Experience The Magnetic Hill While Passing Through Mount Makiling

 

If you want to avoid the traffic crunch at Los Banos, you may want to go over the top - that is, pass through the legendary Mount Makiling. Take a right turn at the intersection in front of the Los Banos Elementary School, before you hit the Los Banos town proper.



Drive on.
Enjoy the scenic view of the mountain.
Until you reach this point,



where the steel gates indicate the exact location of the Magnetic Hill.



At this downhill incline,



step on your vehicle's brake.
Turn off the ignition key.
Shift the gear to neutral.
And feel your vehicle being pulled backward and upward by some mysterious magnetic force.
Your vehicle will be pulled backward faster and faster until you step hard on the brake.
It seems weird. But it's amazing.

Having experienced that strange phenomenon, you may now drive on to your destination.
Be cafeful of the sudden twists and turns along the way, especially at the inclines.





Then you will pass through the Boy Scouts of the Philippines Jamboree Site.





Continue driving on until you hit the University of the Philippines Los Banos campus, where you may exit either at the main gate near Grove or at the alternative gate near the International Rice Research Institute.

Coming back, you may want to pass this way again.



Stop at the Magnetic Hill.



Set up your vehicle at the downhill incline.

And feel the strange sensation of being pulled backward and upward once again while gazing at the Laguna de Bay at the far horizon.




25 October 2011

Demolition of An Iconic Structure

Yet again, another iconic structure faces the wrecker's ball, as it were. The Benguet Center, which used to be the headquarter of Benguet Consolidated Mining Corporation, prominently situated at the corner of Julia Vargas Street and ADB Avenue in Ortigas Center, Mandaluyong CIty - designed by no less than the National Artist for Architecture, Leandro Locsin, is presently being demolished. This landmark building, sequestered by the PCGG, was bought by Equitable/PCI Bank, and was later acquired by Banco de Oro. Reportedly, the new Banco de Oro Headquarter is proposed to be constructed on this site.

Clearly, the major consideration here is to maximize the use of this prime piece of real estate in this part of the city - to be able to build even more high-rise towers in order to gain even more revenues. And this is done with utter disregard for the heritage value of the building that is being demolished. Did it ever occur to them that maybe it would be worthwhile to preserve this building and consider its adaptive re-use? Or did they even consider to construct the new towers in the vacant lots nearby to spare it from being demolished? Sadly, the preservation of notable architectural works and heritage structures takes the back seat when the dynamics of economics takes center stage once again. Let's just hope the San Miguel Building, which is a fine example of green and sustainable architecture designed by another National Artist for Architecture, Francisco Manosa, across the street will not suffer the same fate.



The Benguet Center is a fine example of Brutalism, the architectural style that fluorished in the 1960s and 1970s, that was derived from the architecture of Le Corbusier which is characterized by massive, monumental, monolithic forms, usually of poured concrete with raw surfaces devoid of exterior decoration and at times show patterns of the rough wood formwork used in casting the concrete (béton brut, i.e. raw concrete). This building, like most structures designed and constructed in this style, is suggestive of a massive sculpture - with large swathes of horizontal bands of concrete slabs interspersed by vertical concrete blocks in varying heights faced with roughly hewn dark Benguet stones that convey a stark and austere rectilinearity.



The Benguet Center, shown at the bottom left quarter of the photograph, beside St. Francis Square, is dwarfed by the recent high-rise development in the vicinity.



The modernist metal cube sculpture at the entrance, created by National Artist for Visual Arts, Arturo Luz, complements the massive sculptural form of the building.



The hapless building being brutally massacred by a backhoe a la Ampatuan.



Why don't they just blast the building in one go in order to spare it from piecemeal disfiguration? It's akin to prolonging the agony.



Reportedly, this is the exterior perspective of the Banco de Oro Headquarter that is proposed to be constructed on this site. Somebody commented that the towers look like giant drill bits. Might it be possible that the adjacent Podium be part of the new re-development and become, well, a podium for one of the towers?



The proposed towers seem to have an uncanny resemblance to the Turning Torso designed by Santiago Calatrava in Malmo, Sweden and



the Infinity Tower designed by Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill in Dubai, United Arab Emirates.


Note: All the pictures here were taken from various websites.
Thanks to the unnamed photographers.


