Stain Glass Windows: purely pictures

These pictures are reduced in file sizes (pati quality) kasi ang hirap i-upload. hehe…  God bless everyone!

San Carlos Seminary, Guadalupe, Makati. right sanctuary window

San Carlos Seminary left sanctuary window

St. Andrew the Apostle Parish (Belair, Makati) left side entrance

 

St. Andrew the Apostle Parish right side entrance

San Nicolas Tolentino Parish (Mariveles, Bataan) right facade window

San Nicolas Tolentino Parish left facade window

Christ the King Seminary Chapel (E. Rodriguez, QC) main altar

Christ the King Seminary Chapel main altar, detail

Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Shrine Parish (New Manila, QC) nave windows

Our LAdy of Mt. Carmel Shrine Parish nave windows, detail

“Dikon”

When St. Paul noticed that certain Christian widows were being neglected from the distiribution of temporal goods, he assigned seven young Greek hunks to do the deeds.  They were called diakonos which literally means… waiters.  It was such a big hit for the early Christian church (especially among the ladies) to have them that the practice of ordaining deacons remained in the ecclesiastical traditon even to the present.  Today, however, deacons are not as Greek-looking as before and the ”waiting on tables” thingy is now very much limited to the liturgies, especially during the Holy Mass, but their role as preachers and distributors of Church temporalities remained, albeit in the Philippines, for only about six months or so.  Then they’ll be ordained priests, these poor, poor creatures of God.

I’m blogging today the ordination of a friend, Rev. Deacon Jhoen Buenaventura, because among my friend-deacons, he is the only one who has the temerity to ask me to blog about it. hehehe…  Jhoen is someone I met in the Friendster through  Bluepanjeet, who featured Jhoen’s vocation story and mine in his blog.  Like me, he was an OCD aspirant but then he decided to pursue the path to dicocesan priesthood by way of Balanga Diocese.  Quite a gifted fellow, he was sent by his Bishop to Rome to throw his weight around Europe to study Theology.   He then returned home after three years of lakwatsa of scholarly pursuits and about a few weeks later, on 3Oth of June, at the feast of the Martyrs of Rome, he was ordained as Deacon in Mariveles. 

Mariveles is about three hours drive from Manila if you take a Cubao bus at dawn.  Any later than 5am and you’ll spend an additional hour just weaving through North part of EDSA.  Anyway, here is what I immediately saw upon my arrival in Mariveles.

Parish of Nicholas Tolentine

 Aba, at may banners pa!   I met an old lady, obviously an usherette for the occasion (given away by her Maria Clara ensemble on a monday morning and that all-too-eager demeanor of someone who wanted to be useful in an occasion).  I’m suspicious that this old lady might have read my previous post on seminary fashion as she immediately identified me as a seminarian.  Upon demand, she directed me to where the best toilets are and even brought me to this nice house to have a breakfast, to which I was all too willing to follow.  There, I found myself in the company of quite a number of seminarians, which explained why there’s no more breakfast left.  When it comes to eating, seminarians are forces to reckon with.

seminarians, now well-fed

Then we gathered at the Parish of St. Nicholas Tolentine to attend the Holy Mass, precided by Rev. Bp.  Socrates Villegas, DD, the bishop of Balanga. 

inside the parish

Here is Jhoen during his entrance procession. 

"Dis is da moment!! Weee!"

Truth to tell, this is the first time I ever saw him.  Aba, at may hitsura naman pala.  medyo nakakaloko lang ang ngiti…  Anyway, after a battery of Latin songs and  a series of prayers and biblical readings, Jhoen was presented to the bishop as a candidate for ordination.

"everyone is enjoying a spot in front of the electric fan"

Then Bishop Soc, known for his meaty homilies, gave quite a mouthful for Jhoen to masticate.  He explained in this exhortation the meaning of the color, red, in the Catholic liturgy.

Bishop Socrates Villegas,DD

Then Jhoen was anointed and was given the Scriptures.

"now, Jhoen, I need your opinion on this one..."

then he was prayed upon by the Congregation by invoking the prayers of quite a long list of saints as he laid prostrate on the floor.

"get that cameraman off me..."

Then the bishop laid hands on him, invoking the Holy Spirit to be upon Jhoen.

"good thing, I used Clear for Men..."

