Friday, August 30, 2013

'One day I will have to write a song about that'--Alan Jay Lerner

I love stories behind stories, especially stories behind the songs I've cherished since age 11 (the age at which I saw the movie musical Camelot at the old Galaxy Theater and felt I would live that Arthurian legend in my life). "How to Handle a Woman" is one of those songs that has stayed and stayed, burned and burned.

Puwede bang bumati

My husband Rolly's 63rd birthday won't be until the sixth of next month, but I want him to see and hear this song. I think he can learn a thing or two from it. To watch that hell-raiser of a man Richard Harris interpret this song in his role as King Arthur, copy and paste this site to another tab (something Rolly, in his endearingly old-fashioned ways, would have to call in an assistant to help him sort this out).
In today's encore selection -- from Alan Jay Lerner, partner and co-writer with Frederick Loewe of 'Camelot', 'My Fair Lady', 'Gigi' and other plays -- an encore selection we often retrieve from the archives at this time of year. Here Lerner explains the painfully poignant lyrics of the 'Camelot' song 'How To Handle a Woman', sung by King Arthur at a point when he is both lost and soon to lose his wife Guinevere to his most loyal knight, Lancelot:

"By the middle of the first act, Guinevere has met Lancelot and has begun behaving in a manner that is to Arthur both perplexing and maddening. Alone on stage, he musically soliloquizes his confusion and out of desperation resolves it for himself in an uncomplicated reaffirmation of love in a song called 'How to Handle a Woman.' I had had that idea for two or three years, but I cannot claim sole inspiration for it. My silent partner was Erich Maria Remarque [author of All Quiet on the Western Front].

"He had just married an old friend of mine, Paulette Goddard, all woman, magnificently distributed, as feminine as she is female. One night when we were having dinner, I said to Erich (not seriously): 'How do you get along with this wild woman?' He replied: 'Beautifully. There is never an argument.' 'Never an argument?' I asked incredulously. 'Never,' he replied. 'We will have an appointment one evening, and she charges into the room crying, 'Why aren't you ready? You always keep me waiting. Why do you ...?!' I look at her with astonishment and say, 'Paulette! Who did your hair? It's absolutely ravishing.' She says, 'Really? Do you really like it?' 'Like it?' I reply. 'You're a vision. Let me see the back.' By the time she has made a pirouette her fury is forgotten. Another time she turns on me in rage about something, and before a sentence is out of her mouth I stare at her and say breathlessly, 'My God! You're incredible. You get younger every day.' She says, 'Really, darling?' 'Tonight,' I say, 'you look eighteen years old.' And that is the end of her rage.'

"I was as amused as I was admiring and I said to him: 'Erich, one day I will have to write a song about that.' The song was 'How to Handle a Woman' which ends:

"The way to handle a woman is to love her,
Simply love her; merely love her,
Love her, love her."

Author: Alan Jay Lerner
Title: The Street Where I Live
Publisher: W.W. Norton & Company
Date: Copyright 1978 by Alan Jay Lerner
Pages: 193-194

The Street Where I Live

by Alan Jay Lerner by Norton


Thursday, August 29, 2013

The only pork I can abide with

It's when I find the cubes of pork in an adobo especially prepared by artist Noel Soler Cuizon. He has grown up with this dish that is part of the kitchen repertoire of the Fajardo family, the same line of gastronomes that produced a Brenda Fajardo.

At a lunch he hosted over a month ago at the gallery of the Philippine Women's University School of Fine Arts and Design, Noel brought out a  long rectagular container. Was it Pyrex or Tupperware? My memory is hazy on this detail, but I clearly recall the glossy brown mass of  pork and some slices of chicken that may have looked un-photogenic but stirred something deep in the souls of those who partook of it.

A Fajardo on his maternal grandmother's side, Noel says the surviving family members have quarterly potlucks made more memorable by food themes. They've gone Chinese, Spanish, Italian, Filipino--all towards a future Fajardo cookbook project. Among the family's traditional dishes include what they call manok na pamasko (served at noche buena or the night before Christmas), basically nilagang manok with bone ham, chorizo and castañas, pochero, callos, kare-kare.

Call this recipe an advanced excerpt from family lore with Noel tweaking it here and there to improve it.

