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Green is my favorite color…

Hyatt Terraces

Hyatt Terraces Hotel in Baguio ceased operations completely on 16 July 1990.  On that day, a terrible earthquake hit Baguio and Hyatt collapsed.  I know three people who died in Hyatt during the earthquake - two friends of my parents and a former teacher.  Other than this tragic memory, all my other memories of Hyatt were good ones.

Perhaps my best memories of Hyatt were the Easter Egg Hunts. On several occasions, my parents took my sister, cousins who spent the Holy Week in Baguio and I to Hyatt for the Easter Egg Hunts.  I remember that, before each hunt, the ground floor of Hyatt would have on display the bunnies and chicks that would be given as prizes.  The pastry shop would also be selling huge chocolate eggs.  To build our excitement, my parents would take us there to see the bunnies and chicks and to buy us some chocolate eggs.  I have never won the egg hunt.  I usually go home with some consolation prizes and a few chicks.  My younger sister, on the other hand, would always win the grand prize of the egg hunt (but that was because someone would always help her hunt for the eggs).  The grand prize was usually a bunny and cash.  For several years, we housed the bunnies my sister won in my grandparents’ house and my grandmother would always complain that the bunnies ate her plants.

If there was a time in my life I would not hesitate re-living, it would be those Easter Egg Hunts at Hyatt.

Photo by: Lito Tesoro

Memories of the 1990 Earthquake

Nineteen years ago today, a terrible earthquake hit Baguio.  I am lucky to have survived it.

I was in high school then.  When the quake happened, I was still in the school auditorium for an extra-curricular activity.  I remember waiting for my turn to be called for the extemporaneous declamation try-outs when the earth moved violently up and down.  I felt like a ball being dribbled.   After what seemed like eons later, the earth began to move horizontally in long rapid succession.  I positioned myself beside a post and thought about how my family was doing.  Where were they?  Were they alive?  In the seconds that passed, I must have made a million promises to God in exchange for keeping them safe.

In between aftershocks, I ran down to the quadrangle, and from there, I saw that Sky World building, UB and FRB building had been badly damaged.  They looked like stacked up cardboard boxes that had fallen to one side.  Worse, students of UB were jumping from the ledge to the pavement.  Every few seconds, the earth would shake and I would wonder how long the tremors would last.  Then, the sky darken and hail came pouring down.

An hour later, I could no longer bear not knowing if my family survived the quake.  I decided to go home, aftershock or no.  I told my friend and her sister that I would walk them home as their house was along the way to mine.  When we got to their house, their older brother in turn walked me home.

When I got home, I was so relieved to know that my mom and sisters were alright.  My grandparents and my dad were in Manila at that time and we had absolutely no idea of how they were.  We were worried.  So, when my mom and I heard that PILTEL was offering, for free, the use of its cellular phones so people could contact their families, I went to its office in Session Road and lined up for five hours to place a call to Manila.  When I got on the phone and asked for my dad, I was told that he left for Baguio the day before and that my grandparents were safe.

When I got home, my dad was there and he hugged me so tightly that my ribs hurt.  He told us that he found out about the earthquake a few minutes after it happened as he was meeting with his friends from the press who got wind of the news immediately.  He drove part of the way for twelve hours  and walked the rest of the way for another eight hours to get to Baguio.

When we knew that our family was alright, my parents and I started to look for friends to see if they were alright and to find out how we could be of any help to them.

During the days following the quake, we slept outside the house for fear that the house would collapse on us when a strong aftershock happens.  There was no electricity for more than a month.  There was no water for weeks. It rained all the time. No one was selling food and we were just blessed to have ample supplies at home.  The most terrifying part of this all was that the aftershocks happened for months after the quake.  On each aftershock, I wondered how long it would last, how strong it would get and whether we would survive.  To this day, I get very tense when there are tiny earthquakes that happen.

I only remembered these sad memories of the earthquake when, for the first time in nineteen years, I saw pictures of the aftermath of the earthquake today.  I had never seen pictures of the quake before as we had no electricity and, months after the quake, I had no real interesting it looking at pictures of the aftermath.

After seeing those pictures, I am happy to be alive and to know that, during that devastating time of my life, I had family and real friends around.

