SINO BA SI KATRINA AT SI HAYDEN?

I had to ask, who’s Katrina and who’s Hayden?

I have heard of Katrina Halili, of Vicky Belo, but never of Hayden Kho. I google their names and Wikipedia says that Katrina Halili is “a Filipina actress, and a commercial model.” That “she made her screen debut via Starstruck, but did not gain popularity until playing the antagonist roles in Darna, Majika, Atlantika and Marimar and becoming the protagonist in One Night Only and Magdusa Ka.” Unfortunately, or fortunately, I never saw any of those films. A blog said that Hayden Kho “joined Bodyshots 2000…" that “He modeled for a while, then he stopped to pursue medical school in UST.” There’s a quote from Kho himself, “when asked, ‘How would you describe yourself in five words to make us fall in love with you?’ he answered, ‘Tall, handsome, handsome, cute, and… it’s up to you to find out!’” Sure, Mr. Kho, I’ll take your word for it. And Googling Vicky Belo brought me to her website which describes her as the “Ambassadress of Beauty” and the medical director of Belo Medical Group.

Someone offered me the following information: “Si Hayden Kho, isang doktor ng isang cosmetic surgery clinic (Belo Medical Group) na pag-aari ni Dr.Vicky Belo na naging kasintahan nya. Naghiwalay sila Hayden at Vicky ng mapabalitang may namumuong relasyon si Katrina Halili at Hayden Kho na parehong modelo ng nasabing clinic...”

I open my email and find links to some videos online. I click on a couple and see this: A woman clad in a skimpy bikini dancing in front of what I believe was a mirror. Moments later a man joins her, singing along and gyrating to Wham’s “Careless Whisper” (ahhh, the irony). Then at one point, the woman waves to her unseen audience (towards the camera) and goes on dancing. I heard the succeeding videos were even worse, meaning more explicit. In one report, Ms. Halili said that “Gusto kong lumaban kasi ayoko ng maulit ang mga ganitong pangyayari kasi sobrang binaboy kami d’on sa video. Sobrang pambababoy ang ginawa sa amin ni [doctor] Hayden kaya dapat magbayad siya.” Did I mention that at one point in the video she as seen waving at her unseen audience? Anyway.

Still I ask, “sino si Katrina at si Hayden?”

As expected, the Honorables are all over the place: the Palace pledges to “go hard” on Kho; that funny Secretary of Justice says that Kho may be jailed for six years for his actions; “The Honorable” Bong Revilla gave an emotional privilege speech on the matter, demanding the Kho’s medical license be revoked; the National Bureau of Investigation aims to get to the bottom of the issue. Well, with all the brouhaha surrounding this issue, the country’s already at the bottom of a lot of things.

Amazing, nah, disgusting, that the government can take its sweet time to act on the killing of journalists, the forced disappearance of activists, the automation of next year’s election is still uncertain, but has several of its branches up and about on this issue in the blink of an eye, or the click of the mouse. Executive Secretary Ermita was quoted as saying that the video “affects the morals of society.” Sure, so do pardoning a child molester and cheating during elections and stealing from the government - and way much more than this stupid video does.

There’s a bigger scandal here. And it’s not the Halili-Kho video.

Another person asked me in response to my question, sino si Katrina at si Hayden? – “Ha? Hindi ka ba taga-‘pinas?”

Taga-Pilipinas po ako, and during times like this, unfortunately, regrettably.

Candy, anyone?

Candy’s remarks left a bitter taste, pun intended. That’s Candy Pangilinan, tv, film and stage actress. Since they say that in showbiz, you’re only as good as your last performance, I am not inclined to call her a comedienne right now, her recent faux pas at a performance in SM City Baguio was not funny at all. “Tao po ako, hindi po ako Igorot,” a blog entry said that was posted, and linked to, all over the internet, particularly Facebook and Multiply.com. And the reactions, as expected, were vicious: “She’s dead meat next time she comes to Baguio;” “There will be no next time, she be persona non-grata;” “…a comedienne with little or no talent;” “boycott anything she’s involved in;” just to quote a few. There are even nastier unprintable ones. And perhaps she deserved every single one of those tirades that came from, among others, the very descendants of the first families who lived in these mountains, of that man who fought the most powerful government in the world in court (and won), Igorots who’ve risen above stereotypes and have contributed so much more to the country than Ms. Pangilinan can never, ever, equal.

