After working through the holidays, the tickets to Jovianney Cruz's concert at the Baguio Country Club were heaven sent - needed the break.
We got there a minute late at 5:31, the tickets showed a 5:30 showtime, which meant we were just on time. There were less than twenty people when we arrived, and by the time Cruz began Mozart's thing in C Major, there were only about 50.
And there they were: two photographers clicking away. It was a piano concert, I could here myself breathe, and the sound of their shutters was competing with Cruz's wonderful performance. But, I thought, that's a guy sitting infront of a piano - on a proscenium stage: take a few shots from stage left, move on to stage center, and then a couple from stage right, and that's it: I really thought they'd realize how much their camera sounds (plus the sight of them moving around the ballroom during the performance) were ruining it for everyone (it was soooo annoying and I can only imagine how much more annoying it was for the performer himself) and that they'd get their precious shots done soon and sit down and be quiet like everyone else.
Wrong.
They clicked away throughout the performance. And just when I thought it couldn't get worse - an ABS-CBN crew arrived, noisily the door was opened for them and noisily they settled themselves at the back - all this in the middle of a Copland piece. And then: the ABS-CBN cameraman turned on his video camera and started shooting, first from the sides and then (!) he went right infront of the stage blocking everyone's view of the pianist (!!!)
And then the unthinkable: The guy went up onstage, got so close to the pianist that the camera was practically right in Cruz's face. He didn't stay there 5 seconds, he didn't stay there 10 seconds, he hovered and hovered and went around the piano and got his camera as close to the guy's face as possible. This was worse than Manila Pen, I thought.
And I thought, too, this is how art and artists are treated in Baguio - with utter disrespect.
I couldn't help myself, right after the show I went to the ABS-CBN reporter and told her what an idiot her cameraman was, and just as I was telling her that, I saw the cameraman coming towards us, so I decided to tell him that too - that he's an idiot.
And as for the photographers: I hope you got photos worthy of your arrogance.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
PORTRAITS DVD
PORTRAITS: History of a Hill Station DVD now available. For inquiries email us at portraits.baguio@gmail.com or call mobile (63) 920.631.9593 or visit http://portraitsbauio.multiply.com
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
A Walk In The Park
The path laid out before him began in the classroom of a prestigious educational institution where people like him – standing below five feet tall, dark skin, less than aquiline nose – gets derided, mocked, discriminated against. Then that path went on to a few years in Europe where his eyes opened to a much bigger world, other worlds where friars did not rape women nor seize lands from the people, where governments worked for the people and not the other way around. Then that path made a u-turn back home, where courageously continued on bringing with him two books that would open the eyes of his people, and earn him the ire of an abusive government. He walked on and the path ended with a short work from his cell and ended at an open field where he faces a phalanx of soldiers with rifles pointed at him. And Jose Rizal was dead, martyred and now revered as this country’s National Hero.
Andres Bonifacio’s path ended with a climb up a mountain where it ended with a bullet not from the enemy’s gun, but from a fellow Filipino’s. Macario Sakay’s path led him to the gallows. Ninoy Aquino’s path ended with those few steps from the top of a plane’s exit ladder. The farmers who fought for what was rightly theirs found the end of their path at the gates of Malacañang where they were gunned down by the same government forces who were supposed to defend them.
The path to heroism is sometimes fraught with terrifying challenges, ends, but not always. In fact, a lot of times, it’s a walk in the park.
All a policeman needs to do is to not accept that five hundred peso bill, do his job and issue that ticket, and there would be much less accidents on the road, much less smoke belchers and a much cleaner air. All a mayor needs to do is do what he’s mandated to do – serve the people, and make decisions that would result in a better life for his constituents and not in a fatter bank account for himself and his cohorts at the expense of the very same people who put him in office. All a president needs to do is to defend the constitution, as he or she has sworn to do, and not trample on it just to cling to power, or even simply let the wheels of justice turn as they’re supposed to, so as to let the world know that there is hope for justice in this country, instead of letting a monumental crime go unpunished, letting the world know instead that this country’s justice system can be circumvented by those who have enough money, never mind if that money is the result of plundering the coffers of a country where majority of its people are literally starving to death – where even a child can see the hopelessness of it all and end her own life to escape living the rest of her life in misery.
And as for the rest of us, all we need to do is cross the street where we’re supposed to, stop our car for a few seconds to let other people cross the street, not park our cars where we’re not supposed to, throw that cigarette butt in a trash can and not at the gutters where millions of other cigarette butts await that single one.
We can gripe all we want about how wrong the city government was in insisting on collecting only segregated garbage without a thorough information drive to educate the people on how it is done and what the benefits of doing it are, or we can also just begin simply segregating our garbage at home, and start telling our neighbors who don’t that a cleaner, healthier city for our children is surely worth the extra effort of putting biodegradables, recyclables and residuals in separate trash bags.
For some, it’s a journey that ends in death, for others, it’s a walk in the park – and we can all be heroes.
Andres Bonifacio’s path ended with a climb up a mountain where it ended with a bullet not from the enemy’s gun, but from a fellow Filipino’s. Macario Sakay’s path led him to the gallows. Ninoy Aquino’s path ended with those few steps from the top of a plane’s exit ladder. The farmers who fought for what was rightly theirs found the end of their path at the gates of Malacañang where they were gunned down by the same government forces who were supposed to defend them.
The path to heroism is sometimes fraught with terrifying challenges, ends, but not always. In fact, a lot of times, it’s a walk in the park.
All a policeman needs to do is to not accept that five hundred peso bill, do his job and issue that ticket, and there would be much less accidents on the road, much less smoke belchers and a much cleaner air. All a mayor needs to do is do what he’s mandated to do – serve the people, and make decisions that would result in a better life for his constituents and not in a fatter bank account for himself and his cohorts at the expense of the very same people who put him in office. All a president needs to do is to defend the constitution, as he or she has sworn to do, and not trample on it just to cling to power, or even simply let the wheels of justice turn as they’re supposed to, so as to let the world know that there is hope for justice in this country, instead of letting a monumental crime go unpunished, letting the world know instead that this country’s justice system can be circumvented by those who have enough money, never mind if that money is the result of plundering the coffers of a country where majority of its people are literally starving to death – where even a child can see the hopelessness of it all and end her own life to escape living the rest of her life in misery.
And as for the rest of us, all we need to do is cross the street where we’re supposed to, stop our car for a few seconds to let other people cross the street, not park our cars where we’re not supposed to, throw that cigarette butt in a trash can and not at the gutters where millions of other cigarette butts await that single one.
We can gripe all we want about how wrong the city government was in insisting on collecting only segregated garbage without a thorough information drive to educate the people on how it is done and what the benefits of doing it are, or we can also just begin simply segregating our garbage at home, and start telling our neighbors who don’t that a cleaner, healthier city for our children is surely worth the extra effort of putting biodegradables, recyclables and residuals in separate trash bags.
For some, it’s a journey that ends in death, for others, it’s a walk in the park – and we can all be heroes.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
Words of warning and desecrated graves
Shooting footages for our second episode, which portrays life in Baguio from the early 1900’s to the coming of Word War II, we visited the grave of one of the city’s most esteemed mayors, Eusebius Halsema, who served the city as its chief executive for 17 years. We were given general directions to the exact site and a description: nothing fancy, Eusebius’ grave lies next his wife’s, flat on the ground, no mausoleums, no imposing structures. We search in the general area where it’s supposed to be and after going through the names on tombstones for more than half an hour, we still haven’t found it. There were men playing basketball at a makeshift hoop near the Baguio’s cemetery’s entrance, and exasperated after a half-hour’s search, we approached them and asked if they knew the exact location. They lead us to a secluded site, and pointed to an area overrun by weeds and grass. We clear the area a bit and there were the graves, desecrated: the bronze headstones of both graves were missing. According a caretaker at the cemetery, they were stolen just recently.
