Summer Scrooge
By Walter Ang
April 27, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Usually, everyone's ecstatic over the arrival of the summer months. School's out and the beaches are all ripe for the picking. Everything's a rosy picture of fun and games, of swimming pools and ice cold lemonade. We must take it upon ourselves to burst everyone's bubble and expose the vile truth. The idea of having fun during the summer is one enormous delusion. Doesn't everybody realize what a humongous hassle summertime is?
First of all, you have the heat. The scorching, blazing sun beats down on us all day long. Admittedly, the heat wouldn't be so bad if it weren't living in a tropical country. It's just that the heat coupled with the intense humidity is an extremely deadly weapon. The moment you step out of your house, wham! You feel as if you've stepped into a solid wall of tepid water. No, actually, warm molasses is more like it.
Keeping it cool
So there you are, hot and sticky while profusely leaking gallons of sweat from every pore of your body. You run back indoors where there's airconditioning, or at the very least, a stand fan you can stand in front of. The short respite doesn't last as the electricity goes kaput from over heating and all the high tech, man made, computerized climate control systems to keep you cool are no longer functioning. All you've got is an abaca fan that you swiped from the corner barbeque vendor.
You're fanning yourself furiously as you get crabbier and crabbier. The temperature isn't the only thing that goes up in the summer time, your temper's steadily rising too. While you feel uncomfortable and ready to bash everyone you meet with fists of fury, you decide to just leave it all and take a walk to let off some steam.
Only the truly desperate (or demented) would want to take a walk under the sweltering summer sun. With all those detestable ultraviolet rays streaming from the sky above, you risk exposing yourself to a skin cancer causing agent. You smear yourself with the highest SPF sunblock you can find in the market. The stuff makes you feel even stickier and it worst of all, it has that sweet sickly smell that only makes you dizzy.
More problems
As you put on your sunglasses to prevent cataracts from forming in your eyes, you encounter another problem that this season brings. The summer sun dries everything up. As a result, dust, sand, and other tiny pollutants that would normally be matted to the damp ground are now having the time of their life. Watch them fly around in the air like birds! When a slight summer breeze decides to grace us with its presence, all that dirt smashes into your face and sticks to the layer of sunblock that conceals your epidermis. Later on, this is what causes that repulsive zit to breakout on your nose.
You desperately want to escape and you consider rushing to the nearest mall. Free airconditioning and you don't even have to buy anything! You hop onto the first jeepney you see, excited and anxious to get going. For the next two hours, you wonder if entire solar systems have either died or were born while you were waiting in traffic. You feel your brain slowly baking in the torrid heat thanking the heavens that summer's only a couple of months!
Then it'll be the rainy season. Wait a minute. Oh no!
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=VVM1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=972%2C12331024
Summer with Charles M. Schulz and the Peanuts Gang
Summer with Charles and the 'Peanuts' Gang
By Walter Ang
April 20, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Whenever Holy Week comes along, I always remember the one Holy Week when I got the measles. I was in elementary school when I caught the disease. I had to stay indoors for what seemed like an agonizing eternity. I was ready to climb the walls and bang my head with a shoe.
Thank goodness I had Snoopy and the Peanuts gang to keep me company. Without them, I might have gone absolutely bonkers.
One of my earliest encounters with Snoopy when I received two beautiful hard bound books from my aunt who lived in California. The books were huge and thick and smelled of "America."
One was a compilation of Charlie Brown's (mis)adventures in his favorite sport baseball, aptly entitled "Sandlot." The other was an anniversary book chronicling the history and highlights of Snoopy's long and illustrious career in newspaper comic strips, books, television, movies, and even Broadway.
The gang
I loved those two books to death. I spent those horrible measles- filled days getting to know this quirky, interesting group of friends again and again, never tiring of their antics. Led by Charlie Brown with his passion for baseball and unending attempts to fly his kite without it getting tangled in the trees. Snoopy, probably the world's most versatile dog, with alter egos that ranged from a World War II fighter plane pilot to the esoteric Easter Beagle.
Charlie Brown's sister Sally and her constant pursuit of Linus. Linus and his wisdom (including a belief in The Great Pumpkin) served up all wrapped in a security blanket. Linus' sister, the uber taray Lucy van Pelt and how, instead of selling lemonade, she would dispense psychiatric advice at only 5¢ per session. Of course, how could anyone not feel for Schroeder, the Beethoven playing piano prodigy, as he tried to run away from the incessant clutches of Lucy?
Escapades
In the book "Sandlot," one particular adventure of the group that made me laugh out loud the most involved Peppermint Patty, Charlie Brown's friend and baseball rival. She'd decided to join an ice skating competition and her travails included hiring Snoopy as her skating coach, getting her best friend Marcie to be her costume designer (the costume turned out to have no holes for her arms to go though), and receiving a gigantic afro wig after many failed and extremely hilarious attempts at a hair make over.
This particular escapade ends with Peppermint Patty donning her ice skates at the contest venue, only to discover that the contest was for roller skating.
Sad news
Earlier this year, I was channel surfing and came across the news that Charles M. Schulz, the creator of world famous Snoopy and the Peanuts gang, had passed away. You should've seen me, I was in such a state.
Through the years, I've always enjoyed the company of the Peanuts gang. I've seen almost all of their movies. I've screamed in delight whenever I found bargain prices to Snoopy books. I was in seventh heaven when I chanced upon what I consider to be one of my most treasured finds: a yellow shirt with black zigzag lines exactly like the one that Charlie Brown wears.
A few years ago, I had an opportunity to make full use of that shirt when I performed a monologue from the Tony Award winning Broadway musical "You're A Good Man Charlie Brown." When I stepped onto the stage with that shirt on, I was able to share with the audience Chuck's eternal pining for the "cute little redheaded girl" and how he finally reacted one day when she was looking at him from across the schoolyard. He promptly put a brown paper bag over his head.
Priceless
This kind of humor is what best defines the Peanuts world. This motley crew of characters go through many struggles, not always with good results but nevertheless always in the right spirit, always providing a good laugh and an inspiration for the rest of us.
With Charles M. Schulz gone, the world loses a great person who's touched the lives of countless people. He was able to paint us a world with a round headed kid and his pet beagle, but more than that, he created something magical in those little boxes that we see every morning in the newspapers. These little windows that show us the lives of the Peanuts gang also show us reflections of ourselves in them. When we laugh at and with the gang, aren't we ultimately laughing at ourselves also? Charles M. Schulz will be sorely missed. The joy that he dispenses through his creations is definitely worth more than 5¢, it's priceless.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=UFM1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1883%2C9760141
By Walter Ang
April 20, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
 |
| From http://collectpeanuts.com |
Thank goodness I had Snoopy and the Peanuts gang to keep me company. Without them, I might have gone absolutely bonkers.
One of my earliest encounters with Snoopy when I received two beautiful hard bound books from my aunt who lived in California. The books were huge and thick and smelled of "America."
One was a compilation of Charlie Brown's (mis)adventures in his favorite sport baseball, aptly entitled "Sandlot." The other was an anniversary book chronicling the history and highlights of Snoopy's long and illustrious career in newspaper comic strips, books, television, movies, and even Broadway.
The gang
I loved those two books to death. I spent those horrible measles- filled days getting to know this quirky, interesting group of friends again and again, never tiring of their antics. Led by Charlie Brown with his passion for baseball and unending attempts to fly his kite without it getting tangled in the trees. Snoopy, probably the world's most versatile dog, with alter egos that ranged from a World War II fighter plane pilot to the esoteric Easter Beagle.
Charlie Brown's sister Sally and her constant pursuit of Linus. Linus and his wisdom (including a belief in The Great Pumpkin) served up all wrapped in a security blanket. Linus' sister, the uber taray Lucy van Pelt and how, instead of selling lemonade, she would dispense psychiatric advice at only 5¢ per session. Of course, how could anyone not feel for Schroeder, the Beethoven playing piano prodigy, as he tried to run away from the incessant clutches of Lucy?
Escapades
In the book "Sandlot," one particular adventure of the group that made me laugh out loud the most involved Peppermint Patty, Charlie Brown's friend and baseball rival. She'd decided to join an ice skating competition and her travails included hiring Snoopy as her skating coach, getting her best friend Marcie to be her costume designer (the costume turned out to have no holes for her arms to go though), and receiving a gigantic afro wig after many failed and extremely hilarious attempts at a hair make over.
This particular escapade ends with Peppermint Patty donning her ice skates at the contest venue, only to discover that the contest was for roller skating.
Sad news
Earlier this year, I was channel surfing and came across the news that Charles M. Schulz, the creator of world famous Snoopy and the Peanuts gang, had passed away. You should've seen me, I was in such a state.
Through the years, I've always enjoyed the company of the Peanuts gang. I've seen almost all of their movies. I've screamed in delight whenever I found bargain prices to Snoopy books. I was in seventh heaven when I chanced upon what I consider to be one of my most treasured finds: a yellow shirt with black zigzag lines exactly like the one that Charlie Brown wears.
A few years ago, I had an opportunity to make full use of that shirt when I performed a monologue from the Tony Award winning Broadway musical "You're A Good Man Charlie Brown." When I stepped onto the stage with that shirt on, I was able to share with the audience Chuck's eternal pining for the "cute little redheaded girl" and how he finally reacted one day when she was looking at him from across the schoolyard. He promptly put a brown paper bag over his head.
Priceless
This kind of humor is what best defines the Peanuts world. This motley crew of characters go through many struggles, not always with good results but nevertheless always in the right spirit, always providing a good laugh and an inspiration for the rest of us.
