From heart to art (or creating beauty from anxiety)

Something Like Life
Jan. 18, 2008

WHEN faced with insurmountable odds or depressing problems, there are many who just want to roll up in a ball, hide away, and hope they won’t have to wake up to another difficult day.

Then there are those, like my Tita Mila (Arnaldo), who take their burdens and use them to produce beautiful works of art and fabulous decorative products.

But I’m pushing ahead of the story, so let me backtrack a bit.

(Besides the touch of beauty and elegance they lend to the dinner table, Vincie’s Collection of unique tableware has a very human and very heartwarming backstory.)

You see on January 8, 1994, Tita Mila’s daughter Judy, my second cousin, was diagnosed with leukemia. She was 30 years old then and at the prime of her life. It was a shock to us all as no one in our family, the Arnaldos, ever had the disease. Judy was working then and just had a simple medical check-up because she felt tired all the time.

It was a most difficult time for my aunt. She is close to my mother and I understood that my aunt was trying to raise funds for their travel to the US where Judy was to undergo a bone marrow transplant.

At the same time that she was worrying about Judy, my aunt was also taking care of her husband, my uncle Jesse, who was then battling with lung cancer. While his illness had been in remission, after 15 years the cancer was back leaving him weak and physically immobile.

In the US, Judy was given a good prognosis for her impending operation. After all, these days bone marrow transplants are almost performed as regularly as heart transplants. “The doctors assured me that she was strong enough and would easily recover from the operation,” my aunt tells me. But as fate would have it, my cousin went into a coma and her doctors gave her a 10-percent chance of survival.

In times of crisis, almost all of us turn to the Lord for help. When we undergo the most difficult of times in our lives, almost all our beliefs about how the world works and the systems of religion and spirituality collapse under the realities we face.

Tita Mila needed to know that God was still up there looking out for her daughter. She joined a Bible-study group where she met Vincie Bavario, an American lady, who taught her how to glue fabric on to glass plates. It was the perfect outlet for my aunt to release her stress and doubts, as she waited for Judy to come out of her coma. With an emotional support group around her, and a hobby she could engage in, she was able to keep strong. “The craft became my therapy. It saved my sanity. God gave me something to keep busy with,” Tita Mila recalls.

I remember that year, 1996, most fervently. I would make impassioned deals with God, asking him to heal my cousin in exchange for my unwavering devotion. I’m sure everyone in the family did the same. It was especially heart-wrenching for me then because I practically grew up with Judy, as she was only a couple of years older than me. On weekends I would spend time with her and her brothers John and Jay, swimming in their pool in their old family compound along Baler Street in Quezon City. We went to each other’s birthday parties until we were too old to have them.

(Colorful fabric-on-glass coasters)

After two months of lying in bed, asleep and stuck with all sorts of needles, fed intravenously with food, water and medicines, one day Judy just opened her eyes. It was the miracle everyone had been praying for.

Judy’s doctors had virtually given up on her for good but her will to live perhaps won out. Tita Mila never faltered in her belief that God would hear her prayers. Judy coming out of the coma was proof that He had bigger plans for the family.

When Tita Mila and Judy came home in 1996, my aunt brought home her newfound craft and decided to put up a business called Vincie’s Collection Inc. “in grateful testimony to God’s love and presence in our lives.” Her designs were a hit. Her collection of dinner sets, glasses, coasters, pitchers, trays and multipurpose tableware were sold out in Rustan’s, The Landmark, Tesoro’s and boutique shops. She was able to amass a loyal following among Metro society’s luminaries and artistes such as the Tantocos; Makati Mayor Jejomar Binay’s spouse Elenita; Malou Rodriguez; Lydia Paredes, the wife of the Apo Hiking Society’s Jim Paredes; and the late Inday Badiday.

The business was going so strong that Tita Mila had to hire a lot of workers just to fulfill all her orders. What started out as a garage business with only three people became a full-blown enterprise with a 24-member staff and a 300-sq-m factory. Christmases were particularly crazy with the seemingly nonstop demand from individual customers and the shops she supplied to. “We painstakingly labor on every product. Mixing fabric on glass is labor-intensive and hand-crafted,” she explains.

When she returned to the US in 1998, it was Tita Mila’s turn to teach Vincie, her mentor, the process by which she was able to perfect and smoothen the products she now produces. “Vincie is very proud and thrilled. Nobody in the world does this, you know?” my aunt declares with pride.

Tita Mila only uses imported fabric and glassware made by Libbey’s, Duralex and Arcoroc. She also uses a special glue to stick the fabric to the décor, such that the fabric backing actually makes the item 90-percent unbreakable. The dinner plates are also microwaveable for less than five minutes.

(Judy, Tita Mila, and a grandson.)

Fate, of course, has a certain way of shaking up our lives. In 2002 my uncle Jesse passed away after a long bout with cancer. Lost and heartbroken, Tita Mila’s creativity and desire to design waned. She closed shop and stopped taking orders to tend to her grief and personal issues.

“Parang I lost interest in life. So the artist in me also went. I was depressed for about six months. I went to the US, to Alaska, but it didn’t help...I kept crying all the way there. I felt so alone because my husband and I had developed a co-dependent relationship. I was just so used taking care of him. So I felt lost after he was gone.”