After less than a decade of construction frenzy and overcoming criticisms from various sectors of Philippine society – the Americans eventually succeeded in realizing their dream of a hill station in Benguet. After only a few years since they discovered Kafagway, they have built a road that would connect it to the lowlands, a hospital, a hotel, schools, a few government and recreational structures, in the present site of Baguio. This amidst calls for the abolition of the project, particularly coming from the locals who felt that the government was wasting a lot of public funds, Filipino funds, in fact, for the benefit of the Western elite, which is not very different from the opposition just a few years ago to the development of a former military rest and recreation center into a world-class tourist hub.
The construction boom in Baguio in the early years of the 20th century was guided by a general blueprint by renowned city planner, Daniel Burnham. An urban site that can function as the country’s summer capital, a major health and recreational resort, and a significant market center. While Burnham provided expansive spaces for the construction of private residences and relevant public public and commercial structures, he strongly opposed dense settlement in Baguio. In his recommendation, Burnham stated that “The placing of formal architectural silhouettes upon the summits of the surrounding hills would make a hard skyline and go far toward destroying the charm of this beautiful landscape.” He added, “The preservation of the existing woods and other plantings should be minutely looked after, not only on the eminences immediately contigous to Baguio proper, but also for the surrounding mountains; and the carrying out of these precautions should be one of the first steps in the development of the proposed town.”
The early builders of the city, buoyed by the enthusiasm and hands-on direction of Governor-General Cameron Forbes, religiously followed the Burnham plan, and the result was one of Asia’s most beautiful hill stations.
Looking at the city today, the mountain skyline replaced with one of G.I. sheet roofs, commercial billboards and concrete buildings, it is not entirely to wrong to conclude that Burnham must be turning in his grave.
A change in administration came in 1913, and the new Governor-General, F.B. Harrison, initially was not as big a fan of Baguio as Forbes. The annual tradition of transferring the seat of government to this summer capital was discontinued, for the in the view of the new administration, this practice not only was costly, but downright inefficient for every year, when for a few months government officials would discharge their duties from up in Baguio, communication between the national, provincial and municipal offices was being disrupted.
But it took only a couple of visits to Baguio for Harrison to soften his stand against this mountain resort - he himself was eventually was captivated by the beauty of hill station. Consequently, his visits to the city became more and more frequent, staying longer and longer each time, and perhaps even exceeding the time spent up in Baguio by his predecessor. So while Harrison gave in to the call for the abandonment of the summer capital concept, he nevertheless supported its further development as a place for rest and relaxation.
In 1920, with the appointment of Eusebius Halsema, a civil engineer, the city’s development went into higher gear. Among Baguio’s achievements under the watch of Mayor Halsema were the city’s extensive well-paved roads, which, towards the end of his term as Mayor in 1937, totalled close to 110 kilometres. Baguio also boasted of having, at that time, the most modern street lighting system (sodium vapor lamps) at the market plaza, 3 hydro-electric plants and 600 telephone lines. The Loakan Airport, built to arrest the constant airplane crashes at Burnham Park and the plains of La Trinidad which served as temporary landing areas before, also came to be under Halsema’s watch. From a small city of 5,000, Halsema oversaw the tranformation of Baguio into a vibrant city of 25,000, said to be its maximum holding capacity.
Thus, in the early decades of 1900’s, the Carinos, Suellos, Caranteses, Camdases and Molintases, among the first settlers in Kafagway, together with other nameless Igorots, nurtured the land; Worcester and Wright planted the seeds, Kennon, Burnham, Malcolm, Forbes, and even Harrison, encouraged its growth; and the guidance and efficient administration of Mayor Eusebius Halsema all contributed to the fruition of the “American Dream” of a major hill station in Benguet – a fully developed city in harmony with its natural environment.
Today, all 300,000 of us, as we scratch our heads at what have become of this once highland oasis, let us be reminded by one of Burnham’s forewarnings:
“…unless early protective measures are taken, the misdirected initiative of enthusiastic lumbermen will soon cause the destruction of this beautiful scenery.”
If the desecrated grave of Mayor E.J. Halsema is an indication of how much we value our past and what it tells us, then may God have mercy on this city.
“A century since… the early years,” the second episode of “PORTRAITS: Tales From A Hill Station,” airs Sept. 30, at 4:00PM on SkyCable-Baguio Ch. 12. Replays every Monday and Friday, 7:00PM.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Looking back and up ahead
Welcome to Baguio, today: a bustling cosmopolitan of roughly 300,000 souls – though on certain days the number may seem so much more than that. A melting pot of different cultures, Baguio is home to people coming from the different parts of the country – and the world. Among those who have made this once quaint summer resort town their home are Chinese, Americans, Indonesians, Indians, Iranians, Australians, British, Afghans, Argentines, Arabs, Brazilians, Danes, French, Germans, Greeks, Jordanians, Mexicans, among others. And more recently and significantly adding to the ever growing Baguio population – Koreans. The city has gone very far from being a densely vegetated, mostly uninhabited pasture land to becoming an American rest, recreation and recuperation resort to a highly urbanized city bursting at the seams.
Among the most common gripes of Baguio citizens these days is the seeming “invasion” of the city by “outsiders.” In a conversation with some locals recently, one lamented that the true citizens of Baguio, perhaps by true citizens he meant those who were born and grew up here, have become a minority in their own city. It is true that in recent years there was a sudden influx of migrants to the city – young families from Manila who wished for a better environment for their children, foreign retirees who took advantage of the city’s invigorating climate and a place where their dollar pensions went a much longer way, entrepreneurs who want to cash in on Baguio’s rapid commercialisation, and foreign students who take advantage of the lower cost of education here, among others. All this happened in what felt like the blink of an eye – one day everywhere in Baguio is less than ten minutes away and you wake up the next morning stuck in traffic and it took you an hour to cover a distance of four kilometers. This “invasion” happened quickly, and so easily, and this is quite interesting: while today all it takes is money and a willing dummy for a foreigner to own land in the city, the once mighty Spanish colonizers did not have it quite as easily as the city’s current “colonizers.”
Though most of Baguio’s written history seems to begin with the arrival of the Americans, it was the Spaniards who first stumbled upon this mountain paradise and realized its potential as a health and recreation center. But conquering the mountain people of the Cordilleras was definitely not a walk in the park, not even for a mighty country like Spain that for centuries was able to build and maintain an expansive empire covering parts of the Americas, Pacific and Southeast Asia. But, from the time Miguel Lopez de Legazpi claimed the whole archipelago in the name of God, his king and his country in 1565, up to the late 1700’s, the Igorots of the Cordilleras humiliated the conquistadores – despite numerous attempts to subjugate the highlanders, they remained free and unconquered. In fact as early as 1630, Fray Juan Medina, a Spaniard, conceded that the mountain people are the most unconquerable of all the natives of this country.
The Spaniards weren’t actually the first foreigners to set foot in the Cordilleras, certain historical accounts claim that the Igorots had a thriving trade relationship with the Chinese back during the Tang dynasty, or about 500 A.D. The Chinese were all over the Cordilleras – passing through Cagayan to reach the Kalingas and the Apayaos, via Vigan to Cervantes to get to the Tingians of Abra and to Bontoc, Mt. Province, and Pangasinan to reach the Igorots of Benguet. The Igorots had access to a much coveted commodity: Gold – among the main reasons the Spaniards just couldn’t turn their backs and ignore the highlanders’ continuing defiance of Spanish authority. So for two hundred years, they made several attempts to get their hands on that gold, but the Igorots prevailed – Governor General Diego Salcedo, towards the end of the 17th century, described the enduring freedom of the Igorots “a scandal, a mockery, a cause for derision among foreigners that right in the heart of the colony, in the main island of Luzon, this group of people remained pagans, and their gold remained out of reach.”