Adobo a la Fajardo


1 kilo chicken
1 kilo pork
chicken liver (optional)
equal amounts of soy sauce and vinegar for the marinade
black peppercorns
laurel leaves
dash of Worcestershire sauce


1. Boil everything  until tender.
2. Remove everything from the sauce, then fry the contents in cooking oil to get them toasty.
3. Separately fry another batch of garlic equivalent to one whole clove.
4. Return everything in the sauce and let it simmer.
5. When the sauce is almost gelatinous, turn off the heat.
6. Pour olive oil atop the stew.
7. Let cool, then store overnight.
8. Reheat when ready to serve the next day.
9. When the leftovers are about two weeks old, toast everything with additional garlic, mix them, then pour olive oil with flair!

This is my addition: Eat with the ravenous appetite of one who was gypped and is now boiling mad over the misuse and abuse of pork barrel funds.
Jay Bautista, blogger and adobo prince Noel Cuizon

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Five in a million

To quote another woman writer: "I haven't walked this way since 1986. And did we think that Kris Aquino would  be part of the deal?" The Million March Rally at Rizal Park has proven that significant numbers can be united and summoned again and post-menopausal women like us, who happen to write (Karina Bolasco, Rochit Tañedo, Neni Sta. Romana Cruz, Sol Juvida and a blogger with her crudely done poster), can stoically bear arthritic joints to make ourselves counted.    Photo by Ruth Terania

Monday, August 26, 2013

One with a million marchers on National Heroes Day

Following is a series of dispatches that I sent via SMS to Yvonne Chua and Avigail Olarte of Vera Files. These were originally posted on Vera Files' Facebook Timeline along with the other spot reports and photos of their correspondents and contributors as these came in. I just took a handful of photos because I was too busy composing intelligible dispatches without making those awful abbreviations ("2" for "to" and the like). Thank goodness for a QWERTY keyboard.

Gone are the days when you had to find a phone to call in and dictate your story to a newsroom deskperson. Said deskperson typed up the report, cleaned up the copy, sent it to the typesetting department, the galleys laid out by the stripping department, etc. Reports were read in hard copy (newspaper broadsheet or tabloid--remember those?) the next morning.

There was no command post. At one point when my feet were aching, I wished there was a temporary post set up at a Manila Hotel room where I could take five, then resume my role as eyewitness-participant. In my dreams, indeed. We worked from wherever we found ourselves while Yvonne and Avigail, receiving the reports and images at separate sites, processed these very swiftly and uploaded directly to Facebook and their website Thank you, Ellen Tordesillas, Yvonne and Avigail, for acknowledging the effort behind my small reports and letting me do what I love to do--be a reporter for another day.

Traffic along EDSA was so light that vehicles from EDSA-Shaw Blvd. enabled some marchers to reach Roxas Blvd.-Pasay Rotunda in just 15 minutes by cab. 

Taxi driver Rodel Bolivar, father of five, said, "Duty ako 24 hours, pero nakikiisa ako. Tingin ko pinaghati-hati ang pera natin ng mga mambabatas, nilulustay, kaya marami silang pera. Kung malabo na, kaya na nilang mag-ibang bansa, magtago sa isa sa marami nilang bahay. Kung di sko duty, sasama na ako." 

Olivar added, "Yung pera natin, di na makukuha. Yung mga pulitiko, sinabihan na si Janet Napoles, kubrador lang nila, dito ka magtago sa resthouse ko. Alam nung mga senador kung paano itago yung pera natin, pati na yung para sa kalamidad. Sino ba di magagalit sa nangyari? Ang trabaho ng senador, gumawa ng batas, di maging construction developer."

Olivar also said before letting off his passengers, "Ito rally ng mga maaayos, matino. Di ito yung rally-rally na madahas, na bato dito, bato roon, na bayaran ng mga politiko. Palagay ko nasa five-star hotel si Napoles, pinanonood ang mga tao, tumatawa, sabi mga tanga ang mga rallyista. Pero isang araw, lulutang na lang yan sa Pasig River."

Cab and private vehicle passengers got off at Roxas Blvd.-Quirino Ave. intersection where the boulevard was already closed. Scores of cyclists, individuals with their pet dogs on leashes and groups headed to ground zero (Rizal Park), the rallyists distinguished by ubiquitous white shirts. The easy, relaxed gait of the people made it seem like they were simply on a walk or jog in the park.

Rallyists on both sides of the boulevard opened umbrellas, a sudden sprout of colors under the slight 9 a.m. drizzle. Their pace of walking didn't pick up. 