When she came home, Tita Mila decided to enroll in piano class. “Music became therapy for me. It helped heal me.” Then she took all sorts of workshops about communing with the universe, creative writing, etc. “I knew I had to rely on myself to make me happy. I couldn’t rely on my own children because they have their own lives. No one can heal me except myself.”

Today, armed with a newfound zest to create and give joy to others, Tita Mila, with the help of Judy, is at it again, making fabulous fabric-on-glass tableware. “I just kept on praying to the Blessed Sacrament. Then I woke up one morning and I just thought of starting the Vincie’s Collection again. I went to my glass supplier, contacted my people. Then I went to Rustan’s to ask if they were still interested to buy from me again—and they were!”

Each item is individually hand-crafted by skilled workers which gives its distinct and customized look. The slight touches of imperfection make these hand-crafted products precious and unique. The exceptional and stylish products under Vincie’s Collection are currently sold at Rustan’s and Shopwise.


§ If you wish to delight someone with these dazzling and collectible items, or simply brighten up your home, write Mila Arnaldo/Vincie’s Collection at vinciecoll@yahoo.com.ph or call 425-1318, (0921) 472-7873.

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror.)

Santa stories

Letters to Santa increase despite e-mail
Reuters

GENEVA - Text messages, e-mails and social networking are challenging traditional mail but Santa Claus at least is receiving more and more old-fashioned letters, according to the world's postmen.

The Universal Postal Union said on Tuesday that letters to Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, continue to grow at a clip that will top the 6 million notes sent in 2006.

Spokesman Laurent Widmer said it was too soon to estimate a final tally because many letters are sent in the final week before Christmas, or even after the holiday. But checks with union members showed the number of letters was increasing.

"Santa has over five million helpers round the world to answer his mail and deliver the millions of greeting cards, parcels and letters that circulate during the holiday season," the group representing 191 countries said in a statement.

The letters, often addressed simply "To Santa, North Pole" might normally be regarded as undeliverable and marked "addressee unknown," the union said.

But many national post offices reply, including those of France and Canada which each received more than 1 million missives to Father Christmas last year, it said.

In 2006 Finland received letters from 150 countries, representing 90 percent of the letters received by Santa Claus in Finland. The U.S. Postal Service has been answering Santa's letters since 1912. And in Canada, Santa has his own post code -- HOH OHO.

-------

Santas flex muscles before big day
Reuters video

Loveless on Christmas?

Something Like Life
Dec. 14, 2007

YOU have just renewed your membership to SMAP (Samahan ng Malalamig ang Pasko). Every time you hear the song “Pasko Na Sinta Ko” played on the radio, you want to go out and shoot your neighbor’s dog. Okay, so you don’t have a boyfriend this Christmas. What are you going to do, short of hiring your gardener’s macho dancer-son as your boyfriend to present to the relatives for the Christmas Day reunion?

Well, first of all, make sure you pay him at least a thousand bucks. Just kidding!

I know a number of people who have husbands, boyfriends, or family who still don’t feel the Christmas spirit at all despite the grand day being just 11 days away. (A friend’s status on his Facebook profile reads “Holidying”.) So I can just imagine what it must feel like when one is all alone with no one to share a special romantic gift over the holidays. It is true that this is the time of the year when suicide rates spike up as people either don’t have money or don’t have loved ones to turn to. If you let the Christmas blues get to you, you will likely feel empty, wretched and miserable.

I, for one, have always been thankful that, despite some years when I have to cough up my membership dues to SMAP, I still have my family around me. It will be a bit different this year, primarily because my father had just passed away, but I know we will all pull together to make Christmas still meaningful despite his absence. Having kids around helps as their wide-eyed innocence and belief in some bearded fat man in a red suit bringing them gifts just makes us work harder to make the holidays extra-special.

There is no reason, however, to feel lonely on Christmas just because Prince Charming seems to have lost his way trying to find your house. (Baka na-traffic.)

Focusing on other people instead of yourself eases the loneliness. If you become self-absorbed and keep obsessing about your loveless plight this season, you will likely need more than a bottle of Paxil to lift your spirits.

You can:

Spend the day in an orphanage. Bring some buckets of greasy breaded fried chicken or cartons of sweet spaghetti to share with these unfortunate souls. Or ask donations from friends for used toys or children’s clothes to donate to the children. Seeing these kids’ faces light up from sheer joy at the goodies you’re bringing is a feeling so precious that you will forget, however temporarily, how depressing (you think) your life is.

Visit a home for poor senior citizens. Next to orphans, old people whose own families have abandoned them are the most pitiful creatures imaginable. After giving their lives to their families, they are cast aside like used plastic bags. People who are forgotten need someone to talk to. I find it a real learning experience to just sit down and listen to seniors tell stories about their youth. It’s better than any reality TV show (or telenovela) and you get a history education to boot.

Spend Christmas Day with orphans. (Photo from stadonfamily.com)

Invite others for a Christmas get-together. Whether your friends are alone like yourself or have families, ask them to come over for a meal and some merriment. If you want to slave over a hot pot the whole day just to forget how alone you are, then go ahead and do the entire menu. If your friends are up to it, then go potluck and ask them to bring some special dish. Christmas is all about sharing. For sure, you will all be closer to one another when you all come down with intestinal flu. What fun will it be for all to investigate whose dish caused your brains to run out your ass.

Okay, so you can be a little self-absorbed, too.

