They say never the kick a man when he’s down, but they just won’t let up. The Mayor did not win his bid to be the city’s representative in congress, and in a recent press conference, tears fell as he was bidding goodbye to his office and the members of his staff. But on a local news program the story was that the Mayor cried because he lost in the election.
With this TV news program, it was like that during the whole campaign: while their features on this one particular candidate always told us about his vision, his platform - his promises should he win the election, with the other candidates it was always something negative. During the launching of the Mayor’s candidacy when not every single member of his ever growing clan showed up, the story was that his family was not in full support of his candidacy. They relentlessly pursued that angle practically during the whole campaign, earning them a few scathing words from one family member from whom they hoped to get a few sensational sound bites. This is the same outfit that instead of telling the world that despite Baguio’s precarious location it survived the onslaught of twin typhoons Ondoy and Pepeng, told us that 90% of Baguio is in danger of landslides. And we wonder why the Ad Congress was cancelled last year. Well, we can’t expect much from a new program that in an interview with the actors playing Jesus and Judas in a production of Jesus Christ Superstar, their reporter asked: what’s the significance of your roles in this play?
The Mayor is as rich as Manny Pacquiao, says one columnist of a reputable weekly. Where he got his figures (read: not data) only he knows. He enriched himself while in office, the same columnist said. He did nothing , nothing at all, about the garbage problem of Baguio, he added.
Yeah, yeah, everyone’s entitled to their opinion, I guess especially those who write opinion columns. But still, one has to be responsible enough to draw the lines between hearsay, opinion, perception and actual facts. Sensational claims must still be backed by spectacular evidence.
For example, hearsay: there was vote buying in Baguio in the recent election. Fact: some camps relentlessly engaged in black propaganda.
Are we sourgraping? Perhaps. But not particularly because the candidate we were rooting for did not win, but because elections in Baguio have become what it is – the politics of money, character assassination and rotten journalism. Oops, a rash generalization, you say. Perhaps. But don’t we say also that an attack on a journalist thousands of kilometres away is an attack on every single journalist elsewhere?
Fact is, the above are not the kinds of politics and journalism Baguio knows. Baguio generally had peaceful and orderly elections, they say. Not entirely true – while in other places they killed politicians with bullets, here they did so with black propaganda and certain corrupted journalists.
The winners could’ve still emerged as winners and the losers as losers even if we didn’t have all of the above, but I guess we’ll never know now.
Maybe next time.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
In black and white
I went there that morning fuming mad to get it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. The news spread like wildfire on the internet – the Athletic Bowl is being “sold” to the Koreans and online rabble-rousers claimed that: for a measly 10k a month, a Korean company would take possession of the sports complex where they plan to build a resort hotel, a commercial complex and a golf course. On the way there I was already composing the questions I would ask, the things I would say.
Afterall, I was among those who worked to get the guy elected.
I was the first to get there and soon the office was already filling up with members of the local media and other concerned citizens. And what would I say if I am once again asked to help him if he decides to run again.
After the usual greetings and handshaking, the first questions were fired. I looked around to see if anyone in the room would actually bring that issue up – and soon the question of the day was asked: what’s the deal with the Athletic Bowl issue. The man explained the whole thing and slowly my mood was already shifting from being angry to skeptical. I asked around for a copy of the actual Memorandum of Agreement - the resort hotel was actually a dormitory facility for athletes, the commercial complex would actually be some shops that would cater to the athlete’s needs and the golf course, well, it was actually a driving range.
And soon the call came: he’s running again, this time as representative of the city’s lone congressional district. I said yes.
As in the past two elections that we handled, we set up camp at the old house at the school’s parking lot. Several brainstorming session later, we decided that our main job would be to tell the people about the truth – the whole truth and nothing but. Sa totoo lang. And everything will be in black and white.
On the first day of the campaign, we gathered the volunteers (some of our staff members were really surprised to learn that the volunteers were indeed, VOLUNTEERS and not “professional campaigners). We started with a mass, then the candidate spoke briefly to thank everyone who came to show their support. We then explained our campaign strategy: simply, tell the truth. A lawyer friend then capped off the first day’s meeting with a lecture on COMELEC rules and guidelines, and urged everyone to strictly abide by these. No dirty tricks, no mudslinging. Bar none. That would eventually be the first thing on the agenda every single day: reminding everyone to obey the law. And at the end of the day, we’d gather one more time to make sure that nobody broke this primary rule.
In the last days of the campaign, black propaganda materials maligning the candidate started spreading around town. What do we do? The campaigners asked. Nothing, absolutely nothing. We reminded everyone that no matter what happens in this election, at least we can sleep soundly at night knowing that we did nothing wrong – legally and morally.
