A number of those moments would have never happened if I was not with friends. I am eternally grateful for having them in my life. As for those private moments especially those spent with a book, I am thankful I found and bought them or someone gave them to me.
We entered through the puerta principal, the large red wooden door. It leads to the zaguan, the passageway of visitors and carruajes and calesas, which in turn ended in the patio, a beautiful space punctuated with flowering plants. The fountain in the middle of the patio served as the roundabout for the carriages. There is also the caballariza, the garage secured by arched bricks where the caruaje is parked.
I wrote something on a wall. I am one of the many who experienced inconvenience at the hands of someone I never thought would make me go through it. Breaking the silence and the inconvenience was difficult. It took me a long while before I could speak about it. My friends were surprised at the truth in my silence.
It’s said that, years before the people introduced fishing pens into the area, the waters used to be as clear as crystal. It was even potable. It’s this little piece of information that made me see Tadlac Lake so differently: no algae, no houses or resort around it, no straining the eyes to see the bottom of the lake.
I was there for two days: the first and the last. While I have done that before, it’s nice to be reminded of the stark differences between first day and last day. During the first day: there are so many books, including rare tomes and limited editions from specialty stores—you just have to know where to look; some books have discounts and some do not; and you could bump into hardcore readers and/or hoarders. During the last day: book stocks have gone down significantly; the discounts could increase to somewhere between 30% and 50%; and you could bump into people fresh off the streets that are curious about the commotion in the center.
The exhibit is called The Spirit of Budo: The History of Japan’s Martial Arts. It was arranged by the Japan Foundation, Manila and runs until September 30, 2018. It also coincides with the Eiga Sai Festival, a showcase of Japanese films at select malls and theaters at certain areas of the country.
The halls are sometimes lined with statues and statuettes. Sometimes, they have their own pedestals. Sometimes, they share a shelf with other carvings.
For years, I worked in Intramuros and passed by the place a number of times. The word “museum” at the front of the building was too imposing to be ignored, yet I rarely found them on any list of museums; I vaguely remember one article that said a visitor had to call for a schedule—or something like that.
“Because I had time, I decided to enter. It was my first time there and I found it quite beautiful, albeit a bit crowded because there were a lot of people due to the free entrance.”
Pancakes never met butter. Not on my plate. For the record, I do not hate butter. I just prefer maple syrup. And there was a lot of it there! I tend to soak my pancakes with so much syrup that it turn out soggy. Yet I was never sorry about the outcome.
The government decided to repurpose the old Agriculture and Commerce Building, which was built in 1940. Its designer was Filipino architect Antonio Toledo, who incorporated a neoclassical look to the building. Sometime after WW2, it housed the Tourism department and was its previous occupant until it was given to the museum folks.
It’s a small monument found between the Universidad de Manila and the Manila City Hall. Unless you know of its exact location or you discover it for yourself, it’s easy to miss it: the Bonifacio Shrine in front of it arrests anyone’s attention just by with its size, color, and detail. Even the stores near it and the shrubbery surrounding it could obscure it from view. And it would be simple to just see it as another marbled path.