In the late 1700’s, the highlanders dipped their hands at something that was very dear to the colonizers – they defied the Spanish tobacco monopoly and maintained a clandestine trade of the product in Northern Luzon. This gave the colonizers’ resolve to subdue the Igorots a boost, which led to a proposal for a full-scale invasion of the mountains in 1796.
A series of unrelenting offensives were conducted, and, having to fight both the Spanish military might and diseases like small pox brought in by the invading foreigners, Benguet eventually fell into the hands of the Spaniards. It was not an absolute conquest: though most settlers in the area were forced to move deeper into the mountains of the Cordilleras, throughout the rest of the 19th century the Igorots bombarded the Spaniards with sporadic uprisings – and by the time the Spaniards have settled and fully established a commandancia politico-militar in what is now La Trinidad, a bigger storm was already brewing in Manila which would spread throughout the country, including the Cordilleras, and result in the demise of Spanish domination in the country – the Katipunan uprising.
And today, we ask, hundreds of years since their defiance of foreign domination, a century since its birth as a city, 50 years or so since surviving World War II, more than a decade since rising from the rubbles of the 1990 earthquake, what do these tales from a hill station amount to? The city’s centennial is fast approaching, and there’s no better time than now to look back and see where the city is now, what it has gone through, where it’s headed, and, hopefully, we may know where we really want it to go and what the best way is to get it there.
Today, as some of us lament the loss of Baguio’s original beauty, its charm, its pine scented air and sunflower covered mountain sides, we may ask: how did the people of these mountains manage to preserve their culture, protect their land and environment, guard their most valuable resources through the ages in the face of mighty colonizers? Perhaps it’s quite simple, really: past generations cared enough.
PORTRAITS: Tales From A Hill Station, is an audio-visual portrayal of the city – all its fascinating facets as told by its rich historical and cultural heritage, and its people.
Among the most common gripes of Baguio citizens these days is the seeming “invasion” of the city by “outsiders.” In a conversation with some locals recently, one lamented that the true citizens of Baguio, perhaps by true citizens he meant those who were born and grew up here, have become a minority in their own city. It is true that in recent years there was a sudden influx of migrants to the city – young families from Manila who wished for a better environment for their children, foreign retirees who took advantage of the city’s invigorating climate and a place where their dollar pensions went a much longer way, entrepreneurs who want to cash in on Baguio’s rapid commercialisation, and foreign students who take advantage of the lower cost of education here, among others. All this happened in what felt like the blink of an eye – one day everywhere in Baguio is less than ten minutes away and you wake up the next morning stuck in traffic and it took you an hour to cover a distance of four kilometers. This “invasion” happened quickly, and so easily, and this is quite interesting: while today all it takes is money and a willing dummy for a foreigner to own land in the city, the once mighty Spanish colonizers did not have it quite as easily as the city’s current “colonizers.”
Though most of Baguio’s written history seems to begin with the arrival of the Americans, it was the Spaniards who first stumbled upon this mountain paradise and realized its potential as a health and recreation center. But conquering the mountain people of the Cordilleras was definitely not a walk in the park, not even for a mighty country like Spain that for centuries was able to build and maintain an expansive empire covering parts of the Americas, Pacific and Southeast Asia. But, from the time Miguel Lopez de Legazpi claimed the whole archipelago in the name of God, his king and his country in 1565, up to the late 1700’s, the Igorots of the Cordilleras humiliated the conquistadores – despite numerous attempts to subjugate the highlanders, they remained free and unconquered. In fact as early as 1630, Fray Juan Medina, a Spaniard, conceded that the mountain people are the most unconquerable of all the natives of this country.
The Spaniards weren’t actually the first foreigners to set foot in the Cordilleras, certain historical accounts claim that the Igorots had a thriving trade relationship with the Chinese back during the Tang dynasty, or about 500 A.D. The Chinese were all over the Cordilleras – passing through Cagayan to reach the Kalingas and the Apayaos, via Vigan to Cervantes to get to the Tingians of Abra and to Bontoc, Mt. Province, and Pangasinan to reach the Igorots of Benguet. The Igorots had access to a much coveted commodity: Gold – among the main reasons the Spaniards just couldn’t turn their backs and ignore the highlanders’ continuing defiance of Spanish authority. So for two hundred years, they made several attempts to get their hands on that gold, but the Igorots prevailed – Governor General Diego Salcedo, towards the end of the 17th century, described the enduring freedom of the Igorots “a scandal, a mockery, a cause for derision among foreigners that right in the heart of the colony, in the main island of Luzon, this group of people remained pagans, and their gold remained out of reach.”
In the late 1700’s, the highlanders dipped their hands at something that was very dear to the colonizers – they defied the Spanish tobacco monopoly and maintained a clandestine trade of the product in Northern Luzon. This gave the colonizers’ resolve to subdue the Igorots a boost, which led to a proposal for a full-scale invasion of the mountains in 1796.
A series of unrelenting offensives were conducted, and, having to fight both the Spanish military might and diseases like small pox brought in by the invading foreigners, Benguet eventually fell into the hands of the Spaniards. It was not an absolute conquest: though most settlers in the area were forced to move deeper into the mountains of the Cordilleras, throughout the rest of the 19th century the Igorots bombarded the Spaniards with sporadic uprisings – and by the time the Spaniards have settled and fully established a commandancia politico-militar in what is now La Trinidad, a bigger storm was already brewing in Manila which would spread throughout the country, including the Cordilleras, and result in the demise of Spanish domination in the country – the Katipunan uprising.
And today, we ask, hundreds of years since their defiance of foreign domination, a century since its birth as a city, 50 years or so since surviving World War II, more than a decade since rising from the rubbles of the 1990 earthquake, what do these tales from a hill station amount to? The city’s centennial is fast approaching, and there’s no better time than now to look back and see where the city is now, what it has gone through, where it’s headed, and, hopefully, we may know where we really want it to go and what the best way is to get it there.
Today, as some of us lament the loss of Baguio’s original beauty, its charm, its pine scented air and sunflower covered mountain sides, we may ask: how did the people of these mountains manage to preserve their culture, protect their land and environment, guard their most valuable resources through the ages in the face of mighty colonizers? Perhaps it’s quite simple, really: past generations cared enough.
PORTRAITS: Tales from a Hill Station, presented by local multimedia production group Open Space Projects and sponsored by The Rural Bank of Itogon in cooperation with the Office of the City Mayor, premieres today, Sunday, September 23, 2007 at 4:00PM on SkyCable Baguio Ch. 12.
Created, written and directed by Karlo Marko Altomonte and hosted by Kelly Erin McGurk, PORTRAITS: Tales from a Hill Station is being produced with a purely local cast and crew including RL Abella-Altomonte, executive producer/narrator; Emiloone West Fianza and Ana Badon, researchers/production assistants; Jojo Lamaria research consultant and still photographer; Boybi Sarmiento, technical director; Andre Soriano, assistant director; Katherine Ebba and Freida Fernandez, marketing and promotions.
For inquiries: Mobile 0920.631.9593, e-mail portraits.baguio@gmail.com, or visit our site at http://portraitsbaguio.multiply.com.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
PORTRAITS: Tales from a Hill Station
Open Space Projects' television special. For more info: http://portraitsbaguio.multiply.com
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Love for sale
The posh hotel was quite impressive, I should've worn shoes instead of rubber slippers. The coffee did not taste burned (well, at least the first cup didn't) and the sandwich came with a tiny umbrella.
"We need your brain." All 8 or 9 or 10 of them said in perfect unison. What? "We need some stuff in your brain for this things we're working on." What is this thing you're working on? "A beauty pageant." (Cue: Yanni music fades in).