With Charles M. Schulz gone, the world loses a great person who's touched the lives of countless people. He was able to paint us a world with a round headed kid and his pet beagle, but more than that, he created something magical in those little boxes that we see every morning in the newspapers. These little windows that show us the lives of the Peanuts gang also show us reflections of ourselves in them. When we laugh at and with the gang, aren't we ultimately laughing at ourselves also? Charles M. Schulz will be sorely missed. The joy that he dispenses through his creations is definitely worth more than 5¢, it's priceless.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=UFM1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1883%2C9760141
Arts Fest: A night out in Malate, in four acts
Arts Fest: A night out in four acts
By Walter Ang
April 13, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
ACT ONE
Setting: Batavia Cafe
Synopsis: We arrived a little early for Friday night's events in Malate so we placed ourselves in this Javanese inspired cafe. There was an arts fest sponsored by Absolut Vodka and the eve's affairs included a one-act play, poetry reading sessions, and performance artists milling the streets. The after-sunset hours were full of promise. Best of all, all of it was for free.
Budget-conscious individuals (read: cheapskates) that we were, we ate dinner at home and treated ourselves to dessert and coffee. The cafe was still empty, giving us some quiet time to shake off the day's tension and enoy the pandan sansrival.
The walls were lined with fantastic looking Thai theater masks of all sorts and shapes. They reminded us of that scene in the movie "King and I" where dancers performed a show for the King's guests. With the background music playing gongs and other ethnic instruments, we half expected some dancers to burst up the winding stairs and perform an excerpt for us. (None did; too bad.)
ACT TWO
Setting: Verve Room
Synopsis: With caffeine in our veins to keep us awake, we proceeded to where the action was. We arrived to watch the one-act play where two actors played several different characters. It was interesting to witness how this bar could be transformed into a performance area for a theater piece.
For a stage, one end of the room was filled with white drapes and a sofa, but even with that provision, the actors were still popping up all over the place. They started in the middle of the room and, as each scene turned over to the next, went on to appear at the bar, moving on to the stage and so on. With glasses clinking and cell phones going off, the actors would weave across the room and incorporate comments from the audience into their performance.
This episode ended with a narrow escape. We'd taken a few steps away from our table as we got up to leave when the spotlight suddenly shines on the woman who had just sat across us. We'd no idea that she was the actress from the play. Talk about close calls and timed exits!
ACT THREE
Setting: Kemistry Bar
Synopsis: Breathing a sigh of relief at barely missing the spotlight, we scrambled over to what used to be The Lobby to catch the poetry reading session. The walls were lined with large paintings--an exhibit that was part of the arts fest. We could hear strains of dance music from Politixx next door, beating through the thin walls. With an atmosphere lighter and airconditioners cooler than where we'd just come from, the poetry reading gave us some time to settle down and pay closer attention to what was being spoken.
Amidst swirls of cigarette smoke and hushed conversation, several poets got up onstage to share their thoughts and bare their souls to the audience. From topics that ranged from love to motherhood to conversation with strangers, one of the poems that we enjoyed was entitled "Spaces".
It had lovely lines such as, "There is a space/Before laughter becomes a sigh/An infinite excitement/Within the space of a soul- kiss." The piece was by Natalia Diaz, editor-in-chief of Milk magazine. She was one of the featured poets, a group that included Triccia David, Chuck Syjuco, and Annabelle Bosch among others.
ACT FOUR
Setting: In the space going home.
Synopsis: Just like Cinderella's ball, the poetry session ended at the stroke of midnight. We tried to look for a carriage to bring us home but there weren't any in the vicinity. We settled for a more contemporary vehicle instead. The night ended with us missing out on the performance artists, our wallets semi empty (there wasn't a lot in it to begin with) but our brains quite full. We rode on home, passing through the space "between Friday night and Saturday dawn."
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=SVM1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1714%2C6682931
By Walter Ang
April 13, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Setting: Batavia Cafe
Synopsis: We arrived a little early for Friday night's events in Malate so we placed ourselves in this Javanese inspired cafe. There was an arts fest sponsored by Absolut Vodka and the eve's affairs included a one-act play, poetry reading sessions, and performance artists milling the streets. The after-sunset hours were full of promise. Best of all, all of it was for free.
Budget-conscious individuals (read: cheapskates) that we were, we ate dinner at home and treated ourselves to dessert and coffee. The cafe was still empty, giving us some quiet time to shake off the day's tension and enoy the pandan sansrival.
The walls were lined with fantastic looking Thai theater masks of all sorts and shapes. They reminded us of that scene in the movie "King and I" where dancers performed a show for the King's guests. With the background music playing gongs and other ethnic instruments, we half expected some dancers to burst up the winding stairs and perform an excerpt for us. (None did; too bad.)
ACT TWO
Setting: Verve Room
Synopsis: With caffeine in our veins to keep us awake, we proceeded to where the action was. We arrived to watch the one-act play where two actors played several different characters. It was interesting to witness how this bar could be transformed into a performance area for a theater piece.
For a stage, one end of the room was filled with white drapes and a sofa, but even with that provision, the actors were still popping up all over the place. They started in the middle of the room and, as each scene turned over to the next, went on to appear at the bar, moving on to the stage and so on. With glasses clinking and cell phones going off, the actors would weave across the room and incorporate comments from the audience into their performance.
This episode ended with a narrow escape. We'd taken a few steps away from our table as we got up to leave when the spotlight suddenly shines on the woman who had just sat across us. We'd no idea that she was the actress from the play. Talk about close calls and timed exits!
ACT THREE
Setting: Kemistry Bar
Synopsis: Breathing a sigh of relief at barely missing the spotlight, we scrambled over to what used to be The Lobby to catch the poetry reading session. The walls were lined with large paintings--an exhibit that was part of the arts fest. We could hear strains of dance music from Politixx next door, beating through the thin walls. With an atmosphere lighter and airconditioners cooler than where we'd just come from, the poetry reading gave us some time to settle down and pay closer attention to what was being spoken.
Amidst swirls of cigarette smoke and hushed conversation, several poets got up onstage to share their thoughts and bare their souls to the audience. From topics that ranged from love to motherhood to conversation with strangers, one of the poems that we enjoyed was entitled "Spaces".
It had lovely lines such as, "There is a space/Before laughter becomes a sigh/An infinite excitement/Within the space of a soul- kiss." The piece was by Natalia Diaz, editor-in-chief of Milk magazine. She was one of the featured poets, a group that included Triccia David, Chuck Syjuco, and Annabelle Bosch among others.
ACT FOUR
Setting: In the space going home.
Synopsis: Just like Cinderella's ball, the poetry session ended at the stroke of midnight. We tried to look for a carriage to bring us home but there weren't any in the vicinity. We settled for a more contemporary vehicle instead. The night ended with us missing out on the performance artists, our wallets semi empty (there wasn't a lot in it to begin with) but our brains quite full. We rode on home, passing through the space "between Friday night and Saturday dawn."
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=SVM1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1714%2C6682931
Exploring the Innards of Quiapo (and visiting Bahay Nakpil)
Exploring the Innards of Quiapo
By Walter Ang
April 6, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
A few months ago, I decided on a whim to coerce one of my friends and risk a trip into the esoteric innards of Quiapo. I'd read about a theater group giving a free performance at some old house in Quiapo.
Several factors immediately came into play. First, the operative term being "free", who could turn down the opportunity? Second, I was bored out of my mind and was looking for something to do. Third, I'd never really paid any particular attention to the peculiarities of Quiapo before. I'd venture there occasionally on an errand of some sort, but never really relishing the character of the place. So here was a chance to go and maybe take a closer look.
Since the weather wasn't too bad, we decided to make the afternoon more interesting by walking to our destination. A walking trip in dirty, dusty downtown Manila? We must've been really bored, or really crazy.
We got off our jeepney on Recto and took a turn into Evangelista street, taking our time ogling the wares and merchandise. From second hand typewriters to mystic pendants, my favorite merchandise of the day turned out to be pamparegla. Herbal concoctions sold in old recycled gin bottles labeled with photocopies of an original printout from some arcane WordStar version.
A literal translation of pamparegla is "to induce menstruation." Apparently women are supposed to use this clear colorless liquid to get them back on schedule if they happen to be late. However, popular culture connotes this solution with darker undertones. You know what I mean.
I started to wonder if it was more embarrassing for me or my friend every time the ladies who sold the stuff would ever-so-innocently (actually, suspiciously was more likely) look up at us and ask, "Pamparegla?". We'd pretended not to hear and resolved to move on to our final destination.
Bahay Nakpil
We arrived at the "old house" which was Bahay Nakpil Bautista, a house left over from the Spanish era tucked into one of the cul-de-sacs of Quiapo. Formerly owned by Julio Nakpil, who married Gregoria de Jesus after she was widowed from Andres Bonifacio, it's now owned and run by his heirs.
Bahay Nakpil sticks out as the only Spanish era styled house along this tiny little street. A well kept secret in a loud, crowded, bustling area that really shouldn't be a secret at all.
It feels good to know there are people concerned enough to preserve some of our cultural and architectural heritage in this quickly decaying urban jungle. Even without any subsidies, the house has been reborn as a museum. Bahay Nakpil has artifacts on display, reading materials, and offers walking tours of Quiapo and other special events.
House of spirits
The stately house also has rooms that doubles as performance areas with a more intimate setting. The performance we went to see was held in the old sala of the house, just like in the tradition of olden days where, instead of surfing cable television and mindlessly texting the person sitting next to you, guests and family were entertained with singing, poetry reading and other substantial activities.
Since the actual performance didn't begin until early evening, we were even able to catch a glimpse of Quiapo basking in the orange glow of the setting sun. It was great to see the people settling down while the area took on a new atmosphere under the electric lights of streetlights and billboards.
Aside from the unique view, external factors made the evening's performance even more interesting. With large windows opening to the sidewalk, passers-by could see into the sala and would let out comments like "What's going on up there?" Also, every once in a while, a group of men two houses down the street would let out a collective cheer as there was a off-track betting kiosk doing brisk business.
A live, interactive escapade in an otherworldly setting! With this kind of multimedia, multisensory experience, playing the latest dance revolution game definitely pales in comparison. Bahay Nakpil is a great place to go if you feel like having a piece of history, a little adventure, or both. With summer around the corner and school out of the way, there'll be no reason to get bored because there's no better time and to go and visit!
