Wish you were here

Thursday, September 04, 2008

AFFAIRS OF THE HEART

In Japan, there are companies that will help you get rid of an unwanted spouse, retrieve a straying one, get back with an ex or even get together with someone you’ve seen but don’t yet know. With all the technology and expertise in human psychology at their disposal, these companies, for a fee, will do it for you.

It used to be when a divorced woman was shunned by the Japanese society, doomed unlikely to remarry; thus, Japanese wives put up with any amount of infidelity and abuse.. Not anymore. Tomiya was one of those who founded such companies. "People want to be happy,” he said, and this desire has resulted to an enormous increase in divorces and in companies such as GNC that Tomiya founded 16 years ago. It now has branches across Japan.

Tomiya's staff perform all sorts of services, from trailing a straying spouse or looking into the background of a marriage or job candidate, to dealing with stalkers, domestic violence, sexual harassment, even hackers. But his main job is sorting relationship problems. In the past year alone he has dealt with 2,000 cases.

Some of the cases handled by Tomiya's company entails the use of professional seducers to help unhappy wives build a case for divorcing their husbands. Take this one case, for instance:

3.30pm. Mr A is outside a bank in a busy part of Ikebukuro, a faintly seedy area of Tokyo, waiting for his date. He beams as she teeters across the road on high heels. Kyoko, 20, is half his age. She has a mane of black hair, sloe eyes, a fetching smile and a cute giggle. Her blouse is open to reveal her cleavage and she has on a short skirt and sheer black tights. Mr A is a bald 40-year-old salesman in a crumpled grey suit and glasses.

Mr A met Kyoko by chance in the street; the first time she asked him for directions, then they bumped into each other again, and since then they have been exchanging flirtatious texts.

They stop off at a cigarette machine, then go to a cheap basement restaurant for spaghetti. He has bought her moisturiser and cleanser. She giggles coyly: “Next time, why don’t you give me a ring?” At 4.30 they’re outside a pawnbroker’s, looking at rings. Their shoulders touch, then they reach for each other’s hands.

Click here to read the rest.




Here in Manila, even though divorced or legally separated women are not ostracized, there are those who, due to unknown reasons, opt to remain living with their abusive, alcoholic, or unfaithful husbands. One of whom is someone I know, Matilda (not her real name) who has been married to a relative of mine, Juancho (not his real name, either) for 35 years. Juancho has been maintaining another family.

Manila, being a small city, word got around from the onset. Juancho didn't deny it when confronted; however, he refused to let go of his other family in which he has two sons, while she refused to heed the advice of everyone: to leave him and move on with her life. Their four children are now done with college and enjoying their adulthood; two are married.

And although the situation brings her insurmountable grief, Matilda, has somehow convinced herself that she could change her husband and eventually win him back completely. It has been ten years.

Juancho divides his time between living with Matilda in Manila and with the other younger woman in the province where he maintains a business. A few months ago, Matilda had a terrible accident that caused severe injury to her spinal column. She was prescribed a regular dose of pain killers to assuage the excruciating back pain, as well as a series of physical therapy to help her walk again.

Despite being upset about this cruel twist of fate that befell Matilda, Juancho continues to divide his time between Matilda and the other younger woman -- much to Matilda's disappointment. She was hoping that this accident would awaken his senses to leave his other family. Regrettably, it didn't turn out that way.

Last I ran into him and asked about her condition, Juancho said that she is now walking but on very limited stretches. And then he muttered, "She should have just let me go instead of harboring all that anger for the other one all through these years." I was dumbfounded. But the earnestness in his eyes conveyed the love for the other woman far outweighs the love he has for his legal wife Matilda.




In Nigeria, religious leader Mohammadu Bello Abubakar, who is 84, accepted an Islamic decree that would force him to divorce 82, or 95 percent, of his 86 wives; allowing him to keep only four.

According to a BBC report, one of Nigeria's top Islamic bodies, the Jamatu Nasril Islam, sentenced Abubakar to death last week. The sentence was lifted but he was threatened with eviction from his home. Mr Abubakar had earlier challenged Islamic scholars, saying there was no punishment stated in the Koran for having more than four wives.

"I have not contravened any established law that would warrant my being banished from the land... There is no law that says one must not marry more than four wives," the AFP news agency reported him as saying.

Labels: current affairs, life in Manila, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 5:28 AM | 32 comments

Monday, August 25, 2008

NGANGA

Labels: Local culture, Philippine history, photography

posted by Señor Enrique at 9:56 AM | 26 comments

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

SOMETHING ABOUT JOSHUA

He is one of the kids in a Quiapo neighborhood who calls me lolo. His mother runs an eatery popular among the residents and students of this university belt area. It offers an array of local dishes, including hamburgers.

