Space of my own

I was in Mega Manila for 10 days and came back to my Baguio room and adjusted to the new changes my husband Rolly Fernandez made on our shared space. We used to have a small table between our single beds and shared a lamp for night reading between us.

Now he moved my work table between our beds and put my growing pile of books half-read, unread and intended to be read on our grandchild's table. (Wait till we hear what she has to say about this when she herself arrives from her Manila summer break.)

This is where all the writing action takes place. The blue comb is there for the purpose of running through my hair to help me think.

I like where he shoved my old bed--nearer to the window where I can have more natural light while reading or writing in my journal. As for the work table's new space, I now have windows with a view of the neighbors' greenery. I can take 20-minute breaks from computer chores and rest my eyes on said neighbors' green roofs, the pine trees and plants whose green colors are sharpened by the rain.

That he doesn't ask my permission to move things around in our room I don't mind. Rolly knows best--whether it's housekeeping, drawing up a menu, picking out items to put in the grocery cart or gardening.

As you can see, I'm not good for anything in terms of decorating space. Gosh, he even fixed my table where everything is now in place and there's a place for everything.

Grateful Wednesday!

That garden resto on a steep hill

Even if he drives an automatic car, my husband Rolly Fernandez prefers to park in his downtown office, then take a cab through winding Naguilian, Bokawkan and Ferguson Roads to get to Mother's Garden Baguio. But our daughter Kimi is the bolder driver so on the week of my birthday and her birth month, she took over the steering wheel while Rolly sat in the back seat, calling out instructions for her to drive carefully.

Carved signage

The place's patron chef Therese Jison chose a menu for us: very tender beef striploin and what I think is a new item, the Pork Souvlaki, paired with salads, mashed potatoes and vegetable sidings with a complimentary plate of palitaw and vanilla ice cream overload for the not so little one Kai.

It was the start of the garden resto's renovation season since the rainy days meant fewer customers. We were the only ones present--the only humans. In their cages were the resident rabbits, chickens, pig (the celebrated Michelle), an eagle healed from injury, quails and pigeons. The waiting and kitchen staff was attentive, and I pointed out to my kids that the veggies we were eating were freshly plucked from the garden. I don't know if it was my mother's tone, but they finished everything.

Here are pictures of that family sanctuary in Quezon Hill, Baguio, taken by Rolly on one of our earlier visits.

Salad garden

Mamma Mia Cafe

Michelle the pig who will grow to a ripe old age and never be slaughtered for her meat

A harvest of carrots

Statue of St. Francis--the owner is a devotee

Sungkaan corner

Ribs and gravy

Palitaw

Peach melba

Feasting on our lives

I have Edna Z. Manlapaz to thank for a copy of this poem. It was the memento she left us with last Friday when the First Draft group of writers met for a long-delayed reunion. It happened to be the birth month of Gilda Cordero Fernando, Fe Arriola and myself so we each got a Costa Brava cake from Mariel Francisco. Mariel made sure we each had a photo with Gilda to remember the day by.

Then we did feasting while we shared stories of lives, work, health. Edna's choice of poem was apropos.

LOVE AFTER LOVE
By Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger
who was your self.
Give wine, give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger
who has loved you all your life...

Sit. Feast on your life.

With Gilda Cordero Fernando

Kai captures Ili Ay Cordillera

Instead of bringing her seven-year-old kid Kai Mykonos straight home after school, my daughter Kimi Fernandez and I decided to bring her to the fair that is "Ili Ay Cordillera" (to mean "Cordillera village" in the Igorot language). This opened yesterday afternoon on the Camp John Hay grounds.

There was music from Karlo Marko Altomonte's Open Space Productions with his sons Aeneas and Leon on the guitars. There was scent of pinewood being burned in the middle of a dap-ayan, scent of burned pig flesh and more and more sights and sounds to fill the senses.

Earlier, as we entered The Manor at CJH, Kai got her hand tangled in my purse as she tried to fish out a digital camera. Yes, she was bent on documenting the event that will last many weekends while the dry season is still ongoing.

Ili Ay Cordillera features an Ifugao hut, the Smokehouse for upland cuisine like etag, pinikpikan and pinuneg (blood sausage), a farmers' market for the freshest stuff without pesticides, a carvers' shed, a weavers' hut, an artisans' corner.

There was a beautiful documentary by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, "Mountain Spirits: Textiles and Folk Art of the Cordilleras and Ilocos," which was shown on a big screen. One hoped that it would have repeated showings while the village is still up. It was the kind of docu that instilled pride in one's people and one's place in the world.

Enough writing and talking. Let Kai tell her story in pictures.

