The rape of Baguio City

Hundreds of trees felled somewhere up Mt. Sto. Tomas, for the construction of a road, the news report alleged.  Baguio representative Nic Aliping's name has been dragged into the controversy. I heard that a rally is scheduled on June 3 to protest this latest attack on Baguio's natural environment.

This is really disturbing. The struggle to protect the city's natural environment is being done on two fronts now, and the alleged antagonists are the very people who were voted into office to supposedly serve the people, the community. They are supposed protect and work for the welfare of this beautiful city.

On one front, there's the Mayor, people refer to him as the 'Father of the City,"who's determined to dig up the fortunately still almost pristine Melvin Jones Football Grounds, and turn it into a huge parking facility. He graciously showed us artist's renditions of his vision and they weren't a pretty site. Out of all the possible sites for a parking facility, which, admittedly, the city badly needs, why there? History books tell us that Daniel Burnham chose to turn the biggest piece of level land in the proposed site for the American hill station at the turn of the 20th century into a public park. The Melvin Jones Grounds make up much of that biggest piece of level land. Not only is the Melvin Jones Grounds part of Burnham Park, it IS, in fact, Burnham Park.

We must do what we can to stop the rape of our city's heritage. The proposed parking facility at the Melvin Jones Football Grounds must be stopped.

The other front is up in Mt. Sto. Tomas. Hundreds of pine trees? That's a lot. In a city known as the City of Pines, the death of one pine tree is one death too many.

If they get away on these two fronts, we lose not only a beautiful open space, nor just a couple of hundreds of pine trees, we lose relevant pieces of the city's heritage, and soul.

I will continue to lend my voice to the movement opposing the continued rape of our beloved mother, Baguio.

Just a little bit more in life

We hope they don’t take it the wrong way. We are not pushing for the idea of pedestrianization to lessen the revenues of businesses along Session Road, in fact we believe that it would even result in more business for them. But then that’s also not the reason we’re begging them, along with the local government, to at least explore the idea. This is not about more or less business for anyone, this is about doing something to help make life a little bit better for most of us – people on foot, people who don’t have as much in life.

We don’t worry about how to make even more from one of the country’s most profitable business district, most of us just walk these streets to get to our jobs that would pay us the same whether we got there walking on a bright sunny day or drenched when it’s raining hard because the jeeps we take are barred from passing their usual route to make it more convenient for private car owners. We don’t worry about how to upgrade an SUV to an even more comfortable SUV, or what luxury car to add to our collection, we have neither.

Sure, we worry about the erroneous conclusion that Baguio is the most-polluted city in the country, tourism is one of the things that drive this city, and if our employers are earning more than usual, that’s always god. Even though most of us don’t get anything from the occasional tourism windfall, were just too far down the Baguio revenue-chain to benefit substantially from the millions who troop to our home during Panagbenga or Lent. But that report also showed how dirty the air we’ve been breathing in since most of us find ourselves in that part of town at one point or another every single day. And that’s worrying – not only for us, in fact, but also for you, at least if you’re one of those who personally run your business and spend all your business hours behind the cash register. See, you, too, breathe in the same poisonous air that we breathe.

But unlike most of you, we don’t have car windows to close and air-conditioners to turn on to avoid inhaling the fumes when it gets unbearable. We have no choice but to take that all in.

You can’t love Baguio only when it’s about promoting something that would benefit the few of you, loving Baguio is more about doing things for her that would make life better for most of her children.

And most of her children already have less in life, surely asking not to be killed slowly with carbon monoxide emitted by vehicles is not asking too much.   

Wow Cubao

Konting bilis, may pulis! Makikiraan po. Sorry po. Hindi naman siguro masakit yung pagkakauntog nung mama sa knapsack ko.

Mainit sa labas ng bus, nakakalusaw ng laman, ng lakas.