Splurge on yourself. Plan the entire day around the most important person in the world. You. Whip up a really delicious meal from a recipe you’ve been dying to try. Relax and book yourself for an entire day of pampering and wellness at your favorite spa. Go watch a Christmas movie or rent your favorite video (except those goo-goo Meg Ryan romantic comedies) to watch at home. If watching a video isn’t your thing, settle down in bed with a nice pot of tea and read a good book while your favorite music plays in the background. God knows you haven’t had much time to read except magazines, or the news online, during the entire year that you’ve been stressed at work.

Indulge. Go ahead and buy yourself a great big Christmas present—like that 40-inch Plasma TV set you’ve been ogling every time you pass by the appliance store. Or perhaps the new MacBook Pro with the 13-inch screen and 2GB memory. Sure, these items are expensive but, hey, they’re gonna last longer than a boyfriend! So go use that credit card and swipe away. It’s zero-percent interest anyway.

Go on a holiday trip. Who says you have to stay at home in this country on Christmas? Right now, go online and start surfing. What destination have you been wanting to travel to all these years? This is a good time as any to go there. And, hey, just think of the cultural education you’ll be getting. Try another country’s Christmas traditions for a change. It doesn’t have to be as far as Alaska (but on second thought, you might have better luck getting a boyfriend there, like Marian Frisk in Men in Trees). Check out New York Times’ 53 places to go to in 2008. There are a lot of exotic countries just within the region that really look like exciting places to visit (e.g., Laos, the Maldives, Lombok in Indonesia, Barossa Valley in Australia, and—believe it or not—Iran).

Go to church on Christmas Eve. There’s nothing more uplifting than to join others in celebrating Christ’s birth, which is the real point of the holidays anyway, and not just maxing out the credit card to buy everybody gifts. Most churches these days celebrate Christmas Eve Mass with some play on Christ’s birth with the neighborhood kids as the main characters, or feature an honest-to-goodness choral group that has endlessly rehearsed the traditional Christmas carols in harmony or other sacred arias. These traditions just make Christmas Mass more extraordinary and inspiring.

While shopping malls have all but eroded the real meaning of Christmas, try to remember that the season is all about giving love and joy to all, and making peace with others. It is also the time to count your blessings and realize just how lucky you are. You may not have Prince Charming by your side, but you’re healthy, are able to eat three meals a day, have a roof over your head, and good friends (or family) around you.

You have every reason to be happy.

(My column Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of BusinessMirror.)

Je t'aime... moi non plus (I love you...me neither)

OVER the weekend, I read Vanity Fair's piece on the late Serge Gainsbourg, a French songwriter/singer (and actor and director) who was adored in his native country for the purity of his songs, the loveliness of his spirit, and his gorgeous women...notably Brigitte Bardot and Jane Birkin (who designed and inspired the Hermés Birkin bag).

While I knew of BB and Birkin, I really haven't heard of Gainsbourg until I read the VF story which included interviews of his daughter, actress Charlotte Gainsbourg, as well as Misses Birkin and BB. Gainsbourg passed away in 1991, and his house had remained shuttered to the public until Charlotte allowed VF access to it. The story is an interesting read and piqued my curiousity further about the man. I've already downloaded his "Best of" 2-CD torrent and am enjoying his songs, despite not understanding a word of French. (But then songs of love cut across all languages don't they?)

Anyway, here's a video of Gainsbourg and Birkin's love song Je t'aime...moi non plus which became controversial because of Birkin's ummm, whisperings. It was subsequently banned by the BBC, journalists called it lewd, and the Vatican even issued a statement denouncing it. If you listen to it, it actually sounds tame by today's standards. It was first recorded by Gainsbourg and Ms. BB, but when they broke up, Ms. BB asked him not to release the song as a single. He instead recorded it with Birkin when they hooked up. Btw, this song inspired the Donna Summer hit...Love to love you baby. Yeah disco!

Enjoy...



If only making love was all we ever did.

Give it to me, baby!

WHAT a shame that there's no Rome Season 3 no? I just finished watching Season 2, although to be fair, the ending was really perfect. It could stand on its own and not have another season. But damn, HBO allowed The Sopranos to go on for seven seasons why couldn't it give the same lifespan to Rome? The latter is basically The Sopranos BC!

Still, I can't get enough of hottie James Purefoy who played Marc Antony so brilliantly in this drama series. (Actually even Ciaran Hinds who played Julius Caesar in the first season had some old guy appeal as well.) To this day, there's still an ongoing petition for HBO to revive the $8-million-an-episode series. With that kind of budget needed, la talagang pag-asa for us to see a revived series.Sayang talaga. Why Lord why?

Too bad James fucked up his audition as James Bond and now we're stuck with that ugly blondie Daniel Craig. Sexy James would've given Sean Connery, THE ultimate James Bond, a run for his money.

Anyway, check out this sizzling video of my darling on YouTube. It won best video last year in some obscure amateur awards in the UK or something.

Colbert for President!

(...of the U.S. that is. Read the column of Bill O'Reilly's alter ego in the New York Times' Sunday op-ed page. Maureen Dowd sorta got lazy today? Hee-hee)

A Mock Columnist, Amok
By MAUREEN DOWD
Published: October 14, 2007

I was in my office, writing a column on the injustice of relative marginal tax rates for hedge fund managers, when I saw Stephen Colbert on TV.