For details on Bahay Nakpil, call Tessie at 734-9341.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=Q1M1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1577%2C3227392
By Walter Ang
April 6, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
 |
| From http://bahaynakpil.org/features/ |
Several factors immediately came into play. First, the operative term being "free", who could turn down the opportunity? Second, I was bored out of my mind and was looking for something to do. Third, I'd never really paid any particular attention to the peculiarities of Quiapo before. I'd venture there occasionally on an errand of some sort, but never really relishing the character of the place. So here was a chance to go and maybe take a closer look.
Since the weather wasn't too bad, we decided to make the afternoon more interesting by walking to our destination. A walking trip in dirty, dusty downtown Manila? We must've been really bored, or really crazy.
We got off our jeepney on Recto and took a turn into Evangelista street, taking our time ogling the wares and merchandise. From second hand typewriters to mystic pendants, my favorite merchandise of the day turned out to be pamparegla. Herbal concoctions sold in old recycled gin bottles labeled with photocopies of an original printout from some arcane WordStar version.
A literal translation of pamparegla is "to induce menstruation." Apparently women are supposed to use this clear colorless liquid to get them back on schedule if they happen to be late. However, popular culture connotes this solution with darker undertones. You know what I mean.
I started to wonder if it was more embarrassing for me or my friend every time the ladies who sold the stuff would ever-so-innocently (actually, suspiciously was more likely) look up at us and ask, "Pamparegla?". We'd pretended not to hear and resolved to move on to our final destination.
Bahay Nakpil
We arrived at the "old house" which was Bahay Nakpil Bautista, a house left over from the Spanish era tucked into one of the cul-de-sacs of Quiapo. Formerly owned by Julio Nakpil, who married Gregoria de Jesus after she was widowed from Andres Bonifacio, it's now owned and run by his heirs.
Bahay Nakpil sticks out as the only Spanish era styled house along this tiny little street. A well kept secret in a loud, crowded, bustling area that really shouldn't be a secret at all.
It feels good to know there are people concerned enough to preserve some of our cultural and architectural heritage in this quickly decaying urban jungle. Even without any subsidies, the house has been reborn as a museum. Bahay Nakpil has artifacts on display, reading materials, and offers walking tours of Quiapo and other special events.
House of spirits
The stately house also has rooms that doubles as performance areas with a more intimate setting. The performance we went to see was held in the old sala of the house, just like in the tradition of olden days where, instead of surfing cable television and mindlessly texting the person sitting next to you, guests and family were entertained with singing, poetry reading and other substantial activities.
Since the actual performance didn't begin until early evening, we were even able to catch a glimpse of Quiapo basking in the orange glow of the setting sun. It was great to see the people settling down while the area took on a new atmosphere under the electric lights of streetlights and billboards.
Aside from the unique view, external factors made the evening's performance even more interesting. With large windows opening to the sidewalk, passers-by could see into the sala and would let out comments like "What's going on up there?" Also, every once in a while, a group of men two houses down the street would let out a collective cheer as there was a off-track betting kiosk doing brisk business.
A live, interactive escapade in an otherworldly setting! With this kind of multimedia, multisensory experience, playing the latest dance revolution game definitely pales in comparison. Bahay Nakpil is a great place to go if you feel like having a piece of history, a little adventure, or both. With summer around the corner and school out of the way, there'll be no reason to get bored because there's no better time and to go and visit!
For details on Bahay Nakpil, call Tessie at 734-9341.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=Q1M1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=ZyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1577%2C3227392
Summer survival kit
Summer survival kit
By Walter Ang
April 6, 2000
Tsinoy.com
Summer's here! The sun is scorching hot and the temperature is rising fast. Living in this cosmopolitan city we call home becomes a challenge this time of the year. The summer sun brings with it a host of thing to look out for. The moment you step out of the house, you feel your skin begin to cook from the intense heat. Sometimes, airconditioners conk out from overheating and you're left with just a folding fan to keep you aerated. Throughout the day, you get more and more irritable from the torrid atmosphere. If you're not careful to keep your temper in line, you're liable to lash out at the wrong person at the wrong time for all the wrong reasons. You wouldn't want that to happen now, would you?
Fortunately, we can try to keep ourselves in check and maintain our cool. All we need to do is keep a few things handy. A sort of survival kit if you will. Before anything else, we'll need a container for all our other gear. Guys can go with a sturdy backpack and the ladies can opt for a sensible handbag.
First order of the day, sunblock. Have you any idea what the noxious ultraviolet rays of the sun can do to your skin? Perish the thought of wrinkles and dry scaly skin. But the worst consequence is when UV rays penetrate your skin causing your insides to go out of whack and wreaking some serious havoc. Eventually, this could lead to skin cancer! Good thing I paid attention to my biochemistry teacher back in school.
Every year, I have my aunt from California send me one of those huge bottles of SPF 45 sunblock bought from a warehouse priceclub. Spread the stuff on every square inch of exposed skin. Don't forget your lips ? you can get lipbalm with sunblock. If I'm not mistaken, there's even hairgel with SPF in it.
Next up, sunglasses. Another baneful outcome of sun exposure is the risk of getting cataracts. So cover the windows to your soul. If you have a pretty well developed sense of fashion, you'll end up good- looking too! Make sure you get lenses that are UV resistant. Otherwise, you'll just be wasting your (or your parents') hard earned money if you get cheap lenses that offer no protection.
Caps, hats or umbrellas. Why worry if you can't find any shade to stay under, when you can always bring your own shade with you? Something to protect your sensitive head from the blistering heat. Bonus if you have an umbrella: you'll be in good hands if there's a sudden rain break. This is a tropical country after all.
Deodorant. The summer heat can make things smell more earthy and pungent, and I'm not just talking about durian here. While sharing is a good virtue, I'm sure everyone will agree there are some parts of ourselves that we really shouldn't share.
Water bottle, filled with water of course! The risk of dehydration is higher during the summer. It's no fun to pass out from the heat in the middle of the street just because you thought carrying around a bottle or jug of water with you would be too much of a hassle. Remember, by the time you feel thirsty, your body is already, horrors, slightly dehydrated. So don't be afraid to take a long cold gulp of good old dihydrogen monoxide. Refreshing, quenching, invigorating. For the weight watchers, news flash ? water has no calories. The best stuff on earth! Best served chilled.
Care owners should take note to have a huge container of water tucked snuggly in the trunk. Humans aren't the only ones who get thirsty when it's hot.
Just for fun, you could buy one bottle of those high brow, high priced brands of mineral water. For example, the one that means "innocent" when you spell the brand name backwards. What you do is use it everyday, impressing your colleagues whenever you take a swig. What they don't know is that it's just the same bottle that you refill in your house. Cheap, yet builds profile.
A summer survival kit can have even more stuff to suit your needs. If you want, you can even have a deflated salbabida with your for those spur of the moment let's-jump-in-the-water moments. Whatever your fancy, at least know you're prepared for anything. Have fun!
By Walter Ang
April 6, 2000
Tsinoy.com
Summer's here! The sun is scorching hot and the temperature is rising fast. Living in this cosmopolitan city we call home becomes a challenge this time of the year. The summer sun brings with it a host of thing to look out for. The moment you step out of the house, you feel your skin begin to cook from the intense heat. Sometimes, airconditioners conk out from overheating and you're left with just a folding fan to keep you aerated. Throughout the day, you get more and more irritable from the torrid atmosphere. If you're not careful to keep your temper in line, you're liable to lash out at the wrong person at the wrong time for all the wrong reasons. You wouldn't want that to happen now, would you?
Fortunately, we can try to keep ourselves in check and maintain our cool. All we need to do is keep a few things handy. A sort of survival kit if you will. Before anything else, we'll need a container for all our other gear. Guys can go with a sturdy backpack and the ladies can opt for a sensible handbag.
First order of the day, sunblock. Have you any idea what the noxious ultraviolet rays of the sun can do to your skin? Perish the thought of wrinkles and dry scaly skin. But the worst consequence is when UV rays penetrate your skin causing your insides to go out of whack and wreaking some serious havoc. Eventually, this could lead to skin cancer! Good thing I paid attention to my biochemistry teacher back in school.
Every year, I have my aunt from California send me one of those huge bottles of SPF 45 sunblock bought from a warehouse priceclub. Spread the stuff on every square inch of exposed skin. Don't forget your lips ? you can get lipbalm with sunblock. If I'm not mistaken, there's even hairgel with SPF in it.
Next up, sunglasses. Another baneful outcome of sun exposure is the risk of getting cataracts. So cover the windows to your soul. If you have a pretty well developed sense of fashion, you'll end up good- looking too! Make sure you get lenses that are UV resistant. Otherwise, you'll just be wasting your (or your parents') hard earned money if you get cheap lenses that offer no protection.
Caps, hats or umbrellas. Why worry if you can't find any shade to stay under, when you can always bring your own shade with you? Something to protect your sensitive head from the blistering heat. Bonus if you have an umbrella: you'll be in good hands if there's a sudden rain break. This is a tropical country after all.
Deodorant. The summer heat can make things smell more earthy and pungent, and I'm not just talking about durian here. While sharing is a good virtue, I'm sure everyone will agree there are some parts of ourselves that we really shouldn't share.
Water bottle, filled with water of course! The risk of dehydration is higher during the summer. It's no fun to pass out from the heat in the middle of the street just because you thought carrying around a bottle or jug of water with you would be too much of a hassle. Remember, by the time you feel thirsty, your body is already, horrors, slightly dehydrated. So don't be afraid to take a long cold gulp of good old dihydrogen monoxide. Refreshing, quenching, invigorating. For the weight watchers, news flash ? water has no calories. The best stuff on earth! Best served chilled.
Care owners should take note to have a huge container of water tucked snuggly in the trunk. Humans aren't the only ones who get thirsty when it's hot.