I’ve seen her teary apology on TV and heard her explanation, accepted by others, rejected by some. But, though what she said is in itself a major blunder, I believe her other mistake is uttering those words in public, with a microphone, in the presence of Igorots. Because, really, most of us would never say to a child who wants to play out in the streets, “sige ka, kukunin ka ng Bumbay,” in front of an Indian man. Nor would we laugh in the face of a pirated DVD vendor when he offers us “dibide-dibide.” Ok, we’ve heard some of us utter unkind remarks about Koreans in the presence of Koreans, but that’s only when and because we know they can’t understand Tagalog or Ilokano.

Perhaps this incident brings to the fore, aside from the ugly face of racism, the fact that centuries after the Spanish colonization attempted to make this archipelago one nation, tribalism, at times defined as “the possession of a strong cultural or ethnic identity that separates oneself as a member of one group from the members of another” (Wikipedia.org), exists and continues to define the way some of us view ourselves as a people. While we’re all Filipinos, for a lot of us we’re Igorot or Bisaya or Aeta or Kampampangan or Ilokano or Maranao , etc., first. Not that that’s essentially wrong: it is good when it forges unity among a group of people, but not when it separates us from others. It is good to belong: to a family, a clan, a tribe, a region, a nation. It’s not good when, as Filipinos, we separate ourselves from others because we come from a different region, or ethnic group, etc.

In Baguio alone, there are several groups that exist and at times divide us as a community: taga-Benguet, taga-Kailnga, taga-Ifugao, taga-Bontoc, Ilokano, taga-Pangasinan, Muslim, taga-baba, taga-Manila, Koreano, Amerikano, Australiano. How many Rotary, Soroptimist, Lions, etc., clubs are there in this small city? Artists belong to different organizations. The youth belong to different fraternities, gangs. Even in the small circle I mostly move in, the theater community, parochial mentality creates a great divide among the different groups, as if it is not hard enough that there are very limited opportunities for theater artists in the city.

And from there stems our condescending attitude towards others: when we separate ourselves from others. From there stems our ignorance of others when we stop understanding those who do not fall inside the fences we build around us. And that’s probably why there wasn’t as much noise when the Baguio Country Club decided that because some Koreans do no behave properly on the golf course, all Koreans must be banned from entering their premises. In some of the barriers we have created, the Koreans do not belong, and since most of us didn’t belong inside the barriers of the Baguio Country Club, we didn’t care as much.

Candy Pangilinan’s remarks are deplorable, terrible, unacceptable. She can explain all she wants - she was referring to an Igorot statue, she was tired, she didn't mean it. Nah, we know exactly what she meant. But we ourselves can also put a different spin to it: “Hindi lang tayo IGOROT, Taga-BAGUIO rin po tayong lahat” (and perhaps we can really begin to make Baguio a better place). Or “Hindi lang tayo taga-BAGUIO, FILIPINO rin po tayong lahat” (and maybe we can start making this nation great again). Or “TAO po muna tayong lahat, bago pa man tayo naging mga IGOROT at mga taga-BAGUIO.” And then we maybe we can start making this world a better place.

There’s an update on my Facebook wall that says, “Domogan forgives Candy Pangilinan.” Well, if our good congressman can forgive and protect a president who mocked our electoral process and continues to take all of us for a ride, why not Candy?

Maybe this, is

I learned of some of the reactions regarding my article, “This was Session Road in Bloom” (April 26, 2009). Initially glad to learn that there were people who actually read my column (an artist always appreciate an audience, receptive or otherwise), it was also depressing to learn that a lot of them missed the point.
No, it was not necessarily a critique of the people behind Panagbenga’s Session Road in Bloom, but of the event itself and the concept behind it. For me, no matter who takes charge of that annual rape of Session Road, it would remain what it is for me: rape. Because of the adverse reactions to the article, I asked a few friends, some of whom were actually directly involved in that week-long event: did you actually enjoy Session Road in Bloom? Did you actually feel good about yourself and for Baguio itself walking down that road amidst the chaos and noise and, particularly at night towards the end of the day, filth? I'm sure you can already imagine most of the responses.

I was asked why I was “attacking” Session Road in Bloom when I myself was a part of it (our group performed and had a public screening of “Portrait of a Hill Station,” our documentary on the history of Baguio). We were invited to perform at the main stage of Session Road in Bloom, and we are very happy and honored to have been invited at all. Grateful, we truly are, and we thank the people behind Session Road in Bloom for the wonderful opportunity to tell the people of the history of Baguio and sing songs with lyrics such as “Kabunyan kami’y dinggin, kalikasan ay i-adya sa lahat ng masama;” “Sino ba’ng nagmamayari ng lupang ‘to, ano ba’ng tama kasaysayan o titulo?;” “Ang mithiin ng Baguio isapuso mo,” right there at the top of Session Road.

