of orchestral music, which is, unarguably, great for the soul. Going to these classical concerts were in conjunction with the almost weekly rock concerts we used to attend at Howard Stern's Palladium in downtown Manhattan. I should also mention that my appreciation for orchestral music began when I watched those Warner Bros. cartoons on TV every afternoon when I was a kid.

Incidentally, there are about six art galleries within the main CCP building. One may go there early and view the current exhibits and installations, and then later on enjoy the philharmonic performance. For inquiries call the Museum and Visual Arts Division at 832-1125 local 1504/1505.

The telephone number for the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra is 832-1125 local 1608-1610.

Labels: CCP Complex, life in Manila, Local culture, music

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:39 AM | 18 comments

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

ORCHIDARIUM at RIZAL PARK

It was once a parking lot until developed into a one-hectare rainforest-like park. Named The Orchidarium, it is a repository for orchids, as well as a variety of blooms, scents and greens; a project of the Clean & Green Foundation, Inc., headed by its president and chairperson, the former First Lady Amelita M. Ramos.



This park features a walkway that passes under the Trellis of Waves, a corner where clinging vines hang. Along this trail are different varieties of flowers and ornamental plants such as the Song blooms (Song of Thailand, Song of Korea, Song of Jamaica, and Song of India) and the Palm species (Anahaw, Fishtail Palm, Blue Palm, Pinanga, Majestic Palm and the McArthur Palm).



For those seeking a soothing respite from the hustle and bustle of Metro Manila, there is the Reflection Point where one could meditate with the surrounding exotic greens and refreshing waterfalls.



For the children and young adults, there is the Rocky Trail, which has a facility for sport wall-climbing. They can also go fishing at the Mystic Lagoon where bamboo poles can be rented.



The Orchidarium was the beneficiary of a three-year initiative by mobile phone leader Nokia to enhance the park. The "Nokia Nurtured Zone" is dedicated to preserving the park's various flora and fauna, and is a venue for educational activities for young kids. There is also the Butterfly Pavilion sponsored by Nokia. A program called "Mondays with Nokia" is regularly held to teach schoolchildren the value of preserving the environment and one of its most precious resources: water.



The park also offers Reflexology Walk — a pathway of healing stones that is part of the Nokia Nurtured Zone. Visitors are suggested to walk barefoot and enjoy soothing properties of the reflexology walk.

There is also a restaurant right at the center of the complex, for those who may want to enjoy a meal amidst the beauty of Nature. The current Lush Life and Garden Bistro will be taken over by Barbara's Restaurant this coming October. Barbara's main restaurant is located right near San Agustin Church over in Intramuros.

They also used to present live jazz performances here at The Orchidarium; there are no plans to bring back this music feature at this time.

The Orchidarium is located at the corner of Orosa Street and Finance Drive in Rizal Park (or Luneta); telephone numbers are 527-6376/6378 for further information.

Labels: Manila, Orchidarium

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:37 AM | 35 comments

Monday, September 11, 2006

IGNITING A GLOBAL MADNESS

A picture I took of the Manhattan skyline during the mid-1980s.

Labels: 9/11, Life in New York

posted by Señor Enrique at 10:54 AM | 17 comments

Sunday, September 10, 2006

A PEEK INTO HER MADNESS

The notoriously corrupt young congressman from the north that she married was such a force of stress that it took her about a year to convalesce in a New York mental hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown. But the time spent in recuperation also instilled a formidable desire to help her husband become the next president of the Philippines upon her return. Thus, began Imelda’s ultimate rise to power.

The Coconut Palace was another addition within the Cultural Center complex commissioned by Imelda Marcos. This time, it was architect Francisco Manora, not Leandro Locsin. It was built for $10 million dollars in preparation for Pope John Paul’s 1981 visit; however, much to her disappointment, the pontiff opted to stay instead at the Papal Nunciature at Taft Avenue during his stay in Manila.


The Coconut Palace which faces the Manila Bay was created by using coconut shells in combination with several Philippine hardwoods, including a specially-engineered hybrid of coconut and hardwood aptly named Imelda Madera. Nonetheless, it is the coconut’s versatility that was showcased as the palace’s essential element — from the coconut's roots, trunk, bark, fruit, flower and shell, as well as the palace's overall design, form, and collection of objet d'art.

The structure itself is octagon-shaped while its roof resembled that of a traditional Filipino bamboo hat — the salakot. The seven lavish suites on the second floor were named after certain Philippine regions and each suite was decorated by the region’s respective indigenous handicrafts.


During Imelda’s reign, the palace housed most of her foreign guests — Brooke Shields, Richard Van Clyburn, George Hamilton, Adnan Kashoggi, Moammar Kadafi, and many others.