I told Joshua once that his name happens to be one of my favorites; first heard it when one of the characters had that name in the epic movie "The Ten Commandments." And with a name graced with biblical provenance, I reminded young Joshua to be a good boy always. He promised to be one with an almost whisper-like tone.

The common haircut among the local young boys during the summer is the buzzed or crew cut. I sported it when I was a kid. And when Joshua had it early this summer, I noticed for the first time that he has two cowlicks, or puyo in Tagalog. And young boys with such characteristics, according to local folklore, personify the epitome of unadulterated recalcitrance, or 'double trouble' in simple parlance.

Invariably courteous and gentle with smaller playmates, I was convinced Joshua was an exception. Most interestingly, whenever seeing me, he's quick to grab my hand to place it on his forehead and say, "Mano po, Lolo," -- a local tradition that shows respect to elders. And this endearing gesture never ceased to impress me. What a charming young lad, I thought.

"Better not be too hasty with your praises," said my friend, the godmother of Joshua's baby sister. Prompted by the puzzled look on my face, she began to relate a story that happened a year ago.

Joshua's parents gave his eldest sister a cellphone -- a means for the parents to communicate with Joshua and his two sisters while they're in school. One day, the cellphone mysteriously disappeared. A couple of days later, Joshua's teacher dropped by their house after school to return the cellphone. She said Joshua gave it to her as a gift. The father gave the young boy five whips with his belt.

The following Valentine's Day, the teacher once again dropped by their house after school, this time to return a bundle of fresh flowers. Joshua later admitted that he had been pinching some change from the eatery's cash box in order to come up with the money for some flowers to give to his teacher. This time, the father opted to spare the rod, or belt for that matter. He instead convinced Joshua that he is much too young to be in love. He added that there was no way a teacher in her late twenties, though unmarried, would ever engage in such romantic liaison with a boy of eight.

I couldn't help but let out a whole-hearted laugh after hearing Joshua's adventures. Told my friend that I, too, had a crush on my religion teacher from Espiritu Santo when I was a fourth grade student at Bonifacio Elementary School. However, unlike Joshua, I never acted on such puppy love, I'd be too petrified to do so. Perhaps, it was because I don't even have single cowlick on the top of my head, I think.

Labels: life in Manila, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:33 AM | 30 comments

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

A CHILD IS WAITING

Some believe that it isn't necessarily due to exhaustion from too much play when a child sits quietly for a lengthy period; more often than not, he's simply waiting for the next fun thing to do. I'm truly uncertain where children draw their energy from because their stamina can sometimes equal those of marathon runners whenever engaged in some exciting activity.

In one neighborhood in Quiapo about a couple of weeks ago, I was surprised when a child of five told me that she wasn't waiting for her playmates as she sat patiently in front of their house. She was instead waiting for her mommy to come home from the office.

When I told her that she had a long wait ahead of her since it was only eleven in the morning, her grandmother leaned over and whispered that the child's mother is a domestic worker in Dubai while the father is a jeepney driver. They told the child that her mother was just in the office so as to cushion the harsh reality of her mother having gone to a far away land for a very long time.

What astonished me even more was when the grandmother added that many children in the neighborhood are being raised by single parents or by grandparents because many residents are OFWs (mostly contract workers in the Middle East or seamen). She also mentioned that students do not make up the largest group of tenants or bed space boarders in the area but seamen who come from the provinces but maintain a room or bed space in Quiapo even if away for most times.

In the barber shop in the neighborhood I once went to, I was told by the barber that their customers are mainly seamen who are about to leave for another assignment or those who've just returned home. And sure enough, while I was getting a haircut, I was treated to a chatter of news with an international mix from the seamen customers.

What an intriguing neighborhood, I thought -- although looking old and comprised of many old houses, with some left to decay -- its people harbor an international bent, and most certainly their children as well.

Labels: life in Manila, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:21 AM | 46 comments

Thursday, May 22, 2008

A HOUSE IN QUIAPO

One of the things I enjoy while walking around Quiapo is looking at old houses especially those maintained in good condition. This one on Progreso Street near San Sebastian Church (above photo) is a prime example.

Other than in Binondo, a neighborhood in Quiapo as this one is where I'd like to live. That would allow me to just walk to any of my usual haunts -- from the photography shops on Hidalgo Street to favorite eateries in Chinatown. As it is, the hustle and bustle of this tri-district downtown area of Binondo, Quiapo and Santa Cruz make me feel right at home, for they remind me of Manhattan's.

As an aside, a resident in the area approached me while I was taking a photograph of this house. When she asked what it was for, I said for personal admiration for its upkeep. I added that many grand houses in the area are simply left to decay.

She encouraged me to knock on the door and talk to the owner. She said that they're very friendly and I might even be invited to see its interiors. A couple of TV soap operas, she added, were shot in that house.

I was tempted, but told her that I was just too embarrassed to just knock on the door unexpected. I thought it'd be rude.

