Pergola E-dyaryo, November 2008

November 2008

SCHOLASTICAN GIVING Steering Committee Daisy Barawidan Lala David Sherry David Marita Legaspi Cecile Lowlicht Sol Oca Mike Palileo Emma Villa-Real

Communications Committee Rose Constantino Gilda Fule-Prael Sylvia C.Leonard Salve Neelankavil Ronie Nieva Giocky Oca Lulut Valte

Editors Mike Palileo Yvette Jarencio

Alumna Profile

In this issue We devote this November issue of Pergola e-Dyaryo to GIVING, featuring Scholasticans who give both here and at home. As our Alumna Profile, we feature Marisa (Chiki) Chikiamco, who runs a facility in Manila called ANAWIM, a home for the aged, orphanage, and shelter for the handicapped. We feature HS ’63, THE GIVING CLASS, written by Daisy Barawidan-Lizaso, who is coordinating the SSAANA East Coast effort on behalf of Ms. Remedios Salazar. We feature Sr. Soledad Hilado OSB, founder and executive director of SSRDF (SSC Foundation for Research and Development), whose inspiring interview written by Neni Sta. Romana-Cruz inaugurates a new section on OUR TEACHERS that will be a regular feature of Pergola e-Dyaryo. Finally, we are proud to feature ALL SCHOLASTICANS, who, in midOctober, gave vivid proof that they are, indeed, givers of themselves (“Tribute to Ms. Remedios Salazar,” page 9). Marian Day of Recollection in honor of the Immaculate Conception “Let go. Let God.” Date: Saturday, 6 December 2008 Time: 10 am – 5 pm Place: United Nations, Room GA37 Speaker: Fr. Dempsey Acosta RSVP: Sol Oca (212) 286-9097 Email: [email protected] Suggested donation: $15 --------------------------SSC ALUMNAE INVITED TO COALITION-SPONSORED SIMBANG GABI ON WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2008 AT PHILIPPINE CENTER KALAYAAN HALL, NY The traditional series of novena Masses in preparation for Christmas that Filipinos call Simbang Gabi is sponsored in New York City by the Philippine Consulate on nine consecutive evenings in December. This year the first novena Mass will be held on December 10, from 6:30 to 7:30 pm, and will be sponsored by the New York Coalition of Philippine Colleges and Schools, of which St. Scholastica’s Alumnae Association East Coast is a long-time member. Overall coordinator of the December 10 event is Vivian Cruz of Assumption College. As in previous years, SSAANA East Coast will lead the singing during the Mass. Remy Leal and Sol Oca are coordinating. Venue for the Mass is Kalayaan Hall at the Philippine Center on Fifth Avenue at 45th in Manhattan. After the Mass all are invited to partake of the light buffet in the Philippine Center lobby.

MARISA CHIKIAMCO- Our Class Missionary By Elsa Lava Mapua HS63/Col67 Ma. Luisa Chikiamco is the “missionary” of our class. She is the Center Directress of ANAWIM, an open home for the elderly plus a few orphans and physically and mentally handicapped persons, a refuge of last resort. She is “Ate Marisa” to these people, but to her classmates, she is “CHIKI,” a carryover from our schooldays. Now we realize that she has lived up to her name!

C

- Caring - not only for the elderly wards in ANAWIM, but also for her 90-year-old mother, Nanay Paquita, and two adopted kids Angela (8) and Ela (2) who keep her young at heart.

H

- Helpful – to relatives, neighbors, friends, classmates, strangers who are in need. Her help comes in many forms—a meal to satisfy hunger or a craving; an encouraging word; a hand to hold while being given an injection; a bantay during a chemotherapy session; even basic medical skills, the perks of being a daughter of parents who are both doctors. In fact, she is sometimes referred to as “Doctora,” which she humorously laughs off with the comment, “I’m a quack doctor.”

I - In Charge - She is used to being “in charge” (but never imposing) when it comes to someone who needs medical attention, spiritual uplifting, emotional support, or physical nourishment. Even for our class get-togethers, it’s a given—Chiki is in charge of preparing our meals. For her, it’s no sweat. She’s a natural in the kitchen. We are served healthy, yummy, inexpensive, and innovative meals. (She uses kamias in her pancit palabok!)

K - Kindred Spirit – She is someone for whom you feel a special, almost spiritual, connection. She has a knack for sincerely looking out for what people need, like a sixth sense. But it doesn’t stop there— Chiki takes action. I’m not saying she is a superwoman, but she is resourceful in asking for help, and I strongly suspect that it is from Someone Up There!

I

- Inspiring and Infectious – Her spirit has somehow rubbed off on us. We have become partners in her apostolate, visiting the sick and the elderly; being prayer warriors or informal phone counselors; sharing goods, money, and our time— reaching out to others!

November 2008

SCHOLASTICANS IN SYDNEY Family photos from Australian Scholasticans

Mary Ann Avecilla (65/69). Married to Eduardo Relova. Migrated to Sydney in 1984, worked for Australian government until 2001. Two children: Jo Ann and Charles. One granddaughter: Isabel. Another grandchild expected this December. Above. L-R: Merle Ynfante, Myrna Horn, Marita Zamora. Marita Arceo (65/71). Married to Eddie Zamora. Migrated to Sydney in 1974. Worked for Qantas until retiring in 1997, now works part-time for a credit union. Two children: Jo Ann & Melisse. Two grandsons: Jake and Hugo. Expecting third grandchild in February 2009. Merle Arceo (60/64). Married to Enrique Ynfante Jr. Worked for Qantas Manila before relocating to Sydney in 1969. Became a schoolteacher in Sydney for 13 years, a human resource practitioner for 6 years. Returned to work for Qantas, currently in transition to retirement. Works part-time as travel consultant. Three children: Marty, Chrissy, and Stephanie. Two grandsons: Zac and Harrison. Myrna Arceo (59). Married to Captain Ralph Horn, retired PAL pilot. Not Sydney residents but live in Klamath Falls, Oregon where they own a travel agency. Two sons: Steve and Chuck. Myrna plans to be in Manila in February 2009 for her high school class golden jubilee celebration. Below: Judy Umali-Baker with husband John. Judy has been living in Australia since 1974. No kids, 2 cats, Milton and Barnaby.