He was sneering that Times columns make good “kindling.” He was ranting that after you throw away the paper, “it takes over a hundred years for the lies to biodegrade.” He was observing, approvingly, that “Dick Cheney’s fondest pipe dream is driving a bulldozer into The New York Times while drinking crude oil out of Keith Olbermann’s skull.”

I called Colbert with a dare: if he thought it was so easy to be a Times Op-Ed pundit, he should try it. He came right over. In a moment of weakness, I had staged a coup d’moi. I just hope he leaves at some point. He’s typing and drinking and threatening to “shave Paul Krugman with a broken bottle.”

(Continued at NYT)

LV dreams

This isn't the one I dreamed about but it's sexy. I'd love to wear this! I found it on the Designer Exposure web site kaso it's sold na e. Ewan ko lang, it could be fake kasi $300 something lang cos it's on sale. Haaay.

Dang! I must be reading too much of Chuvaness again. Even her Louis Vuitton obsession is invading my dreams!

Anyway, going back...this afternoon I was dreaming I was shopping in Rustan's and there was an ongoing sale. From a hundred feet away, my eyes automatically zoomed on a pair of LV ankle boots! They were like magnets that pulled me in (I dunno how I got to the display shelf so fast without bumping into other shoppers) and I picked them up marveling at them like works of art.

Each boot was like in almost clear plastic with the LV logo in white stamped all over and the top of the ankle part was trimmed in beige in the same fabric, while towards the sole, the area was also in beige until the medium stack heel. Hello?! I dunno why it was in plastic or looked like it was plastic, it's a dream nga noh?, but the pair looked really good to me. I thought it was so perfect to wear during this rainy season.

(Just as a back story: I've been a boot girl since the late '80s and currently own about six pairs all in leather, mostly right above the ankle and one covering my calf. The last is my favorite because of its classic short sloping stacked heel, burgundy color and oh-so-soft leather. I bought the pair on sale in London and altough made in Italy, it cost me the equivalent of only P5,000. Of course this was like three years ago but the pair is really matibay and still fashionable because of its classic look. Talk about value for money!)

So I asked the saleslady how much the LV pair costs and she told me P22,000. I gasped! and she quickly added that it was already 90% off! Man, that's one expensive pair of boots! I told the saleslady that I wouldn't be able to sleep well that night thinking of the lovelies. I looked up to the ceiling, at the other customers, and circled the shelf where the boots were on display about a hundred times, as I tried to compute how much I would pay each month if I charged the purchase to my credit card. I was almost sure I was gonna whip out the plastic, but then I awoke with a start. My mom was knocking on my door because the reupholsterer was already downstairs to meet with us. Saved!

But this one takes the cake! Found it on eluxury.com, supposedly the only site where you can buy real LV goods 'cos the company owns it. Shet ang gandah! Pati ang price...$1,180.00 lang naman. Lord, make me win the lotto pls!)

Now I'm mildly obsessing whether the pair of LV boots I dreamed about actually exists that I've been googling "Louis Vuitton plastic boots" like mad for about 30 minutes already. So if anyone knows if such a pair has ever been manufactured, please tell me and end my suffering! Kalowka!

Jessica to the defense!

MY lovely Jessica Zafra has just written a piece on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart's "Cory's a slut" episode. Thank you for explaining it to the idiots who didn't get the joke. I was so incensed about them I didn't want to bother anymore. I mean clueless is clueless, what can you do?

But it's a puzzlement to me, you know? For a people who have the reputation of being able to laugh at ourselves in times of political crisis, I don't understand why there were those who couldn't get the joke on Cory. Are you brain dead from the lack of proper nutrition? Ayan...di kasi kayo kumakain ng galunggong eh!

Anyway, here's the link to Jessica's blog. Just don't believe her about Jon being her mistress. He would never do that to me. If you people still didn't get that, you're really hopeless.

Animo La Salle! We're No. 1!

DIDN'T I say so?!

It was a great game today, despite the false starts and almost snoozy first quarter but our Green Archers really revved up their animo to trounce the UE Red Warriors 73-64. It was an historic season for La Salle...after seeking the crown for the longest time and after sitting out last year's season, we finally made it (despite the nasty play by some of the Red Warriors...you know who you are). My hands are still stinging from all the clapping (couldn't cheer as I'm officially down with pharyngitis...rats!) but it was worth it.

Kudos to Coach Franz Pumaren for training our boys really well. Of course, the players this season made all the difference – brilliant shooting and offensive plays by TY Tang, Rico Meirhoffer, Cholo Villanueva, JV Casio, and the rest. Sorry Red Warriors, you fought bravely but in the end, it's experience that counts. And our boys have it. Congratulations Green Archers, well done!

See you for more spectacular superb playing next year, people! (Read the story of our win in BusinessMirror.)

HAIL, HAIL ALMA MATTER
Hail to De La Salle!
We'll hold your banner high and bright,
A shield of green and white.
We'll fight to keep your glory bright,
And never shall we fail,
Hail to thee our Alma Mater!
HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!

Btw, can anyone tell me where I can get those Championship T-shirts and caps the players were wearing today? I want!

***

And for your reading pleasure fellow La Sallians, here's a piece from a weeping Eagle:

Blue Eagle woes
AS I WRECK THIS CHAIR By William M. Esposo
Phil. Star, Oct. 7, 2007

It is not the best of times for the Ateneo Blue Eagles. Indeed, my fellow Blue Eagles have a lot of reasons to be dispirited if only for unfortunate events that had transpired in the last two weeks.