Queues outside blue portalets, divided among males, females and senior citizens, were orderly. A janitor regularly sprayed cleaning fluid and mopped the floors, saying just don't at the hole if you're squeamish. 

White t-shirts with silk-screened slogans sold fast for P250 each. One message read: "Pinoy kami. We pay our taxes on time & in full. You, our government, owe us a full explanation."

The Eco-Waste Coalition chanted at the foot of the carabao statue while holding up walis tingting: "Korupsyon, korupsyon, walisin, walisin!"

At 9:45 am, an announcer led the community singing of "Bayan Ko."

Members of the Eco-Waste Coalition, wearing green t-shirts, held up banner a banner that read: "Linisin ang lipunan sa basura, toksiko at katiwalian."

One buyer of an anti-pork t-shirt said about the cost of the shirt, "Two hundred fifty pesos ito. Di kaya yung fifty pesos puhunan ng senador o cut nya?"

At 9:50 a.m. there were chants of: "Makibaka, huwag magbaboy!"

Another t-shirt message had the image of a politician lying atop sacks of pesos: "Moderate your greed, exterminate your breed."

An entrepreneur selling Million March commemorative t-shirts and a La Salle alumnus said, "I should've had one thousand shirts made, not 50. At two hundred pesos each, they sold very fast. I'll call the printer to make five hundred more."

A contingent of Letranites escorted by a priest in white cassock chanted: "Pogi kami! Baboy sila!" 

The Quirino Grandstand was off limits--no permit for rallyists or media to rest or look at panorama unfolding. Guards said the orders came from Juliet Villegas. Members of Women Writers in Media Now, among them Sol Juvida, Neni Sta Romana Cruz, Karina Bolasco, Rochit Tañedo, argued that the grandstand was built and is maintained by people's money.  

At 10:50 a.m. the size of the crowd was conservatively estimated at 300,000. People were egged on to shout: "Makibaka, huwag magbaboy!,"  followed by shouting "Oink!" six times, then "Ibagsak ang pork!"

While others stayed behind for the rest of the program that ended sometime after lunch when one group broke out to march to Malacañang, others ate their packed lunches, noticeably coming from biodegradable brown bags and banana leaves while some ate from styropor boxes. Others scattered to nearby restaurants along periphery of Rizal Park. A good number went to Ermita favorites like Hizon's, packed with rallyists in white. 

This couple just gave their names as Mr. and Mrs. Isip. Their t-shirts said it all.
Some marchers along Roxas Blvd. en route to Rizal Park.
Partial view of crowd from the Quirino Grandstand
Cyclists also filled a lane of the boulevard that was closed to regular traffic.
Another view of the crowd from the grandstand
Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Suddenly last Saturday...

... days before "Maring" caused a sea of devastation, old married couple Fe ("Peng") and Manny Arriola found themselves belatedly feted at a surprise party marking their milestones: her 70th, his 75th birthdays, their 45th year of togetherness.

Their daughters Oya and Ina must be congratulated again for pulling the whole thing off, leaving the couple clueless every step of the way. As late as July, their Tita Gilda (Cordero Fernando) advised Oya to at least give Peng a day's notice--the humane thing because Gilda had witnessed a surprise birthday party that really caught the usually impeccably dressed celebrator by surprise. The birthday gal was without makeup,  wearing her slippers and the Filipino woman's national dress, the daster.

The Arriola sisters kept the secret tight among at least 100 people who turned up at the Corinthian Gardens Clubhouse's east hall Aug. 17. Thanks to the cell phone, the coordinates--where Peng and Manny were at the moment--were telegraphed until the waiters dimmed the lights while the couple climbed down the steps towards the hall, expecting to pick up Ina for a dinner out. A straight-faced son-in-law led the way (later, he said he was tempted to dress down like Manny in tee shirt and shorts just to increase his credibility as bait). By this time, the guests were cackling at the sight of Manny in his get-up, down to his tsinelas. 'Twas like the daster incident, only this time a man was caught off-guard.