Maricris Razon (65/69) with husband Lee Tolentino and their three sons James, Jerry, and Joe.

Paula (Polly) Cuenca (66/70). Married to Francis Esquivel. Migrated to Sydney in 1977. Worked in government office until 1990. Three children: JoseMari, Jobo, and Sarah. Polly runs two Filipino stores, which keeps her very busy.

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November 2008

An Extraordinary Woman By Neni Sta. Romana Cruz

way to create some meaning in our feelings of hostility was to keep Chona’s memory alive through a commemorative scholarship for underprivileged students in psychology or guidance and counseling, Chona’s own areas of professional interest. It was because of our strong sense of trust and confidence in Sr. Soledad and in the constancy of her friendship that we began a scholarship fund, to be managed by the St Scholastica Research and Development Foundation (SSRDF) of which she is founder and executive director. Sr. Soledad made us feel so welcome, though the fund had such modest beginnings. There was neither pressure nor influence to do more fundraising, even as we pressured her to select a scholar that very same schoolyear, which did happen! Twenty years after, the scholarship thrives, and each year our family receives a report on its growth and the list of its latest graduates. What yardstick of success could match the track record of SSRDF, which is governed by a Board of Trustees made up of alumnae or affiliates with impeccable integrity? One cannot be less than that, as one has to pass the “eye of a needle” or something as comparable, Sr. Soledad’s scrutiny. It is her work ethic and professionalism that produces the SSRDF Annual Report, a sample of which I had to provide a renowned university, whose officials had to apologize, rueing the (mis)management of its own professorial chairs - “Sorry, but we don’t know how to do such things!”

Sr. Soledad Hilado, OSB

One of the most influential women of my wonderful college life was Sister M. Soledad Hilado, OSB. Because she was Dean of Students when I was Student Council president, I had the chance to work very closely with her. I can hardly recall now the Student Council issues that came our way, but what the fortysome years cannot erase is the quality of the friendship and her caring. Sr. Soledad was always gentle and genteel. She saw my tempestuous self go through personal heartbreaks—from my favored candidate losing a campus election, to my forgetting a speech, alone on stage at what seemed then the cavernous St. Cecilia’s Hall, to feeling guilty because the school lost some outstanding student competition, to campus fair woes. With my bosom college buddy Bel Ramirez, we would implore her to “discipline” Cristie Ramirez (Bel’s late sister) and Jo Ann Rodriguez, those perennially contrarian girls, younger than we, who were always flaunting their Kabataang Makabayan membership. KM was the dreaded student organization of reds (would-be reds and pinkos), and Bel and I were so naïve we were ensnared in their wiles.

The gesture of such a memorial scholarship still remains the most enduring and significant of gifts to honor anyone, living or deceased. When it was wryly noted by some former students that the SSRDF seemed to be too well a well-kept secret and that it could follow in the tracks of Ivy League universities who felt no remorse about digging into the pockets of their affluent alumni, hers was the expectedly modest reply that such aggressive marketing was beyond her; she “was never trained to do that. Perhaps some alumnae can help?”

Over the years I would keep in touch, sometimes not too faithfully, but to share both the highs and lows of my life. It was only close to graduation and during the occasional visits after that when we were emboldened to tease her about her very feminine ways and whatever details from her personal life we managed to unearth—rumours that she was belle of the ball in Bacolod, that she excelled in dancing performances in her youth, and, not a rumour but a belated discovery, that St. Scholastica awarded its summa cum laude honor to only 16 graduates in all of its 100 years—and Sr. Soledad was the only one of two Math graduates to attain that feat—she, then Ester Hilado, in 1941, and Tessie Cruz in 1966. An even more recent revelation is the list of her other academic awards: besides her AB Math summa cum laude, a BSE Math magna cum laude, an MA Education meritissimus (Ateneo and UST), and a PhD Education meritissimus (UST) 1972.

The sharpness of Sr. Soledad’s mind has been evident during her many decades as school administrator. Predictably she began at the top, as School Directress in 1956, the second Filipina to be so named. She was the walking archives that answered all the curiousities of the Daughters True editors as they did research for the 2006 centennial book. Computer savvy and a wide reader, her library of religious and secular books is the congregation’s favorite resource and she continues to be active, writing, editing and preparing Powerpoint presentations, with music playing in the background. Swimming, a habit from childhood, remains her best exercise. Nothing fazes her, not even her mandatory monthly health regimen that “confines” her to her room for a few days. With her laptop and her mobile and her books, life goes on.

A member of the Benedictine congregation since 1947 and PAX awardee in 1987, Sr. Soledad is a woman WAY ahead of her time. Long before feminism was a battlecry, she made both faculty and students aware of the role of women in society. A pillar not only of SSC but also of Philippine education, she was board member of the Catholic Educational Association of the Philippines (CEAP) and actively served the Philippine Accreditation Association of Schools, Colleges and Universities (PAASCU) for 45 years as board member, commission chair and accreditor. It is a tribute to her that PAASCU has the respected stature it has today, as it is she who handpicked its executive director, alumna Chita Vallejo Pijano. In 1999, Ateneo honored Sr. Soledad with the Bukas Palad Award in recognition of her “outstanding contribution” to Catholic education.