It’s been a long and tiring road and here we are now, about to decide what direction our city, our nation, would take.
I can sleep soundly now.
Afterall, I was among those who worked to get the guy elected.
I was the first to get there and soon the office was already filling up with members of the local media and other concerned citizens. And what would I say if I am once again asked to help him if he decides to run again.
After the usual greetings and handshaking, the first questions were fired. I looked around to see if anyone in the room would actually bring that issue up – and soon the question of the day was asked: what’s the deal with the Athletic Bowl issue. The man explained the whole thing and slowly my mood was already shifting from being angry to skeptical. I asked around for a copy of the actual Memorandum of Agreement - the resort hotel was actually a dormitory facility for athletes, the commercial complex would actually be some shops that would cater to the athlete’s needs and the golf course, well, it was actually a driving range.
And soon the call came: he’s running again, this time as representative of the city’s lone congressional district. I said yes.
As in the past two elections that we handled, we set up camp at the old house at the school’s parking lot. Several brainstorming session later, we decided that our main job would be to tell the people about the truth – the whole truth and nothing but. Sa totoo lang. And everything will be in black and white.
On the first day of the campaign, we gathered the volunteers (some of our staff members were really surprised to learn that the volunteers were indeed, VOLUNTEERS and not “professional campaigners). We started with a mass, then the candidate spoke briefly to thank everyone who came to show their support. We then explained our campaign strategy: simply, tell the truth. A lawyer friend then capped off the first day’s meeting with a lecture on COMELEC rules and guidelines, and urged everyone to strictly abide by these. No dirty tricks, no mudslinging. Bar none. That would eventually be the first thing on the agenda every single day: reminding everyone to obey the law. And at the end of the day, we’d gather one more time to make sure that nobody broke this primary rule.
In the last days of the campaign, black propaganda materials maligning the candidate started spreading around town. What do we do? The campaigners asked. Nothing, absolutely nothing. We reminded everyone that no matter what happens in this election, at least we can sleep soundly at night knowing that we did nothing wrong – legally and morally.
It’s been a long and tiring road and here we are now, about to decide what direction our city, our nation, would take.
I can sleep soundly now.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Look-see
The bad news is, good news isn’t news. Sadly, that’s the way it is. 90% of Baguio is allegedly landslide prone is news, but that Baguio has a not-so-bad-at-all 95% employment rate is not. A local tv crew has been hounding the relatives of a particular congressional candidate who happens to belong to a big prominent family because of rumors that his clan is not 100% behind his candidacy. Of course this news crew won’t show footages of one particular gathering where members of his clan showed up to reiterate their support for their candidate. They won’t even take footages in the first place. They would instead scour the city looking for that one kapamilya who could validate that rumor, at all cost, for that, my friend, is news.
The glass is either half-empty, or half-full. Never mind that the people are not informed of the real cause of our garbage crisis – a video clip or a photograph showing piles of uncollected garbage is enough to guarantee viewership or readership that of course results in higher advertising revenues. While agitating the people will only result in, well, agitation, educating the people as to what the real picture is can perhaps result in a better-informed populace who can now do their part in helping the city get over this crisis.
Don’t get me wrong, I myself have been a critic of so many things – from the rape of Session Road during Panagbenga to, yes, even the garbage issue. I am not a journalist, but I do believe that those who in the mass communication business have a responsibility to present the whole truth. Whether one is a news anchor or a news cameraman, whether you’re a two-bit columnist such as me or an editor-in-chief, whether you write for the city’s most read paper or a blogger.
Given what we are being fed by television, newspapers, radio and the internet, one can’t help but wonder why the population of Baguio keeps on growing. Why new businesses keep on opening up. Why tourists keep on coming. Think about it, why come to a city where they say nothing’s being done about the garbage problem, or where the traffic situation is unbearable, or where the pollution is at its worse, where the tourist attractions are dilapidated, or where the incidence of crime is horribly high? A lot of people claim to love Baguio, let’s do this for the love of Baguio, they always say, and then proceed to paint an ugly picture of the city for the whole world to see.
While we need to let the people know of the city’s problems, we also need to let them know of the good things about it. While there are times when showing the people how bad certain things are, we also need to let them know that there’s hope. The headlines seem to want us to believe that all’s lost, it’s hopeless. I don’t think so.
It’s true, there’s Session Road in Bloom where for a week Session Road is turned into an epitome of crass commercialism, and there’s Earth Day where it’s left to breathe and meditate quietly and beautifully. There are lip-synched pseudo-theater performances, and there are plays staged by local legitimate artists. We do have a garbage problem, but there are a lot of things that we as citizens can also do to ease the burden and help the government solve it. 95% of us are employed. We were spared even a single death during the last Dengue season. The damage that Ondoy and Pepeng wreaked in Baguio wasn’t as bad as in other places (considering that according to a local news report, 90% of the city is landslide-prone). El Niño’s here, but a gentle shower’s blessing the City of Pines as I write this.
