Pandoraspace

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.

Other than the pine trees, I was also confronted by the Baguio fog the last time I was there.

I was driving around town with some people when a thick fog suddenly enveloped us. While the person driving us around was very tense trying to figure out whether we were still on road, I sat back, smiled and told myself that this is the Baguio I remember.

My grandmother who lived in Baguio all her life told me that, when she was a child, there were so many pine trees in Baguio that you could smell the scent of pine all over. I never experienced Baguio smelling like pine all over but there were certainly many pine trees everywhere when I was growing up.

During countless picnics in the parks, quiet walks around town with friends, and skirmishes in the playground the pine trees were there quietly watching from the sidelines.

I had forgotten about those pine trees that saw me growing up until a chanced upon them during my recent trip to Baguio. While many things I knew and loved while growing up in Baguio are gone, some of the pine trees of old remain. Just looking at them got me all choked up as I remembered a time when my grandfather held my hand tightly as we stood and looked up at the same pine trees. I wish with all my heart that these pine trees would never die so I would still have a reason to keep coming back to Baguio.

Session Road

This photo of a young boy sitting on top of a sign post at the bottom of Session Road was taken by Lito Tesoro.  In the background, there is a sign that reads Bombay, which refers to Bombay Bazaar.  When I was growing up, there were no malls in Baguio and people would shop at dry good stores like Bombay Bazaar, which, like D&S Grocery, no longer exists.

More of my favorites from Rose Bowl…

Ho To Tay Soup

Sweet and sour meatballs

Lion’s Rice at Rose Bowl

Although many things in Baguio have change, my Rose Bowl Lion’s Rice is a constant and a part of the Baguio I remember.

While I was growing up, my parents took me to eat at Rose Bowl countless times. Rose Bowl is a restaurant located along Harrison Road and facing Burnham Park in Baguio City.

I vividly recall being brought to Rose Bowl past my bedtime and falling a sleep several times before the soup arrived. I remember my parents having long discussions about things I could not understand while I sat and stared at the paintings of daisies on meadows in Rose Bowl and waited for the food to come. And, as far back as I can remember, I have always had Lion’s Rice.

Lion’s rice is a dish with lechon kawali (deep fried pork chop), chop suey (sautéed vegetables of fresh button mushroom, cauliflower, carrots, fresh peas and brocolli) and a cup of steamed rice. Sometimes, I asked for a sunny-side up egg to go with my Lion’s rice.  To this day, my parents give me perplexed funny looks when I order Lion’s Rice, which I eat alone, while everyone else gets to eat “family style”, i.e., everyone shares all the dishes ordered.

The thing about Lion’s Rice is that its taste has never changes since I was a child.  Its familiar taste not only gives me comfort, it reminds me of my wonderful childhood in Baguio.