Today, I am still very much in awe of Sr. Soledad. Who can forget her timeless words that God is always there for us, no matter what, and “To do what is right, not because of what others may say, but because that is what Scholasticans do.” When asked how she would like to be remembered, she says, “As loving you all, even if it did not look like it when you did something not so good, or I was not being good (myself).” She has not changed, and perhaps, neither have I. She continues to be a source of strength, a paradox when one sees her lean frame and frail constitution. Nothing much may have changed about her, but once in a while she deigns to say, “I read your last article. It was good.” Had she perhaps forgotten herself and simply been too generous with her words? But I walk on air for days, the uniformed, gawky Scholastican once more, wanting and needing her imprimatur yet again.

When I lost my only sister in the most treacherous of circumtances, it was Sr. Soledad who provided a way for my family to overcome its grief. Weeks after our tragic loss, an uncle strongly felt that the only

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November 2008

HS ’63: The Giving Class By Daisy Barawidan-Lizaso Aren’t all Scholasticans generous, giving, and selfless types? Generally yes. But High School Class ’63/College Class ’67 seems to be defined by its penchant for unselfconscious sharing, whether it’s initiating scholarship funds, ministering to ailing classmates, giving unpublicized financial help to deserving causes, or visiting former teachers in their sunset years (armed with their favorite things like books and chicken joy from Jollibee, and guitar and lyric sheets in tow to sing their favorite songs). Whether it’s raising consciousness for various charities, doing volunteer work in their respective communities and parishes, or simply dropping by St. Benedict’s Retirement Home in Marikina to visit old and ailing Benedictine sisters, sharing seems to come naturally to this GIVING CLASS.

Then it was Geri Picar’s turn to take ill. This pro-active and outspoken classmate chose to keep her ailment under wraps, except to classmates Chiki Chikiamco and Elsa Mapua, who would faithfully minister to her until the end. At her memorial service, an outpouring of love and stories from all over the world gave the class a glimpse of Geri Picar, this international servant who took on inconvenient assignments – U.N. hardship posts – in the most desolate places of the world. She too was a quiet giver of herself. But Aline and Geri were not the only ones aided by this giving class. A classmate’s family supported a pet project in the establishment of a home for the elderly. Classmates abroad took on de facto guardian status to newfound nieces and nephews, proof of “love in action” by the sterling members of this class. It may be one reason our classmates have been known to turn to one another and ask: “Who’s afraid of old age when we know the class will take care of us?”

After high school graduation, the members of our Class ‘63 completed their college degrees and went their separate ways, pursuing careers, seeking adventures through foreign travels, starting families, and simply following our dreams. Before we knew it, we turned Quicksilvers in 1988. It was in the process of preparing for our Silver homecoming that we began to renew ties and deepen friendships. For our Silver jubilee we added “Family Day” to our reunion schedule. We just needed to have a separate day to introduce our spouses and children to the class and to former teachers. We learned we were the first class to honor its former teachers and to thank them for helping shape our character. Unwittingly we had jumpstarted a tradition of holding a “Family and Teachers Day” at each Scholastican homecoming.

Finally, High School Class ‘63 shares a list of retiree ideas. The list includes getting involved in outreach programs in parishes and communities, teaching catechism, visiting the sick in hospitals and the elderly in hospices, or leading marriage encounter groups. It includes volunteering with NGOs and foundations by giving workshops and seminars to public school teachers, helping unwed mothers, or championing human rights of women and the oppressed. In addition, while indulging in one’s passion like golf or arts and crafts, one can incorporate small initiatives. One can use one’s resources for typhoon and earthquake victims, for orphans, for foundations and memorial scholarships. One can contribute to the many SSC scholarship funds, contributing small increments to the SSAAFI Scholarship Fund, and as this class has done, initiating commemorative scholarships such as the Sr Simeona Ricalde OSB and the Sr. Mary Sylvester Marpa OSB commemorative scholarships and other individual scholarships. Another possibility is assisting the parishes of one’s scholar-seminarians who are now ordained priests.

Fast forward to our Ruby jubilee in 2003, and Sapphire jubilee in 2008. We had become closer to each other. When our classmate Aline de Santos was diagnosed with cancer on our ruby year, the class rallied around her from start to finish, almost instinctively like true sisters. Aline lived on her own since her two sisters lived abroad, so classmates Chiki Chikiamco, Geri Picar, Elsa Lava Mapua, and Amalie Vellguth Azanza regularly checked in on Aline, brought her food, kept her company during chemotherapy, and got a doctor to make regular home visits. One day when she did not answer her phone, classmates rushed to her home only to find to their dismay that Aline had been lying on the floor for more than a day. They brought her at once to St. Luke’s Hospital, provided a caregiver for her 24/7, bought her medicines, and visited her until she was discharged. Then they brought her to her deceased uncle’s house in Forbes where she was made more comfortable in the end-stage of her life. Classmates continued to minister to her until she passed away. They prayed with her, brought her holy communion, and helped her go in peace.

Today, although retired, many members of HS Class of ‘63 are busier than ever. They give of their post-retirement time and talent, providing leadership to organizations with admirable goals and coordinating worthwhile projects. Some continue to care quietly for their elderly and ailing parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and other relatives, while taking care of their spouses and children. In whatever situation, this giving class has shared its heart.

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November 2008

NEW FOODS FOR DIABETICS* By Yvette Jarencio Broccoli with Mushroom Salad ⎯ 2 cups broccoli florets (steam for 15 minutes and run through cold water), add a dash of olive oil. 1 large button mushroom (or 2 small ones) sliced thinly, the same size as the florets. 1/2 apple, sliced thinly and then cut into sticks, sprinkled with lemon. Mix all three and dress with lemon/olive oil vinaigrette.

In having to adapt to Type 2 diabetes in 1995, I had to alter my eating lifestyle. I tried to exorcise sugar, but a sudden bout of sugar low while under medication, coupled with sudden abstinence from my favorite soda, made me realize how important it was to maintain balance to my diet. I could no longer be fueled by simple sugars but by a combination of fruit, vegetables, starches, and meats (in that order). I decided to change my approach to eating, cooking, and socializing. I compiled recipes, remembering to use “forbidden” food items sparingly. These are salt, sugar, salted meats/fish/vegetables, and tasty fatty foods. I told myself I could use these to flavor the otherwise bland taste of the “good” foods.

