the love of vinyl

for serious listening, nothing beats good old analogue sound. and for the serious hobbyist, a true analogue source is unbeatable.  enter the vinyl.  cleaning and mounting the delicate vinyl and putting the needle on the record is rewarded by the nirvana of enchanting playback in a good audio system. the serious listener becomes involved in the appreciation of timbre, atmosphere, fullness of tone and the decay of each note in this columbia six eye (mono) recording of eugene istomin of chopin's nocturnes.

my DIY record cleaner using the suction accessory of VPI

playback nirvana

Aging lions return to their lair

"I now realize that many of you came from 'dysfunctional families'.  Some of you were also probably suffering from ADHD.  We just did not have the names for these conditions back then."  Ms. Tuviera, our petite high school history teacher, shared this insight, partly in jest, in an informal reunion a few years ago.  

We were fortunate to have many of her kind who through pure grit remained committed to our Benedictine education despite our deficiencies.  She was one of our strict but brilliant mentors who did not mince words with those who misbehave or slacken in class.  Mataray siya!!!  But she hammered into our thick skulls the value of learning from history.  

And, it has been 40 years since our high school graduation night when our principal, Fr. Tarci, in a last-ditch effort at redemption, suddenly herded us into the St. Anselm's Conference Hall for his memorable farewell homily just as we were about to head out to join our respective families in celebration.  He ordered the doors of the hall closed and we wondered what this was about.  We were his most difficult batch in all his four years of being principal, he said.  We made a living hell out of his life, he said.  He had a major catharsis of long-held repressed emotions!!! Well, he had long apologized for that during our silver reunion in 2001.  Personally, I was grateful for that good riddance speech.  It was a humbling experience for everyone.  For him, too, he said.  

But has our batch grown wiser?  With the beginning signs of failing health and faltering mental faculties which are further aggravated by lifestyles that are far from ideal, it's hard to say.  But our 40th reunion has become a must-attend event as many realize that they will probably not be around ten years from now. 

We grew up during tumultuous times.  We had a good view of Mendiola Bridge from our classrooms.  And we learned in elementary that you don't drink molotov cocktails and you don't find aspirin in pillboxes.  Some of us even learned how to make these bombs.  We also frequently saw thousands of jeepney drivers and student activists march up to Malacañan from Mendiola in impressive phallanxes chanting "Makibaka!  Huwag matakot!  Marcos, ibagsak!"  And we were taught to dive to the floor upon hearing any explosion; we knew how the shrapnel of exploding pillboxes and grenades behave when they hit ground and how Metrocom shoot with their armalites.   

And, we were called "martial law babies" as we welcomed an abbreviated freshman high school year when martial law was declared in 1972.  However, we were like restless lion cubs with the zoo keeper and lion tamer, Fr. Tarci, having a terrible time addressing our frat wars, our bloody skirmishes with students from Baste, the occasional exploding toilets and the occasional whiff of burning hemp in the classrooms.  (I have to point out here that many of these practices were instigated by an older batch.)  We were constantly reminded that martial law had been declared -- the barbed wire barricades at the historic bridge,  Metrocom officers in full battle gear, and the massive tanks -- but we were teen-agers with dysfunctional proclivities!  And we had to live up to how we were called in the government-controlled press: the Bedan boors!   

And so our school attempted to innovate.  Individualized Instruction came in and a pilot class was started.  This eventually gave birth to San Beda Alabang which was then called the Benedictine Abbey School.  Growth in Personhood became a new subject in the hope of putting some dint of civility to the boors.  And, we were the first school to hold elections to a student council in the so-called "New Society".  It was called the Student Coordinating Board.  And we were taught a new battlecry:  "Leadership is Service!  Service is leadership!"  And we were allowed to sit in a board of discipline right across the dreaded Mr. Blanco, Prefect of Students, and dear Fr. Tarci as they discuss the fate of erring schoolmates.  We were also one of the first schools to revive a school paper; we had free rein on content so long as they remained domestic in scope.  San Beda had to make do given the repression and pervasive fear with Malacanan Palace as a next-door neighbor. 