Consider the tentative schedule of events that was published ahead of the festival: 29 scheduled minor events, 19 of which were to be held in one mall, 10 pop concerts, a beauty pageant and a fashion show, a couple of promotional tours by television networks engaged in a ratings war who relentlessly elbowed each other out for better positioning the whole festival, you get the drift. Oh, and ahhh, a Pony Boys’ Day. Panagbenga is a Baguio festival, a good idea to begin with, and like most festivals around the country, you would think that it would highlight and celebrate the beauty of and the many other things that this city can be proud of.

And that Earth Day morning? That was a celebration of what Baguio is all about, that was something the city could be proud of. No rush, no filth, no noise, just children drawing, just people smiling, just the city heaving a sigh of relief. I also asked some people how they felt on that cool Baguio morning, you can already imagine all of their responses.

As I said, that previous article was not exactly a critique of the people behind this year’s Panagbenga. Maybe this, is:

And one night, a big night, Baguio artists played supporting roles in a musical performed on the lake which served as a front-act to La Diva, promoted by festival organizers as the country’s version of the pop group “Destiny’s Child.” Our group provided stage management support to that musical, and while we were packing up boxes and boxes of props and costumes, preparing huge set pieces for transport after the show, we were being harangued by both festival staff and security guards to quickly get out of the way because the La Divas were coming. And while festival staff sternly informed us ahead of the performance that there are no meals allocated for the unpaid stage management group during rehearsals, and no, they can’t provide a couple of hundred pesos worth of candles that could have added much to the musical’s aesthetic value, and no they can’t provide us with a few extra plastic monoblock chairs for the cast and choir to sit on backstage, and no they can’t provide a few extra personnel for the production that it badly needed, by the end of La Diva’s performance, there were suddenly throngs of Panagbenga personnel and security guards cordoning off the way from the stage all the way to Lake Drive for the three pop stars to make their way to their vehicle safely and comfortably.

Yeah, I think this one is.

Losing my religion

It was supposed to be a routine spring cleaning of the machine... back-up files and save the drivers from the main drive in another drive, reformat, install the operating system, re-install the drivers... but in an age where almost everything is disposable, the wrong drive was reformatted, and in the click of the mouse, 10 years of production files, 6 years of photographs, articles, ideas, scripts, libretti... gone.

I spend hours everyday pounding on this keyboard, clicking this mouse, telling stories, composing images, making music... this has been my altar ever since that Pentium 300 13 years ago... I should've lost my mind, blown my top, cried even.

But I surprised even myself when I just shrugged it off and told Arkhe, a friend, inaanak and colleague whom I asked to help me overhaul the computer, the one who cliked the fateful click, to just forget and not worry about it... we'll just have to stack up a new digital pile of production files, shoot new photos, write new articles, come up with new ideas, write new scripts and libretti...

The bulk of the files in that drive were openSpace files... photos from performances staged more than a decade ago to ones staged just a few weeks ago... poster studies, property plots, checklists, stage managers' files, attendance sheets, budgets. I think I have a few of these production files saved on DVDs somewhere, I think I'd get a couple of scrapbooks today and start putting together hard copies of production books... with everything the digital age is, still nothing beats ink on paper.

It's ok, because, it's about time we purge some of the group's baggages. It's ok because there's more where all those lost files came from. It's ok because maybe it's time to move on with a clean slate because I believe openSpace is entering a new phase, stage, age... after all those years of trying to find our footing, I think we finally did. And on top of everything that fell into place in the group's last two productions, I believe what worked for us were the absence of malice; sincerity; the presence of everyone who were ther for one thing: to tell a good story and to tell it well, first and foremost. If a poisonous seed was planted, it was ignored or killed instantly. No hidden agendas, everything was out in the open. No whispers backstage (everything was said out loud), no second-hand information (nothing alterred, everything as it is and should be). There were no core groups, secondary groups, outsiders, newcomers, old-timers: there was only ONE group, there were only artists united by a vision: explore all artistic possibilities in communicating ideas.

Another friend sent me a program via email that can attmept to retrieve the files... I haven't opened it. Do I really need to? Do I really want to?