We do see what we want to see, let’s look at things properly, and see the real picture.
The glass is either half-empty, or half-full. Never mind that the people are not informed of the real cause of our garbage crisis – a video clip or a photograph showing piles of uncollected garbage is enough to guarantee viewership or readership that of course results in higher advertising revenues. While agitating the people will only result in, well, agitation, educating the people as to what the real picture is can perhaps result in a better-informed populace who can now do their part in helping the city get over this crisis.
Don’t get me wrong, I myself have been a critic of so many things – from the rape of Session Road during Panagbenga to, yes, even the garbage issue. I am not a journalist, but I do believe that those who in the mass communication business have a responsibility to present the whole truth. Whether one is a news anchor or a news cameraman, whether you’re a two-bit columnist such as me or an editor-in-chief, whether you write for the city’s most read paper or a blogger.
Given what we are being fed by television, newspapers, radio and the internet, one can’t help but wonder why the population of Baguio keeps on growing. Why new businesses keep on opening up. Why tourists keep on coming. Think about it, why come to a city where they say nothing’s being done about the garbage problem, or where the traffic situation is unbearable, or where the pollution is at its worse, where the tourist attractions are dilapidated, or where the incidence of crime is horribly high? A lot of people claim to love Baguio, let’s do this for the love of Baguio, they always say, and then proceed to paint an ugly picture of the city for the whole world to see.
While we need to let the people know of the city’s problems, we also need to let them know of the good things about it. While there are times when showing the people how bad certain things are, we also need to let them know that there’s hope. The headlines seem to want us to believe that all’s lost, it’s hopeless. I don’t think so.
It’s true, there’s Session Road in Bloom where for a week Session Road is turned into an epitome of crass commercialism, and there’s Earth Day where it’s left to breathe and meditate quietly and beautifully. There are lip-synched pseudo-theater performances, and there are plays staged by local legitimate artists. We do have a garbage problem, but there are a lot of things that we as citizens can also do to ease the burden and help the government solve it. 95% of us are employed. We were spared even a single death during the last Dengue season. The damage that Ondoy and Pepeng wreaked in Baguio wasn’t as bad as in other places (considering that according to a local news report, 90% of the city is landslide-prone). El Niño’s here, but a gentle shower’s blessing the City of Pines as I write this.
We do see what we want to see, let’s look at things properly, and see the real picture.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
To Poke or to Superpoke
I have been interviewed twice the past few weeks regarding the use of Facebook in this current election season. The questions were about the usual pros and cons, dos and don’ts.
Ahh, the many wonderful , and awful things about this crazy thing called Facebook.
Created by college boys initially to provide a platform for their schoolmates at Harvard to get together online, share stories and keep in touch with each other, it has evolved into the world’s biggest online community with reportedly 400 million users worldwide. Yup, it has a much bigger population than the Philippines.
While the uninitiated might think that Facebook is just for young people, the truth is that those in the 30-something and above age group have more going for them in Facebook more than anybody else. As a Time article pointed out, we middle-agers have gone through high school (that’s one group of long lost friends one might find in this virtual community), college (another one), most have gone through several jobs each bringing with it a new set of friends, acquaintances – and experiences to chat about, blog about, post pictures and videos of, and that’s why this particular demographic counts as among the biggest groups on Facebook, and the most active! After all, it was in our generation that Bill Gates and Steve Jobs changed the world. We’re the ones who were first to tinker with really floppy floppy disks, got to move that thing called a mouse around, went gaga over Windows 2.0, and so on and so forth – we know how to work this thing. We know how to create an e-mail address so we can log in to Facebook. We know how to access our email address book to find our friends. We know how to upload pictures from our digital cameras (and even tweak those snapshots in Photoshop first before publishing them). We know how to chat, we know how to poke… and to superpoke.
And so we poked and superpoked and we have found long lost friends including that classmate from elementary school who has apparently forgiven me for relentlessly teasing her all throughout 5th grade. Or maybe she just forgot that I did that. While in the past communication with loved ones abroad meant waiting for the mailman to deliver that letter once or twice a week, or month, we are now in contact with them every single hour of every single day. We even know that they have been playing Word Twist or Bejewelled all night.