Controversial Atenean and First Gentleman (FG), Mike Arroyo, had figured anew in another scandal, this time, the contract for the ZTE National Broadband Network. “Back off!” — FG Mike Arroyo’s alleged order to ZTE scandal whistleblower Joey de Venecia — now rings so uncannily like French Queen Marie Antoinette’s arrogant “Let them eat cake” rebuff to the hungry cries of her subjects. Text messages circulated revolving around that “Back off!” incident.

Each time FG Mike Arroyo is implicated in scandals, Blue Eagles find themselves at the receiving end of text jokes from La Sallians who are smacking their lips in delight at having new reinforcements for their arsenal of friendly ribbing against their traditional archrivals from Loyola.

One even sent a text message suggesting that the spelling of our alma mater’s name has just been changed to ZTEneo.

(For the rest, click Eagle woes)

Why I love my guy Dave (and SNL's homage to Iran's president)

I actually watched this interview two nights ago on Jack TV and couldn't stop from rolling down the aisle from sheer hysterical laughter. David Letterman is just relentless in his interview of hotel heiress Paris Hilton, pressing her to talk about her time in the slammer. (I didn't realize she was actually that dumb. All the while I thought it was just an act – something like Ruffa Mae Quinto does – pretending to be stupid and all but actually isn't? But just look at her empty eyes...there's no sign of intelligent life there! As sister Juneza says, Josh!)

Paris squirms from Dave's torture and he just doesn't care! Talk about interview technique – Dave shifts between patronizing her, to get her to talk some more, and then makes fun of her by asking her more questions about her jail time. Boy is she really sorry now to have promoted her new fragrance on Dave's show. All she could do was pout. Oh what fun!

Anyway, enjoy this clip.



OH, and here's a sweet one from the SNL guys spoofing president of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad who was recently in New York and had declared in a speech at the Columbia University last week: “In Iran, we don’t have homosexuals like in your country.” The music video stars that cuddly Andy Samberg, Fred Armisen, with major backup vocal from yummy Adam Levine of Maroon 5 (and no, he's not gay ok?) and a cameo by Jake Gyllenhaal (he of Brokeback Mountain and who btw, did a fabulous spoof of the Dreamgirls song "And I'm telling you..." on SNL just this year). Funny, aren't all these guys Jewish? Well, President Mahmoud does deny the Holocaust happened as well...nuts!

Abalos resigns!

WINNER!

Finally this kapalmuks is letting go of what should have been an honorable and respectable position as chairman of the Commission on Elections. Remember when everything was clean and orderly under Christian Monsod? We should get him back to head Comelec.

But of course, Abalos doesn't lose anything by resigning considering the millions of dollars in lagay he was supposed to have received from ZTE China to shepherd the National Broadband Network into place. He is pretty much taken cared of for the rest of his life.

For sure Malacañang had a hand in Abalos' resignation. The Presidentita knows fully well if the House impeachment motion is carried out and hearings are held, Abalos may be forced to tell the truth about what he did for her in the last presidential elections. Afraid! Kaya, bye-bye nalang ke Abalos anyway kumita na sila. Not unless they're asked to return the moolah!

Click Abalos nalaos for PDI's take on the Comelec chair's resignation.

We're No. 1! Archers stump Eagles 65-60

And our Tees rock! Click Animoism

MY boys did it! All their hard work and training paid off (thank you Coach Pumaren). They did their homework, saw what went wrong in the earlier game with Ateneo (primarily weak rebounds and assists), and came back to pull the rug under the feet of the Blue Eagles.

Sunday's game started out very weak, almost boring at first. The Archers' star player TY Tang was a little off and kept on missing baskets. And Chris Tiu kept on scoring for the Blue Eagles. But my boys hung tough. We were always in the lead, except for a few chamba shots by the Ateneans. But the Archers had a solid play. Our aim was true and it brought the birds down.

No doubt about it, we will get the UE Red Warriors as well!

So ano'ng masasabi mo ngayon, Romy Neri, you no good Atenista you?

(Oooh, my favorite government official isn't so happy about today's game either. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sayang gwapo ka pa naman, kaso Atenista ka. Hehehe! Turn your cars around, guys! Baha na naman sa Katipunan!)

Btw, we truly appreciate U.S. Ambassador Kirstie Kenney wearing green this time around, when it counts the most. See, even the Americans are on our side!

Chinese Authorities Execute 10 Million Recalled Toys

From The Onion... Hilarious!

(Click here to read the story.)

Sound Art Conference this October

From our colleague Jing Garcia:

New Media Arts Manila (NMAM) was formed to curate, stage, and promote New Media Art — art made with electronic, audiovisual, and information technologies. It includes sound art, video art, interactive electronics, algorithmic art, computer music, and whatever art forms new technologies may yet spawn. As NMAM's first project, ELECTROSTATIC SOUND CONFERENCE will showcase the full range of performative sound art pieces through the performances of the following artists:

Malek Lopez, Berklee-trained virtuoso who is the principal composer for the band Drip, and half of the abrasive electronica duo Rubber Inc.;

Mu Arae Transmission, (aka Moon Fear Moon aka John Sobrepena), who composes haunting and eerie instances of IDM (Intelligent Dance Music);

Blums Borres, 3D animator, performative video artist, and sound artist who dedicates himself to expanding the sonic territory of the electric guitar;

Jing Garcia, tech editor of The Manila Times who founded the seminal sound art group Children of Cathode Ray in 1989 and composes industrial/ambient pieces as autoceremony ;

Tengal, frenetic composer, a tireless sound artist, the founder of S.A.B.A.W. sound art collective, and a one-man record label;

Lirio Salvador, sculptor and luthier whose ornate, chrome-plated instruments are featured on television, displayed in galleries, and played by his group Elemento;

Tad Ermitano, filmmaker and video artist who creates custom programs and hardware for his art installations. His work has appeared in Time magazine.