Tomorrow I will be sitting down with two colleagues to discuss the feasibility of a multimedia studio and what to do the rest of the year.

The status quo's fine with me for now.

This was Session Road in bloom

I kept on saying it over and over that morning, and I'll say it again here now: last Wednesday, April 22, 2009, also known as Earth Day, was truly Session Road in bloom.

I was even feeling a bit guilty that morning that we had to drive to town, but having three energetic kids in tow does not make for an easy commute from where we live to downtown Baguio. So off we went, I dropped the whole family off at the top of Session Road and parked at the mall where I had to do some errands. Half an hour later, I joined them.

Walking down from the mall and still a good distance away from Session Road, and there was already a different feel to the area. Session Road sounded different – without the sound of car engines, you hear the laughter of the people more, the sighs, a man clears his throat, a blind man playing a tune on his battery-powered electronic keyboard.

I entered Session Road, a quick glance at the hideous concrete pine tree, and looked for my family - and there were my children on all fours telling their stories with colored chalks. My eldest son Leon spelled out the word EARTH in various colors and forms while my youngest Aeneas drew what looked like tree-lined road. My daughter Gabriela tried to draw earth, but as she tried to add more bright colors to it it started to look more like a sun bursting with colors. In the end what she had was a simple kaleidoscopic orb.

People smiled, said hello, people breathed(!), in Session Road(!). It wasn’t a sunny morning, in fact it was quite overcast. But the feeling, yes Session Road felt so different that morning, was warm, it was nice. Baguio, on that gloomy Wednesday morning, felt like Baguio again. There was a different sense - a sense of community, something that seems to have been missing in recent years. Something that was totally missing the last time they closed down Session Road to traffic.

What is it with wide open spaces that our honorable (for surely, these are honorable men, and women) powers that be just can’t seem to stand it that they just have to mess it up. Last month they closed down Session Road for a whole week of crass commercialism, it was insane. And some have even claimed that this was among the best Baguio Flower Festival celebrations ever. Sorry but I just don’t see why anyone can be proud of being responsible for the rape of Session Road, or Baguio for that matter. For a whole week last month Session Road was a picture of greed, of senseless materialism, it was an orgy! For a whole week people squeezed in between other people and commercial stalls, shouted over loud speakers asking them to buy this and that not knowing, or caring, that for every item sold a piece of the city’s soul was sold with it.

And at the end of the day, this was how they measured the success of this year’s Panagbenga: how much money the city, and some people, earned. None of them cared how much of the city’s soul was lost. But that’s the thing about abstract concepts such as a city’s soul – you can’t put a tag price in pesos on it, and the honorables just don't get it.

It's not about power, remember? It's not just about money, right? And then there was that Wednesday morning on Session Road: both children and grown-ups down on their knees making known their hopes and dreams for Mother Earth, for the environment, for Baguio; last Wednesday, it felt like we were once again one community, working together to make the world a better place. That, dear honorables, that's what it's all about.

And then the heavens acknowledged a community’s prayers and let down the rains, and the colors and stories on the pavements merged and became one. Last Wednesday, Session Road looked, smelled, sounded, felt different. Again, without the madness, without the pollution and noise, Session Road was truly in bloom.

In the afternoon they let the cars in again. They gave that orgy known as Session Road in Bloom one whole week, and they couldn’t make that beautiful Wednesday last a even just whole day.

Under the stars

If this paper's editor-in-chief has forgiven this column's month-long absence, this piece will see print under a new column title. "Session Road Blues" is being recalled to serve as the working title of a new theatrical piece that our group, Open Space, is putting together that we hope to unveil later this year.

The reason for my absence here, in a nutshell, is this: four weeks, one concert, a couple of public screenings, three performances of two musicals in three different venues. We're coming from providing technical direction to the Panagbenga spectacle that was the "Phantom on the Lake," followed by screenings of our documentary on Baguio, "Portrait of a Hill Station," and a concert featuring original songs about Baguio. Soon after the last hotdog and corn was sold and the last complimentary cigarette lighter was handed out during Session Road in Bloom, we began putting together two musicals, one of which was the Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice classic, "Jesus Christ Superstar."