Now the cons. Above all else, spamming: unsolicited material being shoved down your throat (or hard drive). A contact can tag you in a provocative photo which means if anybody out of the 400 million members comment on it or even just “like” it (which one does with by simply clicking a button labeled, “like,” and you will be notified. If you haven’t turned off your email notification option, 100 comments and/or people “liking it” would mean 100 emails in your inbox. Say, a friend lost her cellphone and informs everyone in her contact list of her new number, each “got it,” “how did you lose it?,” “here’s mine,” “hey, long time no see” reply would find its way both in your Facebook and e-mail inboxes.
Then there are the viruses: a post appears that links to supposedly, say, “the funniest video ever,” you click on it to view it, and the next window asks you to “allow” the application to access your profile – the next thing you know, you’ve just unwittingly sent a racy video to all of your friends in your contacts list.
As for those politicians utilizing this for their campaigns? Well, the pros are countless – Comelec has no idea how to regulate material online, so it’s basically a free-for-all out there. While television exposure is limited to 60 minutes for local candidates, you can post a three-hour epic depicting your greatness online if you want. 120-minute limit on radio? Well, go ahead and post a full symphonic version of your campaign jingle if you want. But, while your supporters can rave about how great you are on your “wall,” adversaries can infiltrate your contacts list and start badmouthing you right in your own Facebook page. They do that a lot, mostly perpetrated by those who cowardly hide under pseudonyms.
This is what, my 3rd, 4th, nth article about Facebook? We just can’t get enough of it. But if there’s one thing that Facebook, and all those other so-called networking sites, has shown us is its apparent power to influence people. In Baguio, it helped cancel a government contract; it helped bring down a stupid concrete pine tree; and it might just help elect the city’s next leaders.
So enjoy it, hate it, do whatever you want with and in it. Just be responsible enough and know that this virtual world is also governed by the laws of the real universe: cause and effect, any action brings a reaction, you get the drift.
So, you can be helping make this world a better place. Or you can just be adding to the mess we’re all in.
Ahh, the many wonderful , and awful things about this crazy thing called Facebook.
Created by college boys initially to provide a platform for their schoolmates at Harvard to get together online, share stories and keep in touch with each other, it has evolved into the world’s biggest online community with reportedly 400 million users worldwide. Yup, it has a much bigger population than the Philippines.
While the uninitiated might think that Facebook is just for young people, the truth is that those in the 30-something and above age group have more going for them in Facebook more than anybody else. As a Time article pointed out, we middle-agers have gone through high school (that’s one group of long lost friends one might find in this virtual community), college (another one), most have gone through several jobs each bringing with it a new set of friends, acquaintances – and experiences to chat about, blog about, post pictures and videos of, and that’s why this particular demographic counts as among the biggest groups on Facebook, and the most active! After all, it was in our generation that Bill Gates and Steve Jobs changed the world. We’re the ones who were first to tinker with really floppy floppy disks, got to move that thing called a mouse around, went gaga over Windows 2.0, and so on and so forth – we know how to work this thing. We know how to create an e-mail address so we can log in to Facebook. We know how to access our email address book to find our friends. We know how to upload pictures from our digital cameras (and even tweak those snapshots in Photoshop first before publishing them). We know how to chat, we know how to poke… and to superpoke.
And so we poked and superpoked and we have found long lost friends including that classmate from elementary school who has apparently forgiven me for relentlessly teasing her all throughout 5th grade. Or maybe she just forgot that I did that. While in the past communication with loved ones abroad meant waiting for the mailman to deliver that letter once or twice a week, or month, we are now in contact with them every single hour of every single day. We even know that they have been playing Word Twist or Bejewelled all night.
Now the cons. Above all else, spamming: unsolicited material being shoved down your throat (or hard drive). A contact can tag you in a provocative photo which means if anybody out of the 400 million members comment on it or even just “like” it (which one does with by simply clicking a button labeled, “like,” and you will be notified. If you haven’t turned off your email notification option, 100 comments and/or people “liking it” would mean 100 emails in your inbox. Say, a friend lost her cellphone and informs everyone in her contact list of her new number, each “got it,” “how did you lose it?,” “here’s mine,” “hey, long time no see” reply would find its way both in your Facebook and e-mail inboxes.
Then there are the viruses: a post appears that links to supposedly, say, “the funniest video ever,” you click on it to view it, and the next window asks you to “allow” the application to access your profile – the next thing you know, you’ve just unwittingly sent a racy video to all of your friends in your contacts list.
As for those politicians utilizing this for their campaigns? Well, the pros are countless – Comelec has no idea how to regulate material online, so it’s basically a free-for-all out there. While television exposure is limited to 60 minutes for local candidates, you can post a three-hour epic depicting your greatness online if you want. 120-minute limit on radio? Well, go ahead and post a full symphonic version of your campaign jingle if you want. But, while your supporters can rave about how great you are on your “wall,” adversaries can infiltrate your contacts list and start badmouthing you right in your own Facebook page. They do that a lot, mostly perpetrated by those who cowardly hide under pseudonyms.