The ELECTROSTATIC SOUND CONFERENCE will be on October 10, 8:30 pm at Club Dredd, 2nd floor Gweilos Eastwood. Event partners: Globe, Sony Ericsson and Asus.

Admission is FREE!



Waitaminit! Did Jing just say Club Dredd?? Ayos!

Hail British comedy!

IF you loved Absolutely Fabulous, you'd know that Joanna Lumley's sidekick, Jennifer Saunders (the pill-popping, boozing designer Edina Monsoon) was, for the longest time, actually the partner of another British comedienne Dawn French in the hugely successful British TV sketch French and Saunders. These funny ladies revive their routines in A Bucket O' French & Saunders, whose first season just started this month.

I tripped over this clip at PerezHilton.com (don't ask me why I was there in the first place...ick), and it's really a hilarious spoof of Tyra Banks' America's Top Model. Oooh...Ms. Saunders looks like she's had some retouching done wot? Forget the ZTE scandal for the moment and let's enjoy the brilliance of British comedians. (I miss my Little Britain...sigh.)

AB-ZTE-FG clip

FOR your entertainment...

Bushisms

IN case you missed it, here's a Reuters video on US President George Bush's gaffes at the APEC summit in Sydney last week. Ahh, to have a cartoon character as head of state...some countries are just too lucky!



Sep. 7 (Reuters) - U.S. President George W. Bush makes light of his slips of the tongue, during an APEC address.

U.S President George W. Bush, renowned for his mispronunciation of words during his speeches, once again made audiences laugh during his address to the business summit of the Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) forum in Australia.

Within the first seconds of his speech, Bush referred to the gathering as the OPEC summit, the acronym for the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries and then quickly rectified it to APEC, causing the gathering to erupt into laughter.

He later referred to Australia as Austria, but failed to pick up on it or rephrase the comment.

Throughout the rest of his speech he mispronounced several words, including Australia's capital Canberra, Kuala Lumpur and Jemaah Islamiyah.

And as if things weren't bad enough, when he had concluded his addresses, he made his way to the wrong exit, prompting Australian Prime Minister John Howard to make finger gestures at him, to show him the right way off the stage.

The Estrada verdict

THE guilty verdict handed by the Sandiganbayan on plunder charges against former Philippine president Joseph "Erap" Estrada felt almost anti-climactic. Like many others, I too expected the verdict, especially with the overwhelming documentary evidence and eyewitness accounts like those of former EPCI banker Clarissa Ocampo, showing who was the true owner of the Jose Velarde account.

In the same manner that we expected the guilty verdict, we should also expect a presidential pardon. Not right now, because that would only raise the hackles of many civil society groups and interested parties, but perhaps in the near future. (I, for one, am not opposed to a pardon.)

There are two possible scenarios I could think of. Maybe the pardon can be handed down before the Presidentita GMA steps down. By then, we would probably be too wrapped anyway in electing a new set of monkeys into office, we would be busy to even notice it. And I still think that despite what she projects to be, the Presidentita wants to go down in history books as someone who was still compassionate and understanding. (Who knows, she could also be setting a precedent in case someone files a graft case against her and her family.)

Or she could probably endorse the presidential pardon to the next President, who will probably come from the Opposition camp anyway. (Hmmm...let's see...Manny Villar? Mar Roxas? or ick, Loren Legarda?) Anyway, memories of Filipinos are short, and we are generally a forgiving lot.

Whoever the next President will be can only look to the US as guidance. In 1974, then US President Gerald Ford pardoned Richard Nixon for his misconduct surrounding the Watergate scandal, except that Ford did so before Nixon's case even went to trial. It was a controversial decision but Ford made a compelling and sympathetic argument, which Americans eventually were able to live with. (Read Ford's explanation here.)

A presidential pardon in Erap's case could work too except that I doubt that he could reinvent himself the way Nixon did, who went on to become a prolific author, speaker, and well-respected elder stateman. Maybe Erap could resurrect his film career and make a movie based on his trial or have someone ghostwrite his memoirs. A few chapters devoted to his paramours would make the book an instant best-seller.

Seriously, this country needs closure in the political arena. There are just so many issues still hanging out there that are keeping us as a nation from moving forward, e.g. the Ninoy Aquino murder, the Marcos millions, the Hello Garci scandal. (It's a good thing that Marcos has finally been buried because that too, was one closure we needed.) The guilty verdict on Erap and a subsequent pardon could be the start of a turnaround for us.

From 'Malou' Fernandez

‘DEAR Malu,

Sorry for taking the liberty to write you even though we’ve never met each other, or calling you by your first name. I just got accidentally caught up in your story because I, my relatives and colleagues at work had been getting inquiries, at the peak of the blogosphere obsession with your article on OFWs, on whether the editor in chief of BusinessMirror had written an article for People Asia or MST, or whether we were related. I blame the first query on some lazy PRs who, through the years, never bothered to find out my real nickname or presumed that my Christian name bore a “Maria” just because it’s Lourdes and therefore, called me occasionally “Malou Fernandez.”