Our mayor, Peter Rey Bautista, encouraged by the response to the Phantom performance at the lake, requested that we perform our production of Webber's rock opera for the community during the Holy Week. The original idea was to perform it on the stage built in middle of the lake, but after finding out that was already removed we suggested that we instead put it up at the Baguio Convention Center and Rose Garden for technical and aesthetic reasons: The BCC for the convenience of a roof in case the rains come on Good Friday (which it did), and the steps that lead from behind the bust of Arch. Daniel Burnham towards the lake provides an amphitheater-like feel, surrounded by trees and pocket gardens filled with roses, and it's been our group's dream to perform there.

The cast and staff of about 70 people met for a production meeting which was soon followed by daily (and nightly) rehearsals at the Baguio Convention Center. There were Open Space's resident artists, a hip-hop dance group Baguio Amplified in their theatrical debut and the AVP ensemble, an informal group of musicians and singers, vocalising, arranging, blocking, choreographing... giving life to the written text. Behind the scenes, other members of the group were all over town with the City Mayor's Office's endorsement letter requesting the support of some friends in the private sector.

The first to respond was Dr. Reynaldo C. Bautista, Sr. of the Rural Bank of Itogon, one of our group's ardent supporters. If we had any doubts at all if the production will really push through due to sponsorship concerns, those doubts were erased as soon as RBI threw its support behind the endeavor. Smart Communications' pledge soon followed, and we knew at that point that there was really no turning back anymore. The next thing we knew, we had Victory Liner's, The Manor's and the University of Baguio's logos on our posters. Later, Beneco pledged its support too and Alabanza Meat Store sent food our way during our second performance.

The reason why the group's very enthusiastic about this production is because it proved that given the government's endorsement, the support of the private sector is sure to follow, enabling us to stage free cultural presentations making the arts more accessible to the community.

This while providing a venue for our local artists to express themselves. This while being able to present great stories that present relevant social issues. This while perhaps reinforcing an alternative reason for tourists to come up to Baguio: its arts and culture scene.

During the second performance at the Rose Garden, on the grassy area on either side of the steps, families laid out mats while the children ran around waiting for the performance to begin. The steps began to fill with both locals and tourists wondering what the stage, lights and sound equipment set-up were all about.

Even the ambulant vendors set their wares aside for a night at the theater: under the stars and out in the open. And both the performers and our supporters agreed: let's have more of this.

Raket

I just find it quite amusing that quite a few people now have reacted more or less in this manner to our documentary, PORTRAIT OF A HILL STATION:

"Kayo pala nakakuha ng raket na 'yan? Nag-bid din kami diyan e..."

As far as we know, the Baguio Centennial Commission has asked various production groups to submit proposals for a documentary on the history of Baguio, this year being the city's centennial and all. One group proposed a budget of P400,000.00.

Well, for the record we didn't join "the bidding" for this "raket," as they call it, truth is, we didn't even know there was a bidding at all. As far as "PORTRAIT..." is concerned, this was how it came to be:

2007, Open Space got to dip its many hands into video production, and we thought we were ready to seriously pursue this new form of creative expression after dabbling in it in our multimedia theatrical presentations. After a planned co-production of a TV show with another institution fell apart, and since we suddenly found ourselves having access to a 3-ccd camera (the relationship, with the camera, that is, didn't last long. But that's another story.), I brought up the idea of producing a TV show to the group, called "Portraits Of A Hill Station." It was gonna be a weekly television show that will feature snippets of life in Baguio.

We knew that on our own, we wouldn't be able to sustain even just one season of 12 episodes, we can only stretch our very meager resources to cover 4 episodes at most. So we decided to make the first 4 episodes tell the story of how Baguio became a city. That way, should the show end up with no sponsors and/or any means of support, the first four episodes could stand alone as a substantial and relevant project.

Another reason why I thought it was best to springboard the TV show with Baguio's genesis was, well, it wasn't because I thought I was an authority in the history of this wonderful city, but quite the opposite: I wanted to know more about the city I've decided to call my home, the city that has sheltered me for more than a decade. I wanted to know Baguio's story.

The thing about preparing for the worst is that more often than not, the worst does come - save for a few friends, some in high places and some whose hearts just happened to be in the right places who thought that the project was worthy of their generous support, the show was shunned by sponsors. Some not only dismissed it but also predicted and even hoped for its doom.

Doomed the tv show was, and instead of four we were only able to air three episodes in September, 2007, and those three episodes told the story of the city from pre-colonial times to post-war Baguio. And despite the absence of sponsors, we were overwhelmed by the outpouring of encouraging reactions from people here in Baguio and abroad. We received inquiries about the possibility of putting those episodes on DVD, and we seriously considered the idea.