Labels: Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:59 AM | 20 comments

Friday, May 16, 2008

BALONG WITH THE BRONZE CHILDREN

Over a cup of coffee one afternoon, I asked my kumpadre why he gets along so well with his grandson considering that his relationship with his son is nothing short of turbulent.

His face revealed a silly grin as he said, "Simple lang pare. At the end of the day, I get to return the child back to his parents."

Today is the Fertility Dance Festival at Obando, Bulacan. I should talk my kumpadre into taking the day off from work so we could check out this fiesta and take some pictures.

By the way, remember this?

Santa Clarang pinong-pino / Ako po ay bigyan mo / Ng asawang labintatlo / Sa gastos ay walang reklamo!

And I thought the prayer and dance was for a child.

Labels: Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:38 AM | 26 comments

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

BOTTOMLESS JOY

Never mind the hilarious clowns, skewered mini hotdogs with marshmallows, plateful of spaghetti, and a piece of the luscious chocolate cake. What the guests at this children's birthday were eagerly waiting for was the dirty ice cream.

And when it was announced that the line has been started for it, all the kids screamed with great joy. There were three flavors served: mango, cheese and ube. And most delightful of all, the kids were encouraged by the host for a second and third helping!

Surely, a wonderful time was had by all, especially by the one-year-old birthday celebrant.

Labels: Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 5:15 AM | 14 comments

Saturday, May 10, 2008

MAX'S FRIED CHICKEN, AN ALL-TIME PINOY FAVORITE

I have fond memories of Max's Fried Chicken Restaurant. One I vividly remember was on a Sunday afternoon when my father brought the entire family to feast on this restaurant's famous fried chicken. From our table, I could see Manila Bay -- the palm trees gently swaying with the soothing breeze.

However, since my father had taken me to other restaurants in Binondo whose fried chicken were just as good, I wasn't one who immediately went to a Max's Restaurant upon my return to Manila. Actually, I craved more for Aristocrat's barbecued chicken with its unique sauce and Java rice. It was only when I posted a recipe ala Max's fried chicken did I realize how popular Max's fried chicken is, specially for Pinoys living abroad.

The recipe as I had posted it was quite simple:

- Thoroughly wash a whole chicken with salt as usual.
- Fill pan with water (chicken must be totally immersed in water)
- Add 1 tablespoon of whole black pepper and 3 pieces of star anis (sangke)
- Add sliced ginger and salt according to taste
- Boil chicken for 10 to 15 minutes using low fire
- Drain and deep-fry

However, some readers who tried it came back to ask or share certain points such as:

One reader wrote: "I tried your recipe today. It tastes good, almost like Max's, but the meat is a little dry. Do you have a technique to keep the meat moist."

Another suggested to try his father's technique: "yung father ko tinurokan muna ng water tapos freeze nya tapos deep fry."

An irate reader wrote: "anglayo sobra, sinubukan ko, ang amoy sobra ng star anis, tuyo ang laman, the next time you post a recipe, be sure na malapit lapit naman kahit paano. no hurt feelings my friend."

But someone came to my defense: "try this method. rub half chicken (cut lengthwise) with garlic clove, season with salt and pepper or patis and pepper. then rub liberally with cornstarch. steam the chicken until cook. let stand and cool. then deep fry! - fejtrc

Gene wrote a more descriptive suggestion: "Senyor, maraming maraming salamat po sa tip ninyo. Miss na miss na po namin ang Max fried chicken. Sinubukan po namin kanina ang recipe ninyo at meron po kaming dinagdag na ingredient based doon sa iba pa naming pag re research ng recipe na kalasa ng Max fried chicken. Pagkatapos po ng unang boil ng chicken with your recipe ay dinagdagan po namin ng 2 chicken cubes then, simmer siya ng 45 minutes. Ang lambot at juiceness ng loob ng chicken ay na maintain niya matapos namin siyang i drain ng 10 minutes. Sabay lagay sa mainit na mainit na mantika (canola oil) deep fried ninyo lang siya ng 3 minutes tapos baligtarin ang kabilang side at pabayaan din ng 3 minutes. Napansin ko ang ibang comments dito na medyo tuyo ang meat ng chicken nila sa loob. The secret here is don't over-fry it. 3 minutes lang each side ay sapat na yon para mag brown and crispy ang labas. Don't worry about the inside coz malambot at luto na siya due to boiling and simmering. Bago siya i-fry ay puwede ring pahiran ninyo siya (ang skin) ng patis according sa panlasa ninyo. Serve ninyo siya ng pipino at atsara on the side and nakupooo... kalasang kalasa talaga siya ng Max fried chicken."

Kitkat asked if she could use her turbo instead: "hello po! ita-try ko po itong recipe ninyo.isang question pa po.if i'm abput to use a turbo...mga anong temperature po kaya ang dapat kong ilagay and for how many minutes to make it crispy and juicy??? malaking help po sa lahat ang binibigay ninyong recipe...lalo na po sa mga taong nasa ibang bansa na nami miss na ang mga pagkaing tulad nito. God bless!"