Just for fun, you could buy one bottle of those high brow, high priced brands of mineral water. For example, the one that means "innocent" when you spell the brand name backwards. What you do is use it everyday, impressing your colleagues whenever you take a swig. What they don't know is that it's just the same bottle that you refill in your house. Cheap, yet builds profile.
A summer survival kit can have even more stuff to suit your needs. If you want, you can even have a deflated salbabida with your for those spur of the moment let's-jump-in-the-water moments. Whatever your fancy, at least know you're prepared for anything. Have fun!
Graduates, Party On!
Graduates, Party On!
By Walter Ang
March 9, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
March ushers in one of the most anticipated epochs in academic life? graduation. This milestone causes unimaginable anxiety for countless students who toil and sweat all year round, some to excel, others to just barely pass. For these hardy souls, the fruit of several years' excruciating labor is getting up onstage to proudly announce that they've survived it all.
For all the hardships one has to go through in order to graduate, you would think that graduation rites should be more merry and less staid. After all, the graduates are all young and vibrant! When they succeed in something, they'd rather scream and holler in jubilation than sit still for hours on end.
The graduates should be able to have fun and enjoy this momentous occasion to the hilt. With this in mind, don't you think these solemn events ought to have a more festive atmosphere? Graduation rites should be like a giant party and have themes much the same way some fast-food chains have theme parties for special occasions.
This is actually a resourceful way of saving money in these trying times. Think about it, the graduates and their families will usually have a party or dinner celebration after the ceremonies anyway. By combining the rites and the party, we save countless people time, effort and money.
Graduation ceremonies are as special as occasions can possibly get. If we take our cue from these theme parties, then here are some ways we can liven up the proceedings:
Jungle Theme
This theme will be very apt since school can be like a jungle at times, with classmates (and sometimes, teachers too) who act and smell like animals instead of humans. Fill the stage with vines and coconut leaves and you'll be on your way. Just like Tarzan, the graduates can give out a blaring whoop when they get onstage. This will signify a release of all their pent up energy, frustrations and of course, exhilaration at finally graduating. It would be wonderful if we could have a trained monkey give out the diplomas.
Aquatic Theme
For your set design, you can use faux corals (less the eco police come after you) placed ever so strategically across the stage. The top five students can be seated in giant half-opened clams. Remember the Disney movie "The Little Mermaid"? If there's enough money for extra effects, a bubble making machine can also be utilized.
Better yet, the whole ritual can be held at a beach resort, preferably one that has a giant twisting water slide. Graduates can receive their diplomas on the top of the slide. Then, they'll slide down into the pool so they can literally make a big splash.
Afterwards, everyone can just hang out in the pool and cool off. Parents and guests will be served one complimentary piña colada each. Fun!
Space Theme
Students are always being told to "reach for the stars," so this is just a creative way to embody this notable piece of advice. Since the Star Wars franchise is enjoying a resurgence, it can be a fantastic source of ideas.
Can you just imagine how much fun it would be to hear Darth Vader's theme while the graduates march down the aisle instead of hearing the same old "Triumphant March" from Verdi's opera "Aida"? For the less morbid batches, they can stick to the opening theme of the movie instead.
The top five students can be seated like the Jedi council. If the valedictorian is female, she can wear a Queen Amidala headdress instead of the usual toga cap. If male, he can wear, you guessed it, Vader's mask. Don't forget to breathe heavily!
Congratulations to the millennium's first batch of graduates!
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=5VU1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=aiUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1057%2C33834150
By Walter Ang
March 9, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
For all the hardships one has to go through in order to graduate, you would think that graduation rites should be more merry and less staid. After all, the graduates are all young and vibrant! When they succeed in something, they'd rather scream and holler in jubilation than sit still for hours on end.
The graduates should be able to have fun and enjoy this momentous occasion to the hilt. With this in mind, don't you think these solemn events ought to have a more festive atmosphere? Graduation rites should be like a giant party and have themes much the same way some fast-food chains have theme parties for special occasions.
This is actually a resourceful way of saving money in these trying times. Think about it, the graduates and their families will usually have a party or dinner celebration after the ceremonies anyway. By combining the rites and the party, we save countless people time, effort and money.
Graduation ceremonies are as special as occasions can possibly get. If we take our cue from these theme parties, then here are some ways we can liven up the proceedings:
Jungle Theme
This theme will be very apt since school can be like a jungle at times, with classmates (and sometimes, teachers too) who act and smell like animals instead of humans. Fill the stage with vines and coconut leaves and you'll be on your way. Just like Tarzan, the graduates can give out a blaring whoop when they get onstage. This will signify a release of all their pent up energy, frustrations and of course, exhilaration at finally graduating. It would be wonderful if we could have a trained monkey give out the diplomas.
Aquatic Theme
For your set design, you can use faux corals (less the eco police come after you) placed ever so strategically across the stage. The top five students can be seated in giant half-opened clams. Remember the Disney movie "The Little Mermaid"? If there's enough money for extra effects, a bubble making machine can also be utilized.
Better yet, the whole ritual can be held at a beach resort, preferably one that has a giant twisting water slide. Graduates can receive their diplomas on the top of the slide. Then, they'll slide down into the pool so they can literally make a big splash.
Afterwards, everyone can just hang out in the pool and cool off. Parents and guests will be served one complimentary piña colada each. Fun!
Space Theme
Students are always being told to "reach for the stars," so this is just a creative way to embody this notable piece of advice. Since the Star Wars franchise is enjoying a resurgence, it can be a fantastic source of ideas.
Can you just imagine how much fun it would be to hear Darth Vader's theme while the graduates march down the aisle instead of hearing the same old "Triumphant March" from Verdi's opera "Aida"? For the less morbid batches, they can stick to the opening theme of the movie instead.
The top five students can be seated like the Jedi council. If the valedictorian is female, she can wear a Queen Amidala headdress instead of the usual toga cap. If male, he can wear, you guessed it, Vader's mask. Don't forget to breathe heavily!
Congratulations to the millennium's first batch of graduates!
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=5VU1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=aiUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=1057%2C33834150
My Funny Graduation
My Funny Graduation
By Walter Ang
March 2000
Philippine Star
For a multitude of students, March signals the end of several years' worth of anguish and suffering. At last, they can step forward and leave behind them forever the horrors of academic life. For in this month of months, graduation is finally at hand.
Proud parents and friends beam with pride as they show off wallet sized photos of their graduates. They throw parties and dinner celebrations to mark the special occasion. With this much people bursting with exhilaration, it would be such a waste to have them sit still for hours on end at the graduation ceremonies. To ask the graduates and their loved ones to contain their joy by sitting down and clamming up would be a disservice to their sensibilities.
Year in, year out, the same old rites never change. It goes on and on in a less than exciting pace. The youth of today deserve a little update in the ceremonies. Young people are born of the MTV generation. They like to drive fast and eat street food. They relish a little newness, little alteration.
With this in mind, perhaps organizers of the graduation events should consider injecting a little more life and enthusiasm to the program sequence of most rites. If MTV has a different concept for each of its awards shows, then wouldn't it be great to use the same idea for graduation rites as well? Here are some themes we could utilize:
1. Circus Theme.
The circus is a childhood icon filled with happy memories. To reinforce the joy of graduating, we could couple the two and double our fun with a circus themed graduation rite. Why endure insipid speeches when the speaker can deliver it with a loud booming voice a la ringmaster style? Perhaps a large elephant can use its trunk to give out the diplomas.
To add more excitement, we could have the students jump through burning hoops and walk through shards of glass before they receive their diplomas. The audience will be allowed to munch on popcorn and cotton candy for the duration of the rites, of course.
2. Drama Theme.
Some schools emphasize academics more than they do extra curricular activities. As a result, students who have a flair for the arts are left unmotivated and unfulfilled. These creative and theatrical people should have a hand in conceptualizing the graduation rites. They could release their pent up artistic frustrations by lending a little Broadway style pizzazz to the event.
One way would be for the stage to be draped with heavy black cloth. Students will go up the stage wearing heavy, wrought iron chains. This signifies their agonizing plight in going through years and years of back breaking school work. When they receive their diplomas, they raise their shackled arms and break the chains!
When all of the graduates have received their diplomas, they let out a loud cheer in unison, and the black cloth drops away to reveal a multitude of color and light, with merry music playing.
3. Cheering Theme.
Instead of having the graduation rites in a stuffy old auditorium, schools can have it in an open air field with spectators all around. This not only adds zest to the event, but it saves time and money for everyone concerned by combining two of the most anticipated activities in the academic calendar.
Different classes will have to complete at least one human pyramid before they can get their diplomas. They must also present one cheer concerning their favorite Algebraic theorem and another one concerning their favorite English grammar rule. Just picture this: "Give me an I before E! Except! Except! Except after C! Woohoo!" Parents and families will be given pompoms and streamers to cheer on the graduates. Great fun for everyone!
Congratulations to the millennium's first batch of graduates!
By Walter Ang
March 2000
Philippine Star
For a multitude of students, March signals the end of several years' worth of anguish and suffering. At last, they can step forward and leave behind them forever the horrors of academic life. For in this month of months, graduation is finally at hand.
Proud parents and friends beam with pride as they show off wallet sized photos of their graduates. They throw parties and dinner celebrations to mark the special occasion. With this much people bursting with exhilaration, it would be such a waste to have them sit still for hours on end at the graduation ceremonies. To ask the graduates and their loved ones to contain their joy by sitting down and clamming up would be a disservice to their sensibilities.
Year in, year out, the same old rites never change. It goes on and on in a less than exciting pace. The youth of today deserve a little update in the ceremonies. Young people are born of the MTV generation. They like to drive fast and eat street food. They relish a little newness, little alteration.
With this in mind, perhaps organizers of the graduation events should consider injecting a little more life and enthusiasm to the program sequence of most rites. If MTV has a different concept for each of its awards shows, then wouldn't it be great to use the same idea for graduation rites as well? Here are some themes we could utilize:
1. Circus Theme.
The circus is a childhood icon filled with happy memories. To reinforce the joy of graduating, we could couple the two and double our fun with a circus themed graduation rite. Why endure insipid speeches when the speaker can deliver it with a loud booming voice a la ringmaster style? Perhaps a large elephant can use its trunk to give out the diplomas.