27 February 2011

A Day in the Life of a Tree

 

While passing thru the UP Los Banos campus, I caught sight of this century-old Dao tree (Dracontomelon dao) in front of the Student Union building. I recalled that this tree became a “reluctant celebrity” of some sort, if not controversial, when sometime in 2003, the UPLB Chancellor Wilfredo David sentenced it to die by chainsaw because, according to him, it posed an “imminent danger to lives and properties.”



This Dao tree stands some 20-meter tall and leans approximately 15 to 20 degrees to the side due to its heavy crown, hollow trunk, and weakened roots. At that time, foresters and tree specialists were summoned to inspect the condition of the tree and to evaluate its possible collapse. They found out that some disease-causing microorganisms were actively destroying and rotting the tree’s base and bark. There was a large cavity at the base of the tree and there were only about four inches of sound wood around the trunk. Thus the final decision to cut the tree as it was too weak to hold its ground.



But eight years after, this Dao tree still stands, or rather leans proudly, in front of the Student Union building. Some National Commission on Culture and the Arts (NCCA) people say that Architect Leandro Locsin was inspired by this Dao tree while designing the Student Union building behind it. If this were true, and not merely another urban legend, I suppose he was inspired to design the columns of the building to look like the trunk of the Dao tree – with a flared base that tapers at the top. Talk about nature as design inspiration.





Incidentally, this Dao tree has been declared as one of the twelve Heritage Trees in the UPLB campus during the UP Centennial Celebration in 2008.



This Dao tree has survived the onslaught of several killer typhoons in recent times – Milenyo, Basyang, Ondoy, Pedring, et al. It has withstood devastating howlers in the past that toppled many trees in the UPLB campus and around Mount Makiling. And it shall remain leaning proudly to enthrall and fascinate passers-by who love trees.




04 October 2011

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An Account of Typhoons in the Philippines (circa 1900)

Here's an interesting account of typhoons in the Philippines from "The Philippine Islands" written by John Foreman, an Englisman who stayed here in the country for a while in the early 1900s.




After a typhoon on September 26, 1905 somewhere in the province of Rizal


"Commencing July 11, 1904, three days of incessant rain in Rizal Province produced the greatest inundation of Manila suburbs within living memory. Human lives were lost; many cattle were washed away; barges in the river were wrenched from their moorings and dashed against the bridge piers; pirogues were used instead of vehicles in the thoroughfares; considerable damage was done in the shops and many persons had to wade through the flooded streets knee-deep in water.

The whole of the Archipelago, as far south as 10° lat., is affected by the monsoons, and periodically disturbed by terrible hurricanes, which cause great devastation to the crops and other property. The last destructive hurricane took place in September, 1905.

Typhoons affect Manila more or less severely about once a year, nearly always between April and middle of December, and sometimes cause immense destruction to property. Roofs of houses are carried away; the wooden upper-storey frontages are blown out; ships are torn from their moorings; small craft laden with merchandise are wrecked, and the inhabitants flee from the streets to make fast their premises, and await in intense anxiety the conclusion of the tempest. A hurricane of this description desolated Manila in October, 1882, and, at the same time, the wind was accompanied by torrents of rain, which did great damage to the interiors of the residences, warehouses, and offices. A small house, entirely made of wood, was blown completely over, and the natives who had taken refuge on the ground-floor were left, without a momentʼs notice, with the sky for a roof. Two Chinamen, who thought to take advantage of the occasion and economically possess themselves of galvanized-iron roofing, had their heads nearly severed by sheets of this material flying through the air, and their dead bodies were picked up in the Rosario the next morning. I was busy with the servants all that day in my house, in the unsuccessful attempt to fasten the windows and doors. Part of the kitchen was carried away; water came in everywhere; and I had to wait patiently, with an umbrella over me, until the storm ceased. The last similarly destructive hurricane, affecting Manila, occurred on September 26, 1905."

Doesn't it read like some fairly recent news?


29 September 2011

Noli Me Tangere as a Musical on Stage

 

After having been fascinated by Ma. Soledad Lacson-Locsin’s remarkable translation of Dr. Jose Rizal’s “Noli Me Tangere,” I was more than eager to watch this dark, brooding novel as a musical on stage. I thought that it would be nice to see the novel’s assorted characters come to life – in a three-dimensional milieu that would approximate the oppressive atmosphere in the country in the late 19th century which was brought about by the tyrannical rule of the Spanish friars and the guardia civil. It would be great to watch them act their individual and collective roles in Rizal’s highly-acclaimed tragic narrative; and in a musical at that.