Thanks to Gene with the response: "Hi Kitkat, kung turbo ang gagamitin mo I think it's best to set it at the highest level (or medium high...350 to 400 maybe?) and then once na mag brown and crispy ang labas eh yun na yun! You don't need to time it coz the inside of the chicken meat is cooked already (due to boiling or simmering) from senyor enrique's recipe. The secret here is don't over fry it (kung deep fry) or don't over do it (kung turbo ang gagamitin). Yung recipe ni senyor enriquez ang magbibigay ng lasa at aromang ala max fried chicken sa boiled chicken mo. Sa tingin ko senyor enriquez... kung papahiran ng patis with grounded pepper sabay wiwisikan (and I mean wisik lang at hindi pahid or paliguan) ni Kitkat ng cornstarch ang skin ng chicken niya eh magkakaroon ng lutong ang skin nito na akala mo eh ala-crispy pata ang dating... hehehhehe"

Here are some more comments from other readers:

"Hi Senor Enrique, thanks for the recipe. I just did it and the crisp appearance of the Max's Fried chicken that I have grown to love was back before my eyes, ready to be enjoyed. My kids loved it greatly. The skin was so crispy and the bones were crunchy too. Now, I have one thing though... I cannot yet call it "sarap to the bones." I will try what Gene has suggested, but will omit the simmering and go to it straight away. Now for a secret ingredient that most people don't know about Max's, it is deep fried with sweet potato (kamote). Much like Shakey's fried chicken which is deep fried with slices of potatoes which becomes mojos. Try it and please keep me posted for some comments!" - Fide

"hi! thanks for this recipe. its really a great copycat of max's chicken. at first i dont want to believe...but it was just perfect! as for the juiciness...i may suggest you buy a fresh chicken the one na hindi pa na frozen...its better kasi mas juicy ang chicken...anyway thanks!" - Nylre

"Thanks Senor and Gene for that great recipe. -- Hi fellow pinoys loving Max's chicken so much! Have a friend working at Max's and it is a top secret recipe. Their chicken arrives at the store branch in a plastic container and fries it when it is ordered. But one thing they said was they really boil it into a soup stock and they fry it in lard...yes...animal fat. I was amazed and yet scared to what it would do my health. That is why it was soooo good! And old folks say it was deep fried in butter. You might want to try it but think of what it would do to your body. Bon Appetit!!!" -- Anonymous

That's right! Much like Kentucky Fried Chicken's, Max's fried chicken recipe is a well-guarded secret. This version I had posted is a mere attempt to simulate its taste for the benefit of fellow Pinoys living abroad who miss the ever popular Max's fried chicken.

Enjoy!

Labels: eateries, Featured food, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 6:58 AM | 24 comments

Saturday, October 13, 2007

ON PAIN AND PLEASURE

In Zen, it is advised that one ought to regard both exuberant and horrific moments with the same degree of equanimity so as to retain a dignified, placid composure when dealing with either circumstance. A fine virtue to embody, indeed, but may be easier said than done.

As kids enjoying a summer vacation in Subic, we couldn't help but express our delirious happiness with screams of joy and laughter. It was the same as when frightened, especially at night when older cousins would suddenly lunge at us from the darkness like wicked phantoms -- we'd scream our lungs out, too, then.

But come to think of it, during one summer in Subic, I must admit there was a time when I'd react with stillness and silence. It wasn't because I was trying to project an inner composure. I was simply frozen out of fright; my siblings and cousins displayed the very same reaction.

Such frightful episode was caused by a regular occurrence not under the cover of darkness, but in broad daylight. It was when our Tia Kikay, one of my father's sisters, would yell for us kids to stop our play and get ready for our morning bath in her usual thunderous roar; prompting the nearby animals to run away as if sensing an incoming cataclysmic act of God.

Tia Kikay always tried to hide it from us, but we all knew that her right hand held that nasty piece of stone that we all dreaded.

As we marched to heed her call, the ever loyal maid Ojang, with her trademark sneer etched on her sinister face, would vigorously pumped the water out of the ground like some brawny stevedore. And once the metal basin was filled with water, the awful ritual would then commence.

No longer able to cope with such agony, one Saturday when my father came to Subic with my mother, I told on Tia Kikay. I was never one to rat on anybody, but in this particular case, I had no other choice.

At first my father didn't believe me because I couldn't show him any evidence such as a blister, an open wound, or any sign of physical damage on any part of my body. Nonetheless, I knew how to get to my father's heart -- with my teary doleful eyes.

Finally, he relented and assured me he'd speak to Tia Kikay about it. And when I told my sister Inday and cousins that our misery was about to come to an end, everyone started screaming and jumping, buoyed by unadulterated bliss.