Fish Fillet ⎯ Lay 2-3 small fillets in a small Creuset frying pan (remember, small). Add 3 T of minced onion/tomato mixture. Add 1 T vinegar or lemon (different sour flavors result in different tastes). Add 1 T water, 1/2 t olive oil, a pinch of salt. Turn the heat to medium and let boil (1-2 minutes). Then lower the flame and cover with a glass cover. Allow to cook for 5-7 minutes. Variations: add diced bell pepper to the tomato-onion mixture. Add a dash of curry or garnish with shoestring potatoes (small Durkee can). For an escabeche taste, thicken the liquid with 1 t of cornstarch to create a sauce or add 1 T of cream.

Food consists of a matrix (the solid portion) and flavor (probably from a liquefied element). Meat flavor comes from the fatty part; I looked at meat itself as a matrix that holds the flavor. To avoid the matrix of meat and still have the flavor, the matrix may be replaced by tokwa (tofu), pasta, rice, or bread. My doctor and the nutritionist gave me a list of foods for a table of food portions and “exchanges” (read on). I made a grid “codigo” of allowed and preferred foods— actual selections and amounts to guide me at the beginning. The list consisted of 4-5 general food categories with a list under each one: fruit, starch, vegetables, meats, oil, and “free” foods. The “free” foods list included those that I could eat a lot of.

Ground Turkey Recipes ⎯ Sauté 1 minced garlic clove, 1/2 c chopped onions, 1/2 c chopped tomatoes, and 1/2 chopped bell pepper in a pan with 1 T olive oil. Add 1 lb ground turkey and let boil uncovered until it changes color. Add 1/4 c vinegar and cook it some more in the vinegar, continuously boiling and stirring so the acid boils out. Add finely chopped 1 potato or equal amount of carrots (grated or finely diced). Season with oregano (1/4 to ½ t), black pepper, 1 T lite soy or 1/2 T Worcestershire sauce. Add a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar. Cook 10 minutes longer. When almost done, add 1/2 c frozen peas, 1/2 c raisins. By this time the liquid is almost gone. Set aside and use to fill empanada, as filling for omelet (use eggbeaters of eggwhites), or as topping for arroz a la cubana (do not butter the rice, use tub margarine instead).

The grid included the amounts for each category. Fruit, for example, was listed as “one fruit exchange.” An exchange means 1/2 banana = 1 apple = 1/4 melon, 12 grapes. For breakfast, I am entitled to one fruit exchange; for lunch, 2 fruit exchanges; for dinner 3 fruit exchanges. If I do not use my fruit for breakfast, I eat it as a snack before lunch. Those little tradeoffs in the long run add up to the intake of the amount of oils required by the body before it converts the excess into tiny cholesterol blobs floating in one’s blood stream. By the way, I overcame my self-pity by maintaining a gracious lifestyle. I switched to LeCreuset 3-quart pots and 7” pans for oneperson cooking. I served myself in lovely china, as though partaking of a gourmet meal. And I took control of my eating, particularly of my rice intake.

Lettuce Garbanzo Salad ⎯ Ingredients good for one person: Half a small head of Boston lettuce 3 T garbanzos (canned variety)

Galantina ⎯ Use ground turkey for galantina instead of ground pork. Instead of chicken skin, use chicken white meat. Use ground turkey as the matrix. 1 lb ground turkey 2 pcs Vienna sausage 1 medium onion (chopped) 2 T gherkins (chopped) 12 pcs minced olives hardboiled eggs (sliced) 2 t dark soy or 4 T lite soy

Lemon Vinaigrette 2 t freshly squeezed lemon juice 1T of virgin olive oil 1 dash salt (not a vigorous dash) 1 dash pepper lemon zest 1/8 tsp. powdered mustard; and sugar to taste

Mix these with your hands then process in Cuisinart to make a fine paste. Spray a loaf pan with Pam and line with gauze. Then lay thinly sliced chicken breast. Put 1/3 of mixture at the bottom, line with strips of gherkins, hardboiled eggs, top with remaining meat mixture. Top with more chicken breast. Simmer this in chicken stock for 1 ½ hr. Turn off fire and leave in liquid for thirty more minutes to allow flavors to penetrate. Remove and drain from pot.

I share below my favorite recipes for my meals. My list is also a survival menu for those who wish to be lean and healthy, even if you are not diabetic.* This is based on my nutritionist’s food list.

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November 2008

Manila’s Magical, Misunderstood Cuisine ABE [Serendra Complex, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig. Daily, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. to midnight. Generous lunch for two about $40. Reservations recommended. 63-2-856-0526]. Abe occupies a bright, airy, and sometimes loud space in the Serendra shopping center at Fort Bonifacio, a former army base being redeveloped into a "new city" of residential and office towers, schools, embassies, markets, parks, restaurants and shopping complexes. The Fort, as Manilans call it, occupies 25 square kilometers about 15 to 20 minutes from Makati, in good traffic, that is. Book ahead because it's a favorite for after-church family gatherings; the restaurant is almost always packed. Ask your server to direct you to Capampangan specialties such as bringhe, a Malay-influenced dish of glutinous rice cooked in a large wok with coconut milk and turmeric until one side is browned. Abe serves it with tender roast chicken. When the delicate fern tips called paku are available, Abe combines them with tomatoes for a refreshing salad minimally dressed with coconut vinegar and lime juice. Abe's wonderful tilapia (a firm, white-fleshed freshwater fish) is butterflied before being deep-fried, resulting in a high ratio of crispy skin to moist flesh. The adventurous should eat it as Capampangans do with fresh mustard leaves and balo-balo, though this sourish condiment of fish fermented with rice can be an acquired taste. Check the menu's "all-time favorites" section for home-style dishes such as crispy deepfried hito (catfish), served whole with a refreshing salad of shredded mustard leaves and tomatoes dressed with vinegar and bagoong (shrimp paste), and crispy deep-fried pata (pork leg). Aligue ng talangka, an artery-clogging but swoon-worthy side dish made primarily with the fat of small paddy crabs, embodies the Pampango love of excess, while gule Magalang, a clean-tasting stew of winter squash and its vine leaves and squash blossoms, celebrates their province's agricultural bounty.