Manong at the carvers' shed

Cushions at the dap-ayan

Fill your timeline with them--flowers

Karlo Marko Altomonte (right)

Aeneas Altomonte

Ifugao hut the construction of which is "a feat of indigenous architectural, engineering and woodcarving skills," from the Ili Ay Cordillera brochure

Bags and weavings for sale below the hut

Horsewoman

Dried pine cone

Feathered friend

Another feathered friend

Pine stand

Succulents for sale

Heads of roast pigs

Dream catchers and other thingamajigs, including unicorn bonnets

Opening night party

The backs of dancers

Carmencita Sipin Aspiras and the art of the piano

Cover of Carmencita "Chita" Aspiras' CD

We've been pen pals since 2015, my Ate Chita and I. Handwritten missives have crossed the Pacific Ocean from my Pasig mailing addy to her home in Fremont, California, and back. Our professional relationship started when I was asked to edit her memoir "At the Piano and Beyond" which is scheduled for a second printing.

I get a rush whenever I see her familiar handwriting on an envelop. Her penmanship has a distinctive quiver which she attributes to what her doctors call "basic tremors." It is not Parkinson's disease. It is just basic tremors that may be due to the body's decline.

She assures me that the tremors haven't affected her piano playing in the least bit or her ability to memorize lengthy pieces. On the contrary, at every homecoming recital, usually organized by the Cultural Arts Events Organizer (CAEO) made up of Al Andres and Joseph Uy, she gets better and astonishes new and old audiences with her capacity to give the music Masters their due. And that rich, sonorous sound she coaxes from her instrument can only come from her; she has a unique way of attacking the keys.

She is one of those musicians for whom retirement is an insipid word. In her recently released CD of piano works by Rachmaninoff-Kocsis, Schubert and Brahms, the biographical note on her has her saying when she would retire from public performance and piano pedagogy: "I remain a student who continues to learn. Music is an eternal world of beauty, too vast to explore."

In her interview with young writer Joyce Tan, also found in the CD liner notes, Ate Chita continues to talk about the transcendence of music: "No other chore or activity can transport someone into the spiritual realm."

Congratulations to all the people behind the CD project, especially the HSTL Foundation for the Piano for producing it in line with its mission to promote and maintain "the Filipino public's interest in the art of the piano."

With Ate Chita Aspiras at Sunshine Place in Makati where she held a masterclass for piano majors and graduates last year

4 besties and 3 cups of gelato

An embarrassment of creamy richness!

At first the idea of having an ice cream parlor or a gelato shop in Baguio seemed as silly as carrying coals to Newcastle. And opening in February when the temperature in the city hovers between 11 to 14 degrees C in the evening and at certain times in the morning while people are bundled up like it's spring or fall in another country?

Yet people are streaming in at the newly opened Monte Gelati inside the Albergo Hotel on Villamor Drive And not just because the tables at Amare la cucina are already full and the owner/s just had to open another room for the spillover crowd.

Each time our small family of four eats out, we consult the youngest member, Kai, who pipes up heartily, "Amare!" Like the restaurant's name, she loves its pesto pasta and pizza Margherita. When budget allows and appetites are not appeased, we have the fall-off-the-bones ribs, too. The mint gelato is always an order for one with a request for four teaspoons.

With a mural of a snow-covered part of..well, I'm guessing it's the Alpine region. The caricature of the mustachioed gentleman offering a cone of gelati of different flavor is that of the Amare and Monte Gelati owner

But when we saw that Monte Gelati was open, we decided on feasting our eyes on the colors of the frozen desserts first, accepting free tastings before choosing what we'd each have. Our daughter Kimi and her Kai shared a cup of cookie butter. I went for something safe like the mango. Rolly Fernandez had his fave rum raisin, the flavor he goes for when we're in Pasig and hanging out at Poco Deli.

According to the waiting staff who served us, Amare's adventurous owner is initially introducing 16 (!!!) flavors to include biscotti, Red Horse, mango, rum raisin, cookie butter, mint, Amarena, matcha, strawberry, chocolate, dark chocolate, nutella, guyabano, dragonfruit, pistachio and Cabernet, the last to mean Cabernet Sauvignon with strong hints of red wine?

It seemed to me a perfect way to get tipsy after a hearty Eye-talian meal. Thank you, Amare, for giving us good reason to return.

Date night for two old fogies in a clean, well-lighted place

Photos by Kimi Fernandez

When Sonny gets blue

The then newlywed Romeros, Sonny and pretty Babes, in the Seventies Photo from Sonny's Facebook account

Another dearly beloved joined the Light at 5 p.m. Windsor time--Ramon "Sonny" Lolarga Romero, glass sculptor, husband, father, grandpop, cousin to a multitude of Lolargas, Romeros and Valdellons.