Sa isang madilim na bahagi ng iskinita, may matandang naghahapunan sa loob ng ari-arian niya. Kunyaring pag-aari. Talong metro-kwadradong binakuran ng mga karton ng sigarilyo. Nirerespeto naman ng mga kapit-bahay niya ang hiram niyang puwang sa mundo. May agwat na ilang pulgada ang katabing kartong bakod. Tulog na yung kapit-bahay niyang mag-asawa, pero yung anak nila naglalaro pa ng mga plastik na basong nakolekta sa mga basurahan sa paligid. Love ko 'to.

Kape, mainit na kape. Yosi, boss? Sabi ng babaeng naka-belt bag at shorts. Thank you, meron pa. Napilitan akong kunin ang knapsack mula sa bakanteng silya sa tabi ko't ilagay sa pagitan ng mga tuhod ko. Pakiramdam ko maraming masama ang tingin dito. Pakiramdam ko, hindi ka pwedeng malingat ng sandali sa lugar na 'to. Pakiramdam ko rin, hindi tamang pag-isipan ng masama ang mga tao sa paligid ko, pero pakiramdam ko...

Alas-9 ng gabi, umaalingasaw na ang mga bangketa dito, nagtatapon ng mga pinagkainan, pinagsawaan, pinaglawayan at mga napanis ang mga restawran sa mga kanal. Parang sa Baguio din, sa harap ng gusaling pag-aari ng simbahan, amoy panis. Boom.

Heaven's Touch nga ba yung pangalan ng masahehan na nadaanan? Happy ending? Lakad pa...

Boknoy, balut na binalot sa arinang kulay-dalanghita. May penoy din. Paano kaya nagagawa nung babaeng nagtitindang magmukhang preska pa rin sa init ng panahon habang katapat ang kawaling puno ng kumukulong mantika?

May Smart load kayo? Sabay sagot yung isang tindera ng padabog - wala! Mabigat siguro ang nilolob niya. Sa sumunod na tindahan, parehong tanong, halos parehong sagot. Padabog din. Wala, Globe lang! Ok.

Unli-rice at isang hita ng inihaw na manok ang hapunan ko ngayon. Sa katabing mesa, may mag-asawang nag-aaway yata, kasama yung anak nilang may apat o limang taong gulang siguro. Hindi maiwasang marinig ang kanilang pinag-aawayan. Walang kwenta. Bakit kasi hindi pa natin sinakyan yung unang jeep na dumaan? Walang sounds, sabi nung lalake. Bakit pa kasi kayo sumama kung mamadaliin niyo lang pala ko? Sana umuwi na lang kayo ng diretso! E gago ka pala e, sabi mo sandali lang tayo dun, e mukhang sarap na sarap kang umiinom. E hinihintay ko lang namang sabihin mong umalis na tayo. Hellooooo?!?!? Sinabi ko sa'yong mauuna na kami, feeling gentleman ka naman, sabi mo hindi ko kayang buhatin yung bag ko ng may dala-dalang bata! E bakit, kaya mo nga ba? Tangnang to! Papa 'di ba dati nag-swimming ako sa dagat? Parang walang kamuwang-muwang yung bata sa nangyayari. Pero pakiramadam ko alam niya, at gusto lang niyang ibahin ang usapan. Ang laki naman nito! Sabi nung babae. E sabi ko sa'yo yung number 1 lang order-in mo e. Baka hindi ko maubos 'to! Kunyari ka pa, ubusin mo 'yan! Mama o, kalamansi! Subo muna anak, sabi nung tatay sa boses na napakalambing. Ayoko na, alis na ko, 'di ko na kayang marinig pa 'to. .