SALCEDO COMMUNITY MARKET [Jaime Velasquez Park, Bel-Air Baranguay, Makati. Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Prices for prepared foods range from 25 cents for a piaya to $8 for 250 grams of Luzon-style lechon. No phone.] Salcedo Community Market, a collection of over 140 vendors selling fresh fruits, pantry staples and prepared dishes, is a great place to begin to comprehend the variety. The market, which attracts expats, clued-in tourists, and Manilans alike—from impeccably coiffed socialites and basket-toting housewives to flip-flop-wearing college students—is held every Saturday in a tree-shaded Makati parking lot, the aisles arranged around a covered communal eating area. The best state in which to arrive is ravenous. Christian Filipinos have a passion for pork, and at Salcedo you can sample two versions of lechon, or spitroasted pig. Tagalog or Luzon-style is minimally seasoned and served with a sweet-sour sauce made with mashed grilled pig's liver and lots of black pepper. Cebu-style is stuffed with ginger and onions and eaten with just vinegar or no sauce at all (people from that central province insist the flavorful stuffing eliminates the need for sauce). Both versions boast the bronzed, crispy skin prized by lechon lovers. Bicol, a region at the southeastern tip of Luzon, means sili and gata (chilies and coconut cream) to Filipinos. At her Salcedo stall, Cely Kalaw dishes up Bicol express, a fiery dish of chopped pork stewed in coconut cream with ginger, garlic, onions, and chilies, and an opulent alimango sa gata, crab cooked in coconut cream with chilies, green beans, water spinach and pumpkin. Laing (also known as pinangat) is shredded taro leaves slowly cooked to a velvety consistency with—yes—chilies and coconut cream. CLAIRE DE LA FUENTE GRILL AND SEAFOOD [Seaside Macapagal Avenue, Pasay. Daily, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. More than enough food for two, with beer, about $25. 63-2-497-2311 or 497-2440] To have your fish prepared Filipino-style (rather than Chinese-style), head to Claire dela Fuente, located in a dampa about 20 minutes by car from Makati City. Check what's on offer at the market stalls before entering the restaurant, where you'll be assigned a server to assist with your purchases (but not to haggle -- that's up to you) and, if you ask, to propose preparations. As you're shopping, watch for lato, a variety of seaweed that resembles miniature clusters of grapes. Mixed with sliced tomatoes and red onions and dressed with coconut vinegar and the juice of calamansi -- a hybrid citrus with a lime-orange taste -- it makes a bracing, briny prelude to a seafood meal. Large fish like snapper and tilapia can be grilled on the barbecue just outside Claire dela Fuente's door, while crabs and prawns might be cooked with coconut milk or simply steamed. If squid strike your fancy, ask for them to be prepared adobo style (stewed with vinegar). They'll be cooked with tomatoes and mild green chilies and arrive at your table mounded in a pool of sauce blackened with their own ink, lightly tart, slightly salty and perfectly tender.

CIRKULO [900 Arnaiz Rd. (formerly Pasay Road), Makati. Monday to Friday, 11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.; Saturday, 5:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. (available Sundays for private parties). 63-2-810-2763 or 810-8735.] Cirkulo, a smart Makati restaurant with white-clothed tables and crimson walls displaying works by Filipino artists, makes an appropriately posh setting in which to give them a try. Chef J Gamboa, trained at the Culinary Institute of America, opened Cirkulo with his sister Malu seven years ago, and the restaurant manages to feel both upscale and relaxed (it's also extremely popular, so do make reservations). Standouts among the entrees include bacalao à la Vizcaina, a fillet of moist salt cod seared and garnished with crispy fried garlic; meaty, wine-braised lamb ribs; and paella negra, black from squid ink and packed with prawns, calamari and chunks of sea bass. Cirkulo's long tapas menu includes items both classically Spanish (baby eels thin as spaghettini swimming in chili-spiked olive oil) and Philippine-inspired. Cabeza de cerdo, Spanish for "hog's head," is actually sisig, minced pork cheeks, jowls, and other parts browned to a crisp and served on a hot platter. It's a notoriously rich dish, a pulutan (traditionally, a food drunk with alcohol) but Mr. Gamboa's version is a bit lighter than most.

[from The Wall Street Journal, by Robyn Eckhardt]