The lions are again going home to their lair.  We hope to rekindle friendships and to reminisce good and bad times in the usual abandon and mirth.  We bring stories of our struggles and our victories, big and small.  But like lions that have left its lair for far too long, we ache to go home.  And we have grown wiser as we now value, more than ever, our friendships, and recall the people who mattered most in our lives.     

the day i climbed the himalayas on flip-flops

other bhutanese devotees also climb up to the tiger's nest on flip-flops.  the monastery was named after the ride guru rinpoche took to reach paro, bhutan, to fight the devils that occupied the area, so goes one legend.  he succeeded in taming the tiger and made her a nest there.  (historical records show that guru rinpoche introduced buddhism to bhutan and is revered as a deity).

the climb to the monastery is not that hard. there are some steep areas but trails are mostly on gentle slopes. it's 10,000 feet above sea level, double the elevation of a favorite local mountain vacation spot -- baguio city.  the strain comes more from the thin air and how well one has acclimatized.

i had to resort to flip-flops because of blisters. i failed to use double socks when we climbed phajoding (11,500 ft) in thimphu the day before.

on a side note, fire gutted the temple complex in 1998.  it has been restored to its original splendor in 2005 and is a testimony to bhutanese devotion to buddhism.

a slipping g-string, a cheap bridge, a fallen soundpost and a piece of used sandpaper

rommel is an accomplished musician who runs a music store on matalino, a few blocks away from home.   on the wall of his shop, hanging like clothes on a laundry line, are about two dozen good quality violins and violas of different makes.  in a cabinet across are strings for violins, violas and cellos.  and on the shelves are different accessories ranging from rosin (that makes the bow sticky enough to glide and vibrate the string), to shoulder rests, etc.   in that small third floor apartment that doubles as a recording studio, he has a piano on one end and an electronic keyboard hooked up to a computer on the other. and, if you are not careful, you are bound to step on some recording gizmos that are on some "organized disarray" alongside sparkling violin and viola cases on the floor. 

the php350 string set and the three aspiring violinists

rommel was still out of the store when i arrived.  in front of the apartment door stood three young boys with two dirty black violin vinyl cases leaning on the wall just behind them.  the youngest of the trio was barely a teen-ager and he looked at me and said that he had been ringing the doorbell and no one was answering.   the second kid who was about two years older said that he just got text from rommel stating that he was already at the parking lot below.   i asked what they were going to buy.  the oldest who was in his mid-teens said that he was buying a php350-a-set violin strings.  they were aspiring musicians who study at the sta. isabel college which was a good hour's drive away on a good day.  (but they obviously commuted so it must have taken quite a bit more.)

the sound post 

rommel's wife came in first with her eldest child of six -- a precocious boy who has all the sound pitches committed into memory (the whole piano range including even the black keys!) i was standing by the door and the three kids rushed in after them with violins in tow.  it's disneyland for them!  and the scrawniest of the group started playing the piano.  the middle kid looked at the violins hanging on the wall and picked one out and started playing hating gabi.  he showed off how far up the fingerboard he could go on the instrument that was just a tad bigger than what he should be playing.  original strad siguro ito, he said.  rommel's wife was tolerant and even apologized to me for the mess of the shop.

anyway, rommel finally came in with a young woman who was looking for a particular set of violin strings.  i overheard thomastic blue but she was pining over the red that had already sold out. they cost about $120 a set on internet.  then, apparently worried, the oldest of the aspiring violinists asked if the php350 strings were still in supply.  and rommel promptly brought out a set for him.

in the room-filling din, the piano player suddenly stopped playing and asked rommel if he could install the sound post of his violin.  it had fallen off.  (the sound post is the "soul" of the violin.  it is literally the pillar inside a violin that provides the color of the sound the violin makes).

a sound post rarely falls off and so i had to ask how that happened.  did you happen to loosen all the strings?  the kid with eyeglasses that are as big as his face brought his violin out and my heart sank when i saw why.