It is now a museum with well-manicured grounds, butterfly garden, and orchidarium. It can also be rented for special banquets for about $500 dollars a day; however, it is fully booked months in advance. It is open for walk-in visits from Tuesday to Sunday, 9:00 am to 4:30 pm with an entrance fee of $2 dollars per person. Telephone number is 832-0223.


Visiting the Coconut Palace was part of Carlos Celdran’s Living La Vida Imelda! — an architectural walking tour of the Cultural Center of the Philippines Complex as seen through the life and aspirations of Imelda Marcos.

It’s a tour about the Philippines during the rise and fall of the Marcoses — the 1970s, Martial Law and the endeavor to create a New Society — the time of my youth in which I was absent from the country. It was an era of hope and madness. Carlos brought them back for us to get a glimpse of. Indeed, another enjoyable learning experience.

Bravo, Carlos!

Labels: CCP Complex, Coconut Palace, Manila

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:12 PM | 18 comments

MANILA NIGHTFALL

It must have been around nine or ten at night when a much older friend and I stepped out of the Jai-Alai fronton at Taft Avenue. My left-hand pocket was sort of bulging from my evening’s winning. I was never gifted with odd making, but my winnings were courtesy of some hangers on at the fronton. Only a short time since becoming an amateur, word soon got out that my sponsor to join the fronton's rank as amateur was one of Manila Jai-Alai's major stockholders; the wife of whom was a very close friend of my mother.

And for those professional players lingering in the dreaded purgatory — on suspension for having been caught as party to game fixing — an option to have it lifted and get reinstated is to befriend someone connected to an owner. No guarantees, of course; only hope to get back to the swing of things in this lucrative profession. And so through whispered allusions from a select group of hangers on, I soon learned the nuances of various hand and body signals used by the players while warming up. Interpreted properly, such gestures could yield a substantial windfall, indeed.

And on that particular night, coming out of Jai-Alai at Taft Avenue, the usual plan was to head over to Aristocrat Restaurant for a chicken barbeque and rice meal while enjoying some live bossa nova music played on one of those Yamaha organs with bass pedals on the floor. As my friend and I looked for a taxi, suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire which could only come from a machine gun. I turned to look at a wall up behind me to see the dotted line the bullets pierced.

More gunshots followed. My friend pushed me to the ground for safety, but I fell forward so awkwardly that I ended getting dirt in my mouth. The police were chasing some demonstrators from the U.S. Embassy; most of whom ran through Rizal Park towards Taft Avenue where the Jai-Alai fronton was. As the melee subsided we hurriedly got a cab to get us out of there and straight home as quickly as possible.

An hour or so later after getting home, there was a blackout in most parts of the city, including our neighborhood. Rumors circulated thereafter that the blackout served a sinister purpose: under the cover of darkness, some militant youths were being abducted from their homes. This series of events heralded a turbulent time spurred by the beginning of Marcos’ second term in office.

A couple of days after that gunfire incident, at about five in the morning, before I left our house for my Jai-Alai training session, I grabbed my passport and slipped it inside my backpack. And right after the training session that morning, I walked over to the U.S. Embassy dressed casually in my white T-shirt, denim jeans and sneakers. Slung over my shoulder was my backpack of sweaty clothes; with my right hand was my Jai-Alai cesta. The embassy had just opened that morning and I was directed to the office for visa application. I was suprised how unusually uncrowded the embassy was on that particular day.

I filled-out a form, slipped it between the pages of my passport, and dropped it in a tray. Within about five minutes, my name was called. The embassy vice consul behind the window looked at me from head to toe as I approached his window, and stared a moment at my cesta.

“Why do you want to go to America?” he asked.

“No special reason — a high school gift from my father before he died.”

He scribbled something on a piece of paper and without looking at me said, “Okay, have a seat. You may even go upstairs to the cafeteria for breakfast if you want to. This will take a few minutes."

And just liket that, in less than a couple of minutes my interview was over.

“Thanks!” I told him as I walked over to the stairs leading to the second floor cafeteria, which was practically deserted. I had a hamburger and fries. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I finished the meal. Wanting some more fries, I got up to order another. But as I was fumbling for some loose change, the stout Filipina cashier took a closer look at me and asked for my ID.

“An ID? But you didn’t ask for one earlier,” I argued as if her earlier oversight won me cafeteria privileges for life.

“You’re not a dependent are you?” she asked with brows furrowed.

“Why do you ask?”

“Polo player maybe, but a Jai-Alai player? They have no balls,” she said leaning her head forward and then letting out a hearty laugh.

She charged me for the fries but gave me a refill on my coke for free. She then told me that embassy staff members, American citizens, U.S. military personnel and their dependents were the only ones allowed in the cafeteria. But since it was a vice consul that told me to go up there, she considered me the guy’s guest.

When I went back down to the visa application office, the interviewer waved me over to his window. He handed me my passport with a U.S. visa stamped on it and dryly bid me a safe trip.