As I was seated inside CCP Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino, waiting for the theatre to be filled up, I surveyed the stage – almost barren except for the flight of narrow platforms that stretched the whole width of the stage. To me, it was reminiscent of an expansive adobe stair from the zaguan up to the caida of a turn-of-the-century bahay na bato or, perhaps, some steps made of piedra China as could be found in town plazas, churches, and cemeteries in some ancient locales of the country. Suspended around the rear and the left and right sides of this long and narrow flight of steps was a continuous row of panels with black frames and white translucent squares which I imagined to be stylized capiz windows. And I thought that I would be viewing the play from a window looking out to a plaza, a lake, or a cemetery; or from the outside looking through the window into the more intimate areas of a house, a convent, or a cuartel, as it were. With the starkly minimalist stage setting, my mind wandered around for metaphorical imagery.

And it was the simplicity of the stage setting with the barest props – a divan of wooden frame and solihiya, a baul and old suitcases, a worn-out harp, rattan baskets of fruits and flowers, fighting cocks, a crocodile, a banca, a bamboo raft, buntings and pennants, tombs and crosses, and such other pieces of furniture and peculiar objects that were brought by the actors and actresses themselves and strategically laid out on the stone steps as various scenes unfold - that set off and highlighted the portrayal of Rizal’s tragic tale of romance, lust, treachery, oppression, idealism, and heroism. The stage lighting had a lot to do with the imagery, as well; as it effectively evoked different atmospheres apropos of the thematic situations being illuminated.

The musical score was endearing with a hint of kundiman to set the local color and a dash of contemporary pop-rock for a feel of Broadway and West End verve. It had varying tempos, beats, and rhythms that set the various moods and characters being portrayed. Sad. Melancholic. Mirthful. Downcast. Hopeful. Loquacious. Bitter. Remorseful. Cathartic. It went hand in glove with the libretto in an engaging and mellifluous manner. The narrative of the novel, creatively transformed into elegant verses in Tagalog and expressively sung by the different characters, was vividly conveyed to the audience, who, even as they were totally gripped by the brilliant performance of the actors and actresses, were treated to wonderfully choreographed movements of the performers on stage. The period costumes like Ibarra’s black overcoat, Maria Clara’s mestiza ternos, the cotton and sinamay camisas, and the variety of baro’t saya lent an authentic fin-de-siecle ambience to the story.

There were several remarkable scenes and characters throughout the play, notably: the exhumation of Don Rafael Ibarra’s decaying corpse that was thrown by the gravediggers into the lake, the welcome party for Crisostomo Ibarra at Capitan Tiago’s house at Anloague Street, the lover’s tryst at the azotea, the picnic by the lake, the killing of the crocodile, Padre Salvi’s discovery of Dona Pia Alba’s incriminating letters to Padre Damaso, the death by a granite block at the inauguration of the school, the purported rebellion that shed blood in stylized red sheets flowing on the stone steps, the unceremonious dropping of two dead bodies hanging from above the rafters (apparently those of Lucas’ and the Sacristan Mayor’s who were Padre Salvi’s major accomplices in the purported rebellion), the strangling and aborted killing of Padre Damaso by Ibarra, the holier-than-thou pronouncements of the veiled manangs in their black baro’t saya, the intense banca ride of Elias and Ibarra in the dead of night, and such other imageries that were altogether visually appealing. Sisa, by her lonesome, or together with the pitiable Basilio, invariably tugged at the heartstrings. Capitan Tiago, singing and prancing in front of the santos on his altar, was humorous. Don Tiburcio and Dona Victorina de Espadana, with their grotesque visages, were hilarious. The town leper, symbolic of the cancer that was eating the flesh of the colonial society, was a striking image as he huddled about the stage even as he foreshadowed the shunning of Ibarra by the town of San Diego for having been excommunicated and falsely accused of rebellion. The adulterous and domineering Padre Damaso was contemptible. The evil-scheming and lecherous Padre Salvi, who lusted for Maria Clara and plotted Ibarra’s downfall, was despicable. The mysterious Elias was magnanimous in life and in death as he offered his own life to save Ibarra’s. Extreme anguish enveloped Maria Clara as she painfully learned of the unfortunate circumstances of her birth. And with the lamentable parting of Crisostomo Ibarra and Maria Clara, a great number of people in the theatre were left teary-eyed.

“Noli Me Tangere” was a sadly beautiful tapestry of a story that was marvellously woven and performed on stage. Bravo!