That’s how I got curious about who you are and why they’re saying all those things about you. To be honest, I was shocked and upset like all the rest. But now, with the benefit of hindsight, and seeing how the OFWs are perfectly capable of defending themselves, my anger has turned to regret. Honest. I feel sorry that in one short plane trip you had ruined your ties with our kababayan. I regret that you didn’t have the chance to really know them through the years. But maybe there’s still time to make up.

After three decades in this work, I have met and written about Filipino workers in dozens of strange lands and how they’ve coped—some fail to, unfortunately—and how most of them are so prized in their host country I’ve come away each time feeling proud about being a Filipino.

After three decades in this work, I have met and written about Filipino workers in dozens of strange lands and how they’ve coped—some fail to, unfortunately—and how most of them are so prized in their host country I’ve come away each time feeling proud about being a Filipino.

I used to think, like most young people, especially journalists, that the ultimate high of traveling was in seeing up close all those postcard-pretty pictures one just read about in books or brochures. Always, on entering new territory, one’s heart would skip a beat, at that magical experience of “entering” a postcard, almost like Harry Potter when he first melted into the train station walls on his first trip to Hogwarts.

But many years and countless stories later, it’s really those encounters with OFWs—mostly by chance in the course of coverage or sightseeing—that have shaped the way I now look at and remember places.

Among the millions of Filipinos who have lived and worked in Saudi Arabia, I remember most the Filipino waiters at Riyadh Sheraton. Like most OFWs, they showed genuine happiness at seeing a group of kababayan in their hotel, and would find ingenious ways of being assigned to our table to make small talk. Most were Campampangan and had gone to Saudi to help families ravaged by lahar. There was a running joke with our group of newsmen that one of us had a birthday every day, so one fine day we got a surprise. As I stepped onto the lobby one afternoon, one waiter signaled to me to go over to the ground-floor restaurant. He then asked me to call my friends. As we sat down, another waiter who was supposed to be off came out, bearing a platter of maja blanca and palitaw. He smiled as he put it down, and explained that as it was his day off, he made some afternoon snacks for us, saying the native kakain go well with Arabic tea. Then he said he overheard us talking about how we liked palitaw.

As we left that day, they told us to advise them if there was something we wanted which they could cook in their free time. Between the food cooked by Filipinos and the stories shared in that fortnight, truly, we had a feast.

At one time in that fortnight, I was supposed to interview some people at the embassy but got caught up in another event. I didn’t know how to get to the embassy by taxi, so one Filipino IT guy I interviewed earlier offered to accompany me, but the hotel doorman advised me to be sure I had my abaya on, and to sit at the back and try to keep low-key. That got me worried, so I told the IT guy, hey, I know that even if you’re seated in front of the cab we could get in trouble if we get flagged down, so maybe I’ll just risk going there alone. I’m a foreign journalist, maybe I’ll just get deported, but you could get jailed. He brushed it off, and muttered something like he hoped his employer would bail him out of any trouble; or, he’s sure his employer would pull strings for him. I found out later the whiz kid had a sensitive position handling the computer networks of a very big bank in Saudi—imagine, I told myself, how can they dispense with someone like that—and risk having computers breaking down and their princely bank accounts getting stuck?

Still in the Middle East, two young, pretty Filipinas at the Dubai airport duty-free shop melted my heart once. We had about 15 minutes before boarding time en route home and, as a habit, I counted my remaining local currency, with plans of using this to buy pasalubong. I miscalculated. Because I bought a newspaper and several other items first, the money left for chocolates was off by several dirhams, so I asked if they’d accept US dollars. They said they’re not supposed to. She said they’d punched in the items and it’s okay, they’ll wait for me to come back because there is a money changer several meters away. Okay, I said, and ran, but the money-changer shop was closed that time, so I asked around. There was another one, much farther. I ran again, but the lines at the second one were long. I ran back to the two Pinays at the duty-free shop and said, I’m sorry, I’ll just offload the chocolates if you can’t take my dollars.

(Filipina domestic helpers at Statue Square, Central, Hong Kong - a favorite rendezvous on Sundays. Photo from Answers.com)

Both women simultaneously grabbed the chocolate and pressed it toward me. The second one dipped into her pocket and said don’t worry, she’ll pay for the balance. She said they couldn’t take my dollar bill because it was too big, the equivalent of what’s lacking with my dirhams was just about $3. “But I can’t take your money,” I protested. They smiled, and one asked, “You’re giving them to your children? No, nephews and nieces,” I replied. “Well then, please tell them the chocolates are from their titas in Dubai,” and flashed a smile. Just then there was an announcement of boarding time and they motioned me to hurry on. I left, overcome with gratitude but also shame. Luckily, a journalist friend passed by, also on her way to the boarding gate, so I asked if she had small dollar bills. Luckily, she had, so I borrowed $3 and ran back to the Pinays at the duty-free shop and plunked down the bills. They were surprised and refused at first to get it, but I insisted. I never imagined how even ordinary OFWs can be as gracious as these two.