Then he was given a new set of vestments to mark him as deacon.  First is the half-stole (not visible in the picture) which is like a sash worn across the chest of the deacons like there were beauty contenstants.  Then there’s the dalmatic which is a formal liturgical wear for those who wish to sweat more during the Mass.  He is vested by his parents and by a couple of priests.

"anak, bagay pala sayo ang pulang gown..."

Then Jhoen is welcomed by his bishop and his fellow deacons with asphyxiating embraces.

Bishop bearhugs Jhoen

Then Jhoen is given his rightful place in the sanctuary, which is actually a chair on the corner of the sanctuary. hehehe…

"Man... this dalmatic is way too warm!"

Of course, there’s the table service where at this picture, Jhoen acted as the sommelier. har!

"what? that's all the Mompo you've got?"

As part of his ordained ministry, he can now perform exclusive clerical acts like the Elevation of the Sacred Species.

"Through Him, with Him and in Him.."

Then he distributed the Holy Hosts to the faithful.  He called me by name when I hac my communion with him.  I particularly chose to take this picture because all of them here are wearing red.  Wala lang, trip ko lang…

"The Communion is brought to you by the color Red."

Then Jhoen gave his ”thank you” speech to the faithful.

"...and thanks to Via Mare for the catering."

Of course, the event is capped with picture-taking

With the priests and the Bishop

da Carmel boys

"Kapagod rin palang ngumiti sa kodakan!"

Bro. Utoy and Rev. Jhoen after the ordination

Congratulations, Rev. Jhoen, and keep us in your prayers!

Da U.N. Avenue Scandal!!! (with juicy pictures)

This is not a foodie post.

It all started when my friend priest, craving for tempura, called me up to spirit him away from the meeting of chancellors at a Catholic establishment at U.N. Ave.  We headed to the nearest Japanese fastfood that obviously carries tempura in its menu: Tempura Japanese Grill.   But since the restaurant doesn’t open until 11AM, we waited al fresco on the tables set outside the establishment.  We had 30 minutes to kill so we chatted away about his fellow priests’ botched plan of going to Corregidor.  Then I noticed something from where I sit.

On an art gallery near us is a nook, and on the wall of that nook is this:

Marian Icon

It’s a painted replica of the icon of the Blessed Mother and the Infant Jesus.   A traditional Christian Orthodox religious art, this replica is well-rendered, surely done by someone knowledgeable with the aspects of Eastern Church’s iconography.  It’s a bit bothering, however, to see how this beautiful painting was vandalized by making long and deep scratches on the face of Mary and Jesus.  

scratched face

It resulted to the peeling and breaking of the media.  It leaves an ominous feeling of hatred and violence to those who views it. 

Now for this story’s pay-off.

As I approached the painted wall, I was even more surprised to see yet another painting, done on an iron gate positioned at right angle with the Marian painting.  It is this.

Pantokrator on Iron Gate

Painted on the gate is the Pantokrator, a yet another classic Eastern Church icon.  Pantokrator literally means “All-Mighty” and is a title often ascribed to Jesus Christ.   The image of the Pantokrator often depicts Christ holding a book with his left hand while his right hand is raised in a seemingly admonishing and teacherly (may ganun bang word?) manner.  Here we can see the knowledge of the artist in Christian iconography by his attention to details:  hair parted at the middle, gold-leaf rendering of the halo, the signiture icon-style of body dimensions and facial symmetry.  Again, notice how the eyes of the Pantokrator was deliberately defaced by a vandalizer.

face of the pantokrator

Notice too how on top of the Pantokrator, these portentious words were written.

inscription on the icon

Chilling, isn’t it?  What could the artist mean by that?  Is it a manipulative art that evokes guilt feelings from its beholders?  Is it a pop-art that only hopes to shock but really doesn’t mean anything?  Is it a cult art of some kind?

And then I noticed this:

 

 

the scandal

Imagine the scandal this picture caused me.  Aba eh malala pa pala kay Jose Antonio Montoya ang gagong painter nito ah!  Nandun na ako, creative, artistic… Pero gawin bang deterrent ng mga  Shaider (shy umihi kaya humarap sa pader) ang icon ni Jesus at ni Mary!  Gusto kong magwala.  Gusto kong mag-amok.  It’s not amusing at all.  I made my own parodies of biblical characters and the teachings of the Church, pero I’ve got my limits.  Sobra na ito.  Truth to tell, Im not easily scandalized, pero with this picture, I’m still upset as of writing.