But our pockets have already gone very dry at the time to do it, so the idea stayed on our to do list until late last year, after a couple of personal commercial projects, we had enough to once again give the DVD idea a go. It wasn't much easier this time - we knew we needed a re-shoot, and we didn't have a camera anymore which meant the added expense of renting a camera. That we did, and since the main equipment was now running on a meter, time wasn't on our side: ten shooting days.

We would chip in for gas money so we can go around the various locations, and while some of us would be out there waiting for the sun to set to get that shot we thought the documentary needed, some of us would be at home in San Luis stretching their creativity to come up with a decent meal for everyone at the lowest possible cost. Not enough fresh mini-dv tapes for this documentary, there simply wasn't enough money for that, which meant re-using 2-3 year old tapes and hoping that the images would come out alright.

After ten days of shoot, we worked for about two weeks on draft version and on December 14, 2008, we aired the one-hour documentary called PORTRAIT OF A HILL STATION. We had three minor sponsors this time (Camp John Hay Dev. Cor, the City Mayor's office and the FRB Foundation), so we had enough to cover post-production expenses and the airtime cost and didn't need to dig into our shallow pockets for those anymore.

And then the DVD - even if the production didn't earn enough to cover even just basic expenses, we were still unanimous in our plan to give free copies of the DVD to various school libraries in the city and to hold free screenings of the documentary. Production is slow, we can't afford to mass produce the DVD so production's done at home on a regular DVD-burner, and given the loads of other work we do on my abused desktop pc, we average about 2 or 3 DVDs a week.

But that's ok, in doing "PORTRAIT OF A HILL STATION," we learned about Baguio's story. And it's a great story, and we just want to share that story to as many people as possible. We thank the Baguio Historical Society for endorsing the documentary.

It is our hope that, given the current sad state of Baguio, in telling the city's history, its journey from being a pastureland to being one of the most beautiful hill stations in Asia, the obstacles thrown its way and how Baguio and its people overcame those obstacles, how the city rose from the ravages of war, how it quickly got back on its feet after the devastating 1990 earthquake, this documentary might just help re-kindle our people's sense of community and start working together for a better Baguio.

As the documentary says in the last segment... we inherited a paradise from the city's pioneers who built Baguio a hundred years ago, what kind of Baguio are we passing on to the next generation?

So for those bidding for that "raket," don't worry, we didn't "outbid" you, we didn't even know there was such a bidding.

Open Space did this on its own, independently, just because we thought it's a good thing to do.

It may not look like a 400,000-peso documentary, we don't actually know exactly how much we spent on this... but we did invest our hearts and souls into its production.

And we are just glad to have been able to do this for the city.

We thank everyone who helped us and believed in this project.

Oh What A Circus

Panagbenga, the annual month-long event that is the Baguio Flower
Festival. Among its institutionalized components are the opening and
closing parades, the parade of floats, the street-dancing parade, the
Market Encounter (a trade fair), and Session Road in Bloom (when
Session Road is closed to vehicular traffic and is filled to brim with
stalls selling, among other things, cellphones, corn and hotdogs…
fine, among others).

One year you may see Baguio's various VIPs fighting over who gets to
captain the Panagbenga ship, and another year they're avoiding it like
the plague. Every year, the current captains move heaven and earth
(lots of it in Burnham Park) to prove that they can do better than
their predecessors. That's not necessarily a bad thing, for every year
we are assured that whoever is at the helm, he, or she, is doing
everything to come up with something better than last year. Panagbenga
has become so big that I make it a point not be in town during the big
events (the parades used to be a joy to watch, but in recent years,
standing for hours craning your neck to get a glimpse of flowery
advertising billboards on wheels has become less and less attractive
for me). If I can't afford to leave town, then I sit in front of the
TV and watch the goings on in the comfort of our living room. And I
particularly find it amusing to watch the bickering between past and
present organizers, politicians, and "concerned citizens."

Anyway, what exactly is my beef? Panagbenga has become a showcase of
what Baguio doesn't have, or of what Baguio has that's ignored by the
powers that be. It is that time of the year when Baguio plays second
fiddle to everything and everyone which/who were brought in to amuse
the tourists. Instead of taking the opportunity to show to the world
what Baguio is all about, we end up being a mere staging area.

We all know that Baguio is not a flower growing community, and even if
we were once a city of flowers, the building frenzy going around the
whole city in the name of development and progress has surely erased
that tag. It would be really great for the city if the festival would
inspire the people of Baguio to make their city a true city of
flowers… but sprucing up one's backyard only once a year does not make
our city one of flowers. We become poseurs.