it was a bachendorff violin with hardly any varnish left but still looking dignified.  he turned it over and showed a long crack on the back.  rommel gave a loud "tsk!"  he told the young boy that he has to have a luthier fix the crack.  the sound post will only fall off again if he installs it -- something rommel does for free.   "mahal magpagawa sa luthier,"  the kid said as he looked up to me through his huge eyeglasses.

the bridge, the slipping G-string and the neighbor's sandpaper

quietly seated was the oldest of the group installing his new strings.  my g-string keeps slipping, he called out.  (nice pun, i said to myself.)  since rommel was busy with the youngest, i approached to help.  the bridge hardly had notches for the strings.  i learned that he had been sanding the edge off so that the strings would come closer to the fingerboard.  etch out a notch on the bridge with a needle file (preferred) or a fine sandpaper, i told him.  the kid raised his violin to me and asked me to do it.  i said i'd rather not as the bridge is just too fragile to mess around with.   he insisted.  but i need a sandpaper to do this, i said.  and he reached into his knapsack and pulled out a square inch of used sandpaper.  where did you get that? i asked laughing.  he asked from his neighbor, he said.

i gave up after a few strokes as the sandpaper did not have any grit left.  you need a new fine grade sandpaper.  we might just ruin the bridge.  but he said he did not mind since the bridge costs only php50.  then i thought, perhaps, a hacksaw would do better!  but that would be too unkind for me to say.

i looked at my watch and it was approaching 4 PM.  i would be bringing joy to her cello lessons soon and i had to bid goodbye.  and as i was leaving, i overheard one of the kids telling rommel how much his mom still owes him for the violin that he sold them.  "sabi ng nanay, php4000 na lang po ang utang namin.  tama po? next week daw po babayaran."

early that day, a patient quipped, i can't imagine a life without music.  that afternoon, i am reminded that music in its high art form is still a luxury that is beyond the reach of many.  well, i bought a fine, light-weight pernambuco bow and left wondering if i deserved it.

my kids on a beach

warning:  graphic images of kids playing with a dead jellyfish

something i dug up from my archives last night while checking on the integrity of my external hard drives.

Calling For Support: VISTA on Bhutan at the National Museum

VISTA is selling photos to raise funds to cover some of the expenses for the coming exhibit at the National Museum this coming April 2015.  The National Museum exhibit will present most of the VISTA photographs of Bhutan that are up for sale.  Highlighted also will be some of Bhutan's centuries old sacred artworks called thangkas which were restored by a Filipino Asian Art restorer.   

Proceeds will cover expenses for the Bhutanese monks and guests who will grace the opening of the occasion. (Links to the all photos on sale are included below).  And, with sufficient funds, the monks can stay long enough to build sand mandalas in the senate hall of the National Museum.

VISTA has been doing volunteer work in this beautiful kingdom in the Himalayas since 2010.  In 2012, the group did an unprecedented cross-country photography expedition.  Early this year, the group finished its photography of two ancient temples and presented their work to the Royal Grand Queen Mother of Bhutan Ashi Kesang Choden Wangchuck. 

A sample exhibit photo (see attached photo) hangs on a wall at the Centro Maginhawa.  Expertly framed with glass cover and signed.  Size of print is 10 inches x 15 inches. Prized at Php7,000 each.  A portfolio of photos can also be viewed in the said clinic (tel. no. 9217649). 

"Bhutan" by Garrie David

ABOUT VISTA: 

VISTA is a multi-disciplinary group of Filipinos whose passion for photography took them on a series of visits to the Royal Kingdom of Bhutan.   It culminated in a 16-day cross-country photographic expedition in the Himalayan kingdom in 2012.   It was a 2000 km journey that started from three entry points: Phuentsholing in the West, Paro and Sangdrup Jongkar in the East. VISTA went on foot, via SUV and horseback exploring mountain villages, farms and shrines. They met people from all walks of life: royal family members, government officials, simple peasants to the rising urban middle class.  

Documenting Bhutan’s Restoration Efforts

VISTA has been supporting the efforts of Ephraim Jose, a US-based Filipino Asian art restorer, who has been helping preserve many of the Bhutan’s national treasures since 2005. VISTA spent a few days in Bhutan to document religious wall art in two temples that are slated for restoration: Phajoding* and Dungtse Lakhang**. The group’s work will form part of the national archives of the Kingdom of Bhutan.