My priest-friend lost his craving for tempura.  We left even before the restaurant opened.

Bisi-bisihan Overload

Recent highlights on the charmed life of Utoy, the saintly seminarian from hell.

• my dad had a stroke last week.  I’m flying to bicol on the 5th of July to visit him.  My sister said he’s calling out for me.  Weeks ago, when I called him up on his birthday, he pleaded me to visit him there before I leave for my pastoral exposure.  When I said I’ll try but I can’t promise, he told me in high Batangueño:  “Ay ala, anak, bakin ga gay-on?  Baka ga ako eh magpantay na ang paa habang ikaw eh naanduon sa malayo.  Alaan mo namang tuong ikapamamanglaw ko ang pagyao mo duon.“  (translated:  Alas, my son, why is it so?  I fear that I should perish while you’re at a great distance.  You knew very well the sorrow it would cause me once you embark on the journey yonder.)  I then answered (also in high Batangueño), “Ay, tatay, ako ga nama’y ubos na ang bakasyon eh kainaman din naman sa hirap magpaalam sa aking supiryor at gawa nang ang pagkakaingli ng pari dine eh ako’y naghihikap laang.”  (translated:  Dad, I’ve used up all my vacations and it’s just darn dificult to get permission from my superiors as these priests often suspect that I’m just playing hookey.)  To that he replied, “Ay gay-on ga?  Ay sya’t ako na laang ang gagawa ng paraa’t nang harimanawari’y tayo eh makapagpanagpo laang at makapaglipon-lipon.”  (translated:  Is that so?  Well then, let me find a way so that, God willing, we’ll be reunited again to enjoy each other’s company.)  Two weeks later, he indeed gave me a valid and urgent reason to visit him.  Haaay, Tatay…  Seriously speaking now, I very much worried.  Please pray for my Tatay.
• I called a plane ticketing hotline to reserve a plane seat to Bicol.  They gave me a round trip to Legaspi.  That same day, I went to pay for the reservation where I was given a printout as a ticket.  Gone were the days when tickets really looked like tickets.  Later that day, my sister called me up so say how stupid I am for booking a flight to Legaspi instead of Naga.  How on earth would I know there’s an airport in Naga? Oh, well, at least, I’ll get to see Mayon again.
• Last thursday I went to apply for a visa.  As I checked from the embassy’s website, I learned that I am to set an appointment first before I can submit my requirements.  And so I called their visa section for a schedule.  A foreign-sounding lady answered.

         me: helo, helo, gudmowning, mam, ay wud layk to inkwayr haw mats syud I pay por bisa prasesing? tenkyu beri mats.

         foreign lady:  (paused a little)  99 euros, monsieur.

         me:  (with a certain thickness of the face)  haw mats is dat in pesos?

The lady, patient enough to bear with my temerity, gave me the amount.  I thanked him again and put down the phone.  Then, I realized, I forgot to set an appointment!  So I called up again.  A Pinay answered.

         me:  helow poh, pede poh akong magpa-sched ng appointment?

         Pinay:  mamaya pang alas dos.  (then she banged down the phone).

hmmmm… rudeness.   So I waited for 2pm and just to be sure, I called up at 2:30pm.  A different pinay answered.

          me:  helow poh, pwede pong magtanong kung…

         Different Pinay:  Hindi ito tanungan.  for setting of appointments lang.  (then she banged down the phone)

uunganaman.  My bad.  As in every situation with a lady, I always deliver the wrong pickup line.  So I called up again.  Yet another Pinay answered.

         me: helow poh, magpapasched poh ako ng date of submission.  Pede po sa byernis?

         Yet Another Pinay:  Ok.  8am, tomorrow.   (then she slams down the phone.  Standard procedure siguro nila ang maging rude.)

My conclusion:  If you happen to call or visit an embassy for visa, for your own sake, avoid the Pinay.  Most likely, she’s got PMS or is simply a bitch.