One Mideast country I wanted, but failed to visit, is Israel. The late Philippine ambassador there, the former journalist Antonio C. Modena, used to tell us how organized the Filipino workers there are. One time there was an explosion in a busy public market, so I texted Tony for details, hoping to include a few paragraphs into the paper’s edition. He said he’d text back, and did so, after just 20 minutes. No Filipinos had died, he said, but one Pinay was slightly injured. They’re still tracking one more who was supposed to be in that area as well. I asked, how come you can get these details so quickly? Modena explained that the OFWs there are well-organized and have formed, with the embassy’s urging, a buddy system for verifying and monitoring each other. One OFW is supposed to check on the others in a certain district, all through the wonders of SMS.

Organized, intelligent, caring—that’s how Tony Modena described the OFWs he loved to serve. They’ll do you proud on any given day, he’d often say. He would have been proud to know Arlene (not her real name), a Filipino honor graduate of mechanical engineering, who, in four years, had been pirated by two multinational carmarkers in Japan.

I met her over dinner hosted by an elderly NGO leader in Hiroshima, and the two women kept laughing over a private joke, which I couldn’t help but pry open. Turns out that each time they meet, the Japanese lady would ask Arlene, “what club are you working in this time?” and Arlene would mention some club’s name at random, and they’d laugh together. Turns out that in her first months in Japan, Arlene always had an argument with taxi drivers, who’d ask her each time she rode a cab, “to what club?” When she’d say, “No, I don’t work in a club, I’m an engineer,” the taxi driver would chuckle and mutter what must surely be the Japanese equivalent of “Sure, tell me about it.”

It must have been strange for taxi drivers, this notion of a young Filipino engineer—a woman at that—working for a giant car manufacturer. When Arlene asked her NGO friend how to bridge that cultural abyss, the old lady good-naturedly advised her, so as to spare herself any aggravations even before she had started the day’s work, to “just name any club. Invent a name. Then they’ll shut up. Tell them the truth and they’d never believe you and you’ll end up arguing.”

Thus did it become the two women’s private joke for years. So, somewhere out there, a brilliant Filipina designs cars for THE world’s most popular carmakers, but goes to work each day pretending she works at a Japanese club—and is so self-assured she no longer feels insulted at the thought.

Arlene told me she didn’t really feel insulted because all of the Filipino entertainers she had met are decent and hardworking. And they care for their countrymen. As an aside, Filipinos are also very hygienic. In one quick tour many years ago, I stumbled on three women lugging their laundrybags to shore from a cruise ship, and they volunteered they’d be going to a public washing area “where we can handwash our clothes.” I asked why they weren’t doing their laundry in the ship’s humongous Laundromat, and they squealed, “yuck, and have our clothes mixed with those of the others?” So they went to the trouble of handwashing when the ship makes a port call.

Going back to Japan, Arlene said, you’d never hear stories here of Pinoys turning in fellow Pinoys to immigration if their only crime is overstaying just to have a job, unlike in the US, where such reports abound.

But it’s not just work, work, work for OFWs. Until a few years ago, the Filipinas in Paris who remitted money through PNB would “borrow” a small function room adjacent to the bank every other Friday night and have a typical Filipino sing-along. Some would bring the karaoke, others the food. They’d introduce newcomers to the community and swap stories. They were noisy, but happy. At least you know there won’t be candidates for suicide among the OFWs in the City of Light.

A similar happy disposition prevails among most OFWs in another European country, down south. They don’t call it sunny Spain for nothing, and it’s no exaggeration to say that Filipinos provide the metaphorical sun to their former mother country.

On my first trip there, the OFWs invited me to a modest center recently built with volunteers’ funds. Here they’d interact on weekends or when they’re off duty. The star of the show that Saturday was a very self-effacing Pinay whom everyone was eager to introduce because she brought along her two beautiful children—perfect products of an Asian-Caucasian blend. Turns out her señorito, the Spaniard son of her employers, had fallen in love with and married her. He was there at the center that day, joking and swapping stories with the OFWs. Marimar couldn’t have held a candle to that hardworking Pinay and her Cinderella story.

In other places I had deliberately sought out OFWs each time I’d look for a church for Sunday Mass. Sometimes, you don’t even have to ask them. The foreigners would often advise me to just “follow where they go.”

Some encounters are long, and allow me to mine stories or draw deep insight from kababayan which I’d never get from the intellectual pretenders back home. Other encounters are brief, but enough to warm one’s heart and make one’s day—as that Pinoy couple that once smuggled in their tiny dog in a picnic basket into the Paris commuter train, and spoke to me across the aisle plainly with their eyes, pleading for silence, when they noticed I kept staring at the basket, which was moving.

Sure, Pinoys abroad can be distractingly noisy. Sometimes their perfume can overwhelm one, but hey, we’re just passing through while they have to live and struggle there for years. Maybe the fleeting annoyances are bearable. In the overall equation, they are, like the biblical leaven to the bread, the ones who enrich us—literally but more important, spiritually. When people say nothing enriches a person more than travel, I agree. But only because, in that travel, whether in the oil fields of Nigeria or the deserts of Saudi Arabia, there’s a Filipino out there waiting to reach out to a kababayan.

A pity you missed that experience. But there’s still time to seek them out.

Sincerely,

Lourdes M. Fernandez*

*(Lourdes M. Fernandez, whom friends call 'Chuchay', not Malou/Malu...take note PR guys! is the editor-in-chief of BusinessMirror.)

Can you say dumb blonde?

This is so hilarious folks! This is worse than any Mutya ng Pilipinas contest we've ever had!



Ano daw?