Sa overpass, mahimbing na natutulog yung isa pang may ari-arian. Karton din ang tulugan. Sa ilang segundo mula nang masilayan ko siya, mapalapit sa kanya, madaanan siya, at minsan pang muling paglingon, nabuo ko yung araw niyang nagsimula ng mga alas-6 kanina. Nagtawag ng pasaherong papuntang Cogeo at umaasang maaambunan ng ilang piso ng tsuper. Naka bente siguro hanggang dumami na silang taga-tawag ng pasahero. Ibang delihensiya naman. Pero wala na siyang maisip. Natulala ng matagal, 'di alam kung ano'ng gagawin. Kumakalam ang sikmura. Buti na lang na-tiempong nakatingin doon nang may aleng nagtapon ng karton ng pagkain na mukhang may laman pa. Takbo, bago maunahan. Kalahating all-beef-patty-special-sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions-on-a-sesame-seed-bun-hamburger. Ayos. Gusto man niyang lisanin at lumayo sa mundong ito, ito lang ang mundo niya at 'di gaanong malayo ang nararating ng naglalakad lamang. Pero naglakad pa rin buong araw, malayo-layo rin ang narating, pero masyadong malapit pa rin. Tama na, oras na para maglakad pabalik. Ilang oras din ang lumipas. Ilang oras din ang napalampas na ang isip ay hindi nakatuon sa ngayon, sa dito, sa ako, sa bakit, sa kailan, sa overpass dumiretso, buo pa rin ang benteng kinita kanina. Lugaw pwede na. Kapag ganitong walang pupuntahan, walang inaasahan, walang minamahal at nagmamahal, ang buhay, paghihintay lang ng kamatayang kinakatakutan at inaasam-asam rin. Sa pagtulog ngayong gabi, ilang oras din ang lilipas ng 'di nararamdaman. Mas napapalapit ng mabilis sa katapusan. Dito sa overpass, matutulog akong hinehele ng pundasyon ng tulay na kulang sa tibay dahil kinuripot ng gobyerno ang bayad sa kontratista dahil nag-debut yung anak ni Napoles at kailangan ng bagong sapatos. Dito sa overpass, makakatulog ako sa uyayi ng dagundong ng tren sa ibabaw ko at sa galit na busina ng mga bus sa ilalim. Wala akong kinatatakutan, walang gagalaw sa akin dito dahil para sa mga estrangherong dumaraan, wala ako dito, hindi ako umiiral, hindi ako totoo. Wala ring mawawala sa'kin, wala rin maaaring nakawin sa'kin. Wang-wang ng bumbero, papalapit ng papalapit, tatapat ng saglit at papalayo ng papalayo. May sunog. Makakahimbing na sana nang ayan na naman ang isa pang wang-wang.

Malaki yung sunog.

Walang mawawala sa'kin.

Buntong hininga. Balik sa simula.

Wow, Cubao.

Condolences, true colors and my apology to monkeys

The city mourns the passing of our vice mayor. I personally knew him having helped in the campaign of a slate that included him twice. I remember he once mulled the idea of running for congressman (2007 elections), but decided to go for the vice mayoralty position where he believed he had a better chance of winning and being of service to the City of Baguio. I offer my sincerest condolences to his family.

But while the city mourns, his passing is now causing a stir in the political arena. Varying opinions are being forwarded as to how the political trip to Jerusalem must be played .

I looked up the provisions for succession in Local Government Code and according to Section 45 (Permanent Vacancies in the Sanggunian), “(a) Permanent vacancies in the Sanggunian where automatic successions provided above do not apply shall be filled by appointment in the following manner:”

“(1) The President, through the Executive Secretary, in the case of the Sangguniang Panlalawigan and the Sangguniang Panlungsod of highly urbanized cities and independent component cities;”

If it were up to me, I’d say leave the 12th elective council slot vacant. Whatever committees will be orphaned may be distributed to the remaining councilors. That way, not only will the city save some funds allocated for that office, but this will also get the remaining councilors to do more. I always found it odd that members of the City Council can continue practicing their respective private occupations leaving only a few hours every week for their responsibilities as councilors. Try visiting a councilor’s office on a weekday, and you’ll be lucky to actually find them in their office.

The vacancy at that so-called august chamber was created as a result of the untimely passing of Vice Mayor Daniel Fariñas. That caused the ascension of the no. 1 elected councilor in the last elections, Edison Bilog, to the vice mayoralty. No. 2 then became no. 1, no. 3 to no. 4 and so and so forth.

We have 13 councilors, 12 elected and 1 spot for the Association of Barangay Captains representative. So we’re now left with 12. That should be enough.

And now, social media and local watering holes are teeming with unsavoury exchanges between supporters and detractors, between politicians themselves, wanna-bes and has-beens and never-was and never-will-bes. It’s monkey business as usual – someone’s passing is someone’s grief and another’s gain and yet another’s opportunity. The scene’s even uglier than during actual elections.