• Two weeks ago, I gave our novices a talk on… -I don’t think you’ve guessed it-  the breviary.  It’s actually an expertise of mine as I knew the history, the structure, the theology, the inner logic (or the lack of) and quite a host of trivia about this beloved prayerbook.   It was some serious conference on prayer which the novices had no choice but to attend.  The good priests, God bless their humor, paid me with movie passes (or in today’s lingo, invites).  I spent them all at once with Kung Fu Panda and The Happening.  The Kung Fu Panda recounts my own battle with gluttony and low self-esteem and how I overcame them by eating siomai with a Master.  The Happening is a very funny movie about people killing themselves faster than they do today.  I mean, don’t pollution, over-eating, smoking, fad diets, substance abuse and sleep deprivation already examples of suicidal acts?  And the way Mr. Wahlberg acts:  Downright hilarious.
• I gave a recollection talk to the community last Saturday which I conscentiously and lovingly prepared 30 minutes before it started.  It wasn’t bad, it turned out.  Some even congratulated me.  Now it’s official:  I’ve got a special talent, a gift of winging things out. hehehe…
• Again, please pray for my Tatay.  and for Bluep’s Dad as well as he undergone (underwent? undergoed?  alin ang tama?) surgery today.  And pray for Jhoen to who will be ordained tomorrow to the Order of Deacons.  God bless!

LOBO: waiting for Lyka to be human again

I’m not a big fan of this Kapamilya after-dinner offering but it actually got me hooked for some days along with my brothers in the seminary.  I’m talking about this Underworld-meets-My Sassy Girl-meets-Devil-Wears Prada-meets-Wowowee primetime teleserye by  ABS-CBN:  Lobo.

Lobo, for the benefit of those who denies knowledge of this TV show, is about the endless battle between the lycanthropic Lobos and the trigger-happy Lunas and their untiring obsession with the Pulang Buwan.  The Lunas, the self-proclaimed defenders of the world from the Lobos, went very creative in hunting the these shapeshifters by disguising themselves as military men on a highly confidential mission.  The Wayas, the white-furred Lobos, went incognito by passing themselves as trend-setting, rave party loving fashionistas (roll your eyes here).   Then there’s the Itim na Lobo who love to hang out in empty warehouses, salivate rabidly and apply thick eye liners.  These three groups were battling each other in a highly believable manner though really, what do these soldiers have against fashionistas?

Ths show apparently tried to extend its lifespan (and its claim for sponsorship) as since two weeks ago, the Pulang Buwan has already risen and still, there’s about a week more of episodes coming this July.  Huh?  But it doesn’t matter.  To the seminarians on this part of the world, what’s important is that Lyka (played by the byutipul Angel Locsin) changes into Lobo and into human again and hope there will be substantial camera exposure to go with it.  Why is this important?  Go figure it out yourself.

Death by Breviary

This is going to be a boring post so bear with me.

In the seminary, the most beloved book isn’t the bible.  No, not Dan Brown novels either (it’s just a phase, really).  Not even the Pugad-Baboy, Beerkada and the wonderful Kiko Machine series either.  FHM and Maxim failed to qualify too because technically, they’re magazines, not books.  Beloved friends, the most loved and most used book by a seminarian is the breviary.

If you’ve met a seminarian before, you probably saw a breviary already.  But because you’re a heathen, you don’t know it’s called that way.  It’s that thick book they’re often holding which many laypeople mistook for a bible.  The breviary is the official prayerbook of priests and seminarians, often two-inch thick, but it can be thicker because of a seminarian’s habit of stuffing its pages with countless istampitas (holy cards), novenas and, syempre, pictures of girlfriends, both real and imagined.

The breviary is the book version of one of he official prayers of the Church, the Liturgy of the Hours.  Litugy of the Hours is the Church’s traditional way of sanctifying the hours, through prayer and meditation on the psalms and other choice biblical passages.   On an ordinary day, according to the Litugy of the Hours, an ordinary Christian should pray seven times a day.  While in theory, Liturgy of the Hours should be prayed by all the members of the Church, in reality, it is reluctantly prayed alone by priests, nuns, monks and seminarians.  This is simply because these prayers often last from 15 minutes to 45 minutes, a daunting task for a person with busy TV-watching schedule.   So, breviary is somewhat a misnomer as its latin root word is “brevis” meaning short.  Well… technically, they’re right because the complete version of the liturgy of the hours is composed of four books of similar thickness.  Heavy enough to be used as doorstop.

Breviary can test the aptitude of a seminarian in liturgy.  One can easily catch who really knows how to open his breviary on the right page, and who is just winging it.  Let me give you an example.