A beauty pageant. I paused for a while (Yanni music up), wolfing down my 300-peso snack and thinking why I didn't order a 500-peso lunch instead like everybody else, it was past lunch afterall. Sure, what's in it for me? "Nothing." Nothing. Sounds fair. But wait, this stuff you want... from my brain... you're just borrowing it, right? I mean, it's my stuff afterall. "Er... yeah." (Music crossfades from Yanni to Mike Francis' "Lovely Day").
So that night with a sterilized ice pick, a cuticle remover, a teaspoon and a plastic bag with ziplock, I picked my brain. They were nice people, and they were nice about it, so the pain was worth it (which wasn't much anyway), although it wasn't easy picking through the rubbish inside my head. Some brain stuff kept splashing on the heap of bond paper on my desk - I'll use them later for something. I carefully placed them inside the ziplock bag and went to bed, dreaming about tiny umbrellas and fog machines with pine-scented oil.
The next day, I hand over the ziplock bag to them (there were more of them, actually their numbers kept growing as we kept on having more meetings). This time I ordered for something in between a snack and a lunch - tapsilog here is served here without a free bowl of soup like every other tapsilog place does, but that's ok.
"Hmmm, nice stuff," said one while sniffing the bag. Another opened the bag and dipped his finger in it and licked his finger, "would you have something in there to salt this stuff a bit?" You mean right here, right now? "Uh-huh." Good thing I brought that faux Swiss knife I won in a Christmas raffle. So right there, while everyone was enjoying either their grilled prawns or Caesar's salad or minestrone, I picked my brain. I added a bit of this and that into the ziplock bag and the bag was passed around and everybody dipped their fingers into the bag and then everybody licked their fingers and in perfect unison, they said, "Hmmmm, this is good. Take two bottles of freshly ground pepper and we'll call you in the morning."
I left feeling quite dizzy.
They didn't call the next morning, but two mornings after. They wanted another meeting, and they wanted me to bring them more of that brain stuff. Like Clarisse Starling, I trustingly and blindly obeyed.
This brain picking makes me hungry, and I was hungry on that third meeting, so I ordered something two notches classier than the soup-less tapsilog platter.
As they passed around the new batch of stuff around, and just as I was picming through the extenders in my goulash, I heard them say, "there's one more thing we need."
What?
"Your heart."
My heart?
"Yup, we'll pay you."
How much?
"Your brain stuff's good, we're sure you heart's fine too, so name your price."
You do understand that if you take my heart I'll die, right?
"Really?"
Really. So here's the deal, I can give you a taste of my heart and let's take it from there. But bear in mind that I will never allow you to take all my heart away from me, you may use if for your... er... pageant, but it must always remain inside me, ok?
In perfect unison, "ok." I forgot to cue the music for this scene.
We have 10 lunches after that, and on the 11th one which came after a breakfast, we stared at each other for hours until it was time for dinner and I was about to roder something only to find out that they've alreay ordered something for me. Pink salmon.
"Your heart's too expensive."
I almost choked on the salmon I just put in my mouth. Speaking with my mouth full of fish, I said that I wasn't selling my heart, I was merely letting them use it.
"But using it entails costs for us that we find too prohibitive, the equivalent cost of 6 luncheon meetings mean so much to us you know. And besides, we were just wondering if you'd actually sell your heart to us, but you won't, though renting it is fine with us too since we wouldn't need it anymore after the pageant and after we've taken our curtain calls."
I take a sip straight out of the Coke Light can. So what now?
"Actually, we don't really need a heart, all we need is an extra pair of hands... how much are those?"
They're not for sale.
I left in such a haste that I forgot to retrieve the brain stuff in that ziplock bag. But that's ok, there's more where that came from.
"We need your brain." All 8 or 9 or 10 of them said in perfect unison. What? "We need some stuff in your brain for this things we're working on." What is this thing you're working on? "A beauty pageant." (Cue: Yanni music fades in).
A beauty pageant. I paused for a while (Yanni music up), wolfing down my 300-peso snack and thinking why I didn't order a 500-peso lunch instead like everybody else, it was past lunch afterall. Sure, what's in it for me? "Nothing." Nothing. Sounds fair. But wait, this stuff you want... from my brain... you're just borrowing it, right? I mean, it's my stuff afterall. "Er... yeah." (Music crossfades from Yanni to Mike Francis' "Lovely Day").
So that night with a sterilized ice pick, a cuticle remover, a teaspoon and a plastic bag with ziplock, I picked my brain. They were nice people, and they were nice about it, so the pain was worth it (which wasn't much anyway), although it wasn't easy picking through the rubbish inside my head. Some brain stuff kept splashing on the heap of bond paper on my desk - I'll use them later for something. I carefully placed them inside the ziplock bag and went to bed, dreaming about tiny umbrellas and fog machines with pine-scented oil.
The next day, I hand over the ziplock bag to them (there were more of them, actually their numbers kept growing as we kept on having more meetings). This time I ordered for something in between a snack and a lunch - tapsilog here is served here without a free bowl of soup like every other tapsilog place does, but that's ok.
"Hmmm, nice stuff," said one while sniffing the bag. Another opened the bag and dipped his finger in it and licked his finger, "would you have something in there to salt this stuff a bit?" You mean right here, right now? "Uh-huh." Good thing I brought that faux Swiss knife I won in a Christmas raffle. So right there, while everyone was enjoying either their grilled prawns or Caesar's salad or minestrone, I picked my brain. I added a bit of this and that into the ziplock bag and the bag was passed around and everybody dipped their fingers into the bag and then everybody licked their fingers and in perfect unison, they said, "Hmmmm, this is good. Take two bottles of freshly ground pepper and we'll call you in the morning."
I left feeling quite dizzy.
They didn't call the next morning, but two mornings after. They wanted another meeting, and they wanted me to bring them more of that brain stuff. Like Clarisse Starling, I trustingly and blindly obeyed.
This brain picking makes me hungry, and I was hungry on that third meeting, so I ordered something two notches classier than the soup-less tapsilog platter.
As they passed around the new batch of stuff around, and just as I was picming through the extenders in my goulash, I heard them say, "there's one more thing we need."
What?
"Your heart."
My heart?
"Yup, we'll pay you."
How much?
"Your brain stuff's good, we're sure you heart's fine too, so name your price."
You do understand that if you take my heart I'll die, right?
"Really?"
Really. So here's the deal, I can give you a taste of my heart and let's take it from there. But bear in mind that I will never allow you to take all my heart away from me, you may use if for your... er... pageant, but it must always remain inside me, ok?
In perfect unison, "ok." I forgot to cue the music for this scene.
We have 10 lunches after that, and on the 11th one which came after a breakfast, we stared at each other for hours until it was time for dinner and I was about to roder something only to find out that they've alreay ordered something for me. Pink salmon.
"Your heart's too expensive."
I almost choked on the salmon I just put in my mouth. Speaking with my mouth full of fish, I said that I wasn't selling my heart, I was merely letting them use it.
"But using it entails costs for us that we find too prohibitive, the equivalent cost of 6 luncheon meetings mean so much to us you know. And besides, we were just wondering if you'd actually sell your heart to us, but you won't, though renting it is fine with us too since we wouldn't need it anymore after the pageant and after we've taken our curtain calls."
I take a sip straight out of the Coke Light can. So what now?
"Actually, we don't really need a heart, all we need is an extra pair of hands... how much are those?"
They're not for sale.
I left in such a haste that I forgot to retrieve the brain stuff in that ziplock bag. But that's ok, there's more where that came from.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio
Synopsis ni Padma Perez
Salinwika sa tagalog mula sa Ingles ni KM Altomonte
ANG PAGLILITIS NI MANG SERAPIO - Isang dula ni Paul Dumol
Sino si Serapio? Bakit siya nililitis? Ano'ng paki-alam natin?