Members of VISTA: 

EDILBERTO CONCEPCION  

Eddie takes photographs with film rangefinder cameras. He keeps several photo blogs and has contributed feature articles and photographs to the Philippine Daily Inquirer and Munting Nayon, a Filipino online magazine based in Holland. He is an acupuncturist.
(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk3eqXHD)

GABRIEL DAVID

Garrie is a socio political engineer who develops private-public partnerships and manages national networks of sectoral and political groups for electoral and corporate social responsibility. He is also interested in capturing events and stories of people in various marginalized communities--untold stories of their conditions and concerns that will enable others to learn, and reach out to.
(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk69acBz)

RICCI JIMENEZ

Ricci is a documentary and street photographer. His works reflect his passion for travel and the curiosity for the uncommon. He has exhibited his photo stories under the Master Class for Documentary Photography at the College of St. Benilde Professional Photography Diploma Course. He is a contributor for various online documentary photography magazines. He works as General Manager for a real estate leasing company.
(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk69MrkJ)

CONSUELO PADILLA

Connie is a treasurer for a foundation that gives scholarships to minority college students. She also does ecological information and education campaigns for local governments and other NGO’s. Her interest in travel and portrait photography has enabled her to publish articles and photos in Homestyle, Prodo and Lifestyle magazines.

(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk3dPUUd)

ANTONIO RAMOS

Tony is a thoracic surgeon who has been taking photographs since his teens. He likes to capture people’s reactions to their surroundings. Many of his photographs were taken during his travels to attend medical conventions.
(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk3etwLZ)

KEITH SUNDIANG

Keith is a civil engineer who is in the property development and management business. His passions include food, landscape and travel photography. His notable photos were featured in WOW Philippines Magazine, Colors travel magazine, Calibre, C! and Asian Spirit Inflight Magazine. He was also the photographer of the Sonya’s Secret Garden coffee table book.
(choice photos for sale: https://flic.kr/s/aHsk6FiEDA)

VISTA with the Bhutanese monks, Ministry of Culture officials and Ephraim Jose in front of Dungtse Lakhang, Paro, Bhutan

_____
*Dungtse Lakhang is a Buddhist temple in western Bhutan. Its wall paintings depict traditional Buddhist images together with those of local wrathful deities. It is unique because it is in the form of a chorten. Its Buddhist iconography is also a unique trove of the Drukpa Kagyu school. The Lakhang is located on the edge of a hill between the Paro valley and the Dopchari valley, across the bridge from Paro.  It is scheduled for restoration in 2015. 

**Phajoding is a complex of temples situated above the city of Thimphu. It is known for its intricate murals that are largely in disrepair due to damage from the elements. Presently closed to the public, Phajoding is reached by a three hour hike on a rough trail frequented mostly by monks and villagers and traders from the surrounding areas.

The Good Egg

To classmates in San Beda Mendiola, he was"Itlog". Perhaps, it was due to his torso. Maybe, it was because he was not growing and it reminded them of an embryo. Well, he did seem as fragile.

Despite the demeaning moniker, Manny was quite popular. He had a knack for organizing class parties with the girls of St. Theresa's College Manila. His skill at making good connections even in high school was phenomenal.  

Fr. Basil Apostol, OSB

Manny and I had been classmates a few times through elementary and high school at the Benedictine school on Mendiola. He had his own set of friends and I had mine. However, it was always a pleasant encounter every time our paths crossed. We both shared a penchant for photography.

I came to know him better when he became my patient. He had become a Benedictine monk and was called Fr. Basil.  And he came to the clinic because he had grown tired of being rushed and confined to the hospital three to four times a year. The monks at the abbey could not understand why he often got sick and why he would not attend their community liturgical services. 

Basil had high blood pressure. He had an enlarged heart. He had problems with his spine. He had hyperacidity. But what distressed him most were his frequent panic attacks and depressive episodes. The monks would probably cite a number of saints who had similar problems. However, those saints probably did not have as many doctors as Basil did. He was never contented with consulting just one doctor. Ironically, he would stop taking the meds prescribed to him because of "intolerable" side effects. 