After my lava trail experience with Boktor, my camera of six year, a Canon Ixus, that I  hardly ever used got soaked in the rain and died.  At this point, I should say that, at the time my Ixus died, I  started taking pictures just for the purpose of being able to post some together with my articles on this blog.  

I began asking around about a camera that could replace my Ixus.  My requirement was simply this -it must be IDIOT PROOF - because, of course, this dinosaur was going to use it.  After much debate amongst my advisers about which between a Canon G10 and Lumix LX3 was the better option, I chose the Lumix LX3 because it was smaller and it looked better.      

Since I bought my Lumix LX3, it has been on “iA” mode.  Although the manual says “iA” means “Intelligent Auto”, I think that is just the politically correct term for “Idiot Assistance”.  So, here are my Idiot Assisted shots that I took in a Japanese restaurant.

There is a scene from the movie, Memoirs of a Geisha, where the main character, Sayuri, who is clad in her beautiful kimono, stands under a cherry tree. As the wind blows, the cherry blossoms from the tree float in the air like snow. From the time I saw that scene, I promised myself that, one of these days, I would visit Japan to see the cherry blossoms.

More than the cherry blossoms, I also wanted to visit a dear friend in Japan. Once of these days, when I have permission to write about him, I will tell you all about this person who has known me since I was four years old and of the extraordinary life he lives.

I had hoped to visit Japan in April of this year. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond anyone’s control, a visit to Japan was not possible.

Since then, thoughts of my dear friend, cherry blossoms and Japan have been lost in the myriad of things I had to attend to at work and at home.

A few days ago, I had a mountain of paperwork to accomplish and family responsibilities to attend to. I was stressed and out of sorts. I had gone home ready to drop on my bed when I noticed a brown envelop on my dresser. The envelope was addressed to me but it did not indicate who had sent the package. To my surprise, the envelope contained a book, Cherry Blossoms of Kyoto, with photographs by Hidehiko Mizuno, Kayu Mizuno and Yasutaka Ogawa. It is a beautiful book and I felt very happy to receive it. I was even happier when I learned that my dear friend, who has been having many troubles of his own, remembered my cherry blossom obsession.

Perhaps someday soon I will see my dear friend and the cherry blossoms…

Two Sundays ago, I asked my dad to drive me to Sto. Cristo Street in Binondo to pick up a few boxes of fruit to give as thank you gifts.  Unfortunately, the first few fruit stores we saw were closed, and because we were hoping to find one that was opened down the street, we ended up driving through Divisoria.  While we did not find a fruit store that was opened and we got stuck in the Divisoria traffic for quite some time (and my dad was irritated at me for putting us in this situation), I did come away with images of Divisoria on a Sunday afternoon.

This image is of a small child sleeping under a cart full of slippers.

Undamages balut (duck eggs) are seven pesos a piece while basag na balut (cracked duck eggs) are five pesos a piece.

A vendor snoozing on the job.

A small boy carrying linoleum.

Goods for sale in and about 168 Shopping Center.

I grew up in Baguio with my grandparents in a house they built with their sweat and love. My childhood was a happy one because of this. I later went to Manila for college but, on every available opportunity, I would go home. I have thus come to equate home with the Baguio of my childhood, my grandparents and that house where I grew up.

Recently, my grandparents died and the house I grew up in is in shambles.  Worse, Baguio is no longer what it used to be.

As I asked myself where my home has gone, I remember my grandparents and their undying love for Baguio. My grandmother lived in Baguio for ninety years while my grandfather had lived there for over seventy years. When they were alive, they would often lament about how different Baguio had become from the Baguio of their younger years.  Nevertheless, they could never conceive of living outside Baguio.  Although I cannot put a finger to it, there is just something special about Baguio that could never be diminished by the years or decay and the lack of city planning.

I asked Tito Lito about his Session Road picture in my 26 June post and why there were so many people there at that time.  This is what Tito Lito said:

“Not a rally but guess what? It was the first and I believe the last occasion where a Canao was held along Session Rd. I don’t think your parents were already married that time. Natives filled the streets and a few bold spectators joined the Canao and I was one of them. Tapoy and Gin were on the house and because many people got intoxicated, (myself included) the Dept. of Tourism who sponsored the occasion also discouraged it! It was fun while it lasted and that was one of the pictures I took…”

A Canao!  Imagine that.  In all my life, I have never seen an honest to goodness Canao along Session Road.