To whoops of "Happy birthday!", the couple strode in as the lights came on. The look on their faces was irreplaceable. When the excitement settled down a bit, Ina announced, "Now we can eat!"
Peng Arriola with Oya on her left wearing  a dress crocheted by her mom that fitted her thin frame to a T.
Manny gladly receives one of many kisses from women friends.
Peng hugs back her former classmates from St. Theresa's College.
Journalist Vergel Santos (left) heckles Manny, "Anong ginanaga mo dito?", sounding like a bouncer about to bar an intruder for not following an exclusive club's dress code.
Manny covers his  mouth, aghast at seeing fellow retired adman JJ Calero (in pink stripes). Vergel continues to ask, "Anong ginagawa mo dito?"
Yes, Manny, your words have come back to haunt you. Vergel sketches his pal and the missus.
Peng seen through the eyes of Vergel (those are his fingers showing)
The quick sketches serve as apres-dessert entertainment for those sharing this table: Chito and Mariel Francisco and Edna Zapanta Manlapaz.
Over dinner, there was a chance to read the aphorisms of Manny and the husband-wife exchanges that glued their marriage for 45 years. These were pried from the memory of Manny by Ina in the guise of her needing ice-breakers for a seminar she'd conduct. Here are some of those that decorated each table and put a smile on our faces:

"Nabalitaan mo ba yung may colon cancer na inoperahan para putulan ang colon? Semi colon na sya ngayon."

PENG (to a dinner guest): Some say I can't truly be a feminist because I'm happily married.

MANNY: Hmmm. Baka ako puede.

Habang nagmamaneho si Manny...

PENG: O, kaliwa ka dyan...Dito ka sa may kanan..Naman, ang mga tumatawid!...Tumabi ka...Naku, bakit tayo hinuhuli ng pulis?!

MANNY: Palagay ko backseat driving without a license.

SONNY: Manny, bakit tumataba  ka?

MANNY: Madalas kasi magluto si Peng ngayon, eh.

SONNY: Masarap magluto si Peng!

MANNY: Hindi. Madalas ako ngayon kumain sa labas.
"Old age is hereditary. And terminal."

"Heard about the man who told his wife that, like wine, a man gets better with age? He now lives in his cellar." 
This caricature by Manny Vailoces, reputedly the top graphic artist in the country, according to Adobo (magazine of the advertising industry), captures the chemistry between Peng and Manny. Chemistry? Let's just call it by its true name--love.
Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Friday, August 16, 2013

Acting is about bringing out the truth and requires hard work--Behn Cervantes

IN A JUST world, theater director Behn Cervantes will see to it that the law requires every congressman and senator to live along the railroad tracks for a month, so that these public officials can get a firsthand experience on how squatters manage to survive.

He still rages against "exploitative politicians who know how to use the system. We don't. It doesn't even cross our minds. The political scene makes me angry. The strongest man would have been a woman-Haydee Yorac. Now she's the kind of President we need."

When not using his "wicked tongue" to lash out at trapos (traditional politicians), Cervantes, who resigned in a huff as a professor at the University of the Philippines in 1988 to protest the bureaucratic move to kick out another theater stalwart, Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero, from the university housing ("where's the humanity?"), goes to different provinces and cities on a personal outreach program. He has been to Tacloban, Cebu and Baguio cities, Masbate and Hong Kong to share his skills.

Recently he trained and directed actors at the Central Luzon State University (CLSU) in the Science City of Munoz, Nueva Ecija, in 14 performances of "Pagbibinyag sa Apoy at Dugo," Dr. Fulgencio Soriano's translation of dramatist Amelia Lapena Bonifacio's "Walking Canes and Fans." This is the story of an ilustrado family during the time of the Katipunan.

Cervantes identified with the son, a secret Katipunero, who is found out during a wedding party when he debates with a friar. The mother's concern later turns to commitment when she offers her jewelry for the revolution's cause.

Even if he is with the board of trustees of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, he does not approve of the practice of sending Manila's cultural surplus to the provinces. "I still feel that the CCP is much too big for the country. What we should have built are smaller regional cultural centers," he said.

He continued: "Exporting Manila's culture can give the wrong values. It's here today, gone tomorrow. I've told the board, there are so many of us semi-retired teachers. What's two to three weeks of our lives if we go to hardship posts? This comes out cheaper than bringing in 40 people from Manila and charging the costs to local viewers."

His stint at the CLSU proved his point. Stage performances in the city usually run three days max. This time, the production had 14, proving that Cervantes' time was worth it.
The play would have 16 more reruns at CLSU next month as Gov. Tomas Joson III was reportedly pleased with it and wanted it shown to as many public school children as possible.

Cervantes said: "I believe in long runs. You just become better. The actors learn quickly. They use their bodies and brains to react during performances. I've realized that in an academic setting, those interested, they come. Those who don't have the necessary skills can learn the craft and use it for teaching afterwards. My hope is that I have turned artists out of the performers."