Let’s give a fictional situation for you to see how difficult this book is.  Say it’s Sunday and you wanted to pray the breviary.  So you opened your breviary and asked yourself, Sunday of what week?  Good thing there’s only four week to choose from so you find out that for today you are to use Week Four.  Then  you realized that today is the Feast of St. Thomas.   So before you pray, you must find out first look what kind of saint is this particular Thomas:  is he a priest?  an apostle?  a doctor of the church?  or simply a holy man?  You see there’s twenty Thomases among the Catholic saints, the popular omong them are St. Thomas the Apostle, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Thomas Beckett, St. Thomas More, St. Thomas of Villanova, etc.   Now since this is just an example, let’s say you saw in your breviary that it’s St. Thomas the Apostle. 

At this point you will open your breviary to chapter called Proper of the Saints and look for Thomas’s feastday among the calendar of saints.  (are you still reading this?) After finding it,  it will tell you to please open your breviary to the Proper of Feast for Apostles.  So you go to that page and there you’ll be pointed out to use the Sunday of Week One and not Week Four (wow, you’re still reading this!).  Then upon opening to Sunday Week One, the prayer leader intoned and you realized that feasts of saints are not celebrated on sundays according to the Table of Liturgical Precedence  so you hurry back to Week Four.  But then you realized this Sunday celebrates the Solemnity of say, Trinity, so you now go and open your breviary to the Proper for the Feast of the Holy Trinity, which is buried somewhere in there.  and then you realized that….  (You probably get the idea now).

Yes, this book may be tough, but still, once you’ve get the hang of it, it’s all a breeze really.  We were told during our novitiates that we are to treat them like they’re our wives, just like how soldiers treat their issue rifles with the same affection.  I guess their right.  The priests who had been faithful in praying their breviaries are the ones that last long in the ministry.  It only goes to shopw that for every man, the best way to keep on track is to keep your “wife” close, regularly, lovingly, devotedly be it a prayer book, a gun or a real human being. 

Idiot’s Guide to Seminary Fashion

It’s easy to spot a seminarian in a crowd, even when he’s in plain clothes.  Gone are the days when seminarians go out in barongs with clerical collars, yet, still, you can still guess with ease who is a seminarian, even if he consciously chose to “blend in” by wearing “secular” clothes.  Disguising himself with a t-shirt-and-jeans ensemble, he’d still give himself away by wearing a cleverly designed religious or bible-themed t-shirts.  Many shirtshops of other Christian denomination sell this kind of tees, but it’s the Catholic seminarians who buy them.  Go figure.

Second, he can be seen wearing those strapped leather sandals or the Merrel mountain-trekking variety for those who can afford it.  Sandals is the preferred footwear in the seminary, if you must know, as there is hardly a seminarian who doesn’t own a pair.  he may not wear a cross pendant or a brown scapular in public but sandals is by all means, de rigueur. 

Third, seminarians tend to chose fashions that would merit their superior’s approval, so on the average, they tend to be neat, clean-cut, devoid of earrings or hair highlights, something an ordinary person would wear to church.   The younger seminarians opt the athletic attire, like jerseys, ball caps, tennis/badminton wear while those of late vocations tend to stick to the fashion of their generation, usually 90’s style, if not the manong look.  Inside the seminary, however, they all look the same: white tees and basketball shorts.

Fourth, seminarians have a herding habit.  They tend to congregate and travel together in groups, especially those coming from a religious order or congregation.  This is because some seminaries really require it.  and so as a rule,  if you see two or three neat-looking men in their twenties walking together inside the mall, they are either seminarians, military cadets or gay.  Embarassing, but true.

Now, the high fashion apparel for a seminarian is the soutane (sutana) or the habit (abito).  The soutane is a straight, close-fitting and plain-cut long-sleeved tunic covering a seminarian from neck to ankle.  Technically, a sutana has to be black because it’s only the Pope who can wear white in the Vatican.  But, owing to our balmy climate, the Church allowed the Filipinos to wear white sutanas.  The sutana has a magic of its own.  Any seminarian, however rowdy or mischievous, transforms into a perfect little angel when donned with sutana.   With lots of reasons, of course.  First, for any impressionable youth, wearing a sutana is like fulfilling a role in saintliness.  One has to act accordingly when in that white cassock.  Second, it’s terribly warm to be in a sutana.  Any rigorous activity would result to excessive sweating, something you do not want to happen for a sutana which you have to wear for a week.  Third, because it’s immaculately white, seminarians dread any stain or wrinkle to be upon their beloved cassock.  So the best thing to do to avoid ruining the cloth is to sit quietly on a corner, as if in constant spiritual reverie.  Lastly, sutanas have this gwapo factor which the girls dig alot.  Any seminarian in sutana spells to some females as boyfriend material.  I’ve known seminarians who had the looks of a roadkill yet managed to attract a host of shrieking girls simply by lingering after the Mass wearing their sutana.  I don’t look bad myself and yes, whenever I am in my sutana, I enjoy, or rather, relish the same privilege as well.  Hehehe…