And I'm just not impressed by pronouncements by organizers that begin
with, "this year we were able to bring in…" followed by, "next year we
hope to be able to bring in…" Bring in? What about doing something
with what we have? Wouldn't it be better to brag about what one was
able to put together with what Baguio does have? Isn't that what most
festivals are about, celebrating traditions and what this or that
place is blessed with and proud to have? And who the hell are the LA Divas and why are we putting a group on center stage whose claim to fame is being copycats of a American pop group?

And to rub salt to injury, when elements from outside are brought in,
the question is, just like true blue mercenaries, "how much?," and
organizers, again, move heaven and earth to come up with the money,
and when locals are lucky enough to be included in the festival's
events at all, they are told not to complain about the dishonorable
honoraria because they're "doing it for Baguio."

It's true, though, what we locals are doing we do it because we love
Baguio, while for the others it's simply just another gig.

Clowns, jesters, poseurs, mercenaries, corn and hotdogs. Oh, what a circus!

Keychains and Bonnets

It was going to be a rehearsal for the planned historical tour of Baguio, an idea hatched by Noants Travel and Tours and inspired by our group's video documentary, Portrait of a Hill Station. We were to guide a group of over a hundred conventioneers around town - they had their own itinerary, and were asked to inject bits and pieces of Baguio's history as we jump from one destination to another.

First stop was Camp John Hay's Historical Core, and there we introduced them to the genesis of this famous hill station. We were joined by Camp John Hay Management Corp.'s Nonette Bennett who offered the group interesting details about the sites inside the former American military reservation. We allotted around an hour for them to take in as much as they could, but after several photo ops beside the entrance to the cemetery of negativism and with the Bell Amphitheater in the background, and after learning that there are no shops selling key chains or bonnets around, the group was already itching to move on to the next destination:

The Baguio Botanical Garden, which at one point also housed a zoo, really has nothing much to offer these days. While the Baguio Arts Guild's Greenhouse Effect Gallery still offers exhibits every now and then on top of artists offering to do on-the-spot sketches of tourists, only a sprinkling of landscaped patches of common flowers and ruins of the animal cages remain. Sure there are rows of souvenir shops selling key chains and bonnets, but that's not what a botanical garden is supposed to be about. The flower beds proving to be not so attractive to this group of tourists, they spent the allotted 45 minutes just buying souvenirs, not one even bothered to look at the ongoing exhibit inside the gallery. Moving on...

At the Mansion House, after hearing a five-minute spiel about Baguio being the official capital of the country during the summer months in the early 1900's and what that meant, we learned that the museum inside is not yet open to the public, so not much you can do but have your picture taken in front of the gate, which is said to be a replica of the Buckingham Palace gates. Across the road vendors selling Sagada oranges and kiat-kiat were being chased by elements of the Public Order and Safety Department of the City of Baguio. I thought those were better buys than the key chains. Anyway, the group couldn't wait to get to our next stop:

Mines View Park and the Good Shepherd Convent. At the former, the joke goes: there are no more mines, so there's no more view, and there's no parking. More rows of key chains and bonnets and silver trinkets, plus the occasional ukay-ukay stall. They weren't really interested to hear about how the mining boom of the 1930's fueled the growth of Baguio as a city, so we kept that short so they could once again buy more key chains and bonnets, only this time they also have the option of getting a taste of the famous Good Shepherd ube jam, which is really good, I must add. Having nothing much to offer but more of the same, the group didn't stay long and after a whole morning's tour, they were off to their lunch break lugging plastic bags of key chains, bonnets and ube jam.

At lunch, our group of four storytellers assessed the first half of the day. Though they found the spiels on Baguio's history amusing, their minds were focused only on one thing: shopping for souvenirs and finding the best ukay-ukay stall. But, we had a story to tell, and we're gonna tell it (there's nothing much they can do en route to our destinations inside those buses but listen, so we decided to just take advantage of that).

After lunch, the tourists requested a stop at Camp John Hay's Mile Hi, now a strip mall with restaurants and shops selling export overruns. It was a quick stop - after fifteen minutes, they were back inside the buses and adding to their collection of key chains and bonnets were bags of comforters and pillow cases and Baguio City t-shirts. The next drive was a longer one:

We reached Fort Del Pilar in over half an hour, and we herded the group towards the Audio Visual Room of the Philippine Military Academy to view a 10-minute video about the academy. Two minutes into the viewing and half of them were already outside in search of souvenir shops. After posing for photos with cadets, they were back in the buses with, yup, you guessed it, bonnets and key chains, this time stitched with or stamped with the words Philippine Military Academy, instead of Baguio City. Oh, and they had t-shirts too.