This thinking, feeling, committed director known for his bad temper "will forgive mistakes-that's human. But actors who don't give their all, who are like wet matchsticks who just don't light up, well, they brought it on themselves. I must know that I pulled out everything, that you could bare yourself. I can even joke about my gayness to get them to relax. I show the newcomers, the thespians that art is based on discipline," he said.

Some people's misconception about acting or arte is that it's only playing around. Cervantes corrected this, "It's not pa-drama or kunwari. You're forcing them to bring out the truth. This requires hard work."

He admitted that he throws less chairs and shoes directly at actors. What he hates is when actors don't improve or develop themselves. "It's like a bad reception on the radio. I hate it when I come back the next day after I left you at 75 percent the day before, then I have to coach you again to get to 75 percent. I hate tardiness. If somebody is 20 minutes late, multiply that with 54 other cast members who are late, and I tell them, 'Do not waste my time for me. I could've made my confession, gone to heaven, not hell, or I could've had one more orgasm during all that time.'"

Analyn Vijano, who is taking her masters in languages and literature at CLSU and served as stage manager during the "Pagbibinyag..." performances, said Cervantes intimidated the students in the beginning.

"We were not used to his screaming. We were scared. Later, we all realized that it was his form of motivating us to do better. Now, we miss him," she said.--Elizabeth Lolarga, first published with the head "Behn Cervantes and his inimitable outreach" in Philippine Daily Inquirer, Oct. 22, 2003.

Mr. Cervantes went by the name "behnpogi" in his email address. That picture of him reading "Do you not see the Devil" from Mila D. Aguilar's Chronicle of a Life Foretold was taken at Popular Bookstore in 2012. He didn't want to talk about Mila nor sing a song the way the other guests did, but he volunteered to read that particular poem. If his voice trembled with anger, it was because the verse reminded him so much of Juan Ponce Enrile.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Why today is writ large and larger

I've stored and expanded my collection of elephant images in my computer files for a number of years--make that since the time I earned the monicker "'Phant" in my family. 

Coincidentally, for the last two days, the house dresses I've worn had elephant prints. Two hours ago, my daughter announced, "It's World Elephant Day," and asked if, as Nanay 'Phant, I was going to treat her somewhere. No, not on Typhoon Labuyo Day, not when I haven't earned my day's wages yet. But yes, she can expect peanuts and fruits from Nanay 'Phant tomorrow.

For this gray-letter day (ha ha), I'm sharing some 'phant images saved from the Internet and lately, Pinterest, where I have a board for Animals. Lately, I've been cat-obsessed and "pinning" pictures of kittens and cats to my board. Let this not get in the way of paying homage to the gentle giants that still roam freely in parts of Asia and Africa.

Here's to the day when "ivory" will be heard only in Paul McCartney's song, his duet with Stevie Wonder, and not turned into piano keys, chopsticks and jewelry (where I first beheld ivory and its "uses").

Here's to the elephant large and larger. May our herd increase!
What a beauty even in its mother's womb!
Best kind of love: a mama's for her baby
Thanks for the boost, Ma.
Young 'phant, you don't have to throw a tantrum while Mama with a cool head watches detachedly...
...when you can tell her a pat on the head will do.
An elephant adds more majesty to an African sunset.
He ain't heavy, he's my doggie.
Envious about Elie's taut skin
This is the part in Disney's "Dumbo" that makes me tear up.
For an octogenarian, Babar is still smartly dressed; more importantly, he gives lessons to young readers.

For more info on the significance of this day, go to

Friday, August 9, 2013

888 can mean 'to infinity and beyond' or a reminder to eat fruit

It's SOP for me to check the stats on my blog every morning. The numbers don't lie, but I trust myself to keep on blogging even if page visitors in a week number four or five and no advertisements are forthcoming. All the more reason to keep the space ad-free and for me to keep this conversation going for the love of the keyboard (so pretentious to say "for love of the craft").

Last night's post was my 888th, including all the links to other people's articles and columns. Nevertheless, I want to celebrate because the numerals 888 are significant. In what way? This site,, explains why:

"888 — A phase of your life is about to end, and this is a sign to give you forewarning to prepare. This number sequence may mean you are winding up an emotional career or relationship phase. It also means there is light at the end of the tunnel. In addition it means, The crops are ripe. Don’t wait to pick and enjoy them. In other words, don’t procrastinate in making your move or enjoying the fruits of your labor."