Even as a child, Basil was sickly. He was a complete orphan at an early age. He had one elder sister. And they had few relatives. It was Aunt Dolly, his mom's sister, who took him and his sister in. Many times, a maternal uncle would be called to school to bring him home. Uncle Pano would carry him in his arms as Basil gasped for air during his asthmatic attacks. Oh yes, Basil also had asthma.

I often wondered how he remained a priest. His illness and the cloistered monastic life were like yin and yang at odds. There was a time I advised him to quit. But despite the rigors of monastic life, he stayed on. And so his favorite expression, "Wow, pare!" -- and you must say this the way we did in the 70s --, is apt for the slow and tedious healing process that he went through.

Despite being sickly, Basil loved food.  And, his famed love for food made dining tables a pulpit where he welcomed everyone -- janitors, drivers, students, basketball players, batch mates, spouses (sometimes, paramours) of batch mates, balikbayans, business tycoons and politicians. He broke bread with all of them.  He carried on the renowned Benedictine hospitality albeit his unique gastronomy.  And, he would unabashedly share his hang-ups and foibles. In the best eateries in and out of town, his fellow diners would cheer him and ... uhh ... egg him on to health!  And, this time, he was endearingly called "Fads".

basil on my brother's big trike in california

I often scolded him about his weight and his unhealthy dining habits. My wife, who once thought of becoming a nun until I met her, had to remind me of how hellish life must be for those with these many illnesses and in religious life.  Joy, who is not only an acupuncturist and but a pathologist as well, is a pious woman who deeply respects the religious.  She told me to be more compassionate.  From being a patient, Basil became a good friend. 

And last May, Basil’s health significantly improved. His blood chemistry test results were all normal. And he finally agreed to take low dose Fluoxetine. He tried it anew with the supervision of a psychiatrist. And, he started to say Mass more often. He spent more time with his fellow monks. And, for the first time, he was religiously attending all the games of San Beda's NCAA basketball team without the usual entourage of either a doctor or a nurse and a troop of moral supporters. But for some mysterious reason, another condition appeared.

Basil developed an acute thyroid condition. His weak and enlarged heart started beating fast. An endocrinologist was called in. I was worried as I explained to Basil that Chinese Medicine considers the heart a fire organ. He was in a volatile situation. Still, I hoped he would get well.

Fr. Basil and my wife Joy

Basil's death was sudden. It was like a validation of how unpredictable God can be.  On that fateful day, he even felt well enough to watch and celebrate the resounding victory of San Beda's NCAA seniors' basketball team over Emilio Aguinaldo College. He ran for the abbey entrance after alighting from the van to bring in the news. He even had four types of "sisig" for lunch. Those with him claimed that he just tasted a bit of each but it appeared though that he hit the tipping point. 

That evening in the prayer room of the abbey, Basil suddenly collapsed. His heart just stopped. He died praying with the religious community that he committed himself to. He died practicing the very rubric of Benedictine life: embracing his monastic life, in stabilitas (stability) and in oboedentia (obedience). He was a good egg. And, God's plan for Basil had finally hatched.

fr. rafaelito and the rest of the benedictine community officiating a funeral mass for fr. basil

note: fr. benabarre asked me to write this piece for the alumni newsletter during one of his visits to my clinic. and being 99 years old, he probably will forget about it, i thought. a few days later, fr. pael, the acting abbot, sent me a private message on fb asking me to write the article.  (pael is one of the three priests our batch in high school produced. )  and, so i took it on.  but i also took some liberty in describing how fr, basil died. technically, he died a few days later.  the monks rushed him to the emergency room of a nearby hospital where he was "revived" from a state of 0/0 blood pressure and zero pulse -- a state that had lasted beyond five minutes before the intervention, according to accounts.  and so, he remained in a state of deep coma until his death on july 26, 2014.
by the way, on his return visit to the clinic, fr. benabarre reminded me about the article he asked me to write the week before.  that man is amazing!