My apologies to monkeys. Let me re-phrase that – it’s dirty traditional politics as usual.

We can see their true colors, and it’s disgusting. I hope this serves as a reminder to the Baguio voting population to be more discerning in the next elections.

When it rains, it’s four

Summer skipped Baguio this year – from the cold spell from January to mid-March, we went straight to “when it rains, it’s four.” That’s so Baguio though – bright, blue skies in the mornings and then rains in the afternoon just before sunset. But not in March and April.

It cannot be denied, climate change is upon us and if we don’t do something about it now...

I’ve started to till the lawn a few weeks ago, but progress has been very slow. After about half an hour of digging every couple of days or so, I’ve only managed to clear out an area of roughly 10 square meters. We had a concert a couple of weeks ago and things got really busy the last couple of weeks before that. But it’s summer, no rush, I thought. At the pace I was going, I would have been done with tilling, preparing the lawn for re-sodding, in time for the late May showers to keep them hydrated.

But nature had other things in mind – the rains came early this year, and the grass is making a comeback in the area I’ve previously cleared out. And the rest of the lawn that I have yet to touch has grass growing halfway up my knees already. The rosemary patch that I used to weed out every couple of days or so is now almost overrun by weeds – that’s just after a few days of continuous afternoon rain. It’s not easy to keep up with nature when she goes into hyper-mode.

Walking around town the other day, my daughter and I got caught in a torrential rain – with gusty winds that made if feel like a typhoon was upon us. Session Road got covered in a couple of inches of rain rushing down like an angry Bued River. Told her that I think I’d be better off without my leather sandals. She thought I was joking and cringed when I took them off and made a run, with her and I cuddled under a small umbrella, barefoot to cross the road. As soon as she stepped on the rain-blanketed road, her foot served as a dam and water came rushing into her almost knee-high boots. Just wanted to give you an idea of how much water was pouring down Baguio that afternoon. In summer.

So  is concreting the Melvin Jones Grounds wise? Does cutting down 182 trees for a concrete parking building make sense? How about hundreds more for a condominium? Most of the natural calamities that have been claiming lives and properties in our country recently mostly involve excessive rains… are we to make matters worse by further diminishing her capacity to protect us from such?

Just think about it.

Once more with feeling

By the time he got to the highlight of “Gethsemane (I Only Want To Say)”, a high note that most actors playing the title role in “Jesus Christ Superstar” dread, Jeff Coronado was totally in the zone – mind, body, soul –and the result was an awe-inspiring rendition that pierced deeply right into the heart of the few hundreds who were there last Saturday at the CAP-John Hay Trade & Cultural Center for “The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber – Live in Concert.”

Jeff was one of the nine artists who headlined the one-night only performance and, in my opinion, performed the performance of his life that night. With him was Ian Paolo Acosta, a regular performer at several watering holes in Baguio who conquered the stage and transitioned from one character to another with much ease playing a struggling writer in Sunset Boulevard, painting a portrait of the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees in Cats, Che in Evita and Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. Adrian Esplana, coming from a few years’ absence from the theater scene, floated on stage playing the title role in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” while Josef Ventura shone as Raoul in Phantom of the Opera before easing back onto his stool and guiding the band in the rest of the songs as drummer.

It was a struggle to hold back my tears listening to Gemma Gonzalez, vocalist of the band, Gwensi Sante, tell the story of Emma in Tell Me on a Sunday, and I was both elated to see Ryle Danganan mature as an actress right before my eyes and was blown away by her solid performance of that Cats soliloquy, “Memory.”

L-R Ryle Danganan, Adrian Esplana, Gemma Gonzalez, Emerald Ventura, Josef Ventura

Eunice Caburao wore her good heart on her sleeve and was mesmerizing as a cat, refreshing as the narrator of Joseph’s story, and haunting as Pilate’s wife. And there was Emerald Ventura, who delivered every single line, note and thought with aplomb. And Lissa Romero De Guia, back from a few years’ hiatus, a mother who easily transformed into an ingénue in Phantom of the Opera, an unassuming, humble woman who easily told the story of an ambitious, over-powering Evita and she made I Don’t Know How To Love Him sound so fresh it felt like I was hearing it for the first time.