Sa unang limang minuto pa lang ng paglilitis ay tatambad na sa atin ang krimen ni Mang Serapio. Ang pagkakasala niya ay pag-aaruga ng bata. Oo, ang pag-aaruga ng bata ay isang krimen. Unti-unting magkakaroon ng liwanag ang akusasyong ito sa pag-usad ng kwento. Si Serapio ay isang pulubi na kasapi ng isang federacion na namamahala sa arawang-kita ng mga pulubi mula sa pamamalimos. Hinabla siya sa “korte” ng federacion dahil kung tunay nga siyang nag-aaruga ng isang bata, nagkakasala siya dahil bumababa ang kita ng federacion dahil sa pangangalaga niya sa batang yaon. At kung nababawasan nga naman ang kita federacion, kailangan siyang parusahan. Ang maitim na kalikasan ng federacion ay mapaghahalata nang ihayag ng mga taga-usig na ang parusa sa mga lumalabag sa mga batas ng federaciong tulad ni Serapio ay pagpilay o pagbulag, na siya namang makatutulong sa kanilang pagiging pulubi. Ang bawat desisyon ng “korte” ay ginagawa para sa kabutihan ng nakararami sa federacion.
Hindi na bago ang mga balita tungkol sa mga federaciong nagpapalakad sa mga pulubing namamalimos. Madalas tayong makarinig tungkol sa mga ito, at kung tayo'y magmamanman ng mabuti, ang ebidensyang tunay ngang mayroong mga ganitong uri ng federacion ay nasa ating harapan lamang, sa ating mg lansangan. Ang isa sa mga nakakagimbal sa Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-amin ng isa sa mga kanyang taga-usig na ang tunay na “krimen” ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-aaruga ng mga pangarap, mga pangarap na hindi naman makakamtan. Para sa federacion, ang mga pangarap at ang mga nangangarap ay mapanganib. Nais tayong paniwalain ng federacion na mas mainam na huwag tayong mangarap, huwag maiba, at huwag pangarapin ang pagbabago, dahil ang pag-asa sa pagbabago ay walang ibang kahahantungan kundi pagkakasakit at kabiguan.
Sa paggamit ng estilong theater-in-the-round kung saan nakapalibot ang mga manonood sa acting area, kakaibang karanasan sa panonood ng isang dula ang hatid ng pagtatanghal ng Open Space Projects ng “Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio.” Bukod pa rito, ang pagtatangahal na ito ay maaari ring magsilbing plataporma sa pagtalakay ng mga paksa sa araling panlipunan tulad ng struktura ng kapangyarihan sa ating lipunan. Para sa mga estudyante, nagbibigay-daan din ang dula para sa mga talakayan ukol sa mga kaugaliang pilipino at mga konsepto ng ambisyon, pag-asa, hustisya at pag-ibig.
Dagdag pa rito, ang pagsasadula ng paglilitis bilang isang tila palatuntunang pantelebisyon o showbiz blitz ay maaari ring maging tulay sa mga katanungan ukol sa paghubog ng media sa mga impormasyon, mga imahe at ating pag-iisip at kung paano nito naapektuhan ang ating buhay at ang ating mga paniniwala.
Kung ang buhay ay tila nga isang dula, ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay isang palabas na ipinaloob sa isa pang palabas, at tayo, ang mga manonood, ay mga saksi hindi sa krimeng nagawa ni Mang Serapio, kundi sa mga kawalang-hustisya ng mga ginawa sa kanya.
Bilang mga saksi, kailangan din siguro nating itanong sa ating mga sarili ang mga katanungang ibinato kay Mang Serapio, at maari siguro tayong mapagisip-isip, si Serapio nga ba ay isa lamang hamak na pulubi, o isa ba siyang taong nangangarap, at maari nga kayang isa siyang katulad natin? At kung siya nga ay katulad din natin, sino ang Federacion at paano tayo binubulag nito?
(Open Space Projects' production of Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio goes on stage at the Bulwagang Juan Luna of U.P. Baguio on August 23, 2007 with shows at 1:30PM and 6:30PM. For inquiries call Dulaang U.P. at mobile 09175060080 or UPCAC at 09102504935 or landline # (074) 4448393)
Salinwika sa tagalog mula sa Ingles ni KM Altomonte
ANG PAGLILITIS NI MANG SERAPIO - Isang dula ni Paul Dumol
Sino si Serapio? Bakit siya nililitis? Ano'ng paki-alam natin?
Sa unang limang minuto pa lang ng paglilitis ay tatambad na sa atin ang krimen ni Mang Serapio. Ang pagkakasala niya ay pag-aaruga ng bata. Oo, ang pag-aaruga ng bata ay isang krimen. Unti-unting magkakaroon ng liwanag ang akusasyong ito sa pag-usad ng kwento. Si Serapio ay isang pulubi na kasapi ng isang federacion na namamahala sa arawang-kita ng mga pulubi mula sa pamamalimos. Hinabla siya sa “korte” ng federacion dahil kung tunay nga siyang nag-aaruga ng isang bata, nagkakasala siya dahil bumababa ang kita ng federacion dahil sa pangangalaga niya sa batang yaon. At kung nababawasan nga naman ang kita federacion, kailangan siyang parusahan. Ang maitim na kalikasan ng federacion ay mapaghahalata nang ihayag ng mga taga-usig na ang parusa sa mga lumalabag sa mga batas ng federaciong tulad ni Serapio ay pagpilay o pagbulag, na siya namang makatutulong sa kanilang pagiging pulubi. Ang bawat desisyon ng “korte” ay ginagawa para sa kabutihan ng nakararami sa federacion.
Hindi na bago ang mga balita tungkol sa mga federaciong nagpapalakad sa mga pulubing namamalimos. Madalas tayong makarinig tungkol sa mga ito, at kung tayo'y magmamanman ng mabuti, ang ebidensyang tunay ngang mayroong mga ganitong uri ng federacion ay nasa ating harapan lamang, sa ating mg lansangan. Ang isa sa mga nakakagimbal sa Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-amin ng isa sa mga kanyang taga-usig na ang tunay na “krimen” ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-aaruga ng mga pangarap, mga pangarap na hindi naman makakamtan. Para sa federacion, ang mga pangarap at ang mga nangangarap ay mapanganib. Nais tayong paniwalain ng federacion na mas mainam na huwag tayong mangarap, huwag maiba, at huwag pangarapin ang pagbabago, dahil ang pag-asa sa pagbabago ay walang ibang kahahantungan kundi pagkakasakit at kabiguan.
Sa paggamit ng estilong theater-in-the-round kung saan nakapalibot ang mga manonood sa acting area, kakaibang karanasan sa panonood ng isang dula ang hatid ng pagtatanghal ng Open Space Projects ng “Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio.” Bukod pa rito, ang pagtatangahal na ito ay maaari ring magsilbing plataporma sa pagtalakay ng mga paksa sa araling panlipunan tulad ng struktura ng kapangyarihan sa ating lipunan. Para sa mga estudyante, nagbibigay-daan din ang dula para sa mga talakayan ukol sa mga kaugaliang pilipino at mga konsepto ng ambisyon, pag-asa, hustisya at pag-ibig.
Dagdag pa rito, ang pagsasadula ng paglilitis bilang isang tila palatuntunang pantelebisyon o showbiz blitz ay maaari ring maging tulay sa mga katanungan ukol sa paghubog ng media sa mga impormasyon, mga imahe at ating pag-iisip at kung paano nito naapektuhan ang ating buhay at ang ating mga paniniwala.
Kung ang buhay ay tila nga isang dula, ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay isang palabas na ipinaloob sa isa pang palabas, at tayo, ang mga manonood, ay mga saksi hindi sa krimeng nagawa ni Mang Serapio, kundi sa mga kawalang-hustisya ng mga ginawa sa kanya.