To add more excitement, we could have the students jump through burning hoops and walk through shards of glass before they receive their diplomas. The audience will be allowed to munch on popcorn and cotton candy for the duration of the rites, of course.
2. Drama Theme.
Some schools emphasize academics more than they do extra curricular activities. As a result, students who have a flair for the arts are left unmotivated and unfulfilled. These creative and theatrical people should have a hand in conceptualizing the graduation rites. They could release their pent up artistic frustrations by lending a little Broadway style pizzazz to the event.
One way would be for the stage to be draped with heavy black cloth. Students will go up the stage wearing heavy, wrought iron chains. This signifies their agonizing plight in going through years and years of back breaking school work. When they receive their diplomas, they raise their shackled arms and break the chains!
When all of the graduates have received their diplomas, they let out a loud cheer in unison, and the black cloth drops away to reveal a multitude of color and light, with merry music playing.
3. Cheering Theme.
Instead of having the graduation rites in a stuffy old auditorium, schools can have it in an open air field with spectators all around. This not only adds zest to the event, but it saves time and money for everyone concerned by combining two of the most anticipated activities in the academic calendar.
Different classes will have to complete at least one human pyramid before they can get their diplomas. They must also present one cheer concerning their favorite Algebraic theorem and another one concerning their favorite English grammar rule. Just picture this: "Give me an I before E! Except! Except! Except after C! Woohoo!" Parents and families will be given pompoms and streamers to cheer on the graduates. Great fun for everyone!
Congratulations to the millennium's first batch of graduates!
Literary Readings on a Chilly Wednesday Eve
Literary Readings on a Chilly Wednesday Eve
By Walter Ang
February 10, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
On a chilly Wednesday evening last week, a friend and I trundled over to Cafe Caribana in Malate to catch a poetry reading session. After climbing up a winding staircase, we settled ourselves in a table near the performance area. (We knew it was the performance area because there was a large radio casette player sitting ceremoniously on top of a stool.)
We got there a tad early so we passed some time by drinking in the mustard yellow walls, warmly cast in the glow of several bamboo lighting fixtures. We proceeded to trace out the map design on the floor. I spied the names Cuba and Haiti and wondered what country our table was situated on top of.
Short Poems
When the second floor finally seemed to settle in with its fill of people, the session kicked off with lifestyle columnist and television personality Karen Kunawicz. Striding up to the stool in an all black outfit, she promptly shared several short poems she'd composed. I especially liked one very short poem that went, "Oh Jimmy Hendrix/Let me be your guitar."
She went on to read a poem which I thought very apt since Valentine's Day was coming up. The poem she read was included in her book "On the Verge" and it listed down answers to the question: What is the sound of one heart breaking? I found myself wanting to find out the answer to that question much the same way I wanted to find out the answer to a question I gleaned from the Disney movie Pocahontas: What is the color of the wind?
In the open forum that followed, she discussed, among other things, her background as a writer and what inspires her to write (a list that included the tombs found in the San Agustin Church). She acknowledged that her passion for writing is ultimately what drives her to keep at it.
Required Reading
When the next reader was introduced, the host referred to him as "Frankie". Who would've thought that the Frankie who stood up from his unassuming corner turned out to be the F. Sionil Jose most students know, if not for anything else, because of required reading in school. Students are also probably taught that he's the most internationally known and translated Filipino author, with a series of novels and short fiction collections.
He proceeded to relate an incident where he witnessed another author read his own works, but unfortunately, not with successful results. He's vowed since then never to read his works in public and so passed the job on to the host.
After a spirited reading of an excerpt from his book, "Three Filipino Women," questions from the audience were gamely answered. He shared his past, recounting many events that were serious, like cheating death during the second World War, and some that were downright funny like his futile search for an opium pipe in Chinatown. Finally, he challenged the audience, especially aspiring writers, to amass for themselves a wealth of experiences as he had done.
More Sessions
Before the event wrapped up, we found out that there would be more poetry reading sessions in the coming weeks. Succeeding sessions would also pair a poet with a fictionist. This particular session was part of a series sponsored by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts in cooperation with the Philippine Literary Arts Council.
The setting was intimate enough to keep everyone focused on the reading but relaxed enough so that no one would have traumatic flashbacks of horribly boring classroom discussions about dead poets. One of the good (or bad) things about the whole event was that if it had gotten boring at anytime, you could've ordered something to inebriate yourself, then the evening wouldn't have been a total waste.
The two authors who were featured for the evening were held in very high esteem. When they were introduced, flashbulbs popped all over the place. Some people were even lining up to have their photo ops with them. It felt like watching teenyboppers drool over a hot rock band, only this time, the rock stars wielded pens instead of guitars.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=24c1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=jyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=2878%2C11712733
By Walter Ang
February 10, 2000
Philippine Daily Inquirer
We got there a tad early so we passed some time by drinking in the mustard yellow walls, warmly cast in the glow of several bamboo lighting fixtures. We proceeded to trace out the map design on the floor. I spied the names Cuba and Haiti and wondered what country our table was situated on top of.
Short Poems
When the second floor finally seemed to settle in with its fill of people, the session kicked off with lifestyle columnist and television personality Karen Kunawicz. Striding up to the stool in an all black outfit, she promptly shared several short poems she'd composed. I especially liked one very short poem that went, "Oh Jimmy Hendrix/Let me be your guitar."
She went on to read a poem which I thought very apt since Valentine's Day was coming up. The poem she read was included in her book "On the Verge" and it listed down answers to the question: What is the sound of one heart breaking? I found myself wanting to find out the answer to that question much the same way I wanted to find out the answer to a question I gleaned from the Disney movie Pocahontas: What is the color of the wind?
In the open forum that followed, she discussed, among other things, her background as a writer and what inspires her to write (a list that included the tombs found in the San Agustin Church). She acknowledged that her passion for writing is ultimately what drives her to keep at it.
Required Reading
When the next reader was introduced, the host referred to him as "Frankie". Who would've thought that the Frankie who stood up from his unassuming corner turned out to be the F. Sionil Jose most students know, if not for anything else, because of required reading in school. Students are also probably taught that he's the most internationally known and translated Filipino author, with a series of novels and short fiction collections.
He proceeded to relate an incident where he witnessed another author read his own works, but unfortunately, not with successful results. He's vowed since then never to read his works in public and so passed the job on to the host.
After a spirited reading of an excerpt from his book, "Three Filipino Women," questions from the audience were gamely answered. He shared his past, recounting many events that were serious, like cheating death during the second World War, and some that were downright funny like his futile search for an opium pipe in Chinatown. Finally, he challenged the audience, especially aspiring writers, to amass for themselves a wealth of experiences as he had done.
More Sessions
Before the event wrapped up, we found out that there would be more poetry reading sessions in the coming weeks. Succeeding sessions would also pair a poet with a fictionist. This particular session was part of a series sponsored by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts in cooperation with the Philippine Literary Arts Council.
The setting was intimate enough to keep everyone focused on the reading but relaxed enough so that no one would have traumatic flashbacks of horribly boring classroom discussions about dead poets. One of the good (or bad) things about the whole event was that if it had gotten boring at anytime, you could've ordered something to inebriate yourself, then the evening wouldn't have been a total waste.
The two authors who were featured for the evening were held in very high esteem. When they were introduced, flashbulbs popped all over the place. Some people were even lining up to have their photo ops with them. It felt like watching teenyboppers drool over a hot rock band, only this time, the rock stars wielded pens instead of guitars.
Google Scan:
https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=24c1AAAAIBAJ&sjid=jyUMAAAAIBAJ&pg=2878%2C11712733
How to be Chinoy Without Really Being Good in Math
How to be Chinoy Without Really Being Good in Math
By Walter Ang
February 5, 2000
Philippine Star
As the Chinese New Year approaches in the year 2000, Chinoys across the country gear up for another celebration of new beginnings. We'll be bringing out the red outfits, haggling for round fruits in Divisoria, buying the ubiquitous tikoy in bulk, and filling up the reservation books of Chinese restaurants to usher in the year of the Dragon.
For scores of Fil-Chi who traditionally celebrate the Chinese New Year, this is something to look forward to. A renewing of ties, a chance to meet up with family. Welcoming the new?new hopes, new lives, new loves, and chucking out the old?old grievances, old hates, old hurts. Speaking of chucking out the old, this is an excellent time to purge old misconceptions of the Chinese community here in the Philippines. After all, this is already the 00's (how do we call this first decade of this millennium?). It would be a good thing to start off in a more enlightened state.
I've lived in Manila all my life and I still come across the occasional curious query about the Chinoy and the Chinoy way of life. It's sometimes amusing to note the common fallacies about the Chinoys. So for everyone's benefit, let's debunk a few of those myths and all learn, say it with me now, how to be Chinoy without really being good in Math.
1. All Chinoys have excellent Math skills.
There is a college anecdote where if you discover there are Chinoys in your math class, you should drop out because they'll pull up the curve so high you won't stand a chance of passing. This is a blatant falsehood. If I could only put into words the anguish I had to endure during all my math classes! While I may not speak for all Chinoys (less the mathematically gifted ones raise a fuss), I do know that almost every Chinoy classmate I knew in high school would rather eat nails than learn how to solve for the square root of 9.
2. All Chinoys are fair skinned and have chinky eyes.
My skin is tan and my eyes are sort of slanty but not really chinky. There are certain times when you should see the surprised look on some people's faces when they find out I'm Chinoy. Then they'll follow it up with, "Why are you so dark?" While I sometimes want to counter with, "Why are you so rude?" I usually just flash a smile and use the alibi that I commute a lot.