My father did talk to Tia Kikay about it, and from that moment on, whenever giving us a bath, she never used that piece of stone on us ever again. You see, the way she applied it, our skin felt as if it were being scraped off our tender bodies. We just had to prove to her, though, that we could do it ourselves, and do a good job of it!

And so the rest of that summer in Subic was once again simply grand.

Labels: Growing up memoirs, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 10:15 AM | 20 comments

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

GREENBELT BEFORE LUNCH

I rarely go to Greenbelt, but whenever I do, I always try to take a couple of snapshots here and there; discreetly, that is.

Much to my amazement, last weekend, the security guards never stopped me or my friends from taking some pictures. My friends were even shooting with gargantuan lenses yet all the security guards appeared unperturbed. And this was inside the mall. It was so much fun because Greenbelt is, unarguably, very photogenic, and taking pictures inside this mall or any property with the Ayala name attached to it has always been strictly prohibited.

On another note: When I returned to Manila after many years of absence, I was at first unsettled but eventually got used to the way some friends and relatives would sometimes set up appointments with either before or after lunch as the prime indicators. Coming from New York, I was more used to providing or being advised of a more precise meeting time. Come to think of it, I even show up earlier than expected at most times.

Nonetheless, instead of getting twisted about the way some locals conceive meeting times, I've learned to interpret before lunch as anytime between ten and noon; whereas, after lunch could be any time after 1:00 o'clock and the evening news broadcast.

Oh, well ...

Labels: Greenbelt, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 11:51 AM | 32 comments

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

THE MAYOR MAY BE RIGHT AFTER ALL

This picture of Plaza Lacson was taken at the peak of rush hour yesterday evening, showing only a few vehicles. The same was true along the entire stretch of the avenue, including the intersecting side streets. There were no congestions whatsoever, except at the very corner of Claro M. Recto and Avenida due to jeepneys converging in the corner to drop off and pick up passengers, which our traffic officials need to address immediately.

The rest of these photographs showcase the immediate area of Avenida and Carriedo; the vendors occupying the latter were ordered by Mayor Lim to vacate. MMDA officers assisted in the expeditious demolition and removal of their stalls the other day.

The newly-elected mayor also announced his administration's intention to control the number of all street and sidewalk vendors in the city. Good news, indeed, because as these photos indicate, Manilenyos do enjoy having a wide and comfortable walking space.

Mayor Lim's good intentions for the city may prove auspicious after all.

Labels: Local culture, Manila history

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:55 AM | 20 comments

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

THE SNAKE OIL OF AVENIDA

Snake oil, most especially in the States, is commonly equated with fake miraculous medicines. It is also used as a metaphor to succinctly describe any aggressive marketing campaign that's fueled with insidious intent.

However, according to Wikipedia, snake oil originally came from China, where it is called shéyóu, and to date, remains popular as remedy for alleviating inflammation and pain associated with rheumatoid arthritis, bursitis, and other joint pain.

Supposedly, fats and oils from snakes are higher in eicosapentaenoic acid (EPA) which is considered to have inflammation-reducing properties when rubbed on the painful area of the body. However, such claims were ridiculed by rival medicine salesmen from established pharmaceutical companies.

The Chinese laborers who came to America to help build its coast-to-coast railroad system introduced snake oil in the West. Today, it is still sold in traditional Chinese pharmacy stores and, as I've discovered one Saturday, along the Avenida Rizal as well. Hard to believe, indeed, although I've read about this somewhat infamous product a day or two before at Christina's World.

Chris is a photojournalism student who chanced upon a snake oil merchant when she spontaneously decided to get off at the LRT station one day to explore and take some pictures of the Santa Cruz district of Manila.

I invite you all to read her entry to know more about this snake oil from Davao.

.

Labels: Local culture, Street vendors

posted by Señor Enrique at 8:59 AM | 20 comments

Monday, July 30, 2007

THE AMULETS AND TALISMANS OF QUIAPO

Labels: Local culture, Street vendors

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:30 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

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

NEIGHBORS IN CRIME

The official report indicates one dead and two wounded due to a series of shots from a .38-caliber revolver.

Of the wounded: one was hit on the left arm (treated and released) while the other remains hospitalized but awaiting transfer to the orthopedic hospital to repair a tibia fracture. He sustained a severe hit, though not life-threatening, just below his right kneecap and now undergoing heroic doses of painkiller to alleviate the intense pain that emanates from his gunshot wound.

Eyewitness accounts claimed it was late Sunday night when five remaining neighborhood teenagers were about to disband. They had just cleaned up the area in which a party was held for another friend’s birthday earlier that evening in front of his house. Suddenly a lone gunman came rushing towards them and started firing his powerful handgun. Three were felled by the hail of bullets.