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November 2008

The Counterfeit Tourist By Tina Peralta She was a tiny Filipina, shy, frightened it seemed. She had dark hair and with eyes like charcoal. I didn’t notice her at first when my husband and I boarded the bus that would take us to the ferry for a tour of Macau. All I could think of then was how lovely the day was and how nice to be away from the frenetic pace of the office. It was a crisp December morning but rather cold even if the sun was already high above the Hongkong skyscrapers. The shops were just about to open and there weren't many people yet about, except a bent old man pushing a cart loaded with what looked like Chinese shoes of all shapes and colour. And right in front of the hotel entrance a lanky man was doing his morning taichi beside the open door of a Mercedes Benz. He was shadow boxing to a Chinese melody coming from the car’s radio. I recognized his face as the driver of the hotel limousine that brought us from the airport the previous day. My fascination with the slow-moving man was abruptly interrupted when I heard raised voices at the back of the bus and the language used was familiar. It was my own. "Oh, they are Filipinos," I said to myself at the same time looking back. That's when I saw her, half crouching in her seat and timidly looking out the window at nothing really. Although my vision was almost obscured by the backrest, I clearly saw for a split second that she was pouting. My husband, who I thought was deeply concentrated on his Hongkong Standard, remarked, "Who else, but - " with the same poker face he always wore when he was teasing me, not batting an eyelash nor removing his gaze from the newspaper. I smiled a knowing smile for he was right. It seemed there wasn’t a place in the world that a kababayan has not inhabited. Where there is work available, there they can be found. "Sweetheart, we are not in LA, we are in Makati," my husband remarked to me while we were in a shopping mall in that city. He was quite observant – the Pinoys were everywhere. We even had sinangag and tapa at a Max's Restaurant with a singer dishing out a kundiman. We also saw them gathering by the dozens on their day off in Singapore's Orchard Road, and again in Venice's Piazza San Marco pushing prams amidst the pigeons in the square, at the dining room of the cruise ship Scandinavian Queen on the way to the Bahamas, and in prayer meetings at Sankt Anne's Kirke in Copenhagen. Not to mention the chaotic bazaars of Cairo. Of course Hongkong was no different, home to thousands of domestic helpers, we met them at Ocean Park, in Happy Valley, along Nathan Road and of course in Alle Alle (at least that’s how it sounded to me), which is the Baclaran of Hongkong. So it was not much of a surprise that there were quite a number of them on the tour to Macau. "Basta, makinig ka sa akin at gawin mo ang sinabi ko.” Subtly I turned my head so that it was not so obvious I was eavesdropping. I noticed two men talking to the shy one. They were both in three-piece suits of the same cut and colour, looking like they belonged to a music band or something. One of the two, the one with a mustache and a mottled face gave the impression he was in charge. The other, very slim, with naivete showing all over his young face, looked like he was the follower and runner. It seemed they were trying to impress for they both had fake skin briefcases and were very serious-looking and businesslike. But even with the nice packaging my suspicious mind began to roll. I had always prided myself as a Miss Marple, being able to absorb minute details within the span of seconds, while doing several things at the same time. My husband dubbed it more appropriately, I guess. Busybody. Having been married to me these last few years, my husband has developed a trait of curiosity as rabid as a Filipino's. So I was not surprised when he put down his paper and asked surreptitiously, "What are they saying?" as he touched his bald pate then crossed both hands on his healthy belly to listen intently to what I was saying. "The man standing just beside her insisted that she should do what she was told,” I whispered to my then very attentive husband. “I can’t tell you more because the rest were said in muted tones." [continued right column]

We took the ferry from the main sea terminal at Shun Tak Centre, on the waterfront west of Central District on Hongkong Island. It stands over the Sheung Wan station of the mass transit railway, which adjoins a terminus for public buses coming from many parts of Hongkong. After hustling through a mass of people, our Jetfoil was riding above the waves of Fragrant Harbour, which spread before us and buzzed with luxury liners, container ships, sampans and pleasure yachts. We sailed past the picturesque islands of Lamma, Cheung Chau, Shek Wu Chau and the Soko group of islands. The mountains of Lantau loomed to starboard for half of the journey. We noticed several more Filipinas with us. As for the shy one I presumed they were in another part of the shuttle. We reached Macau after an uneventful 55-minute ride docking at Porto Exterior where again a sea of people awaited us. “All holders of Philippine passports, please follow me," a stern-looking blue and white uniformed official instructed us aliens. “I will meet you by the tour bus,” my husband calmly told me but with a worried look etched on his face as this was the first time this ever happened. I mean being asked to go into a separate room. I saw the official who gave us the instruction to follow him and as it turned out he was not with Macau immigration after all but with the tour company. "Why the special reception?" I tried to contain my sarcasm. In halting but singsong English he tried to explain. "Too many Filipinos come to Macau illegally, after work contract finish in Hongkong," he said, almost apologetic. "Our company gets fined heavily if they come with our tour and they jump bus." “You were here yesterday, why are you here again today?" the immigration official asked the three-piece suited mustachioed man in a tone that was not very promising. "Ah," he hesitated for a few seconds. "I was here on business yesterday. Today I am here as a tourist." He explained with a heavy Visayan accent as the young companion stood by silently and the shy one waited her turn albeit looking pale. It seemed to me that they did not want the immigration officers to know they all came together because they avoided even meeting each other’s eyes. Presently a man took my passport and two-way ticket and after some cursory questions stamped my passport with a bang and gave my documents back to me. I then told my husband in stark detail what transpired at the immigration while we were scurrying to board the bus. The only seats left were the ones at the very back. The shy one and the young man came in shortly after and took the seats opposite us. The mustachioed one was nowhere to be seen. But even before the young one could even warm up his seat, he was recalled by the immigration official who talked to the guide in Cantonese and we took off without the two-piece band. The shy one ended up all alone. “The Portuguese were the first explorers from Europe to reach South China by sea in 1513," began our guide after she introduced herself as May Lee, a very confident and charming lady. "They established themselves on the Peninsula that is now known as Macau." I had completely forgotten about the shy one until my husband nudged me, his blue eyes almost getting cross-eyed as he kept winking and looking sideways in the direction of my kababayan. "She's sleeping. Do you think she is one of those who is going to desert?" "But she does not have any baggage or anything? What will she do for a change of clothing?" My husband who comes from a country whose national pasttime is shopping for things they don't even need of course cannot even perceive that we as human beings can do with very little. "All her worldly goods are probably in the carry-all.” Our conversation was cut short by the announcement of the guide that we were to tour St. Paul's Cathedral, once acclaimed as the grandest Roman Catholic church east of Rome. The shy one got off the bus with us but she headed straight for the shop. She got lost under a canopy of huge multicolored parasols, which provided gaiety to a very drab and worndown building in the background. [continued next page]