L-R Lissa Romero De Guia, Ian Paolo Acosta, Eunice Caburao, Jeff Coronado

And these local artists were backed by an amazing band who, despite having limited rehearsals due to limited resources and time, sigh, the story of our life in the theater, breezed through Webber’s complicated musical nuances, under the baton (he actually didn’t have one, so make that fingers) of musical director Ethan Andrew Ventura – Jerrick Afaga (bassist), Josef Ventura (drums), Bryan Bandong (guitar), Patrick James Gines and Jessica Ladines (keyboards) played like a seasoned band – and except for the first three, they were playing together for the very first time that evening.

This isn’t meant as a review of my own work, for if it were I would have talked much about the missed cues here and there or the sound feedback and other technical glitches. What I wanted to share with you today is that these amazing talents are in our midst, you bump into them along Session Road taking their children to school or at the market inching their way through the crowd to get to the tilapia vendor. You sit with them in that jeep on your way to downtown Baguio, or share a shade with them picnicking at the park, and all they need is a venue, a little support from both you and City Hall, and they can help give Baguio a soul and a much more colourful, exciting and inspiring cultural skyline. And how wonderful it was to be given the opportunity, the privilege to work with them.

And performing this revue just once just doesn’t feel right. So watch for the encore when they take Baguio’s center stage in “The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber,” once again with much, much good feeling.

In between days or in today's world of "in betweens" (or turning if off for better conversation)

A short video projected on a huge screen on center stage introduced the night's performance, giving the audience an idea about what to expect for the next couple of hours. The performers enter one by one as the video played before segueing to the opening number: Masquerade from The Phantom of the Opera. Just a few moments before the first line, feedback was heard and the sound technician, with beads of sweat filling up his forehead, couldn't find where it was coming from. They could only come from the nine wireless microphones being used on stage, so with some seconds to spare, he muted all the mics, and the feedback was gone. But when they were turned on again in time for the first line of the first song, something inside that console triggered something that sent some signal that sent full reverb effect to each of the microphone which made that first line sound like it was coming from some empty gymnasium buried deep underground. It took a whole stanza before the sound was normalized.

That's the risk one takes with tech-heavy performances - if you haven't totally enslaved those hi-tech gizmos, they take over, with their mindless minds, and you become the slave, totally helpless and the only thing you can do is turn it on and turn it back on and take it from the top.

We didn't take it from the top, and with all those channels on that impressive sound console connected to some sound gadget on stage: a full microphone set-up for the drumset, an amplifier for each of the five instruments onstage, about a dozen vocal microphones... no, this isn't going to be an article about sound-engineering for dummies, this is more about turning it off and getting rid of all those things we add to the fourth wall between the actors on stage and the people in the audience, and not remembering what it's all about - a conversation between the artist and the audience.

In today's age of wireless fidelity and phones that take pictures with higher resolutions than most dedicated digital cameras and computerized lighting and sound consoles, art has become more virtual and less actual. Photos are rarely printed on paper are more often viewed on an LCD screen, music is downloaded on to a digital player that can hold practically all music that was ever composed, recorded, uploaded and listened to on expensive signature earphones... nobody misses anything, not even live performances as shown by the comments of those who couldn't make it to the one-night-only performance ("hope you guys can upload the video so we too can watch it"). The job of transporting reels of film between theaters is almost obsolete - the material is now played from a hard drive. And as if the divide between the actors and the audience that is created by celluloid isn't enough, we even put on 3D glasses to experience artworks on film. More and more people read e-books.

And as if we've totally lost the ability to experience reality without a go-between, you see people in the audience viewing what's going on onstage on an LCD screen via a phone, a tablet, etc.

We're missing the point of live theater - a conversation between human beings, first and foremost. And the less we put in between, the better we can hear each other.

And that's what we intend to do here in the coming weeks - turn things off for better conversation.