Everything happened so quickly. No one ran after the gunman even though his revolver was now empty, because everyone’s attention was riveted to the fallen victims; one was shot point blank in the chest and died in the hospital. He was a senior in high school.

Ironically, the intended target hunted by the gunman escaped unscathed. He was the triggerman whose much improved accuracy with handguns killed one and critically wounded several of the other group’s members a few months ago. And this recent shooting was a retaliatory attack; a new installment to an ongoing feud between two groups of kids who live in the same neighborhood in Tondo, Manila, just right off Jose Abad Santos Avenue.

This incident drew the attention of the local TV and print news media and was given substantial exposure the following morning. Extensive scene of crime investigations were also performed both by the Philippine National Police and the National Bureau of Investigation. And although the gunman, a teenager himself, was immediately identified, he is yet to be found and arrested.

The funeral procession held a week later was pure gangsta-style complete with rap music blaring from a car's speaker system. It was one in a convoy of vehicles filled with grieving relatives and friends. And on foot right behind the hearse was a group of about a hundred or so of the dead victim’s close friends and schoolmates, as well as members of other affiliated gangs in Tondo. As planned, everyone wore a white T-shirt along with the usual silver and bling.

Although their fresh smooth-skinned faces reveal their young age, their oversized T-shirts, conceal their handguns. And beneath these masks of angelic faces is a common lust for a quick draw.

The strategy was, in case of an ambush en route to North Cemetery, the hearse and the convoy of vehicles would pick up speed and head on over to the cemetery while those on foot would stay behind to confront the enemy — to death if need be. The police was aware of this volatile situation and chose to stay away. Instead, what lined some of the streets along the way to the cemetery, were myriad youngsters enthralled by the sight of this gangsta funeral.

Possibly, just like the dead victim, some of these onlookers may have been bullied in school or in their neighborhood. And while witnessing what seemed to be a sense of brotherhood from this throng of mourners walking behind the hearse may spur some to join a similar gang for protection, or just to enhance their image of cool.

The funeral procession uneventfully reached North Cemetery, located near the border of Manila and Quezon City. However, after the customary interment ritual, all those with their 38’s and 9mm’s pulled and aimed them toward the sky as they fired three shots each as a sendoff to a fallen brother; the recent victim of this long-time series of violence between two groups of young people who are basically neighbors.

It all started way back when everyone was in elementary school. One group living in one block was constantly harassed by a band of bullies from only three blocks away. The latter, with their crudely-made single-bullet pen guns or pellet handguns would slap the faces of the kids from the other group. Sometimes they would also shoot at them as a form of amusement; to watch gleefully as their targets frantically scramble for cover.

By the time they all reached high school, the aggrieved group — having endured enough humiliation — began to fight back. Armed with guns smuggled from China and sold in the piers and with bullets from Quiapo’s underground market, they would sneak into the so-called enemy territory (a mere three blocks away) and launch surprise attacks. A month or so later, the other group would drive by on their scooters and retaliate with equally powerful handguns. At first their shots were near-misses, but eventually their aim got better, which began to produce fatalities on both sides. And so it has been for the past couple of years in this enclave of Tondo.

In yet another sense of irony, this area boasts a number of police officers as residents who appear to condone instead of condemn such violence committed if not by their own sons or nephews, neighborhood kids. And the lethal weapons brandished by these kids from both groups, other than having been bought surreptitiously, came from their kin who are members of the police force. They were unlicensed handguns confiscated from routine checkpoints or actual arrests, but were neither reported nor surrendered to their respective precinct.

There was a time when knives and arrows shot with slingshots were the weapons of choice; when horrendous crimes were confined within Manila’s indigent neighborhoods; and when the police enforced the law more so than encourage a relative to pursue a life of senseless violence. Times have changed. Most of these kids come from working-class families. Although dwelling in densely populated areas, they are not squalid shanty neighborhoods. And a fair amount of them aspire to someday travel to America or Europe to pursue a career as nurses or computer programmers or accountants.

Regrettably, these kids from both groups manifest a twisted mindset primarily fueled by a false sense of loyalty. Everyone remains inexorably determined to sustain this senseless bloodbath until the last man standing. Unarguably this is but a violent derivative of imported hip-hop culture as embodied by some of our local youth.

Labels: Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:09 AM | 4 comments

Saturday, December 10, 2005

SPAMMED

When SpamJam in Glorietta opened with great fanfare—touting Spam as its main ingredient in most of the dishes on its menu—I could only say to myself, “They have got to be kidding!” Well, apparently not; the place remains open to date. Its owner must have struck a chord with the Filipino’s insatiable penchant for it.

Supposedly, over five billion cans of this pork-shoulder-and-ham concoction have been delivered across the globe, and 3.6 pieces more are churned out every second by Hormel Foods.