My mother was completely astounded when I showed it to her when I got home. During the past few months, she and Fraulein had been preparing the necessary papers for me to present when applying for a U.S. student visa, which was supposedly scheduled in another month or so. But there I was with a passport and a tourist visa. Told her I would just apply for a change of status — from a tourist to a student — once in the States.

Many people I would later talk to about my stroke of luck in securing a U.S. visa quite easily would have their respective take on it. Personally, not that I possessed hypnotic charms, but I could only attribute it to God’s will; plain and simple. Ironically, the concept of God according to my indoctrination to Catholicism, I had already cursed out of my consciousness due to an overwhelming angst I was deeply harboring at that time.

My last view of Manila’s horizon was similar to the photograph above as my Air France flight took off from Manila International Airport and headed towards Tokyo, a couple of weeks after getting my visa.

There were very few passengers on board; no one was seated next to me or the entire row along mine so I cried without embarrassment. I knew I was leaving many friends behind and may never see any ever again. Most were under the impression that I would only be away a few months.

None of them, including my relatives and immediate family members realized the severe depression I was suffering from since the death of my father; an experience akin to a spiritual death it was. Had I stayed in Manila, I would have literally killed myself slowly without my even knowing about it.

I terribly missed my father but the culture that nurtured me as a youth didn't allow me to even admit it.



This entry was inspired both by the photograph I took of our massive flag at Baywalk set against a Manila Bay sunset (featured above) and Noemi’s entry, The Taboo on Grief and the Filipino Culture.

Labels: Growing up memoirs

posted by Señor Enrique at 10:19 AM | 23 comments

Saturday, September 09, 2006

A GLORIOUS NATURE SHOW

What more could anyone ask for? A sunset, rain, and whirlwind all together in one glorious viewing for everyone’s delight!

Found myself in Baywalk over in Roxas Boulevard yesterday afternoon, and although it was overcast, decided to park the car anyway and see what kind of sunset awaited everyone. And just a little before six o’clock, this was the sight that greeted us all.




Most of those in Baywalk were simply amazed at the sight. It actually brought smiles on people's faces. At first some were exclaiming, "May buntot!" But only to realize a little later on the tail they were pointing at was, in fact, a dancing dust devil or whirlwind.




Some were so excited by it that they preferred standing while enjoying the show. Surely, others immediately sent SMS text messages to their friends and loved ones about this awesome view. Moments like these make me wish for Sidney's and Jepapert's Nikon dSLR. Someday when ready, I'll definitely get one.




My sister told me that this was shown on the news last night.

It was a fantastic nature show, which I thanked God for having blessed us with that Friday night! What a fabulous way to end a week, I thought.




However, on my way home from Baywalk, the rain that we were watching from afar earlier found its way inland; a great downpour soon descended upon us; awashing the streets of Manila. Soon thereafter, most roads leading home were flooded, leaving a clutter of vehicles carefully negotiating bottlenecked traffic. It took many hours for me to get home, but thank God my beloved jalopy handled the flood quite well and didn’t stall.




Unfortunately, the grand party being set up earlier at the Coconut Palace must have been drenched by this rain which lasted for hours. Hopefully, it was moved inside the palace so a good time was still had by all.

Labels: Manila Bay, Manila Bay Sunset, nature

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:36 AM | 20 comments

Friday, September 08, 2006

AND THEN THERE WERE EIGHT

It is one of the largest bus companies in the Philippines, servicing the provinces of Northern Luzon. Victory Liner was founded by a man who barely finished grade school; a pre-war mechanic who collected bits and pieces of machinery, metals and spare parts from abandoned U.S. military vehicles. His original intention was to build from scratch a delivery truck for his family’s trading business, but what he ended up building was a bus.

In 1945, this man’s first bus began plying the Manila-to-Olongapo, Zambales-to-Manila route. He was the driver and his brother-in-law his conductor. They named their enterprise Victory Liner to exploit the catchy phrase of that period, “Victory Joe!”

I must have taken hundreds of trips riding Victory Liner buses since I was a kid, and have many fond memories from which. But the most interesting was of late when I came home for vacation after living in New York City for many years. I took a Victory Liner bus to spend a day with my unmarried three aunts (my father’s sisters; one was to die shortly afterward) who live in the ancestral home that still stands in Subic, Zambales.

It was early in the morning when I got there so by the late afternoon, everyone had exhausted even leftover family-related updates. While the two aunts enjoyed their siesta, the youngest kept me occupied with accounts of her church-related activities.

Amongst my father’s siblings, this aunt was the most religious. She was denied her dream to become a nun when they discovered a spot on her lung. Nonetheless, she pursued an English major at the University of Sto. Tomas and would dedicate her life teaching religion at public schools in Zambales. She has always been high-strung, moody, and highly-opinionated. Through the years, she had managed to irritate almost everyone in the family, except my father whom she was fearful of. She was the youngest and a spoiled brat at that.