This is what, my 3rd, 4th, nth article about Facebook? We just can’t get enough of it. But if there’s one thing that Facebook, and all those other so-called networking sites, has shown us is its apparent power to influence people. In Baguio, it helped cancel a government contract; it helped bring down a stupid concrete pine tree; and it might just help elect the city’s next leaders.
So enjoy it, hate it, do whatever you want with and in it. Just be responsible enough and know that this virtual world is also governed by the laws of the real universe: cause and effect, any action brings a reaction, you get the drift.
So, you can be helping make this world a better place. Or you can just be adding to the mess we’re all in.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Taga-Baguio
The whole night we talked about nothing else but Baguio. Our newfound friend was Baguio-born and -raised, and in the last three decades since he left the city, he has only visited Baguio thrice.
I myself have been living here for 15 years, but as a child has been a regular visitor to this haven nestled up in the mountains of the Cordilleras. Talking about Baguio, sitting at the table by the sidewalk in Rumours on Session Road, as expected the conversation turned into a nostalgia trip for from where were sitting, we could get a vivid moving picture of what the city has become - a hundred and one years since Dean C. Worcester and Luke E. Wright informed the US Philippine Commission that yes, this rancherria was indeed the perfect site for a hill station.
We asked him, why do you keep coming back? He said, despite all the negativities being said about Baguio, there is still something about Baguio that makes one keep coming back. Or something like that.
He asked, after hearing about our adventures and misadventures, successes and disappointments in the past 15 years, why are you still here? I ended saying the same thing. And I add, my relationship with this city has become some kind of a marriage – for better or for worse. Perhaps, even ‘til death do us part.
Not so long ago, Baguio had fewer people, but we had more friends. One thing a lot of Baguio folks miss is walking down Session Road and surely bumping into someone you knew, for these days one can spend a whole day there surrounded only by strangers – strangers whom you see carelessly throwing a plastic cup, or a cigarette butt, or spitting just about anywhere. What do they care? They have no history with the city, and they have no idea about the history of this city.
That’s probably why we also can’t blame the seemingly prevailing xenophobia among the Baguio citizenry – a true Baguioite would do no harm to this beautiful city. There’s this thing that has been going around on the internet that lists the reasons that make one a true “taga-Baguio.”
Well, you’re “taga-Baguio” because you know that the people in Baguio are courteous, and that’s why you won’t drive around town like a maniac; that’s why you would stop at a pedestrian lane; that’s why you would let a car coming uphill pass. You know that this city was once the cleanest and greenest city in the country, that’s why you won’t dirty it, you won’t desecrate its beautiful surroundings, that’s why you won’t build anything that would scar the land, that’s why you won’t indiscriminately cut down trees. You know that Baguio was founded in this place particularly exactly because of its natural beauty, and so you know that if you are here you have to live your life in harmony with that natural beauty. You know that Baguio was a health resort, and that’s why you’ll do anything to keep its natural environment healthy; you will make sure that you won’t add to the already worsening air, water, land, noise and yes, moral, pollution.
And because you’re “taga-Baguio,” through thick and thin, through good and bad weather, through world wars and earthquakes and devastating storms… amidst criticisms and so-called “uglifications”… you’ll stand by Baguio, you won’t go out there to slander her, you’ll do something to make things better.
And that’s probably why that after 30 years, our newfound friend plans to return to the city of his birth. And that’s why we’re still here.
And Baguio will surely hurdle all these obstacles today – because its people won’t have it any other way.
I myself have been living here for 15 years, but as a child has been a regular visitor to this haven nestled up in the mountains of the Cordilleras. Talking about Baguio, sitting at the table by the sidewalk in Rumours on Session Road, as expected the conversation turned into a nostalgia trip for from where were sitting, we could get a vivid moving picture of what the city has become - a hundred and one years since Dean C. Worcester and Luke E. Wright informed the US Philippine Commission that yes, this rancherria was indeed the perfect site for a hill station.
We asked him, why do you keep coming back? He said, despite all the negativities being said about Baguio, there is still something about Baguio that makes one keep coming back. Or something like that.
He asked, after hearing about our adventures and misadventures, successes and disappointments in the past 15 years, why are you still here? I ended saying the same thing. And I add, my relationship with this city has become some kind of a marriage – for better or for worse. Perhaps, even ‘til death do us part.