So on this national and personal holiday, I will not procrastinate --I will finish the books that I vowed to review (part of the continuous livelihood writing projects that support "free enterprises" like blogging). After which I will reward myself with a banana. Life's good. Thank you, Blogger service!

Image from

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Exactly a week ago at this time

Gerard Salonga, conductor of the ABS-CBN Philharmonic Orchestra, likens chamber music to a conversation among friends in an intimate setting. He says good chamber musicians are more likely good orchestra musicians, too.
The string quartet plays old Viennese melodies, evokes the sight of a lovely Rosemary and the moods of love, its joys, sorrows, all contained  in Fritz Kreisler's compositions. One supposes chamber music is mainly pakiramdaman where the soloist in a quartet must rise to the occasion. He/she has nowhere to hide unlike when he/she is just one among 16 players in an orchestra's violin section.
Salonga calls the viola "the ignored middle child" among the string instruments for not being as popular as the violin or the cello. But violist Albert Magcalas Jr. draws out not just sounds but  images of a man or woman praying, pleading with God, turning away from Him, then returning with more supplications, all from the modern-sounding first movement of William Walton's Viola Concerto in A Minor.
In an alcove of the Lopez Museum and Library at the Ortigas Center in Pasig, the notes of Mozart, Beethoven and Bach are so thick and lush that the sounds seem to assume substance. They can almost be touched the same way the musicians are holding their instruments.
Gounod's Petite Symphonie for the flute, oboes, clarinets, bassoons and horns ends the afternoon's musical conversation. This audience member hopes that the performance will be the start of a series of chamber music in a museum setting. Like in the tertulia of the past, refreshments--Tully's coffee and "sioplets" or mini-siopaos--were served.         Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Geraldine & Jacqui: 2 women sparkling in August

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Not for grandma and grandpa only

Announcement from the excellent brewer of ideas herself who loves a jam of creative people, Gilda Cordero Fernando, in her Inquirer column today:

Parade of grandmas and grandpas
The Grandma and Grandpa Club of the Geriatric Center and the Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation of St. Luke’s Medical Center, Global City will hold a parade of the art wheelchairs with Grandmas and Grandpas riding them. This will be on Tuesday, Aug. 6, at 10 a.m., and will be followed immediately after by the raffle of wheelchairs to its donors. Everyone is warmly invited.

The art wheelchairs will be on display at the lobby of the St. Luke’s Medical Center, Global City until Aug. 6. (If you ask me, I sincerely like all the chairs. All are equally beautiful, and I wouldn’t mind getting any of them as one of the sponsors.)
The remaining chairs will be on auction at a date to be later announced.

Read more:

Robert Alejandro's "The Silver Chariot"
Birds and other fauna on a wheel
Mr. Alejandro signs the work that resulted in bleeding hands.
"Citigram," a collaboration of students from the Philippine High School for the Arts
Lower half of Gerry Leonardo's "Therapeutic Rolling Vehicle"
That's the chair's back plus other colorful details put together by Leonardo.
Imagine hanging your caps or hats or chokers or necklaces on Leeroy New's "Temple of Healing."
You can sit on everyone else's wheelchair, but Aba Dalena installed this mortally hurt but still peaceful-looking angel on hers. It's pure sculpture.
These rubber silicon protrusions on Agnes Arellano's "Anti-Stress Wheelchair" work like a shiatsu massage.
Noel Cuizon and Karen Flores's "Primera, Segunda, Tercera" is guaranteed to make a seated couple feel like a king and a queen "in sickness and in health."
Cat clinging on the wheel of Wendy Regalado's "Beast Friends Forever"
Io Regalado's "Ibong Malaya" gives a wheelchair-bound patient the illusion of freedom.
Io's wheels even has claws to protect the rider.
Nona Garcia's "Dextrose Art" looks simply elegant in an exhibition setting.
A rare occasion it is when Gilda grants an interview to broadcast media (Associated Press). Here she throws her arms high to show what a high she got when three hunks from Palma Hall at UP Diliman carried her on her wheelchair to a theater. That was how the idea of an art wheelchair clicked in her mind. Dr. Joven Cuanang got into the picture along with Gilda's BFF Manuel Chaves as production manager, and the public enjoyed another good ride!                               Photos by Babeth Lolarga