Last stop for the day, Burnham Park and if time allowed, the Baguio City Market. Burnham Park, that area that Baguio's original settlers used to call Minac. The only large piece of flat land in the then future city, which, instead of using it for the most revenue generating project, Daniel Burnham reserved for a public park where the general public can go to breath and rejuvenate. At the end of the spiel, we asked them if they had any more questions:

Where's the cheapest ukay-ukay store in Burnham Park?

Where can we buy more souvenirs?

Where can we buy... you know, bonnets and key chains?

And I thought, well, that's what Baguio has become to be known for these days - ukay-ukay, bonnets and key chains. Because we just couldn't stand the site of open spaces in the city, and we keep on trying to put in ridiculous stuff in it like bump car rides and commercial stalls, ignoring the fact that the best parks are those with nothing much in it but wide open spaces and trees to purify the air. Because we didn't value the city's beautiful skyline and ruined it by allowing towering structures to cover the mountainsides, cutting down pine trees that Baguio was once known for in the process. Because we took Baguio's miraculous, healing air for granted, we simply look the other way at the site of taxicabs, jeepneys, SUVs spewing out poisonous black smoke and this made the city among the most polluted in the country - that's coming from being the cleanest and greenest not so long ago. Because we probably didn't care enough, this is what Baguio has become to be known for these days:

The buses parked next to the Baguio Athletic Bowl, and as soon as the doors opened, to the delight of this particular group of tourists, they were greeted by vendors selling... key chains and bonnets.

Welcome to Baguio.

Falling in love all over again

It's been a long time since I first saw her, and I had no idea then
that getting to know her better bit by bit through the years would
forever change my whole life. I fell in love.

I remember thinking how beautiful she was that first time. And though
from the first time I saw her I never stopped wanting to be with her,
in the beginning I only saw her from time to time, happy to be with
her each time and hardly able to wait to be with her again another
time. I remember going through great lengths just to see her, dropping
everything else for a chance to see her - I thought I could just sit
and stare at her forever.

And then I found myself not able to be away from her anymore - what
can I do? She lured me, seduced me, easily, effortlessly. And just
like any devoted lover, I abandoned the life I was leading, I decided
to be with her forever.

Despite the admonitions of my friends then: it won't last (how can it
not?), that I can never really live my life with her (how can I not
when at that time there I couldn't think of any other life but one
lived with her), that her beauty won't last forever (I believed then,
as I do now, that she existed at all primarily because of her beauty),
I remember how happy I was the day I made that decision - I blissfully
relished each sunrise with her, lovingly watched her go to sleep each
night. With her, I realized who I really was, what I really wanted -
she nurtured me, helped me grow, made me see things the way they
really are.

I knew from the beginning that I was not her only lover, I didn't
mind: as a matter of fact, I was happy about it thinking that the more
lovers she takes, the more defenders and protectors she will have. As
for me, just like anybody who's in love, I couldn't stop talking about
her, I told her story to as many people as I can - her timeless
beauty, her heartaches, her hopes and dreams. I did what I could to
protect her confronting every single threat to her. But alas, it was
not enough.

And soon after I made the decision to live my life with her, she was
brutally raped.

She was stripped naked, abused, neglected, mocked, disgustingly
exploited. Though some of her lovers did what they could to prevent
the crime, the others just stood and watched as the rape happened,
some even ran away and abandoned her.

Looking at her now, her lovers shed tears seeing her ravaged body. She
has been defaced, those who knew her before the rape can hardly
recognize her anymore. Some have even given her up for dead.

But she is alive, barely able to breath but alive. And while there are
those today who would laugh at the thought that this ugly, dirty,
desecrated poor thing was once so beautiful that everyone who laid
their eyes on her was soon under her spell, awed by her magnificence,
her elegance, her allure. Some say that's gone forever, some say she's
hopeless.

I don't think so. Though she can never be what she was before, with
the help of her numerous lovers, one day the rape will be stopped and
she can rise again in all her splendor. I'm in, I have no choice, I
have fallen in love.

And when that time comes, I know that I, for one, will fall in love
with Baguio all over again.

OPENSPACE paints a portrait