Habits (abito) has the same transforming power as the soutane and still alot more.  While sutana is the generic prayer-wear of any seminarian, the habit is an exclusive apparel for certain religious congregations.  The Dominicans have the white cowled and scapulared habit, accesorized with strings of rosary.  The Franciscans are identified with their signiture cord belts and have a selection of terracotta colors for their habit: the Conventuals wear grey, Capuchins wear chocolate crown capuch, etc.  The Carmelites wear the iconic brown scapular and, unknown to some, carry a cross on their chest the size of one’s palm, etc.   Habits, needless to say, is for the seminary world’s elite.  The kilig factor of a habit tends to be lesser as moneyless religious seminarians tend to look less polished than their diocesan confreres.  But then again, the habits are in themselves, a form of vocation promotion.  Many seminarians I know chose their congregation or orders simply because they liked the habits they wear.  I myself almost applied to the Carmelites because their brown habit is so monastery-chic, but then again, I thank God I didn’t.  Habits may look cool but it’s stifling-hot in there.  Imagine layers of fabric covering you on a summer day in our sun-drenched country.  That spells gallons of sweat and a host of ailments.  And so, while habits may attract vocations, it breaks vocations as well.

The most coveted fashion for a seminarian?  The surplice.  Surplice is a loose gown worn over the habit or sutana by seminarians who would be pontifical servers during a High Mass.  It is best worn when holding the thurible, that chained metallic container used to hold the burning incense (check out the picture).  To wear a surplice and to carry an thurible is the height of a seminarian’s concept of kagwapuhan.   Surplice, however, is rarely used as there are but few solemnities and feasts that calls for the assistance of pontifical servers.   And so, the law of supply and demand applies here.  Kaya naman, agpawisan man ng sandamakmak, a seminarian would fight tooth and nail just to be a pontifical server. 

So there you go, Bro. Utoy’s seminary fashion for dummies.  Whether in surpliced sutana or in regular clothes, you can now spot a seminarista from afar using this tell-all guide.  Or if you decide to become a seminarian yourself, just follow these simple pointers so to achieve that authentic seminaristang patay-gutom look. Har!

Utoy’s Approval Rating: The Seven Capital Sins

A week long absence of a new post already spells blog abandonment for some but what can I do?  I’m so busy lately.  Heck, the whole seminary is in steroids in preparation for the school opening.  I’m not enrolling this year, (my superiors have other supposedly big plans for me) but still, preparations for that “Big Trip” wears me out.  BTW, I lost weight avoiding foods that might hurt my kidneys.  I’m now a proud 200-pounder.  Aba, 5 lbs din yun!  Ha! Anyhow…

Approval Ratings Board (composed of the unbiased representations of Brother Utoy, himself and me) chose the topic, Seven Capital Sins because… there’s no other thing to rate yet.  Truth to tell, I took up Virtues in Theology but nothing prepared me to discuss the Sleazy Seven to you.  Buti na lang, there’s always Wikipedia.   hehehe…

Sin # I: Lust This sinful number is this generation’s best partner in trade and industries, by its ingenious marriage of business with (carnal) pleasure.  Simply put, this means many stuffs were sold in the market simply because everyone wish to be porn stars nowadays.  Lust is one of the top reasons why people are hooked on the Internet and one of the good reasons why some bloggers, to increase their traffic, used tags that are never subtle in selling sex: Scandals, Barely Legal, Live Webcam, Wet Chick, Bored Housewife, Naughty Schoolgirls…… or so I’ve gathered.   Really, I have no idea if this is true.   Utoy’s Approval Rating: truth to tell, what sounds lustier than sixty-uuhh… I’m giving it 90% 

Sin #2: Gluttony   Our authority for this sin is the Angelic Doctor of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas when he listed no less than six ways of commiting gluttony  (eating soon, eating eagerly, eating extravagantly, etc.).  It is tad ironic that Pareng Tomas should have the temerity of lecturing us about overeating when he himself was, in fact, grossly obese.  Umberto Eco’s novel, Name of the Rose, happily noted that at the time of St. Thomas’s death, it took five monks and a heavy equiptment supervisor to bring down the saint’s hefty corpse from his tower down to the mortuary.

