Foot and Fire

Having a moment with the DAMBANA SA PASKO (1982) was priceless to think of it now. A Napoleon Abueva inside PICC was a treat given our hectic convention schedule for a week and it was a consolation for me for missing a museum on a Philippine museum month of October. Here, I am sharing with you some photos I took trying to capture the intricate details if this wood carving.  So far, this is the second piece of his that I saw. The first one was in the National Museum, and it was an intricate wall sculpture that deserves a second closer look. This is the transcript that accompanies the sculpture: "Napoleon V. Abueva (born 1930) Dambana ng Pasko 1982 Molave and metal 450 x 479 cm His childhood memories of life in Bohol are realized in his recurring fascination with the carabao, the workhorse of the Filipino farmer. As a child, he would create carabao sculptures in clay. As a man, the sculptor, he would keep on returning to this subject in wood, metal, and stone. In competi...

Writing Home: 19 Writers Remember Thier Hometowns Edited by Ruel S. De Vera Anvil Publishing 191 pages, An anthology of essays, poems and short stories As of writing this review, I am yet to finish four more entries: The Bacon vendetta by Eileen R. Tabios (Santo Tomas, Candon, Ilocos Sur), The Adopted Hometown by Alfred Yuson (Dumaguete), Habit of Space by Karina Africa Bolasco (Lipa) and Outward Journey by Jaime An Lim (Cagayan De Oro). Just immediately before I sat down to write this review, I read one which is closer to home: EBJ Freedom Park by Alex de los Santos (Antique) which is a poem that remembers how the park came to be when "we heard the volley of gunfire that made this park a tomb. " EBJ stands for Evelio B. Javier who was a much-beloved Antique Assemblyman and governor who was assassinated in 1986. In the poem's opening lines, the park for Antiquenos is "here is where we rise, here we bury victories." And as closing lines, the...

My first visit of Bohol was in May 2008 when I still use the film camera and the second was in November 2009 when I was able to have my first digicam. I dream of going back there and enjoy their white sand beach... I wish the Boholanos Strength of spirit.  I fervently pray that they will find new sources strength in these crumblings. Photo taken from  http://www.bohol.ph/ One of the essential virtues of travelling is wonderment. If one wanders as a task or to pass the time, one cannot embody such a virtue. In fact, there is no point in travelling when one does not have the capacity to find joy in simple things as children often do. We often associate wonderment to children, which is, in fact, very apt. Children wonder at anything from thousands of hills to hundreds of sea urchins. This is, I believe, one thing adults should not overgrow from.  All churches are the same. All mountains are the same. All beaches are the same. Sure, but it...

Chocolate Hills. This viewing deck on top of the highest hill  may now be a ruin but it surely is cemented in our thoughts  when we were enjoying the cute drops of mint hills (they're green not chocolate colored) after climbing more-than-a-hundred steps. Taken November 2009, our family entourage was joined  by my 83 year old Lola who was serenaded by Lobor River Cruise singers that day because it was here birthday  and by my nephew who was 3 years old at the time. *** The oldest and youngest of our troop posed by the door of Baclayon Church. They froze the beauty of the intimate detail of the structure with them. *** The dance troupe of Loboc was also joined by Boholanos of the community;  they are of all ages from children to grandmas... *** My Father in Bohol's Butterfly garden.  It can be everywhere but it was here where he was tickled like this. *** Bohol's hanging bridge. *** T...

BOHOL BUTTERFLY GARDEN. I wish today that I can narrate how tickled I was  when these two butterflies were placed right on my ears like earrings. yeeeeey. ***        One of the reasons I travel is because I want to write. And I discovered lately that in order to chronicle my travels itself, I have to write right away. Otherwise, the thrill, the zest, the freshness of the recollection will be abandoned to almost forgetfulness. Photos help but it is not everything there is. There is a crisp quality in one's writing when done right after the travel as well as magical feeling after putting everything down. I am not referring to insights and essays which can be written even years after as a reflection. I just miss the chronicling of what happened. Those moments one do not want to forget because they are fleeting moments. I don't even want to forget the name of the guide or places we went to. While I have a lot of backlog of travels to tell (One reason...