Bilang mga saksi, kailangan din siguro nating itanong sa ating mga sarili ang mga katanungang ibinato kay Mang Serapio, at maari siguro tayong mapagisip-isip, si Serapio nga ba ay isa lamang hamak na pulubi, o isa ba siyang taong nangangarap, at maari nga kayang isa siyang katulad natin? At kung siya nga ay katulad din natin, sino ang Federacion at paano tayo binubulag nito?
(Open Space Projects' production of Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio goes on stage at the Bulwagang Juan Luna of U.P. Baguio on August 23, 2007 with shows at 1:30PM and 6:30PM. For inquiries call Dulaang U.P. at mobile 09175060080 or UPCAC at 09102504935 or landline # (074) 4448393)
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Sh*t
RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD
TAOISM – Shit happens.
HARE KRISHNA – Shit Happens Rama Rama Ding Ding.
HINDUISM – This Shit Happened Before
ZEN – What Is The Sound Of Shit Happening?
BUDDHISM – When Shit Happens, Is It Really Shit?
CONFUCIANISM – Confucius Says, Shit Happens.
7th DAY ADVENTIST – Shit Happens On Saturdays.
PROTESTANISM – Shit Won't Happen If You Work Harder.
CATHOLICISM – If Shit Happens I Deserve It.
JEHOVAH'S WITNESS – Knock, Knock. “Shit Happens.”
UNITARIAN – What Is This Shit/
MORMON – Shit Happens Again & Again & Again.
JUDAISM – Why Does This Shit Always Happen To Me?
RASTAFARIANISM – Let's Smoke This Shit!!!
TAOISM – Shit happens.
HARE KRISHNA – Shit Happens Rama Rama Ding Ding.
HINDUISM – This Shit Happened Before
ZEN – What Is The Sound Of Shit Happening?
BUDDHISM – When Shit Happens, Is It Really Shit?
CONFUCIANISM – Confucius Says, Shit Happens.
7th DAY ADVENTIST – Shit Happens On Saturdays.
PROTESTANISM – Shit Won't Happen If You Work Harder.
CATHOLICISM – If Shit Happens I Deserve It.
JEHOVAH'S WITNESS – Knock, Knock. “Shit Happens.”
UNITARIAN – What Is This Shit/
MORMON – Shit Happens Again & Again & Again.
JUDAISM – Why Does This Shit Always Happen To Me?
RASTAFARIANISM – Let's Smoke This Shit!!!
Monday, August 6, 2007
Portraits... tales from a hill station
Open Space Projects' upcoming tv show... coming in September.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Like a song
I was bit late, thanks to my printer which for some mysterious reason pauses printing every 4 or 5 pages now (not so mysterious, actually... after 3 years and hundreds of copies of various scripts, design studies, etc., it's ripe for replacement), so it took a long while to print 20 copies of the script for Sunday's script reading.
Baguio theater pillar Ferdie Balanag was there on time, and Jojo Lamaria (theater actor turned gymnast turned photo journalist and returning theater actor), so were most OSP veterans: Syrel Amazona (coming from a couple of years' stint as host in a local ABS-CBN show), Ana and Candice Degollacion (allowed by their mom to juggle HRM and Dentistry (respectively) and being in a play after a whole year's absence in theater), Mai Fianza and Freida Fernandez (OSP's dynamic stage management duo) and Eunice Caburao who was coming from a vacation in Bicol. Those who made it in the previous day's auditions were there on time too (a good sign, I hope they keep it up.). Roman Ordoño was late (surprise, surprise). But that's ok, for now... it was a beautiful afternoon and the sunlight through VOCAS' glass windows was warm and felt good against the cold breeze. Smile. Let's begin.
We started the session with brief individual introductions, then I introduced the cast to the material: Paul Dumol's one-act play, "Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio." Several months after we first thought of staging this play, I think I finally have the right cast. We did do a reading months ago, but somehow the energy wasn't there then so the production was shelved for a while.
I segue into my director's treatment, and as I did I scanned the eyes infront of me to make sure I was getting it across, into them, that we understood each other. As I spoke I began to see images of crowds of young students at the front row wondering if Serapio will indeed be blinded; of the staff rushing to get those props ready for rehearsals, of meals cooked for the cast and roadtrips on dirt roads to Kabayan, of performances in the lowlands, of jampacked vans filled with costumes, props, lighting and sound equipment, and artists trying to get to the next gymnasium full of students somewhere in Pangasinan.
And we began to read. Ferdie has clearly studied the script prior to the reading - except for minor stutters here and there, the lines flowed out of him like a song. The younger ones obviously are new to the theater, not exactly knowing how to read a script, which are directions and which are lines. Jojo's delivery of the word "federacion" gave me ideas for his character as the "Hukom."
Running time: Approx. 45 minutes.
It felt good seeing almost everyone getting lost in the story as the reading progressed. From cold deliveries of the lines the actors slowly began to give more and more life to the script. "Si Sol na anak ni Sol," "Pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga ang krimen niya," "Huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan, parang awa niyo na, huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan!" I can't wait to begin blocking this play.
But not yet. One more reading, script and character analysis... then we begin putting together the story onstage... slowly getting those stage movements right, getting the rhythm in sync, pauses when the moment calls for it, outbursts when it moment is right for it, until those lines flow out of each and every actor on stage like a song.
Baguio theater pillar Ferdie Balanag was there on time, and Jojo Lamaria (theater actor turned gymnast turned photo journalist and returning theater actor), so were most OSP veterans: Syrel Amazona (coming from a couple of years' stint as host in a local ABS-CBN show), Ana and Candice Degollacion (allowed by their mom to juggle HRM and Dentistry (respectively) and being in a play after a whole year's absence in theater), Mai Fianza and Freida Fernandez (OSP's dynamic stage management duo) and Eunice Caburao who was coming from a vacation in Bicol. Those who made it in the previous day's auditions were there on time too (a good sign, I hope they keep it up.). Roman Ordoño was late (surprise, surprise). But that's ok, for now... it was a beautiful afternoon and the sunlight through VOCAS' glass windows was warm and felt good against the cold breeze. Smile. Let's begin.
We started the session with brief individual introductions, then I introduced the cast to the material: Paul Dumol's one-act play, "Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio." Several months after we first thought of staging this play, I think I finally have the right cast. We did do a reading months ago, but somehow the energy wasn't there then so the production was shelved for a while.
I segue into my director's treatment, and as I did I scanned the eyes infront of me to make sure I was getting it across, into them, that we understood each other. As I spoke I began to see images of crowds of young students at the front row wondering if Serapio will indeed be blinded; of the staff rushing to get those props ready for rehearsals, of meals cooked for the cast and roadtrips on dirt roads to Kabayan, of performances in the lowlands, of jampacked vans filled with costumes, props, lighting and sound equipment, and artists trying to get to the next gymnasium full of students somewhere in Pangasinan.
And we began to read. Ferdie has clearly studied the script prior to the reading - except for minor stutters here and there, the lines flowed out of him like a song. The younger ones obviously are new to the theater, not exactly knowing how to read a script, which are directions and which are lines. Jojo's delivery of the word "federacion" gave me ideas for his character as the "Hukom."
Running time: Approx. 45 minutes.
It felt good seeing almost everyone getting lost in the story as the reading progressed. From cold deliveries of the lines the actors slowly began to give more and more life to the script. "Si Sol na anak ni Sol," "Pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga ang krimen niya," "Huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan, parang awa niyo na, huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan!" I can't wait to begin blocking this play.
But not yet. One more reading, script and character analysis... then we begin putting together the story onstage... slowly getting those stage movements right, getting the rhythm in sync, pauses when the moment calls for it, outbursts when it moment is right for it, until those lines flow out of each and every actor on stage like a song.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Telling my friends about it...