Some New York friends seemed revolted when I used to bring my lunch of Spam sandwich prepared at home. These were friends whose fathers fought in the war and most probably had nothing to eat but Spam while fighting the Nazis or the Japanese in the Pacific. So, they had grown to dislike it intensely, and after the war, passed on their disfavor of it to their young; much like an aunt who refused to eat any more bananas after coming down from the mountains during liberation, and refused to have any of it inside her house ever since.

But a more poignant if not outright tragic piece of family history that involved Spam also occurred during the liberation period when Macarthur’s men had just finished carpet bombing Manila into smithereens.

An uncle who adroitly escaped the death march in Bataan and hid up in the mountains of Subic, Zambales was exuberant upon learning from another guerilla contingent that the Americans planned to make a couple of food drops in the area. These were crates filled with emergency medicines, blankets and foodstuffs. At that time, the area was not fully secured by the GIs from the Japanese forces.

One night, upon seeing a crate parachuting from a plane, he precisely gauged where it would land and ran over to the area to meet it. Unfortunately, the other guerrilla unit failed to inform them to stay away from a food drop until it has landed; its sheer weight could burst open the crate, and its contents of canned goods could become deadly projectiles. Well, lo and behold, a can of Spam hit my uncle right smack on his forehead which almost cracked his skull wide open.

How did they know it was Spam that did him in? Well, the can itself was semi-embedded on his forehead when he was later on found sprawled on his back—his mouth agape and eyes open with horrific expression. The can of Spam was nestled firmly on his forehead as if contrived for an advertising photo shoot for Life Magazine. It was a closed casket service, but the Spam was fried and served along with other foods right after his burial.

Be that as it may, our family never espoused any resentment against Spam and would always have a couple of cans readily available along with some sardines and corned beef in the cupboard. My uncle’s tragic rendezvous with a can of Spam was considered an unfortunate happenstance, but no minute of silence was ever deemed necessary to observe whenever we enjoyed Spam with garlic rice and slices of tomatoes or as pandesal sandwich.

Labels: Featured food, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:17 AM | 6 comments

Friday, December 09, 2005

DON’T DAMN THE JAM

Labels: life in Manila, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:04 AM | 10 comments

Sunday, November 20, 2005

WANT TO MAKE MORE MONEY? THINK BIG!

Labels: Local culture, Words of wisdom

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:35 AM | 8 comments

Thursday, October 06, 2005

WHICH ONE'S PINK?

A balikbayan friend on vacation in Manila called to ask me to meet him at Chow King for a late night snack. We both like this place, which somehow reminds us of Little Quiapo, a once popular restaurant located somewhere in the university belt area. As he feasted on his congee while I on halo-halo, we spontaneously began trading when-I-was-young-and-stupid stories.

His best was when he flew to Lima, Peru to visit his parents during spring break. One afternoon, he told his parents he wanted to go out and check out some local sights on his own. The parents reluctantly consented as he promised to be back home in time for dinner. Well, unbeknownst to them, it wasn’t so much the local sights as the local homegrown cannabis that he was after. Spurred on by college friends before he left Boston, Seth anxiously went on his mission: to taste Lima’s local produce and give them a detailed account of its merits

He chose to approach a young streetwise-looking kid and attempted to ask him where he could cop a joint. He thought it was safer to ask a kid than an adult who might turn out to be a plainclothes policeman. The kid struggled to make sense of his Spanglish; however, with the aid of hand and head gestures, the kid soon got the gist of it. After another two more minutes of this cryptic conversation in hushed tones with animated gesturing, Seth handed the kid a five U.S. dollar bill. The kid quickly ran off to do his errand.

In less than fifteen minutes, the kid came back with a large paper bag filled with marijuana. Seth didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or involuntarily relieve himself because of fright.

All he wanted was one or two already-rolled joints. What Seth didn’t realize was that in Lima during the early 80s, five U.S. dollars would get you about five kilos of potent homegrown cannabis, not a couple of loose joints as in Manhattan. He was petrified that if caught with such amount, the Peruvian authorities could suspect and charge him with illegal trafficking; not to mention the ensuing embarrassment it would cost his father who worked for the government as a career diplomat.

He dared not touch that bag in which the kid nonchalantly left on the ground next to him. He nervously walked away from it and turned the first corner so as to disappear immediately from view. After a couple of blocks, feeling relieved he had escaped unscathed from that situation, he suddenly heard the kid calling after him with the large bag in tow. The kid must have thought he had absent-mindedly left it behind. Lucky for Seth, there was a taxicab waiting for a fare on the curb. He jumped in it and ordered the driver to floor it!

As always, retelling this story would prompt him to segue into an exhausting debate about a dated issue, the true mind behind Pink Floyd. At that point, I feinted sleepiness, but promised to pick him up early the next morning for a jog around Luneta.

Seth lives in New Jersey with his wife and three boys and works in Manhattan as an accountant. Recently, up for a dream promotion, he conveniently adopted the classic I did not inhale Clintonesque stance.