Not so long ago, Baguio had fewer people, but we had more friends. One thing a lot of Baguio folks miss is walking down Session Road and surely bumping into someone you knew, for these days one can spend a whole day there surrounded only by strangers – strangers whom you see carelessly throwing a plastic cup, or a cigarette butt, or spitting just about anywhere. What do they care? They have no history with the city, and they have no idea about the history of this city.
That’s probably why we also can’t blame the seemingly prevailing xenophobia among the Baguio citizenry – a true Baguioite would do no harm to this beautiful city. There’s this thing that has been going around on the internet that lists the reasons that make one a true “taga-Baguio.”
Well, you’re “taga-Baguio” because you know that the people in Baguio are courteous, and that’s why you won’t drive around town like a maniac; that’s why you would stop at a pedestrian lane; that’s why you would let a car coming uphill pass. You know that this city was once the cleanest and greenest city in the country, that’s why you won’t dirty it, you won’t desecrate its beautiful surroundings, that’s why you won’t build anything that would scar the land, that’s why you won’t indiscriminately cut down trees. You know that Baguio was founded in this place particularly exactly because of its natural beauty, and so you know that if you are here you have to live your life in harmony with that natural beauty. You know that Baguio was a health resort, and that’s why you’ll do anything to keep its natural environment healthy; you will make sure that you won’t add to the already worsening air, water, land, noise and yes, moral, pollution.
And because you’re “taga-Baguio,” through thick and thin, through good and bad weather, through world wars and earthquakes and devastating storms… amidst criticisms and so-called “uglifications”… you’ll stand by Baguio, you won’t go out there to slander her, you’ll do something to make things better.
And that’s probably why that after 30 years, our newfound friend plans to return to the city of his birth. And that’s why we’re still here.
And Baguio will surely hurdle all these obstacles today – because its people won’t have it any other way.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Can't buy me love
Our theatre group, Open Space, merited a one liner in an article in a national daily about local talents. It’s been months since our last production (KAFAGWAY our musical on the history of Baguio was last performed at the Rose Garden, Burnham Park last December), so I decided to reprint here an article I wrote about the group some time ago hoping it will get us fired up enough to once again tell a story onstage.
CCP (Cultural Center of the Philippines) Complex – a sprawling haven for culture and the arts located along Roxas Boulevard that includes several world-class theaters, museums, galleries and home to the country’s supposed best arts and culture companies.
CCP Complex - Also a psychological condition that makes the afflicted believe that any artistic output that comes from beyond the boulevard and the breakwaters of Manila Bay is inferior.
I must admit I too once had the aforementioned condition, until I stage managed a production that toured the whole country for a whole month and got exposed to the artworks in the regions, from Baguio to Marawi. I knew then that I would get out of CCP soon after the tour. And I did. And I moved to Baguio , around (15) years ago.
Last night a colleague informed me of a group’s interest to feature our productions in a local institution that’s being re-packaged as a cultural and educational destination – they’re interested because it would be much more cost effective to hire a local group to stage a play rather than bring a whole production from Manila . Though I’d rather hear that they’re interested because they believe in what the local artists can deliver, beggars can’t be choosers. And this is among the reasons why I left Manila more than a decade ago to live in Baguio – I just couldn’t stand the arrogance of Manileños in their belief that the best things in this country can only be found in Manila , and everything that comes from beyond the toll gates of both the North and South Expressways are inferior. You patronize artists in the regions only when the budget can’t afford the Manila variety.
They probably haven’t heard the compositions of Ethan Andrew Ventura, and the way he plays his guitar. His work, setting Rizal’s Me Ultimo Adios to music, to me is a classic. Or perhaps they haven’t been to a jazz jam session at Overtones, one of many places in the city that houses exceptional local talents. Too bad, most of them never get to sit down and listen to Emerald Ventura, Ro Quintos, Jef Coronado, Cholo Virgo, Yoshi Capuyan, Arkhe Sorde Salcedo, Ramirr Grepo, Jenny Cariño, Sunshine Gutierrez, Mary Raquel, Ron Ruiz, Patchi Viray, SLU’s Glee Club, the reggae bands in Baguio, or the folk, rock and rock ones in nearby La Trinidad, and many others whose music can blow you away.
Perhaps they’ve never been to an exhibit by the Tahong Bundok group at the Baguio Convention Center – watercolors of a beautiful city that hypnotize, or an ongoing exhibit at the Café by the Ruins – coffee on paper, different shades of sepia that calms the spirit, or the photography of local lensmen on Multiply.com that can rival those that hang on Manila’s expensive gallery walls, or the VOCAS group’s multimedia explorations that challenge and provoke the mind.