I got a call inviting me to help in the campaign of Peds for mayor early this year. To sell out or not to sell out.. but I figured, we local artists spend a lot of time and energy complaining about the city government's lack of support for the arts, but when the time comes when we, just like every ordinary citizen, can make a difference in Baguio, most of us choose to sit it out and watch the elections pass. Mock the whole exercise, even (though a lot of times not without reason, I must add).
Call it whatever you want but I chose to actively participate in this year's local elections. You see a good movie and you tell your friends about it, you listen to some good music and you burn a cd copy for your friends, you read a good book and you can't wait to lend it to a friend after... There are so many things that have been said about Peds, but looking at the other candidates running for the same position, I chose him. And I told my friends about it.
If he does well, then I'll be proud to have contributed to his victory. If he doesn't, then I have all the right to complain for I have been a participant in shaping Baguio's future when I placed my thumbprint on that ballot for him last Monday.
Call it whatever you want, but I just don't believe that sitting on that fence and then jumping to whichever side's convenient when the smoke clears just isn't right.
Call it whatever you want but I chose to actively participate in this year's local elections. You see a good movie and you tell your friends about it, you listen to some good music and you burn a cd copy for your friends, you read a good book and you can't wait to lend it to a friend after... There are so many things that have been said about Peds, but looking at the other candidates running for the same position, I chose him. And I told my friends about it.
If he does well, then I'll be proud to have contributed to his victory. If he doesn't, then I have all the right to complain for I have been a participant in shaping Baguio's future when I placed my thumbprint on that ballot for him last Monday.
Call it whatever you want, but I just don't believe that sitting on that fence and then jumping to whichever side's convenient when the smoke clears just isn't right.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Sunday, April 8, 2007
It didn't rain on Good Friday in John Hay
The year started with a new car, not a brand new one but a decent sedan offered to us by a friend under the friendliest terms and conditions, so we got it.
I drive down with it and an entertainer to meet up with the officers of this Rotary Club in Quezon City to negotiate a contract for me to direct the opening and closing ceremonies of their district conference (the entertainer brought me into this project). I was supposed to provide my services as director of two production numbers, the doxology (the latest trend is for the invocation to be done in song [Bocelli's The prayer] and dance [a couple of ballet dancers]), 24 dancers, production design, and 15 ballroom dance instructors for the Governor's Ball.
Slacks, Lacoste shirts and shoes, blazers, gelled hair, cigarettes and Scotch, plus me and the entertainer.
She represents me and the lights and sound provider, this entertainer. That's ok, she's put a mark up on every single item that would fall under my budget. Aside from what I was supposed to provide, she was bringing in herself and a brass band. What I didn't know was that that mark up avergaed 50% on every item. Not to mention her 150% mark up on the brass band. An hour into the meeting and it was apparent that the Rotarians thought the budget was too high, plus they weren't really impressed with the lights and sound provider that the entertainer brought with her, as far as they're concerned, they'd rather stick to the lights and sound provider they used the previous year. Sensing that, the etertainer blurts out what she thought would seal the deal - "I won't perform if you don't get my guy." Diva.
Long story short, one more meeting and then they took her out, took her guy out, and chose to keep me. I relay this information to her, plus the fact that they'd only do it if the budget is this much, and under that budget I could only give her 5%. She agrees, or so I thought.
The District Conference happened, with the Rotary's original choice for lights and sound equipment providing technical reinforcement ruining the whole thing with booboos every five minutes (bringing the Rotary Governor to several near heart attacks), and with the entertainer out of the scene but all over town telling the story of how the project was "stolen" from her.
The election campaign fever followed right after the district conference, and I was really craving for some soul food, so to speak. So we decide to do JC-Live - no money, just guts and a great libretto. Perennial benefactors University of Baguio and Rural Bank of Itogon provide some much needed funds to jumpstart the thing. We use some of that money to buy beer for the two VOCAS performances. Nathan dilly-dallies as Herod so we decide to bring in the new kid in town, Ron Luis, to audition for the role. I meet him, he says hello in that rough, Tom Waits voice, and I say, "you're in." He does a blues version of Herod's song.
Ethan's musical direction is at the center of the production, it's a concert afterall. Despite the lack of budget, he thought it was necessary to bring in more musicians adding a keyboard and two blowers to our original band of 5 musicians.
We open in VOCAS with a modestly filled house... the first performance, as expected, seemed more like a dress tech, with hitches here and there, all minor though, thank God. No lights where Judas was supposed to enter, Herod kept disappearing and just as his part was coming next, he decides to go to the bathroom, so he sings the first lines as he was zipping up his fly coming out of the bathroom. Cholo messes up some of his lines, and struggled throughout the Pilate and Christ scene. Yoshi was off by five seconds in that prolonged high note in Gethsemane (but, well, 15 seconds instead of 20 sustaining that high note is already a feat anyway). The second show the next day was a hit, with all the minor hitches ironed out, by the time the overture was played in John Hay on the third day, Open Space rose again. And for the first time, it didn't rain on Good Friday in Baguio. Not in John Hay anyway. And then the usual, "really? you guys aren't from Manila? All these talents are local?" Yeah.
I still have all the lights (those improvised par cannisters fashioned out of G.I. sheets and curtain rods) in the trunk of our car (thirty percent paid and counting). The entertainer cashed her check the day after I left it for her at the front desk of the Manor. A performance art festival is in the offing and will open in a couple of weeks. We're doing our performance art peice designed for the visually impaired.
Some Scotch on the rocks and a day at the beach wouldn't be bad at all. Rain or shine.
I drive down with it and an entertainer to meet up with the officers of this Rotary Club in Quezon City to negotiate a contract for me to direct the opening and closing ceremonies of their district conference (the entertainer brought me into this project). I was supposed to provide my services as director of two production numbers, the doxology (the latest trend is for the invocation to be done in song [Bocelli's The prayer] and dance [a couple of ballet dancers]), 24 dancers, production design, and 15 ballroom dance instructors for the Governor's Ball.
Slacks, Lacoste shirts and shoes, blazers, gelled hair, cigarettes and Scotch, plus me and the entertainer.
She represents me and the lights and sound provider, this entertainer. That's ok, she's put a mark up on every single item that would fall under my budget. Aside from what I was supposed to provide, she was bringing in herself and a brass band. What I didn't know was that that mark up avergaed 50% on every item. Not to mention her 150% mark up on the brass band. An hour into the meeting and it was apparent that the Rotarians thought the budget was too high, plus they weren't really impressed with the lights and sound provider that the entertainer brought with her, as far as they're concerned, they'd rather stick to the lights and sound provider they used the previous year. Sensing that, the etertainer blurts out what she thought would seal the deal - "I won't perform if you don't get my guy." Diva.
Long story short, one more meeting and then they took her out, took her guy out, and chose to keep me. I relay this information to her, plus the fact that they'd only do it if the budget is this much, and under that budget I could only give her 5%. She agrees, or so I thought.
The District Conference happened, with the Rotary's original choice for lights and sound equipment providing technical reinforcement ruining the whole thing with booboos every five minutes (bringing the Rotary Governor to several near heart attacks), and with the entertainer out of the scene but all over town telling the story of how the project was "stolen" from her.
The election campaign fever followed right after the district conference, and I was really craving for some soul food, so to speak. So we decide to do JC-Live - no money, just guts and a great libretto. Perennial benefactors University of Baguio and Rural Bank of Itogon provide some much needed funds to jumpstart the thing. We use some of that money to buy beer for the two VOCAS performances. Nathan dilly-dallies as Herod so we decide to bring in the new kid in town, Ron Luis, to audition for the role. I meet him, he says hello in that rough, Tom Waits voice, and I say, "you're in." He does a blues version of Herod's song.