Gluttony is best exemplified to our generation by an unlikely hero of our childhood, the messiest eater of our time, the blue carpet-skinned, wall-eyed Jim Henson creation, the venerable Cookie Monster.  His obvious lack of restraint for unleavened bakery goods is so endearingly appalling, it’s almost a virtue in itself.  Well, you must admit the single-mindedness and the purity of his intention when he sang in his signiture raspy voice and burpy satisfaction:  “C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me! Hey!”

Pahibalo sa tanan, This is Brother Utoy’s personal favorite as he is known to befriend some people for their penchant for smorgasbord and for their capacity to pay for our tab during lunch dates.  Cookie Monster happens to be in his list of the most influential people in his life.   Utoy’s Approval Rating: if I give it a 100%, you’d say I’m biased so it gets 99%

Sin #3: Greed  Known to some by its more pang-spellingbee monicker, Avarice, Greed should not be confused with gluttony.  The former (or the latter?) has an exclusive contract with food consumption while the latter (or the former?  My grammar sucks.) just refers to the more generic  selfish accumulation of things other than food.   Greed, a vice so well-observed in the present Philippine governance, is noted to be the number one inspiration for so many political aspirants and veterans of today.  So inspiring was this vice that it has provided a regular fodder for the local media, eager to note the recent Who’s Who in the Philippine Graft and Corruption Almanac.  Utoy’s Aproval Rating: 85% sana but it’s now down to 40% after we’ve taken out the systems loss.

Sin #4: Sloth   While this sin may lack all the action, excitement and intrigue that go with other sins, sloth has the single honor of having a south american tree-loving mammal named after it  (thak you, wikipedia!)  We often understood this sin to mean excessive laziness when in fact, it originally refers to the restlessness of the spirit (acedia), or as a monk-friend once defined it, the noonday demon, a spirit so distracted that it roams around accomplishing nothing.   personally, I’d call this the 5:00 AM demon, because really, whenever the alarm clock rings, there’s no other sin I’d rather indulge in than this low-key-but-definitely-a-baddie sin, sloth.  Utoy’s Approval Rating: an effortless 70% 

Sin #5: Envy   Of the seven sins, envy is very fun to watch, second only to Lust, of course.  In the name of envy, people try to outdo each other in everything and try to pull the other down that it has became a huge entertainment for all of us.  It’s the stuff reality TVs and Network Wars were made of.  Many people I know persevered in their jobs and became rich and successful not because of reading books by Stephen Covey but because they have to keep up with the Joneses.  Who the heck are the Joneses anyway?  Utoy’s Approval Rating:  85%  Not high enough, compared to Gluttony, that creep.

Sin #6:  Pride  No, this sin has no reference to a pack of lions from the Serengeti, neither to that classic brand of washing machine detergent nor to any LGBT efforts like parades, speed dating and AIDS fundraisers.  Rather, pride refers to every person’s blinded self-love, much synanymous to vanity, ayon na rin sa kwento ni Aling Wiki.  The relationship between pride and vanity makes sense if the word is translated to cebuano:  Pagkamagarbo.  In our Virtues class in Theology, pride is the mother of all sins, an a very fertile mother to that.  Virtually every sin can find its source on pride/vanity.  No wonder, Lucifer, played Al Pacino in the movie, Devil’s Advocate, said in conclusion, “Vanity is my favorite sin.”  Utoy’s Approval Rating:  89% but who believe these ratings anyway?

Sin #7: Wrath  In Latin, wrath or anger is called Ira, which is a modern name for a lady.  Which reminds me of this famous Shakespearian quote, “There’s no wrath greater than a woman scorned.”  Whether there exists a scorned woman named Ira during Tito Bill Shakespeare’s generation, I really have no way of finding out.  Now, people, there’s nothing worng of being angry.  In fact, modern psychology finds it therapeutic to vent out one’s wrath since anger is a very natural emotion evoked by anyone.  Except probably for Brad Pitt during the 90’s.  In that ludicrously titled suspense-thriller movie, Se7en, my utol, Brad, in fits of wrath, shot Kevin Spacey in the head.  Now, you ever wondered by this scene was done in wide angle?  From what I heard, Brad couldn’t make himself look angry without looking pa-cute. 