On that late afternoon, out of the blue she asked me flat out if I had already been told of a dark secret about me, which no one dared discuss while I was growing up; afraid to provoke my father’s ire. Her eagerness to be the first one to tell me about it was quite apparent. Before I could even utter a word in response, she just blurted it right out. She probably assumed I could handle it now that I’m much older. So as not to disappoint her, I didn’t divulge that my mother had already told me about it.

When my mother became pregnant with me, thinking that having eight children was more than enough, my father talked her into getting an abortion. My father was simply being practical. And since my father was the eldest amongst his siblings, no one, even my devout Catholic aunts, would even think of trying to talk him out of it. However, at the very last minute, sensing that my mother wasn’t all for it, my father changed his mind and told her, “Ah, let’s have the baby anyway,” much to my mother’s delight.

Notwithstanding, I turned out to be the most difficult pregnancy for my mother, which at times made my father regret having changed his mind. I was so big at the final month that whenever I kicked, it would jolt my mother and make her unable to breathe for a couple of seconds. My mother was a tad taller than five feet with a tiny frame yet she endured the agony and tried to hide it from my father. It scared him; he was afraid something terribly wrong might happen during my birth.

Everyone was relieved when I was born one fine morning without posing any threat on my mother’s overall welfare. To this day, she remembered how my aunts marveled at how big I was — eight pounds. Everyone talked about my long fingers which they claimed look like candle sticks.

Despite my mother’s difficult pregnancy, in the end, my father was glad he had decided not to have me aborted. It wasn’t because of some moral or religious reasons. It was something else. Deep down he knew he was dying. The many years he had indulged in alcohol began taking a serious toll on his health.

And for whatever years he had left, he wanted to experience what being a father was truly like. I was the child who could provide him with that opportunity. To my older siblings, he was more a patriarch; the great provider. And in projecting that image, the children became more fearful and obedient. He had to do it; he didn’t want my mother to be over-burdened with incorrigible kids.

But to the newly-born, the bunso, a boy, he could be the father he never was.


Afterthought:

My grandfather raised his boys (my father and his younger brothers) to harbor distrust for the Catholic Church while the girls were not; in fact, they were even encouraged to become devout Catholics.

Supposedly, my great-grandfather’s vast farm lands were seized by the Spanish friars, and such loss probably attributed to his death immediately afterwards. My grandfather and his two brothers were then ordered by the friars to leave — my grandfather headed for Zambales while one chose Bicol; the other, Batangas. It was done for self-preservation. Being living witnesses to such tyranny, they were afraid the friars would only persecute them further if they remained together.

Ironically, many years later, after having done well in his farming and logging endeavors, my grandfather donated a piece of prime lot and money for a church and plaza to be built in his adopted hometown.

On the other hand, my mother’s lineage (her grandfather a Spanish civil servant), has been quite prolific in producing priests and nuns to date.

Labels: Growing up memoirs, life in Manila

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:40 AM | 17 comments

Thursday, September 07, 2006

FREAKANOMICS ON CRIME AND ABORTION

This picture of an almost empty commuter bus reminds me of a particular chapter in the book I’m reading, Freakanomics. It's about the sudden drop in crime rate in America which completely baffled many social scientists and law enforcement officials. That is, until an unconventional-thinking economist came up with a mind-boggling theory. In fact, the Wall Street Journal dubbed this man, Steven Levitt, the Indiana Jones of economics.

A most recent winner of the John Bates Clark award for the best economist under the age of 40, Levitt‘s success as ascribed by this financial broadsheet, as having a lot more to do with his wit, pluck and disregard for conventional wisdom; not as a specialist of technical information for the select few.

“His genius is to take a seemingly meaningless set of numbers, ferret out the telltale pattern and recognize what it means,” according to this Wall Street Journal article. Through such method, Levitt outlined the cause which resulted to the drastic drop in crime in the United States.

During the 1990s, the Clinton administration along with many criminologists and socio-political scientists unanimously issued a dismal forecast that the entire country was facing a future steep in crime. Accumulated data was so compelling that odd makers were putting their money on the criminals.

“We know we’ve got about six years to turn this juvenile crime thing around, or our country is going to be living with chaos,” President Clinton declared. However, contrary to the common prediction by these learned men, the crime rate fell instead.

The reversal was indeed astounding — the teenage murder rate alone, expected to surge at 100 percent, dropped more than 50 percent within five years. By 2000 the overall murder rate in the United States had dropped to its lowest level in thirty-five years, including the rate of just about every other sort of crime, from assault to car theft. The stumped criminologists, relying upon conventional wisdom, grappled to explain this unexpected shift; only to come up with highly inaccurate and erroneous conclusions.

