Let us continue to praise the halo-halo

The mood darkened a little this morning upon my learning that the great phenomenal woman and poet that was Maya Angelou had departed yesterday--"flung up to heaven," as President Obama wrote in a statement on her passing.

Later, I perked up at the prospect of a reunion lunch (actually an excuse to enjoy halo-halo) with Chit Roces Santos, her Vergel, her tall-for-her-age grand-daughter Mona, who's missing a couple of front teeth, and the master of guffaws (he should patent them), Pablo Tariman.

Summer spells Milky Way halo-halo. My glass before it was emptied in, oh, 10 minutes.

Pablo and I like to listen to VOS expound on what's happening in the political arena, the lapses of media in reporting on what's truly going on (Pablo observes that there hasn't been a Woodward-Bernstein type of investigative reporting as far as the Napoles and other issues are concerned).

After we tucked in a healthy fish and veggie lunch, we proceeded to attack our glasses of summer's ice-cold jewels, the halo-halo. Chit though tried to fool herself into believing that going rice-less and ordering mais con hielo meant lower calories. Mona had a strawberry shake and wore a white moustache briefly that I wasn't able to capture on my camera.

Chit and I agree with our idol, Gilda Cordero Fernando, who wrote recently in her Sunday Inquirer column: "The queen of the coolers is, of course, the halo-halo. Whoever said it originated from the Japanese mongo con hielo must be deluded. Only a Filipino could have dreamed up a jeepney or a halo-halo."

Our smiles (especially Mona's and mine) read: "Orange you glad you traveled more than a mile for your halo-halo?" Not in orange are Vergel, Chit and Pablo.

Look for the sign.

Paper, pen, ink, VOS and the art of the doodle

If I can do half as good a pen-and-ink portrait the way my former editor, Vergel O. Santos, does, I think I don't have to force myself to learn how to cook and I can live on serviette art for the rest of my days. Sorry I can't use the word "napkin" even if I attach the descriptive "paper" before it.

Someone said the reason people look glum in their portraits is it's hard to hold a smile. Although I wasn't posing formally for a sketch, in the strict sense of the word, the doodler captured the surly girl in me. My partner would rather use the word "mischievous."

That's Pablo Tariman, the music reviewer and impresario reborn, on the left; it doesn't quite capture his milky and white disposition that day.

VOS drew from memory his former colleagues at Manila Chronicle: Amando Doronila and Rolly Fernandez. If this were my work, I'd call it, "Seriously, guys" or "Two serious guys and a typewriter."

To complete the cast of characters who had a laugh-out-loud lunch on People Power Day (it fell on same day as the Oscar awards ceremonies, but the lunch was repeatedly postponed so it had to go through) at the mother branch of Milky Way on Pasay Road, Makati (clockwise): VOS, his wife Chit Roces, Pablo and the matron with the downturned lips. Can't wait for VOS to finally mount a solo show.