They’ve never sat in a local writers’ group’s open mic session. They’ve never been to an SLU musical. They’ve never seen Tropang Paltok’s street theater performances. One pays good money to hear the now Manila-based Pinikpikan perform something one could normally hear for free at the steps of La Azotea or the Dap-ay of Café by the Ruins. Manila charges hundreds to thousands for what one could get into on less than a hundred bucks’ ticket price, or in most cases on a complimentary pass, as in most local theatrical presentations.
And the sad thing is, the community encourages the discrimination against local artists whenever it turns to Manila for most major artistic or cultural outputs in the city. But maybe that’s precisely the reason why the local artists continue to produce great art despite the situation: the main thing the fuels them is passion, and just like love, all the money in Manila can’t buy that.
CCP (Cultural Center of the Philippines) Complex – a sprawling haven for culture and the arts located along Roxas Boulevard that includes several world-class theaters, museums, galleries and home to the country’s supposed best arts and culture companies.
CCP Complex - Also a psychological condition that makes the afflicted believe that any artistic output that comes from beyond the boulevard and the breakwaters of Manila Bay is inferior.
I must admit I too once had the aforementioned condition, until I stage managed a production that toured the whole country for a whole month and got exposed to the artworks in the regions, from Baguio to Marawi. I knew then that I would get out of CCP soon after the tour. And I did. And I moved to Baguio , around (15) years ago.
Last night a colleague informed me of a group’s interest to feature our productions in a local institution that’s being re-packaged as a cultural and educational destination – they’re interested because it would be much more cost effective to hire a local group to stage a play rather than bring a whole production from Manila . Though I’d rather hear that they’re interested because they believe in what the local artists can deliver, beggars can’t be choosers. And this is among the reasons why I left Manila more than a decade ago to live in Baguio – I just couldn’t stand the arrogance of Manileños in their belief that the best things in this country can only be found in Manila , and everything that comes from beyond the toll gates of both the North and South Expressways are inferior. You patronize artists in the regions only when the budget can’t afford the Manila variety.
They probably haven’t heard the compositions of Ethan Andrew Ventura, and the way he plays his guitar. His work, setting Rizal’s Me Ultimo Adios to music, to me is a classic. Or perhaps they haven’t been to a jazz jam session at Overtones, one of many places in the city that houses exceptional local talents. Too bad, most of them never get to sit down and listen to Emerald Ventura, Ro Quintos, Jef Coronado, Cholo Virgo, Yoshi Capuyan, Arkhe Sorde Salcedo, Ramirr Grepo, Jenny Cariño, Sunshine Gutierrez, Mary Raquel, Ron Ruiz, Patchi Viray, SLU’s Glee Club, the reggae bands in Baguio, or the folk, rock and rock ones in nearby La Trinidad, and many others whose music can blow you away.
Perhaps they’ve never been to an exhibit by the Tahong Bundok group at the Baguio Convention Center – watercolors of a beautiful city that hypnotize, or an ongoing exhibit at the Café by the Ruins – coffee on paper, different shades of sepia that calms the spirit, or the photography of local lensmen on Multiply.com that can rival those that hang on Manila’s expensive gallery walls, or the VOCAS group’s multimedia explorations that challenge and provoke the mind.
They’ve never sat in a local writers’ group’s open mic session. They’ve never been to an SLU musical. They’ve never seen Tropang Paltok’s street theater performances. One pays good money to hear the now Manila-based Pinikpikan perform something one could normally hear for free at the steps of La Azotea or the Dap-ay of Café by the Ruins. Manila charges hundreds to thousands for what one could get into on less than a hundred bucks’ ticket price, or in most cases on a complimentary pass, as in most local theatrical presentations.
And the sad thing is, the community encourages the discrimination against local artists whenever it turns to Manila for most major artistic or cultural outputs in the city. But maybe that’s precisely the reason why the local artists continue to produce great art despite the situation: the main thing the fuels them is passion, and just like love, all the money in Manila can’t buy that.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Congratulations, Marko Angelo
Marko Angelo is my eldest son. And he just graduated high school. He was born 17 years ago, I was barely a grown up myself then. At 19, everything was happening so fast that the only thing I clearly remember about November 29, 1992 was that it was a blur. But one thing I will never forget is that first time I held him in my lanky arms and realization that hit me like a rock – I am a father.
A proud father. Nothing else in this world matters as much as my family. My proudest moments do not involve being onstage or in a movie or having a piece published or a photograph exhibited. I was proudest when my youngest, Aeneas, and younger daughter, Sofia, played their first memorized piano piece, or when my younger son, Leon, came up to me to give his opinion on my directorial concept for a play. Or everytime their Ate Sofia sits down with me to discuss the last book she read.