And then came Steven Levitt who pinpointed this drastic decrease in crime to a woman in Dallas who was then a 21-year-old uneducated destitute; an alcoholic and drug addict who had given up for adoption her two children. Her name was Norma McCorvey.

In 1970, she found herself pregnant again; all she wanted was an abortion. Without intending to, she also dramatically altered the course of events that affected the entire United States of America.

Abortion was illegal in Texas where Norma McCorvey resided, as well as in the entire United States during that time. There were, however, powerful people who adopted her cause and made her lead plaintiff to a class-action lawsuit seeking to legalize abortion. They named the Dallas County district attorney, Henry Wade, as defendant. To protect her privacy, her name was disguised as Jane Roe.

The case ultimately found its way all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court; hence Roe versus Wade.

On June 22, 1973, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Ms. Roe, paving the way for legalized abortion throughout the country. Ironically, too late to get an abortion when the ruling came out, Norma McCorvey gave birth, but put the child up for adoption. In the succeeding years, she would renounce her allegiance to legalized abortion crusade and become a pro-life activist.

Millions of American women most likely to resort to abortion in the wake of the Roe vs. Wade were indigent, uneducated, unmarried teenage mothers whose children, if born, would have been more likely than average to become criminals. But due to Roe vs. Wade, these children weren’t being born.

According to Levitt’s theory, “this powerful cause would have a drastic, distant effect: years later, just as these unborn children would have entered their criminal primes, the rate of crime began to plummet.”

Again, Levitt based his findings on numbers and data, but what the link between abortion and crime tells him is this: “when the government gives a woman the opportunity to make her own decision about abortion, she generally does a good job of figuring out if she is in a position to raise the baby well. If she decides she can’t, she often chooses the abortion.” On the other hand, should a woman decide to have the baby, a pressing question arises: “what are parents supposed to do once a child is born?”

This entry was created to briefly illustrate the unorthodox manner in which this famed economist, Steven Levitt, goes about drawing his conclusions. It wasn’t intended to allude to a personal perspective on the subject of abortion.

Freakanomics is a good read which I recommend to those who appreciate articulate, though a roguish style of deductive reasoning.



*Many thanks again to Minotte’s Notes for offering to get me a copy of this book in San Francisco when I thought none was available locally. I did, however, found it at a local National Bookstore.

Labels: current affairs, Featured book

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:10 PM | 21 comments

PAPILLON

The average life span of an adult butterfly is one to two weeks. It can also be as short as two days, or as long as a year.

A butterfly comes from a chrysalis or pupa. The leaves of my rosal (gardenia) and calamansi plants can sometimes get infested by these things that resemble tiny leathery pouches.

Basically, these flying insects go through a four-stage life cycle: an adult butterfly lays an egg on a leaf on my rosal or calamansi plant; the egg then hatches and out comes a caterpillar or larva; the caterpillar then forms the chrysalis or pupa; finally, the chrysalis matures into a beautiful butterfly, flies around and drives the cat batty that’s trying to catch it.

Supposedly, butterflies can only fly if their body temperature is above 86 degrees. During cold weather, they sunbathe to warm up. As they age, the color of the wings fades and the wings become ragged like this one that landed on my wrist and then walked over to stand on top of my watch. Yes, all you have to do is stand still, hold your hand up high and wait for the butterfly to land on it.

Folklore claims that a spirit of a loved one who had passed away could sometimes incarnate as a butterfly for a brief moment of time just to be near a living friend or relative. And since this particular butterfly came and went a couple of times only to come back and stand on top of my watch, I’d like to think it was my brother who came to say hello. This Tiffany watch was his originally. When he died, my mother suggested that I keep it to wear some times.



Here’s another shot of the same butterfly that would land on my wrist, walk over to the watch, fly off, and then come back again. Sometimes he would fly off only to come back and land on my shoulder; difficult to photograph because he would get spooked whenever the camera got too close. This went on for almost ten minutes.

Based on his raggedy wing, it does appear like he had seen better days. However, the black and white butterfly at the bottom is gorgeous, but elusive. He would only land on a nearby leaf, not on my hand or wrist. But as the song goes, “butterflies are free to fly.”

I’d like to think that he may be a friend or close relative of one of my readers who wanted to say hello to him/her. Perhaps, that may be why he kept flying around and landing near me; always staying within camera range.

And that his beauty as a butterfly reflects the beauty of the love he holds for the reader.


Incidentally, these pictures weren’t taken in my backyard; rather, at the Butterfly Pavilion inside the Orchidarium here in Manila. It’s a small butterfly sanctuary sponsored by Nokia, but there are larger ones at Camp John Hay in Baguio, as well as somewhere in Tagaytay and Batangas.

* * *

Please note:
I very much appreciate my articles and photos appearing on fellow bloggers' sites, popular broadsheets, and local broadcast news segments, but I would appreciate even more a request for permission first.
Thank you!