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November 2008

THE FILIPINA NANNY IN ITALY [continued from page 7] When we reached the ancient Buddhist temple of Kun Yam I told my husband to go on inside without me because the incense always gave me an attack of asthma. I sat under a gnarled banyan tree feeling the essence of its past and just watched people go by, tourists and denizens of Macau alike. The shy one also stayed behind and she was standing by the iron gates. I walked up to her to strike up a conversation and try to get to know her better. Maybe I could help with her predicament, if any. In Tagalog, I asked her name and then gave mine too. Silence. I sat down again and waited for my husband, then I heard a tiny voice, "Anong oras ho tayo kakain?" I looked at my watch and told her that this was our last stop before lunch and if she was hungry, I had some biscuits. I dug into my tote bag and gave her my last provisions. Her lack of enthusiasm for touring convinced me that she was just biding time, that indeed she was going to turn illegal in Macau. She was probably going to work in a factory, working long hours with no health insurance and no social security. And because of her illegal status, she would be used and abused, sometimes beaten, possibly even raped. No one will ever know, no one will ever tell. I prayed that her future employer would be sympathetic to her plight and treat her with fairness and compassion, if indeed she was turning illegal. The Metropole Hotel was situated in the main thoroughfare of the island and was a place where unsuspecting and trusting tour groups were herded for a fast, fixed meal. It was not gourmet food one would write home about and my husband being a lover of exotic dishes was so visibly dismayed when we were served cream of asparagus soup, breaded flat fish with lemon butter sauce and papery white bread. "You should be on board this bus no later than 4 o'clock. The ferry will not wait for us and note that it is the last ferry." Our guide reminded us. "We will not wait for anyone." Everyone checked their watches against the guide's and we all trooped to the casino hoping to get back our investment on the tour. Hotel Lisboa had an old world charm and we sat in the cafe instead of rolling dice. And the conversation floated around the shy one. "She must be desperate to stay and she seems very determined too," I added. "But who can really blame her? What chance does someone like her have back home?" My husband allowed me to ramble on, my questions not requiring really any answers, for there were none. We both knew the hopelessness of the employment situation in my country, the pervading graft and corruption, which seemed to escalate with time and new players, the ineptness of its lawmakers, the injustices to the weak and the poor. Just then we saw the shy one pass looking aimlessly at the elegant boutiques. "Is she or isn't she a counterfeit tourist?" my husband asked while he relished his chocolate cake. "Maybe my imagination is running wild again. I could be wrong after all. Maybe she just didn't have anything to do today so she decided to see Macau with closed eyes and through the telephones." My husband smiled as he pushed away the empty saucer and concentrated on finishing his demitasse of espresso. After another sip we paid our bill and got on the bus, which was parked by the side of the hotel. The clock above the driver showed 1555. We were all there, except for the shy one. There was a pervading tension in the bus. 1610. By that time the afternoon traffic was getting heavier. No shy one. The guide finally came up the bus and walked towards me. Being a compatriot of the missing tourist, I guess she needed help on the psyche of a fellow citizen. I knew what she was going to ask so I went ahead and told her. "Don't wait for her," I reassured her. "She will not be going back to Hongkong with us." My husband took my hand as the bus went full speed to the ferry with one seat empty. Copyright, Tina Peralta, 2008

It’s past 11 pm on the tramcar in a northern Italian city. Few people, one spoken language: Tagalog. Probably Italians at this hour prefer riding their own car. Instead, constantly chatting, my Filipina friends are returning home after a hard day’s work. And yet there is an aura of serenity among them, which makes this gray town glitter. Aurora is working as a maid, but the family she is working with has given her a car, a beautiful room, and the keys to the house. Now they are trying to bring her husband over from the Philippines as well. “If only I could find a Filipina to work for me,” exclaims a friend when I ask him how Italians feel about Pinays. “They’re appreciated not only for their kindness, their hardworking habits, or their faithfulness to Catholic tradition. There is something more.” Yes, although sometimes sadly enough overseas Filipino workers are exploited by their families for the money they make, they are much in demand abroad, as the fresh air needed in a warm room. It’s a peaceful invasion of the kind that you don’t know is happening but it’s quietly changing the world. In the last 20 years those millions of Filipinos who have left our country have slowly started to change the culture of the countries that welcome them. Of course sometimes they end up being exploited, work long hours for little money, but when and where they are welcome, they are able to show the world the Filipino’s true resilience. Once, for example, Cardinal Sin sent 11 Filipino priests to Rome for a short course. As he did not have enough funds but was confident that God would help them, he sent them on one-way tickets. Then in Rome, one day he received a call from an Italian. After identifying himself, the caller said, “You don’t know me. I am an executive of FIAT (one of the largest corporations in Italy). I want to tell you a story. I employ a Pinay OFW to take care of my six-year-old daughter. This maid never fails to go to Mass on Sundays. Being rather close to her nanny, my daughter began to go with her to Sunday Mass. My daughter’s seventh birthday was soon approaching so I asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She said simply: ‘I don’t want any gift. I just want you and Mama to join me at Mass on my birthday.’ It sounded simple and so I said, ‘yes,’ as I love my daughter very dearly. Now I would like to tell you a little secret. At that point my wife and I had already gone our separate ways. We lived in one house but each of us was free to pursue our own happiness. We had also stopped going to the sacraments. The birthday came and we went to Mass on schedule. At church I was surprised to find so many Filipinos, who were all smiling. And then they began to sing: so heavenly! It was the most beautiful Mass I had ever attended! During the Mass I felt God touching my life again. I felt God once again—He to whom I owe so much. Well, that was not our last Mass together. We now go to Sunday Mass regularly. My wife and I have discovered each other once again. We are reconciled, and my small family is whole again, thanks to my Pinay maid. Of course the Pinay will stay with us for a long time. I have rewarded her with some cash for her relatives in the Philippines. Is there something more I can do?” Cardinal Sin cleared his throat and then told him: “In fact, I have 11 priests here with me looking for their fare to return to the Philippines.” The executive excused himself, made some phone calls and returned to his seat. He pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check for an amount slightly higher than the plane fare. Then they said goodbye. [New City Magazine, April 2008]