I had to hold back the tears when Leon won a literary contest and lost my voice cheering everytime he scored a goal (a total of 6!) in a soccer tournament. I was speechless when Marko told me that he’s starring in a school musical, and I could stay put in my seat watching Sofia in a play at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. In one of our theatre group’s performance last year, I could hardly believe my eyes watching Aeneas and Gabriela performing a song live onstage with so much gusto and sincerity.
I was late for the graduation, the travel from Manila to Alabang took longer than expected. I stopped by my father’s house a few blocks from the school to change – Marko would never forgive me if I showed up in my usual jeans and sandals. Something with a collar and footwear that cover the whole feet, that’s all he’s asking for. When I got to the auditorium, they were about to call the graduates onstage already – just in time. Being late, I was seated at the balcony, so I had to change camera lenses to get a decent photo of him walking up that stage and standing proud on that podium. Just as I was locking in that lens, I heard it: “Marko Angelo Altomonte.” I looked up and there he was – looking so smart and proud in his toga. The ceremony was pretty sober, quiet, sedate, and as he bowed to the crowd, his hat fell and he fumbled with it for a moment before finally putting it back on. I had on this really big stupid smile that I was trying to hide behind my camera, and as I clicked away, I thought to myself – that’s my son.
They’re my children, all five of them. And I am proud of each one and of all of them. I am a lot of things, but the one thing I know that I really am is a father to five beautiful children.
Driving him back home after the ceremony, I asked him what his plans were for the evening. I didn’t really plan for anything as I didn’t want to get in the way of whatever plan he had, this was his evening. And though I wanted so much for him to say that he had nothing special planned so I could take him out to dinner and just sit down with him all night and congratulate him over and over again, I wasn’t really surprised and just smiled when he said that he and his classmates were going to a party. This was evening.
After a quick change of clothes, he was back in the car, and we were back on the road, and too soon he was getting off already at some café where him and his friends would be meeting up. Ahh, too soon.
What I didn’t get to tell him was that I was so proud of him and that I love him very much. That I wish him well as he now enters college to chart his own destiny; that whatever happens to always remember that I love him very much and I would always be there for him and would do all I can to make him happy.
Congratulations, Marko Angelo.
A proud father. Nothing else in this world matters as much as my family. My proudest moments do not involve being onstage or in a movie or having a piece published or a photograph exhibited. I was proudest when my youngest, Aeneas, and younger daughter, Sofia, played their first memorized piano piece, or when my younger son, Leon, came up to me to give his opinion on my directorial concept for a play. Or everytime their Ate Sofia sits down with me to discuss the last book she read.
I had to hold back the tears when Leon won a literary contest and lost my voice cheering everytime he scored a goal (a total of 6!) in a soccer tournament. I was speechless when Marko told me that he’s starring in a school musical, and I could stay put in my seat watching Sofia in a play at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. In one of our theatre group’s performance last year, I could hardly believe my eyes watching Aeneas and Gabriela performing a song live onstage with so much gusto and sincerity.
I was late for the graduation, the travel from Manila to Alabang took longer than expected. I stopped by my father’s house a few blocks from the school to change – Marko would never forgive me if I showed up in my usual jeans and sandals. Something with a collar and footwear that cover the whole feet, that’s all he’s asking for. When I got to the auditorium, they were about to call the graduates onstage already – just in time. Being late, I was seated at the balcony, so I had to change camera lenses to get a decent photo of him walking up that stage and standing proud on that podium. Just as I was locking in that lens, I heard it: “Marko Angelo Altomonte.” I looked up and there he was – looking so smart and proud in his toga. The ceremony was pretty sober, quiet, sedate, and as he bowed to the crowd, his hat fell and he fumbled with it for a moment before finally putting it back on. I had on this really big stupid smile that I was trying to hide behind my camera, and as I clicked away, I thought to myself – that’s my son.
They’re my children, all five of them. And I am proud of each one and of all of them. I am a lot of things, but the one thing I know that I really am is a father to five beautiful children.
Driving him back home after the ceremony, I asked him what his plans were for the evening. I didn’t really plan for anything as I didn’t want to get in the way of whatever plan he had, this was his evening. And though I wanted so much for him to say that he had nothing special planned so I could take him out to dinner and just sit down with him all night and congratulate him over and over again, I wasn’t really surprised and just smiled when he said that he and his classmates were going to a party. This was evening.
After a quick change of clothes, he was back in the car, and we were back on the road, and too soon he was getting off already at some café where him and his friends would be meeting up. Ahh, too soon.
What I didn’t get to tell him was that I was so proud of him and that I love him very much. That I wish him well as he now enters college to chart his own destiny; that whatever happens to always remember that I love him very much and I would always be there for him and would do all I can to make him happy.
Congratulations, Marko Angelo.
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