This simple alibi saves me the time and effort of having to give a long scientific explanation. Who has the time to listen to a lengthy discussion of Punnett squares, genotypes, and the effects of UV rays on the skin? Seriously though, I once read in a Newsweek article that people in the southeast region of Asia all share a common gene pool. So to say that we're all brothers and sisters isn't really just a figurative statement.
3. All Chinoys are filthy rich.
I would be the most overjoyed person on the face of the earth if this were true. (Imagine all the neat stuff I could buy!). Unfortunately, I must accept the bitter truth that not all Chinoys are filthy rich. Most Chinoys are very middle class. On the other hand, I know a couple of Chinoys who are filthy, but that's another story. Lucio Tan, Henry Sy and the other taipans are the exceptions rather than the rule.
4. All Chinoys are prudes and conservative.
While there is a tendency to have a more conservative outlook in raising children, there are a lot of Chinoy families who have an more global perspective with regards to their kids' upbringing. Families who are not afraid to integrate different cultural norms into their lifestyle.
The present Chinoy community is basically split up into two groups. Those who have grown up here are more assimilated to the Pinoy way of life. (We are capable of eating balut together with our sioapo.) The second group are the wave of fresh immigrants who are still trying to find their pacing in this new tropical home. They would be wont to more familiar habits, and this could be a reason why they're perceived as more conservative. (They'll probably skip the balut for now.)
Perception is a powerful thing. Sometimes we see what we want to, instead of what really is. Hopefully, as we go through the journey of this millennium, we can all learn to discern the better image. Kung Hei Fat Choy!
By Walter Ang
February 5, 2000
Philippine Star
As the Chinese New Year approaches in the year 2000, Chinoys across the country gear up for another celebration of new beginnings. We'll be bringing out the red outfits, haggling for round fruits in Divisoria, buying the ubiquitous tikoy in bulk, and filling up the reservation books of Chinese restaurants to usher in the year of the Dragon.
For scores of Fil-Chi who traditionally celebrate the Chinese New Year, this is something to look forward to. A renewing of ties, a chance to meet up with family. Welcoming the new?new hopes, new lives, new loves, and chucking out the old?old grievances, old hates, old hurts. Speaking of chucking out the old, this is an excellent time to purge old misconceptions of the Chinese community here in the Philippines. After all, this is already the 00's (how do we call this first decade of this millennium?). It would be a good thing to start off in a more enlightened state.
I've lived in Manila all my life and I still come across the occasional curious query about the Chinoy and the Chinoy way of life. It's sometimes amusing to note the common fallacies about the Chinoys. So for everyone's benefit, let's debunk a few of those myths and all learn, say it with me now, how to be Chinoy without really being good in Math.
1. All Chinoys have excellent Math skills.
There is a college anecdote where if you discover there are Chinoys in your math class, you should drop out because they'll pull up the curve so high you won't stand a chance of passing. This is a blatant falsehood. If I could only put into words the anguish I had to endure during all my math classes! While I may not speak for all Chinoys (less the mathematically gifted ones raise a fuss), I do know that almost every Chinoy classmate I knew in high school would rather eat nails than learn how to solve for the square root of 9.
2. All Chinoys are fair skinned and have chinky eyes.
My skin is tan and my eyes are sort of slanty but not really chinky. There are certain times when you should see the surprised look on some people's faces when they find out I'm Chinoy. Then they'll follow it up with, "Why are you so dark?" While I sometimes want to counter with, "Why are you so rude?" I usually just flash a smile and use the alibi that I commute a lot.
This simple alibi saves me the time and effort of having to give a long scientific explanation. Who has the time to listen to a lengthy discussion of Punnett squares, genotypes, and the effects of UV rays on the skin? Seriously though, I once read in a Newsweek article that people in the southeast region of Asia all share a common gene pool. So to say that we're all brothers and sisters isn't really just a figurative statement.
3. All Chinoys are filthy rich.
I would be the most overjoyed person on the face of the earth if this were true. (Imagine all the neat stuff I could buy!). Unfortunately, I must accept the bitter truth that not all Chinoys are filthy rich. Most Chinoys are very middle class. On the other hand, I know a couple of Chinoys who are filthy, but that's another story. Lucio Tan, Henry Sy and the other taipans are the exceptions rather than the rule.
4. All Chinoys are prudes and conservative.
While there is a tendency to have a more conservative outlook in raising children, there are a lot of Chinoy families who have an more global perspective with regards to their kids' upbringing. Families who are not afraid to integrate different cultural norms into their lifestyle.
The present Chinoy community is basically split up into two groups. Those who have grown up here are more assimilated to the Pinoy way of life. (We are capable of eating balut together with our sioapo.) The second group are the wave of fresh immigrants who are still trying to find their pacing in this new tropical home. They would be wont to more familiar habits, and this could be a reason why they're perceived as more conservative. (They'll probably skip the balut for now.)
Perception is a powerful thing. Sometimes we see what we want to, instead of what really is. Hopefully, as we go through the journey of this millennium, we can all learn to discern the better image. Kung Hei Fat Choy!
A Moment With the Gods in Binondo's Sheng Guan Temple
A Moment With the Gods
By Walter Ang
February 5, 2000
Philippine Star
With a grocery bag filled with fruits, I ramble over to the Chinese temple along Narra street. As I step over the threshold, I come face to face with a towering golden goddess. I recognize her as the Goddess of Mercy. Her eyes are closed in quiet repose as she holds out her hands to the mortals below her.
Inside the temple is a smorgasbord of sights, sounds and smells that tickles the senses. The serene interior is always a welcome respite from the intense heat outside. The first thing I see are the massive stone pillars that punctuate the tiled floor. Towards the end of the main hall is an entire wall filled with various statuettes of gods, goddesses, deities, and spirits. There are a few that are as high as the ceiling. Some are no bigger than my hand. I glance at the thick glass panes that isolate these gods from the humans.
I turn my gaze to the Buddha statue that I glimpsed at when I came in. It sits cross-legged in the center of the display. It gleams in the light with its gilded skin. Its ear lobes reach almost to the base of its neck. I was once told that having long earlobes is a sign of prosperity and goodwill. I touch my own ears as I recall the cheap, plastic, one foot imitation of the Buddha statue that we have in our living room.
There are so many figurines that I cannot begin to name them one by one. Back when I was in kindergarten, my grandmother would try to teach me the names of some of the deities. Now that I'm considerably older, I can probably, at best, list down only three to five familiar names.
I shift my attention to the worshippers scattered across the hall. Most are wearing the de rigueur red for the Chinese New Year celebration. Their excitement palpable in the air. Some are kneeling on the floor, with both hands clasped together by their chests. Some stand in rigid concentration, with crimson incense sticks raised to their foreheads. I walk past little grandmothers with their white hair tucked into neat chignons. Young couples in fervent prayer. I step out of the way of little pre-schoolers who tug at their mothers' skirts as they walk along.
I'm surrounded by all these different people with their low voices meshing into a single droning intonation. At one point, I am unable to make any sense out of it, making me feel as if I were an intruding stranger.
I count several urns in front of the figurine display. These chest- high, copper containers are all filled to the bursting point with lighted incense sticks. I think of coins in fountains and candles in churches?these incense sticks are people's intentions and hopes, their wishes rising to the sky with the ethereal smoke. The musky scent of incense permeates the atmosphere, giving an otherworldly character to the temple.
I approach the long table just in front of the display case. On it is an array of gifts and offerings for the gods. There are baskets filled with different fruits. I see pongkams, the small sweet variety of oranges. Plastic bowls filled with peaches and apples line the edge of the table. Dozens of beautiful flower arrangements adorn the table. I look for a vacant spot where I can unload the fruits that I've brought over.
There are even bottles of Remy Martin and Johnny Walker on the greasy surface. Perhaps the logic being that if we can get the gods a little tipsy, they might become more amenable to granting us additional requests.
As I prepare to leave. I turn my head to take another look at the Buddha. The golden god is still sitting in its glass casement smiling with glee, as if wishing me good fortune for the coming year.
By Walter Ang
February 5, 2000
Philippine Star
With a grocery bag filled with fruits, I ramble over to the Chinese temple along Narra street. As I step over the threshold, I come face to face with a towering golden goddess. I recognize her as the Goddess of Mercy. Her eyes are closed in quiet repose as she holds out her hands to the mortals below her.
Inside the temple is a smorgasbord of sights, sounds and smells that tickles the senses. The serene interior is always a welcome respite from the intense heat outside. The first thing I see are the massive stone pillars that punctuate the tiled floor. Towards the end of the main hall is an entire wall filled with various statuettes of gods, goddesses, deities, and spirits. There are a few that are as high as the ceiling. Some are no bigger than my hand. I glance at the thick glass panes that isolate these gods from the humans.
I turn my gaze to the Buddha statue that I glimpsed at when I came in. It sits cross-legged in the center of the display. It gleams in the light with its gilded skin. Its ear lobes reach almost to the base of its neck. I was once told that having long earlobes is a sign of prosperity and goodwill. I touch my own ears as I recall the cheap, plastic, one foot imitation of the Buddha statue that we have in our living room.
There are so many figurines that I cannot begin to name them one by one. Back when I was in kindergarten, my grandmother would try to teach me the names of some of the deities. Now that I'm considerably older, I can probably, at best, list down only three to five familiar names.
I shift my attention to the worshippers scattered across the hall. Most are wearing the de rigueur red for the Chinese New Year celebration. Their excitement palpable in the air. Some are kneeling on the floor, with both hands clasped together by their chests. Some stand in rigid concentration, with crimson incense sticks raised to their foreheads. I walk past little grandmothers with their white hair tucked into neat chignons. Young couples in fervent prayer. I step out of the way of little pre-schoolers who tug at their mothers' skirts as they walk along.
I'm surrounded by all these different people with their low voices meshing into a single droning intonation. At one point, I am unable to make any sense out of it, making me feel as if I were an intruding stranger.