*

Labels: butterflies, Orchidarium, photography

posted by Señor Enrique at 5:14 AM | 37 comments

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

VYING FOR A GUINNESS WORLD RECORD

The Philippines is vying to become the new record holder for the world’s longest painting on continuous canvas. Their theme is marine life.

The current Guinness World record holder is the United Arab Emirates whose artwork was done in Abu Dhabi on March 21, 2005 and set a record of 2,978.4 meters (9,771.6 feet).

At last count, the Philippine entry has only 1,700 plus meters of canvas painted; the goal is 5,000 meters. Iran, from what I was recently told, is a fierce competitor aiming for a 10,000 meter goal. And with a deadline of September 7th, the current record alone is looking mighty tough to beat for the Philippines. An extension is being requested by all participating countries.



Those who wish to participate may still do so and register in one of two ways:

One is to sign up for free and for doing so will be given a Certificate of Participation.

The other involves a 1,000 peso fee, but comes with certain benefits such as Certificate of Participation from OTSAA, Guinness World Records, World Art Heritage from UNESCO; souvenir items (t-shirts, pins, and etc.); lifetime membership I OTSAA’s longest painting club and considered qualified for special awards; inclusion of name in the Guinness coffee table book; and 50% discount on all commemorative items on sale.


The official venue where this monumental endeavor is being executed is on the 4th floor of SM North (or West) Mall.

You may also call the following for additional information:

Telephone: 417-5785 or 796-0954
Mobile: 0918-473-1321
Email: artexperience@yahoo.com

Labels: art matters, Guiness Book Record, life in Manila

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:30 AM | 20 comments

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

FROM GRAFFITI TO MAINSTREAM MEDIA

Last January, I posted an entry about New York’s street art scene — temporary public exhibitions of artworks done by graffiti artists in good taste. I had also mentioned that corporate America — mostly soft drinks and sports shoe manufacturers — had taken notice of their works and have been commissioning some of these young people to create murals for their visual merchandising and advertising campaigns.

Jase, a fellow Pinoy blogger living in Australia, photographed and blogged about what he was noticing as an increasing amount of graffiti-like artworks in his neighborhood in Melbourne. I told him that in New York City, those would be defined as street art.

Meanwhile, as I was walking along Ayala and Makati avenues last week, what greeted me in one of the underground passageways was a series of advertising murals by Nike, which could have been designed and executed by the Tats Cru group from the Bronx — a once New York City graffiti gang that had gone on to accept lucrative commissions from America’s advertising industry.

So now, legitimate versions of street art have finally reached the shores of Metro Manila courtesy of Nike.

* * *

Please note:
I very much appreciate my articles and photos appearing on fellow bloggers' sites, popular broadsheets, and local broadcast news segments, but I would appreciate even more a request for permission first.
Thank you!


*

Labels: art matters

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:39 AM | 18 comments

Monday, September 04, 2006

MANILA CITY HALL

I got caught two weeks ago by Manila’s brown shirts — otherwise known as traffic enforcement officers — for color coding violation. I didn’t realize that it was way past three in the afternoon. As luck would have it, the traffic light turned red as I approached the corner of Solis and Rizal Avenue; right on the corner were two of them who immediately noticed my car's plate.

Remembering Philippines Phil’s blog entry, Driving in the Philippines, I decided to just grin and bear the due penalty. I was given a ticket while my license was taken from me, and advised to just show the ticket if ever I got stopped again. It would take about a week for my license to be ready for redemption at Manila City Hall.

Incidentally, since I’m way older than most cops and security personnel in the streets of the city, instead of addressing them as Sir, I’d often refer to them as Chief, which I noticed they would get a kick out of — respectful yet friendly. As I restarted the car, the brown shirt who issued me the ticket, to my surprise, apologized for not being able to give me a break. He confided that the unmarked Toyota Revo on the other side of the street behind us carried passengers — officers from his unit — who were observing him and his partner.



Getting back my license cost 300 pesos (about six US dollars). The process involves three steps. Firstly, I had to go to a certain window where I had to present the ticket. The clerk checked her computer terminal to make sure that my license had already arrived and recorded into their database. If not, I will be asked to return on another date.

If the license is ready for redemption, the second step is to walk over to another area (about 25 meters away) to trade my ticket for a stub with a number on it indicating my place in the line of people waiting to get their license back.

Third and final step is to head over to the redemption center and wait for my number and name to be called over a loudspeaker. Once called, I will be directed to a particular cashier's window to remit the 300 peso penalty.

I think the whole color coding scheme is a big joke, mainly because it favors the rich who can afford to buy a second car to circumvent this traffic regulation. What the city needs is a much better traffic management and improved, well-lighted streets and roadways.



Anyway, the whole process of retrieving one’s license, depending on how crowded it is, usually takes about 40 minutes. What I did while waiting to be called was take pictures of the city hall’s interior ground. With so many security personnel, as well as uniformed police and traffic officers roaming the area, I was surprised no one stopped me from taking pictures of the place.