Links:

Lima, Peru
http://www.geographia.com/peru/lima/

Pink Floyd Online
http://www.pinkfloydonline.com/

Which One's Pink
http://www.whichonespink.com/

Legal and Medical Cannabis-Related News
http://www.cannabisnews.com/

Labels: Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 1:44 PM

Monday, October 03, 2005

FADE INTO THE NIGHT

She will be coming home late again tonight. After punching out from her day job as a janitress with a bus company in Caloocan City, Ate Luming will be stopping by at a client’s house in Quezon City to do her nails. The extra income derived from this nightly home service is quite good; however, it isn’t so much for the money that she does it; it is more to keep herself busy.

It has been three years since her husband of 23 years bid her goodbye for a younger woman. Although she had accepted such fate, still comes a time when loneliness sets in unexpectedly; making her yearn intensely for the warmth of his company. What made the separation difficult for her to accept was the fact that her husband, Nick, was a decent, loving husband; even providing for her seven children from a previous relationship as if they were his own.

Ate Luming was only 16 when she fell in love for the first time with an 18-year old, Eduardo. There was no marriage, for her parents did not approve of this young man. Although they fared well from their coconut business and had no significant financial problems to speak of, Eduardo, precipitated by drunken stupor, would brutally beat Ate Luming, and then have her submit to his sexual demands, bloodied and all.

This was an ongoing episode throughout her relationship with Eduardo; a classic case of a battered wife. What made matters worse was Eduardo’s mother asking her, for the sake of the children’s welfare, to cope with the beatings. As they say, the fruit does not fall far from its tree, and this woman, too, as it turned out, suffers a similar fate from Eduardo’s father, the tree.

It took almost nine years of anguish and four of her front teeth getting bashed in with a coconut before Ate Luming gained the courage to escape from this sado/masochistic relationship. With the help of her parents, she absconded and hid somewhere in Davao. She left the children with their father; there was never any incident of child abuse before and after she left him so, she was comfortable with that decision.

Leading a life of freedom as a single woman, she took a vocational course in cosmetology at a local academy. Eventually, at 25, she met Nick, who was two years her junior. Contrary to the common phenomenon that women end up marrying someone exactly like their ex, Nick was a complete gentleman. A couple of months into their blossoming relationship, he demonstrated his sincerity and love for Ate Luming by asking her to marry him. She accepted. They moved to Manila and spent the next two decades enraptured by their love for one another.

All things must pass as elders often remark and so did this relationship. On her 52nd birthday, she spent almost three hours at a beauty parlor getting the works, so to speak. Later on that evening, wearing a brand new dress and matching shoes, Nick took her out to Kenny Rogers for dinner. Three days prior, Nick had mentioned something important he wished to discuss with her. Over dinner on her birthday night was the appointed time for it he said. Ate Luming excitedly anticipated some special gift was in the offing.

That evening, as she was enjoying a plate of juicy roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and some kernel corn, Nick calmly revealed the truth; there is another woman. At that instant, the whole world seemed to have stood still for Ate Luming; even a piece of chicken lodged momentarily in her throat causing her to frantically grasp for air.

Tears flowed as she vaguely listened to the rest of what Nick had to say. Her mind was spinning; unable to accept the reality of it all. Earlier, she was as giddy as a school girl expecting a special birthday gift from Nick; now completely shattered by her husband’s revelation of having another woman.

Nick also told her about his desire to get out of their 23-year marriage. He blamed it all on their childless relationship. Now at 52, he was telling her this. Had he mentioned it ten years ago, she could have given it a try; would even consider dancing at Obando Church, if needed. She was sizzling with indignation at this point, but still remained quiet. She was hoping that her silence would earn her the mercy to make him change his mind. Later on that same night, Nick packed up and left.

As for Ate Luming, a 350 ml bottle of San Miguel gin became a constant companion; providing a nightly source of comfort during the following six months since his departure. Aside from the pains of losing Nick, Ate Luming also had to endure the shame of a failed marriage in which she blamed herself for it.

Subsequently, as she overcame the anger of losing her husband, she regained the inner strength to accept the situation. She had also developed a more forgiving spirit for her husband, as well as for herself. There are still bouts with sudden tears, especially during the holidays, but she has managed, for the most part, to get on with her life.

Tomorrow night, she has on her schedule a client in Malabon desperately needing to have her nails done; thus, she will come home late as usual.




Soundtrack: 214 by Rivermaya
http://www.tristancafe.com/music/flash/214.html

Self-Help Feature: How to Forget About an Ex
http://www.ehow.com/how_61_forget-about-ex.html

The Battered Wife Syndrome
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battered_wife_syndrome

Smart Women, Foolish Choices
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0451158857/103-1910990-5171015?v=glance

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Labels: life in Manila, Local culture

posted by Señor Enrique at 7:40 AM | 0 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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