I count several urns in front of the figurine display. These chest- high, copper containers are all filled to the bursting point with lighted incense sticks. I think of coins in fountains and candles in churches?these incense sticks are people's intentions and hopes, their wishes rising to the sky with the ethereal smoke. The musky scent of incense permeates the atmosphere, giving an otherworldly character to the temple.
I approach the long table just in front of the display case. On it is an array of gifts and offerings for the gods. There are baskets filled with different fruits. I see pongkams, the small sweet variety of oranges. Plastic bowls filled with peaches and apples line the edge of the table. Dozens of beautiful flower arrangements adorn the table. I look for a vacant spot where I can unload the fruits that I've brought over.
There are even bottles of Remy Martin and Johnny Walker on the greasy surface. Perhaps the logic being that if we can get the gods a little tipsy, they might become more amenable to granting us additional requests.
As I prepare to leave. I turn my head to take another look at the Buddha. The golden god is still sitting in its glass casement smiling with glee, as if wishing me good fortune for the coming year.
REVIEW: Count more than just six senses in Peta's 'Ang Dalawang Buhay ni Plaridel'
Count more than just six senses
By Walter Ang
December 2, 1999
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Last week, the people whom I tried to coerce to come watch a play with me all bailed. This left poor little me all alone when I went to Fort Santiago to watch the Philippine Educational Theater Association's (Peta) production of "Ang Dalawang Buhay ni Plaridel."
It'd been drizzling earlier in the evening so I became apprehensive about leaving the house since the play would be staged at the Rajah Sulayman Theater, an open air theater with a T shaped stage right smack across the middle. I've heard of shows being cancelled when the weather got a little too much to take, so I didn't want to have to suffer through traffic and then find out I'd have to scoot right back home.
Leaving the evening to fate, I slipped on a jacket, held on to my trusty foldable umbrella and braved the dimly lit streets to get to the Fort. As I strolled from the entrance to the theater, I did what most people do but never admit, imagined myself transported back in time, pretending to be in Spanish era Manila. With the crumbling walls and lovely evening breeze, how could one not? In any case, since I knew the play would be dealing with the past, I didn't think getting myself into the mood of things was such a bad idea.
Being inside Fort Santiago during the night is always an interesting way to get distance yourself from the noise and stress of the city. A different option to hanging at the mall or attending the latest rave or street party. On one hand, you get to see the intricate details of the walls in a new light and if you raise your head a little bit, you get to see the towering steel and glass buildings along the Pasig River lined up against the night sky. Very nice contrast.
Written by Nicholas Pichay and translated by Elmer Gatchalian, "Ang Dalawang Buhay ni Plaridel" dishes out the story of Marcelo H. del Pilar's involvement in the Propaganda Movement against the Spanish colonizers during the 1890's. At last, something other than the dozens of material dealing with Rizal and his novels. It won last year's Centennial Literary Contest's Grand Prize for English Full Length Play .
One performance I especially enjoyed was Connie Lauigan's portrayal of Nana Ubing, a character who would pop up from nowhere, groaning and moaning in a guttural, raspy tone. This always managed to scared the wits out of some of the audience members. I'd know where she'd be coming from every time I'd hear muffled shrieks of fright. She even made a baby cry. Granted that focusing on this particular character was somewhat missing the point of the play, I figured, hey, no one could sue me for it.
[Another highlight for me was a visual metaphor used when some Spanish guy was getting it on with Nana Ubing: a long white piece of canvass shot out across above the length of the stage. I thought the device very apt since the scene was depicting the ravaging of a woman. Wink wink, nudge nudge.]
In the Mood
Normally, I shy away from plays dealing with historical material, but the surrounding atmosphere sort of put me in the mood for it that night. Apparently, the theater was once a Spanish garrison, now transformed into a performance space that breaks away from the usual, familiar proscenium stage. I've seen a few plays in this theater and the experience is always fun.
There's no roof, no air conditioning, no cushioned seats. Instead you have the sky, occasional gusts of wind and drizzle, black plastic chairs. While actors are strutting their stuff onstage, you hear dogs barking, cars tooting their horns, and sometimes, airplanes roaring overhead. For those of you who saw The Sixth Sense and are still paranoid about it until now, you may hear more than just the things I mentioned. Adds to the excitement for sure.
People who claim to go for alternative activities have not seen anything yet until they've tried watching a show here at the Sulayman. How can stuffy formal theaters compare to such an invigorating setting? How can anything compare to the simultaneous opening of umbrellas when the drizzle started to get a little too heavy for everyone's comfort?
There's a dynamic to the place that I don't think can be found anywhere else. This could be one of the factors that adds to most of Peta's plays a sense of earthiness, a sense of visceral appeal. Until the next time I go over to Fort Santiago to catch another Peta performance, I'm going to practice my own raspy guttural moans and see if I can't make a baby cry also.
By Walter Ang
December 2, 1999
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Last week, the people whom I tried to coerce to come watch a play with me all bailed. This left poor little me all alone when I went to Fort Santiago to watch the Philippine Educational Theater Association's (Peta) production of "Ang Dalawang Buhay ni Plaridel."
It'd been drizzling earlier in the evening so I became apprehensive about leaving the house since the play would be staged at the Rajah Sulayman Theater, an open air theater with a T shaped stage right smack across the middle. I've heard of shows being cancelled when the weather got a little too much to take, so I didn't want to have to suffer through traffic and then find out I'd have to scoot right back home.
Leaving the evening to fate, I slipped on a jacket, held on to my trusty foldable umbrella and braved the dimly lit streets to get to the Fort. As I strolled from the entrance to the theater, I did what most people do but never admit, imagined myself transported back in time, pretending to be in Spanish era Manila. With the crumbling walls and lovely evening breeze, how could one not? In any case, since I knew the play would be dealing with the past, I didn't think getting myself into the mood of things was such a bad idea.
Being inside Fort Santiago during the night is always an interesting way to get distance yourself from the noise and stress of the city. A different option to hanging at the mall or attending the latest rave or street party. On one hand, you get to see the intricate details of the walls in a new light and if you raise your head a little bit, you get to see the towering steel and glass buildings along the Pasig River lined up against the night sky. Very nice contrast.
Written by Nicholas Pichay and translated by Elmer Gatchalian, "Ang Dalawang Buhay ni Plaridel" dishes out the story of Marcelo H. del Pilar's involvement in the Propaganda Movement against the Spanish colonizers during the 1890's. At last, something other than the dozens of material dealing with Rizal and his novels. It won last year's Centennial Literary Contest's Grand Prize for English Full Length Play .
One performance I especially enjoyed was Connie Lauigan's portrayal of Nana Ubing, a character who would pop up from nowhere, groaning and moaning in a guttural, raspy tone. This always managed to scared the wits out of some of the audience members. I'd know where she'd be coming from every time I'd hear muffled shrieks of fright. She even made a baby cry. Granted that focusing on this particular character was somewhat missing the point of the play, I figured, hey, no one could sue me for it.
[Another highlight for me was a visual metaphor used when some Spanish guy was getting it on with Nana Ubing: a long white piece of canvass shot out across above the length of the stage. I thought the device very apt since the scene was depicting the ravaging of a woman. Wink wink, nudge nudge.]
In the Mood
Normally, I shy away from plays dealing with historical material, but the surrounding atmosphere sort of put me in the mood for it that night. Apparently, the theater was once a Spanish garrison, now transformed into a performance space that breaks away from the usual, familiar proscenium stage. I've seen a few plays in this theater and the experience is always fun.
There's no roof, no air conditioning, no cushioned seats. Instead you have the sky, occasional gusts of wind and drizzle, black plastic chairs. While actors are strutting their stuff onstage, you hear dogs barking, cars tooting their horns, and sometimes, airplanes roaring overhead. For those of you who saw The Sixth Sense and are still paranoid about it until now, you may hear more than just the things I mentioned. Adds to the excitement for sure.
People who claim to go for alternative activities have not seen anything yet until they've tried watching a show here at the Sulayman. How can stuffy formal theaters compare to such an invigorating setting? How can anything compare to the simultaneous opening of umbrellas when the drizzle started to get a little too heavy for everyone's comfort?
There's a dynamic to the place that I don't think can be found anywhere else. This could be one of the factors that adds to most of Peta's plays a sense of earthiness, a sense of visceral appeal. Until the next time I go over to Fort Santiago to catch another Peta performance, I'm going to practice my own raspy guttural moans and see if I can't make a baby cry also.
Graduation Showstoppers
Showstoppers
By Walter Ang
March 1, 1999
Philippine Star
I once attended a wedding reception with an emcee that made the evening feel like watching the Miss Universe Pageant. He kept shouting out the names of the sponsors like they were contestants from some obscure country in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. "Meeeester and Meeeeseeees Gooooooooo!"
This provided much of the fun for an otherwise boring night. It also gave me an insight: more events should be hosted this way. Louder, faster! More pomp and circumstance! Transform the usual bare stage into a showstopping performance! And what better institution to revitalize than the graduation ceremony? I wonder why no one's thought of doing things this way before!
I once had to attend three graduation ceremonies, each one day after the other. One was for a cousin, the other, my brother, the last was for a friend. And let me tell you, counting my toenails would have been so much more livelier. In fact, it was a good thing I wore sandals to these events.
Imagine how much fun it would be to go to a graduation ceremony and catch a glittering show! Instead of the usual valedictory address, we could have the valedictorian come out with a melee of backup dancers with balloons, fans, and streamers. An opening number that can rival those of the Vilma! show. Of course, the de rigueur Vilma! "lifts" should be incorporated into the number: the valedictorian being lifted onto high platforms, being lifted by two hulking men, being lifted through burning hoops ... well, you get the idea.
Afterwards, various concepts and excerpts from Broadway shows can be used to liven up the event! There are many, many shows to select from to get ideas. Here's a short list to start you off:
1. Sound of Music
One way to have the graduates receive their diplomas would be to use the very obvious metaphor of crossing a "mountain". For the background music, we'll throw out Verdi's "Triumphant March from Aida". Instead, we'll hear the song "Climb Every Mountain". The graduates must cross an elevation in the middle of the stage strewn with edelweiss flowers and perhaps two or three marionette goats for effect. We can have the person giving out the diplomas wear a goat herd costume.