My eldest sister Fraulein got her first job here when Villegas was the city’s mayor. She was a civil servant in the Assessor's Office until she left to pursue graduate studies at the University of Chicago.

Located at Plaza Lawton in front of SM Manila Mall, the city hall was supposedly built during the 1930s. It has a famous clock tower that is beautifully lit at night.



Unable to find any of its history online, I emailed Ivan Mandy requesting for any information. He immediately responded to say that it was “originally built during the early days of the American occupation (1901) but the current structure dates back only to the 1930s and was finished in 1941; designed by architect Antonio Toledo. It was destroyed during WWII. The current one is a post war reconstruction.”

Ivan also included a piece of trivia: if seen from above, it resembles a coffin with the clock tower as its candle. He credits Nick Joaquin as the author of this somewhat morbid comparison. He also mentioned that city hall was renamed Maharnilad during the Marcos era, and that there is an oversized mural created by Carlos Botong Francisco inside the mayor’s anteroom. I will try to gain access and take a photo of this mural another day.


City of Manila business permits are among the highest in Metro Manila; however, the business community is not complaining because of the many revitalization programs that the mayor has been actively pursuing, which translates to a surge in business growth.

Just a few meters north of city hall is the newly-refurbished Pugad Lawin Plaza; whereas the frontage of Universidad de Manila alongside the plaza, as well as the pedestrian area up to The Metropolitan Theater are all going through a transformation resembling an entire park with many brightly-lit lamp posts.

If the 300 peso fine I shelled out to redeem my license went to the coffers to fund continued revitalization programs of the city, then like the business community, I have no complaints whatsoever.

Labels: driving, life in Manila, manila city hall

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:24 AM | 36 comments

Sunday, September 03, 2006

THE NORTH BANK TOUR WITH CARLOS CELDRAN

It was another day of history lessons with the entire stretch of Escolta to Quiapo as classroom, and Carlos Celdran as teacher. I was accompanied by a fellow blogger, Vina (standing behind Carlos in picture above), and my Manila-born and raised nephew, Edick.



















The historical aspect of this walking tour was from the period in which the Philippine archipelago began to experience economic, educational and cultural indoctrinations from its American colonizer during the turn of the 20th century. Escolta and the entire city of Manila seemed to have been the centerpiece of that grandiose renaissance buffet. Sadly, the tangible assets of those efforts were blown into smithereens during the one month Battle of Manila when the entire city was carpet bombed by the U.S. liberating forces.

And the period right after the war — traumatized by a civilian death toll that practically equaled that of Hiroshima — most members of Manila’s society and business elite began their exodus down south — towards Makati. Those whose hearts remained in Manila stayed behind to spearhead the monumental task of rebuilding a war-torn city.



















Since about six years ago until now, Mayor Lito Atienza has been busily resuscitating Manila with his various revitalization and beautification projects. And the gentrified Escolta and Rizal Avenue were some of the areas that Carlos brought us to see and know some of their history.




















Personally, the most exciting moment of this tour was when Carlos brought us to Plaza Miranda in front of Quiapo Church and told us everything we wanted to know about those local cures and amulets sold by the street vendors. I was always curious about them, but hesitant, or I should say, embarrassed to ask a vendor to explain to me what each item was for. Much to my delight, Carlos demystified it all for me!

Now I know which super strength love potion to get should a need arise in the future, or which amulet would be formidable enough to guard myself against evil intentions (I can now retire the evil eye keychain which a friend brought me from Turkey).



















And finally, the highlight of this walking tour was when Carlos led us to the side of the church and then around to a doorway. Behind it is this flight of stairs that leads directly to a plexiglass window behind the church altar with an opening to slip one's hand and touch the foot of the Black Nazarene while asking for three wishes. That alone made my day, because no one else I know — local family and friends — knew about this. Now I have something new to tell them.



















Incidentally, I happened to have spoken briefly with one of those in the tour with us yesterday, a gentleman about my age who either travels a lot, or works outside of his home country. He told me that whenever he goes back home to Holland for vacation, he signs up for at least one of their local guided tours — to water his roots, so to speak. I think Filipino expats ought to do the same thing.

This has been another walking tour guided by Carlos that was absolutely worth my time, effort, and money, for I came away richer with knowledge and pride for the city I was born and grew up in.

*Special thanks to Vina for a bagful of delicious Bacolod butterscotch and tart goodies!

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:20 AM | 26 comments

Saturday, September 02, 2006

LITTLE TOKYO IN METRO MANILA

Since the past couple of years, I've been meaning to go to Little Tokyo at Chino Roces Avenue in Makati; last Thursday, I finally did. There were many Japanese restaurants in this area to choose from, but decided to check out Heijyoen.