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November 2008

TRIBUTE TO MS. REMEDIOS SALAZAR By Clarissa (Mike) Palileo The iconic Salazar sisters. To many of us giggly, boisterous, mischievous high school girls, the two of them were giants, like the acacia trees that stood imperiously in the middle of our school grounds. As they walked by in our school corridors, we students scampered out of sight, stopping our mischief dead in its tracks, and sweating and swallowing hard, we tried to recall: Had we done our Physics homework? Did we finish our experiments? Did we check our answers in Algebra? As the years passed, we forgot the anxious high dramas of our high school days, the hellish tortures of our physics and algebra tests, and the dreaded stern looks of our physics and chemistry teachers, as we opened our arms wide to the excitement of COLLEGE! ADULTHOOD! HUSBANDS! CHILDREN! WORK! LIFE! Gloriously, the future beckoned, and we forgot about them, those two towering icons from St. Scholastica’s high school. No one knew what happened to them. We assumed they had continued to teach and had retired. We figured (when we thought about them, if we did) that they’d be in their 80s, since we were now in our 40s, 50s, and 60s (very early 60s). Then we learned that one of them had died in the States, of kidney failure: that was Ms. Cora Salazar, our Algebra teacher in junior year, the ever poised, ever immaculate, ever elegant, charming, well-dressed and sweet Ms. Cora Salazar. We said a little prayer for her when we heard of her death, and thanked her in our hearts for having taught us Algebra. And then it was mid-October 2008. So many things had taken place in the world since we left high school. Someone had invented the Fax machine. The microwave. Cell phones. Iphones. Blackberries. Treos. G3s. MP3s. The Internet. Of course, the Internet. It was the Internet that brought us news of the other sister: Ms. Remedios (Medy) Salazar. It was the Internet that swiftly had us all connected. When Ms. Medy took ill in Octoer 2008, the Internet went into action, connecting all Scholastican high school graduates from Classes 65, 67, 86, 78, 59, 56, 86, 62, 94, 89, 58, 83, 94, 96, 67, 72, 87, 58, 63, 75, 64, 68, 79, 93, 88, 73, 84, 97, 77, 70, 80, and every year in between—from Manila to Toronto, San Francisco to New York, Seattle to Vienna, Madrid to Brisbane—and in a TSUNAMI of emails, this is what we said: WHO WE ARE “I am a proud Scholastican.” (Gilda Limjoco, HS 67) “I am so proud to be a Scholastican.” (Babes Kovacs, HS 67) “I am glad to be part of the Scholastican community.” (Ronie Nieva, HS 65) “Proud to be a Kulasa.” (Elisa Banares Broder, HS 56) “Our Scholastican upbringing . . . cannot be matched anywhere else.” (Linda Gonda Raezer, HS 63) “Long live the Scholastican family!” (Patty Gabaya Candido, HS 64)

“…touched thousands of Scholastican lives,” Lappy Capistrano (HS 96) “…in charge of discipline … very stern control …” Cherie Altea Bitanga (HS 93) “… our Student Coordinator” (Jaine Catalasan Maglanque, HS 88) “Ms. Salazar’s stern demeanor … masked deep parental care” Rica Palomo Espiritu (HS 89) “… appreciate her strict mentoring, guidance and care” Maria Aldrina Zamora Ferrito (HS 86) “… teachers made us who we are today.” Amparo Lim (HS 70) “… towering lady … military discipline ….icon of grace and elegance … goal to raise competent, confident, resilient, poised and well-mannered ladies.” Sigrid Raymundo Lizares WHAT WE DID FOR HER “… fervent prayers for Ms. Medy’s comfort, strength, and well-being.” Mary Ann Benedicto Aguilera (HS 67) “… make her life as comfortable as possible” Cecilia Viola-Cruz (HS 58) “… collective thoughts and contributions bring comfort and dignity.” Ronie Nieva (HS 65) “… .we all come in unity.” Jazmin Ortega (HS 59) “… respect, love, care, and prayers.” Cecile Bunag Lowlicht (HS 69) “…prayers for her health and well-being.” Anabelle Amador (HS 78) “… prayers for her speedy recovery.” Ana Jaojoco (HS 75) Worldwide Coordination “Mila Alvarez Magno is coordinating financial contributions from abroad via checks and PayPal.” “Tet Salazar (Ms. Medy’s niece] has opened a bank account for donations for Ms. Salazar. The information has been sent out through emails. &&&& Excerpts of Letter from SSAFI (St. Scholastica’s Alumnae Foundation Inc), sent by Board Member Elsa Mapua on November 14, 2008. Dear Daisy, Yvette, and Mila: … our SSAFI board board unanimously decided …[to] open a separate SSAFI account where donations for Ms. Medy can be sent, as requested by alumnae abroad. A committee of four was formed to oversee the project: Gigi Prats; Didi Villegas; Ampy Lim; and Marilou Lim (SSAFI PRO You can be sure that this is a great team! Details of the newly opened SSAFI account [were released through our emails]. Issue transmittance/checks to: St. Scholastica's Alumnae Foundation, Inc or SSAFI …Didi will send SSAFI updates with regard to Ms. Medy. We are so happy about the support and loving concern of the alumnae and epecially to the three of you who have coordinated the assistance for Ms. Medy. Blessed to be a Scholastican, Elsa Mapua

WHAT ST SCHO TAUGHT US “… concern, generosity … Christian like …” Gilda Limjoco (AB 67) “… true love for one another” Elisa Banares Broder (HS 56) “… generosity and willingness to help” (Linda Gonda-Raezer, 6367) “… exceptional Benedictine education, the best educators, molding and guiding us.” (Sigrid Raymundo Lizares, HS 70s) WHO MS. MEDY IS “… a true icon” Peaches del Rosario Mitra (HS 63) “… shaped us into the women we are today … made me apply myself in Science classes!” Ana Topacio (HS 75).

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