2. Les Miserables
Please, none of those medleys which everyone is sick of already. You can only bear to listen to teenagers with squeaky voices sing "On My Own" so many times. We could utilize the scene where the stage rotates to show both sides of the barricade -- the dying enemy soldiers on one side rotates to show the, well, dying student activists on the other. We could begin the graduation ceremony with each class rotating into view and have them shout out their respective class war cries. Or better yet, their favorite algebraic theorem ... with feelings.
3. Miss Saigon
Of course, the famous helicopter scene comes to mind. This is when many Vietnamese run to the American Embassy in desperate attempts to fly off with the Americans, but they are unfortunately stopped by a very high wire fence. We could have the top five students fly off after they're awarded their medals. While the rest of the different classes onstage clamour and grope behind wire fences for their diplomas. This will definitely raise the excitement level a few notches.
4. Phantom of the Opera
An idea from this Andrew Lloyd Weber musical would be perfect to close the show with. As the graduates sing the final note of their last song, a giant chandelier falls straight down, crashing onto the stage floor and then, blackout. Dramatic! This will certainly have the graduates' families and friends cheering and clapping for all they're worth.
By Walter Ang
March 1, 1999
Philippine Star
I once attended a wedding reception with an emcee that made the evening feel like watching the Miss Universe Pageant. He kept shouting out the names of the sponsors like they were contestants from some obscure country in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. "Meeeester and Meeeeseeees Gooooooooo!"
This provided much of the fun for an otherwise boring night. It also gave me an insight: more events should be hosted this way. Louder, faster! More pomp and circumstance! Transform the usual bare stage into a showstopping performance! And what better institution to revitalize than the graduation ceremony? I wonder why no one's thought of doing things this way before!
I once had to attend three graduation ceremonies, each one day after the other. One was for a cousin, the other, my brother, the last was for a friend. And let me tell you, counting my toenails would have been so much more livelier. In fact, it was a good thing I wore sandals to these events.
Imagine how much fun it would be to go to a graduation ceremony and catch a glittering show! Instead of the usual valedictory address, we could have the valedictorian come out with a melee of backup dancers with balloons, fans, and streamers. An opening number that can rival those of the Vilma! show. Of course, the de rigueur Vilma! "lifts" should be incorporated into the number: the valedictorian being lifted onto high platforms, being lifted by two hulking men, being lifted through burning hoops ... well, you get the idea.
Afterwards, various concepts and excerpts from Broadway shows can be used to liven up the event! There are many, many shows to select from to get ideas. Here's a short list to start you off:
1. Sound of Music
One way to have the graduates receive their diplomas would be to use the very obvious metaphor of crossing a "mountain". For the background music, we'll throw out Verdi's "Triumphant March from Aida". Instead, we'll hear the song "Climb Every Mountain". The graduates must cross an elevation in the middle of the stage strewn with edelweiss flowers and perhaps two or three marionette goats for effect. We can have the person giving out the diplomas wear a goat herd costume.
2. Les Miserables
Please, none of those medleys which everyone is sick of already. You can only bear to listen to teenagers with squeaky voices sing "On My Own" so many times. We could utilize the scene where the stage rotates to show both sides of the barricade -- the dying enemy soldiers on one side rotates to show the, well, dying student activists on the other. We could begin the graduation ceremony with each class rotating into view and have them shout out their respective class war cries. Or better yet, their favorite algebraic theorem ... with feelings.
3. Miss Saigon
Of course, the famous helicopter scene comes to mind. This is when many Vietnamese run to the American Embassy in desperate attempts to fly off with the Americans, but they are unfortunately stopped by a very high wire fence. We could have the top five students fly off after they're awarded their medals. While the rest of the different classes onstage clamour and grope behind wire fences for their diplomas. This will definitely raise the excitement level a few notches.
4. Phantom of the Opera
An idea from this Andrew Lloyd Weber musical would be perfect to close the show with. As the graduates sing the final note of their last song, a giant chandelier falls straight down, crashing onto the stage floor and then, blackout. Dramatic! This will certainly have the graduates' families and friends cheering and clapping for all they're worth.
At Chinese restaurants, don't be polite!
Don't be polite!
By Walter Ang
February 16, 1999
Philippine Star
A trip to a Chinese restaurant either results in happy smiling faces after a hearty meal, or it can sometimes leave you completely dazed. I find that going with relatives or family ensures at least an interesting, if not an eventful, evening.
First, everyone trundles into the resto and scouts for a good table. If you're like most people, you'll probably wait to be seated. If you're the more gung-ho type, you weave through furniture and people and seek out your own table. You beam at your adeptness for finding a table that doesn't have an airconditioner blasting straight at it.
As you sit down and take in the atmosphere of the resto, you realize all Chinese restos are basically the same. It offers the compounded layer of grease that covers every available surface, the loud clanking of silverware, the pudgy lady cashier with large silver hoop earrings who resembles the happy Buddha. There will be a small altar nearby with Tho Tee Kong and Sto. Nino beside each other.
Then the family acrobatics begin. The grandmother or mother will wipe her tableware (and everybody else's if they won't) with paper napkins and will douse her drinking glass with the house tea before anything else. The younger brother will play with his chopsticks grabbing pretend flies in the air. This, he will explain, is an imitation of a kung-fu movie he just saw the other day. The kung-fu master caught flies with his chopsticks in order to teach his student mastery of hand-eye coordination. "Haii-yaaa!"
The younger sister will be reading her Archie comics as the father reprimands her for doing so. An even younger sibling will rush off to the aquariums and look at the fishies and shrimp. You will tag along and announce to everyone against the din, "I'll look after the brat." The truth of the matter is, you want to take a look at the fishies and shrimp too. All of this and the order taker hasn't even arrived yet.
Later on, your mother will lay on your plate those squiggly seaweed appetizers that look like worms despite your pleas, head shaking, palm waving and loud nonononono's. Perhaps you've hated those squiggly worms since your childhood, and you taunt your mother for not eating the half slices of century egg your dad sneakily piled on her plate.
Immediately after the cold cut appetizers, the younger sibling once again run off to the aquariums with an adamant, "I'm full!" And as author Amy Tan puts it so aptly, rounds of "Don't be polite" will be exchanged among everyone. The rest of the meal will hopefully go on smoothly, accented by animated chatter and punctuated by rambuctious laughter by the adults as the young sister goes back to reading her book and the younger brother starts playing with the toothpicks.
Sometimes for extra fun, you could get a fresh untrained server. He will ceremoniously lay down the soup tureen in the middle of the lazy susan and will promptly leave without ladling the soup into the individual soup bowls.
All this fun (or torture), sad to say, soon comes to an end. If your family has invited someone else along, he and the father will argue as to who will pay the bill. Each threatening to become angry at the other if not allowed to pay. The brother starts mixing all the liquid condiments into his glass of half finished iced tea. The grandmother will have cunningly snuck several toothpicks into her purse to bring home. You start getting a headache from the monosodiumglutamate.
By Walter Ang
February 16, 1999
Philippine Star
A trip to a Chinese restaurant either results in happy smiling faces after a hearty meal, or it can sometimes leave you completely dazed. I find that going with relatives or family ensures at least an interesting, if not an eventful, evening.
First, everyone trundles into the resto and scouts for a good table. If you're like most people, you'll probably wait to be seated. If you're the more gung-ho type, you weave through furniture and people and seek out your own table. You beam at your adeptness for finding a table that doesn't have an airconditioner blasting straight at it.
As you sit down and take in the atmosphere of the resto, you realize all Chinese restos are basically the same. It offers the compounded layer of grease that covers every available surface, the loud clanking of silverware, the pudgy lady cashier with large silver hoop earrings who resembles the happy Buddha. There will be a small altar nearby with Tho Tee Kong and Sto. Nino beside each other.
Then the family acrobatics begin. The grandmother or mother will wipe her tableware (and everybody else's if they won't) with paper napkins and will douse her drinking glass with the house tea before anything else. The younger brother will play with his chopsticks grabbing pretend flies in the air. This, he will explain, is an imitation of a kung-fu movie he just saw the other day. The kung-fu master caught flies with his chopsticks in order to teach his student mastery of hand-eye coordination. "Haii-yaaa!"
The younger sister will be reading her Archie comics as the father reprimands her for doing so. An even younger sibling will rush off to the aquariums and look at the fishies and shrimp. You will tag along and announce to everyone against the din, "I'll look after the brat." The truth of the matter is, you want to take a look at the fishies and shrimp too. All of this and the order taker hasn't even arrived yet.
Later on, your mother will lay on your plate those squiggly seaweed appetizers that look like worms despite your pleas, head shaking, palm waving and loud nonononono's. Perhaps you've hated those squiggly worms since your childhood, and you taunt your mother for not eating the half slices of century egg your dad sneakily piled on her plate.
Immediately after the cold cut appetizers, the younger sibling once again run off to the aquariums with an adamant, "I'm full!" And as author Amy Tan puts it so aptly, rounds of "Don't be polite" will be exchanged among everyone. The rest of the meal will hopefully go on smoothly, accented by animated chatter and punctuated by rambuctious laughter by the adults as the young sister goes back to reading her book and the younger brother starts playing with the toothpicks.
Sometimes for extra fun, you could get a fresh untrained server. He will ceremoniously lay down the soup tureen in the middle of the lazy susan and will promptly leave without ladling the soup into the individual soup bowls.
All this fun (or torture), sad to say, soon comes to an end. If your family has invited someone else along, he and the father will argue as to who will pay the bill. Each threatening to become angry at the other if not allowed to pay. The brother starts mixing all the liquid condiments into his glass of half finished iced tea. The grandmother will have cunningly snuck several toothpicks into her purse to bring home. You start getting a headache from the monosodiumglutamate.
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