I was craving for sashimi so I ordered their sashimi set that includes miso soup, salad, squid appetizer, a plateful of various sashimi, bowl of rice, mango jelly dessert, and Japanese tea. It was rather pricey at 378 pesos (about 7 US dollars), but it was definitely worth it. The sashimi was fresh and the entire meal was very good.

This restaurant’s specialty is yakiniku — marinated meat that you grill right on your table. The spare ribs cost 348 to 428 pesos; tenderloin is 268 pesos, tongue is 198 pesos; and mixed vegetables are 88 pesos.

The service is excellent and the bathroom (or comfort room) is clean, which can only mean that the restaurant’s kitchen is clean as well.

Heijoyoen is located at 2277 Chino Roces Avenue, Makati City, Metro Manila. Telephone is 888-2288. It is open from 11:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m.

* * *

Please note:
I very much appreciate my articles and photos appearing on fellow bloggers' sites, popular broadsheets, and local broadcast news segments, but I would appreciate even more a request for permission first.
Thank you!


*

Labels: eateries, Featured food

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:53 AM | 16 comments

Friday, September 01, 2006

MANILA HIGH SCHOOL - BUWAN NG WIKA

Wikang Pilipino sa Pambansang Kalayaan at Pagkakaisa
by Pat Villafuerte

Sa bawat panahon
Sa bawat kasaysayan
Sa bawat henerasyon
May palawakan ng isip
May palitan ng paniniwala
May tagisan ng matwid
Maging ito’y magbunga ng tuwa, ng lungkot, ng galit
Sila-sila’y nagtatagpo, kayu-kayo’y nagpapangkat

Isang diwa ang nagpasya, isang wika ang ginamit
Wikang Pilipino! Wikang maka-Diyos, makabayan, makatao
Wikang naglalagos sa isipang makabansa
Wikang nanunuot sa damdaming makalupa
At paisa-isang dila, parami-raming labi, sama-samang tinig
Bumubulong, sumasatsat, humihiyaw, nagngangalit
Hinihingi’y kalayaan! Katarungan! Kalayaan! Katarungan!

Hanggang saan susukatin?
Hanggang kalian bubuhayin?
Hanggang kalian maaangkin?
Layang mangausap, layang sumulat
Layang mamuhay, layang manalig
Layang humahalakhak, layang mangarap,
Layang maghimagsik
Maghimagsik! Maghimagsik! Maghimagsik!

A, parang isang pangarap, parang isang panaginip
Kasaysayan pala’y mababago isang saglit
Sa dakong silangan … doon sa silangan
Ang sikat ng araw … sumilip, sumikat, uminit
Sari-saring mukha, magkakabalat, magkakadugo, magkakapatid
Sama-samng gumising, magkakapit-bisig, nag-alsa’t tumindig
Lakas ng tao! Lakas ng bayan! Lakas ng daigdig!
Laban sa tirano, sa gahaman, sa mapanupil, sa mapan-lupig

Bata’t matanda, propesyonal at di propesyonal
Manggagawa, kawani, guro, mangangalakal
Mangigisda’t magbubukid, pari, madre, iskolar
Sundalo, pulis, drayber, estudyante, istambay
A, lahat-lahat na
Sa sama-samang tinig, sa sama-samang lakas
Nagkakaisa, nagkasama
Nagkasama, nagkaisa
Mga bagon bayani ng Bagong Republika

At …
Wala nang dapihapon
Wala nang takipsilim
Wala nang lungkot, takot, luha, dusa’t hinagpis
Wala nang tanda, ng dusting pagkalupig
Bagwis ng ibong dati’y pinuyian sa tinid ng galit
Ngayo’y nakalipad na … umaawit, humuhuni, umaawit
Dahil malaya
Dahil sa wika
Dahil sa lakas

Bagong kalayaa’y naririto ngayon
At nakamit natin nang buong hinahon
Ni walaang digmaa’t pinapanginoon
May mabuting nasang taga sa panahon

At kung sakaling magbalik muli
Ang kasaysayang hininog ng isang madilim na kahapon
Muli, ang paisa-isang dila, ang parami-raming labi
Ang sama-samang tinig
Ang sari-saring mukha, magkakabalat, magkakadugo’t magkakapatid
Sama-samang gigising, magkakapit bisig aalsa’t titindig
Lakas ng tao! Lakas ng bayan! Lakas ng daigdig!

* * *

Please note:
I very much appreciate my articles and photos appearing on fellow bloggers' sites, popular broadsheets, and local broadcast news segments, but I would appreciate even more a request for permission first.
Thank you!


*

Labels: academe

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:59 PM | 15 comments

Life in Manila as observed by a former New Yorker who with a laptop and camera has reinvented himself as a storyteller. Winner of the PHILIPPINE BLOG AWARDS: Best Photo Blog in 2007 and three Best Single Post awards in 2008.

 

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