Ethan's musical direction is at the center of the production, it's a concert afterall. Despite the lack of budget, he thought it was necessary to bring in more musicians adding a keyboard and two blowers to our original band of 5 musicians.
We open in VOCAS with a modestly filled house... the first performance, as expected, seemed more like a dress tech, with hitches here and there, all minor though, thank God. No lights where Judas was supposed to enter, Herod kept disappearing and just as his part was coming next, he decides to go to the bathroom, so he sings the first lines as he was zipping up his fly coming out of the bathroom. Cholo messes up some of his lines, and struggled throughout the Pilate and Christ scene. Yoshi was off by five seconds in that prolonged high note in Gethsemane (but, well, 15 seconds instead of 20 sustaining that high note is already a feat anyway). The second show the next day was a hit, with all the minor hitches ironed out, by the time the overture was played in John Hay on the third day, Open Space rose again. And for the first time, it didn't rain on Good Friday in Baguio. Not in John Hay anyway. And then the usual, "really? you guys aren't from Manila? All these talents are local?" Yeah.
I still have all the lights (those improvised par cannisters fashioned out of G.I. sheets and curtain rods) in the trunk of our car (thirty percent paid and counting). The entertainer cashed her check the day after I left it for her at the front desk of the Manor. A performance art festival is in the offing and will open in a couple of weeks. We're doing our performance art peice designed for the visually impaired.
Some Scotch on the rocks and a day at the beach wouldn't be bad at all. Rain or shine.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
It is...
Posted that same piece below on my multiply site, and it has recieved a couple of comments from friends...
From Padma:
"It is common knowledge that Baguio needs leaders with an exceptional vision of a different sort of future. A future that extends far beyond their political careers.
It is common knowledge that these leaders are nowhere in sight.
It is common knowledge that these days, vision consists of poorly planned flyovers, artificial snow, and sad hollywood rip-offs.
Is it because it is common knowledge, that no one is in an outrage?"
From Su:
"Isn't it strange how things that are outrageous become common knowledge...and thus...as Padma says...accepted. I remember so well when we were all standing up and fighting...when they tried to give John Hay away to the Taiwanese. Sometimes I know it feels so overwhelming to fight and fight and fight some more but we can't give up. I am so glad you made this piece Karlo. I wish there was a way to get it aired over and over on national television."
I do remember a bit of that one battle Su mentioned (the one against the plan to give CJH to a Taiwanese corporation), and I was there myself when the battle shifted to the plan to have CJH turned into an almost exclusive playground for the filthy rich and tasteless. I remember how passionate the whole Baguio community was about it, particularly the its more famous members. It's sad that the fight was not sustained to actually win the battle and now the voices have died down and Camp John Hay is almost a non-issue these days despite the fact the much-trumpeted justification for the selling of one of Baguio's treasures, the money it will bring into the city via rental fees, remains to be seen (almost a decade since they started chopping down trees and building ridiculously-priced luxury homes in the camp).
I remember how the community once again let its sentiments be known on the planned casino in John Hay, and with the protracted war against the abusive pay-parking company, Jadewell - which resulted in the trashing of then Mayor Bernanrdo Vergara, one of the people who brought upon us Jadewell and who tried to ram the casino down our throats, in the 2004 elections).
And so, though we do need a maverick up there in city hall, what Baguio needs is its people to once again make a united stand against the cotinued rape of the city mostly perpetuated by, sadly, the very people we elected to protect the city's interests.
At the end of the day, way more than the government officials, it is the people who make good things happen in Baguio. That, too, is common knowledge.
From Padma:
"It is common knowledge that Baguio needs leaders with an exceptional vision of a different sort of future. A future that extends far beyond their political careers.
It is common knowledge that these leaders are nowhere in sight.
It is common knowledge that these days, vision consists of poorly planned flyovers, artificial snow, and sad hollywood rip-offs.
Is it because it is common knowledge, that no one is in an outrage?"
From Su:
"Isn't it strange how things that are outrageous become common knowledge...and thus...as Padma says...accepted. I remember so well when we were all standing up and fighting...when they tried to give John Hay away to the Taiwanese. Sometimes I know it feels so overwhelming to fight and fight and fight some more but we can't give up. I am so glad you made this piece Karlo. I wish there was a way to get it aired over and over on national television."
I do remember a bit of that one battle Su mentioned (the one against the plan to give CJH to a Taiwanese corporation), and I was there myself when the battle shifted to the plan to have CJH turned into an almost exclusive playground for the filthy rich and tasteless. I remember how passionate the whole Baguio community was about it, particularly the its more famous members. It's sad that the fight was not sustained to actually win the battle and now the voices have died down and Camp John Hay is almost a non-issue these days despite the fact the much-trumpeted justification for the selling of one of Baguio's treasures, the money it will bring into the city via rental fees, remains to be seen (almost a decade since they started chopping down trees and building ridiculously-priced luxury homes in the camp).
I remember how the community once again let its sentiments be known on the planned casino in John Hay, and with the protracted war against the abusive pay-parking company, Jadewell - which resulted in the trashing of then Mayor Bernanrdo Vergara, one of the people who brought upon us Jadewell and who tried to ram the casino down our throats, in the 2004 elections).
And so, though we do need a maverick up there in city hall, what Baguio needs is its people to once again make a united stand against the cotinued rape of the city mostly perpetuated by, sadly, the very people we elected to protect the city's interests.
At the end of the day, way more than the government officials, it is the people who make good things happen in Baguio. That, too, is common knowledge.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Rapists
It was surely a horrible experience, getting raped by one Daniel Smith, in the back of a moving van, in the dead of the night, while she was too intoxicated to fight off the assailant. She files a case, and the whole nightmare must be relived in that courtroom under the glare of camera lights and cynical eyes. She wins the case, and she is raped once again by a group of brainless people who doubted her story and believed that the rapist is innocent of the crime because he's "cute."
And now, the most disgusting criminal act against Nicole to date: GMA, Gonzalez, Romulo, et al, raped her once again, and the country, and its people, by spitting in the face of Nicole to please Bush.
Now it can be told without a tinge of doubt; GMA did not give a hoot about the life of that Filipino truck driver when she pulled out our troops from Iraq to please the man's abductors who threatened to behead him if the pinoys weren't pulled out. She didn't care about him, she cared about saving her illegitimate claim to power, and such a then popular move would do just that. And now that her hold on Malacañang got a bit tighter since, to hell with the Filipina rape victim, make Bush smile, and make sure the rapist is as comfortable as possible, the laws of the land and the sovereignty of this country be damned.
And to think one can go to jail for not standing up while the National Anthem is being played.
Rapists go to hell.
You must be tired of all the people throwing in their 5 centavos' worth on this issue - well, don't be, you shouldn't be, you must not be, this whole thing's a slap on your face too.
And now, the most disgusting criminal act against Nicole to date: GMA, Gonzalez, Romulo, et al, raped her once again, and the country, and its people, by spitting in the face of Nicole to please Bush.
Now it can be told without a tinge of doubt; GMA did not give a hoot about the life of that Filipino truck driver when she pulled out our troops from Iraq to please the man's abductors who threatened to behead him if the pinoys weren't pulled out. She didn't care about him, she cared about saving her illegitimate claim to power, and such a then popular move would do just that. And now that her hold on Malacañang got a bit tighter since, to hell with the Filipina rape victim, make Bush smile, and make sure the rapist is as comfortable as possible, the laws of the land and the sovereignty of this country be damned.
And to think one can go to jail for not standing up while the National Anthem is being played.
Rapists go to hell.
You must be tired of all the people throwing in their 5 centavos' worth on this issue - well, don't be, you shouldn't be, you must not be, this whole thing's a slap on your face too.
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