23 August 2011

• • Hermie Beltran Mabuti naman at nag-enjoy ka. Ganda ng review mo! Written by a "Renaissance Architect", if you don't mind my saying so, renaissance to mean multi-disciplinary.
    

    August 24, 2011 at 11:21pm ·
  • 
    

    Thanks, Hermie. I really had a great time watching the musical.
  • August 24, 2011 at 11:43pm ·
  • 
    

    Nanding Josef heartwarming review cesar ! The entire Noli cast and staff should read this ! maraming salamat.
    

    August 26, 2011 at 12:47pm ·
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     Just wrote how I felt about the impressive performance.
    

    August 26, 2011 at 9:28pm ·

Dumaguete Nights

(3 poems written sometime in May 1991

during the Silliman National Writers Workshop

at Dumaguete, Negros Oriental)

(photo by Storm Crypt from Flickr)

Night of The Rabble-Rousers

Under a mercury lamp

In front of Father Tropa’s white house,

By the sea off Dumaguete,

Gather a crowd of bystanders

Around bible-clutching ministers,

Local sages, native philosophers,

And self-styled prophets of doom

Engaged in a free-for-all match

Of rhetorics, semantics,

Home-brewed knowledge, and folk beliefs

About the myths and mysteries

Ever shrouding the life of Christ.

From a distance,

On top of the concrete seawall,

Over heads and shoulders of the crowd,

I watch with amused delight

The endless bursts of wisdom,

Strange revelations,

Esoteric facts and fiction

That send strong surge of friction

Electrifying the soggy summer night.

Suddenly the lamp expires.

The rabble-rousers do not mind.

The demagoguery goes on unperturbed.

Behind me I hear the sea waves laugh

As they lap the craggy rocks.

Swish. Swoosh. Swash.

Even the quarter moon strikes a sheepish smile

As a balut vendor cries his eggs out

And a tricycle sputters fast  -

Its passengers shouting

Obscenities at the crowd.

Night At The Breakwater

By the breakwater near the pier,

A mother and child in rags

Sleep soundly in a battered pushcart

Parked behind makeshift stalls

Selling puso, tocino barbeque, and beer

As disco music blare

From cassette players everywhere

And tricycles roar and sputter,

Weaving in and out of the crowded pier.

Passengers. Well-wishers. Bystanders.

Vendors. Hawkers. Peddlers.

Farmers. Traders. Stevedores.

Boxes. Crates. Cargoes of all sorts.

Wares and merchandise.

Tons of copra. Sacks of sugar. Rice.

Baskets of fruits and vegetables.

Clucking fowls. Wailing livestock.

A lively night market or so it seems.

Another night of pier overload.

On a roughly hewn bench I sit.

Prop my elbows on a weathered table.

And ask for a bottle of ice-cold beer

Plus three sticks of tocino barbeque.

I do away with the grimy glass,

Preferring to guzzle it out

Straight from the brown bottle’s mouth

As I relish hot bits of roasted pork

Soaked in peppery soy sauce and vinegar.

The guys beside me are getting loud.

One kicks a dog by its ass

That sends it scampering into the crowd.

Another one starts to sing and dance,

Holding an invisible mike in his hand.

The other one bursts in laughter

As he sprays with beer-laced urine

The unsuspecting rat nibbling morsels

Below the littered breakwater.

But to me, after the sixth bottle,

The moon appears to be a beer bubble

Tossed up by the frothing sea,

Now hovering between the two dark horns  –

The Cuernos de Negros,

Vaguely lending a dull sheen

On thin blotches of salt

That have surreptitiously formed on my skin.

Perfumed Dumaguete Night

Rambling down a dimly-lit street,

I hear a plaintive kundiman strain

Wafting in the night’s humid air.

I stop

And silently stand

Under the greenish bloom

Of an ylang-ylang tree

Whose sinuous fragrance

Reach out delicately

To the sad tinklings of ivory keys

Trailing out of a lace curtain

Between capiz window panes

And hesitantly clinging

To the curvilinear iron grille.

The stream of smoke

From the cigarette between my fingers

Curl up in ephemeral vines;

And, by the incandescent glow

That filters through the square

Translucent capiz shells,

Intertwine with scent

And harmony in mid-air -

Only to gently fade away

As a tartanilla clip-clops

With lovers

On a nocturnal promenade

By the boulevard,

By the sea.

Red Sea Corals

Pen and Ink Sketchbook

Palawan Sketchbook