A few weeks ago, we, his cousins, learned that Sonny was bedridden, weighed less than a hundred pounds and was hardly taking in food. It was a matter of time and up to God's will. Meanwhile, my brother Junic in another part of wintry Canada gave updates on email to tell us how Sonny was faring. Then came the call for old photos of Sonny in what we thought was some kind of digital memorial album that his wife Baves was preparing for any eventuality.

The time has come for Sonny to be spoken of in the past tense. But he lives in these pictures of him as a babe on our grandfather Enrique Acosta Lolarga's knee and as a boy declaiming an oratorical piece at our grandmother Telesfora Cariño Lolarga's house in Lower Brookside, Baguio.

Lolarga ancestors. That's long-haired Sonny on Lolo Laki's knee.

The young orator

Sonny the graduate

Yesterday, my siblings and I hosted a bienvenida lunch at Cafe Juanita for Sonny's younger bro Henry, who's based in Los Angeles. Sonny was among the subjects of our conversation--how long he would last in what appeared to be a losing battle with cancer, what Henry would do in case the call came that Sonny was gone.

We grasped at glimmers of hope. Henry just had a conversation with his kuya wherein the ailing brother agreed to hang on until Henry could return to North America. Henry wondered if Sonny's tone could have meant he was being considerate and assuring up to the very end even if he knew he had little time left and just wanted Henry to enjoy his Philippine stay until next month, not encumbering him with death watch duty.

Now the Sonny memories are flooding back--his "Laugh-in" jokes at Christmas reunions when he had us in stitches, his being adept at the drums (he used to play in a band or combo as we called them in the Sixties, and, like Ringo Starr, he steadily played the beat and the rest of the musicians followed), his taking up Fine Arts at the University of the East and later producing marvelous glass sculptures of various animals in Canada.

Henry Romero, our honoree, on my right at yesterday's lunch

It's still a full moon, I think, tonight. I'll be looking at the moon, and I'll be seeing you, Sonny Boy

Missing Linc

Lincoln Rex Q. Drilon with his guitar Photo from the Facebook of Chit Drilon

Already the sting of his sudden departure--dying peacefully in his sleep yesterday morning--is beginning to sink in. I'm writing this as fast as I can to catch the whirl of memories Linc left behind while it's still fresh.

Lincoln Rex Quimpo Drilon was more than a friend and extended family member. He was companion and troubadour to many of life's milestones. He sang "My Foolish Heart," the theme song of my parents, at Mom's 75th birthday, bringing her to tears. At Rolly Fernandez's and my silver wedding jubilee in 2009 he emceed the program of songs and piano music, sitting beside writer Pablo Tariman so the latter could get through the song "Some Enchanted Evening." At my daughter Kimi Fernandez's baby shower in 2011, Linc was there to croon "Moon River" to the infant still in the mother's womb.

But Linc was many other splendored things besides being a fine emcee and crooner. He was a terrific fundraiser for quixotic causes, whether it's for an ailing friend or for keeping the environment clean and green. He was there, ready with the mic or his guitar. He even had a short-lived project called Club Nostalgia where like-minded individuals with a yen for singing old songs gathered for a drink and a turn at the mic.

Rolly recalls how Linc and his best friend-sidekick Rey Maceda, a geologist, camped for many weeks at the then uninhabited Potipot Island in Candelaria, Zambales. The island's owners, Nany and Nancy Fernandez, tasked Linc and Rey with listing down the flora and fauna of the place. This meant literally counting even the coconut trees. They took their work seriously. The occasional visitor would feel surprised to see numbers on tree trunks.

After a hard day's work, the two settled down to drink. For pulutan Linc skillfully filleted and deboned fish which he turned into sashimi. Whatta layp it was!

One of the few things I am proud of is introducing Linc to the great photographer of the Cordillera, Tommy Hafalla, another of my favorite guys. The two struck up a unique friendship while climbing mountains in the Cordi on a Museum of Man project.

His devotion to wife Maria Esperanza P. Drilon, nicknamed Chit, is the stuff of legend among us. If memory serves, during a marital spat, he wooed her back in Lincoln fashion. In a restaurant or club in Cubao, he "conspired" with Bobi Valenzuela to have "Seventh Dawn," apparently the couple's theme song, played over and over in the sound system as Linc danced a slow drag with Chit. That paved the way for a reconciliation.

You haven't really lived until you've heard Linc do a heartfelt rendition of "Seventh Dawn," a song made famous by The Lettermen. The voice is gone, but I hear it still.