Naniwala ka naman.  Gawa-gawa ko lang yan. Har! Anyway…. For the Philippine context, anger can be best witnessed in Jun Lozada’s blog, jlozada.com.  Man, I’ve never read so many angry comments on my entire life!  I guess this is how our generation express their anger: they blog them.  Gone are the days when men go shirtless on streets, weilding a kitchen knife, shouting, “Lumabas kung sinong matapang diyan!”  Thus, more gutter language is spilled rather than blood in the process.  Utoy’s Approval Rating: 92%, you $&#%?!!

So there you go, the second approval rating.   I still got time to do my laundry so bye for now and tune in again for the next Utoy’s Approval Ratings!

Ang Tatay Ko, Iyaken…

It’s my Tatay’s birthday tomorrow.  I tried calling him on his cellphone this morning.  The maid answered my call.  She said Tatay went out of Ate’s house for his daily routine of pagkakalat ng lagim.   My Tatay is turning 70 tomorrow and is suffering from prostrate enlargement, arthrithic joints and a few complications caused by his diabetes.   Still, he has time and energy to spare for all sorts of kalokohan in Ate’s neighborhood, the kind of kalokohan that often lands him in baranggay hall’s complaint desk.   He always wanted to call me but he again forgot how to use the features in his cellphone  (years ago, he’d text me the wierdest messages I’ve ever received).  I thought of calling him too but I don’t own a cellphone  (the seminarians in our congregation are not allowed to own one).    Or maybe, I just don’t feel like talking to my Tatay.   Why?   Because Tatay always cries on the phone.   This is the same Tatay who once scolded me for being such a cry-baby.   Ate Rinna reported that Tatay cried buckets again when he learned of my future assignment in France and that he laments the fact that I can’t visit him in Naga before I leave this July. 

Inay, during her lifetime, had the habit of documenting the times Tatay cried for me:  The day I was born, the day I was first rushed to the hospital, the day I was rushed to the hospital the second time, the day I graduated from highschool, the day I graduated from college, the day I swore as a licensed chemist, the day I left for Bacolod on my first provincial job assignment, etc…   And yet, I only knew three instances where I actually saw him cry:

• The day Tatay and I had our first fistfight (New Year’s Eve, 1999).  The Christmas of 1999 was perfect because for the very first time, everyone in my family is there in our old house in Batangas.  But the New Year was plain hell.  My parents and I were the only ones left to celebrate it at home.  For some reasons, my parents picked New Year’s eve to be the auspicious date to have a quarrel.  While this has been a regular feature in my household, the wordwar that day just got out of hand.  My father, already drunk, became a bit too physical.  He doused my mom with cold water while she’s cooking and the he started hitting her.  Hard.  Come to the rescue naman ako.  Surprised, he turned his fists on me.  But since he’s gin-soaked, his aim sucked and always missed me.  I hit him back.  Sapul sa panga.  My father was stunned, not because I’ve got Mammy Pacqiao’s brunt but because his pacifist son just threw a punch on him.  Andrama, kasi no one is moving for about 30 seconds.  Titigan lang ang lahat.  As if on que from a bad soap opera, my father’s tears slowly but visibly rolled down his cheeks before he walked away.   Me, I went to the porch and lit kwitis for New Year, remorseless.  Si Inay, she scolded me for hitting Tatay.   I left the house the following morning to spend my own birthday with my friends.  Remorseless.
• The day I entered the seminary  (May, 2000).   Tatay and Inay brought me to the Provincial House of our Congregation (more like the head office, in common parlance).  When they were leaving, Tatay was already weeping as he took his place on the driver’s seat and said to me in quavering voice, “Magbabait ka doon!” before slamming the car door.  Inay, sitting at the backseat, rolled down the car window, to report to me in a very amused tone, “Ang tatay mo, iyaken!” 
• The day Inay died (December 2003).  Now, this is a story I’ve already told in Bluep’s blog.  What I haven’t told yet is how, one dawn during Inay’s wake, I caught my Tatay opening Inay’s casket to touch her face and hold her hand… and then cry like a baby.  I just watched and cried quietly from where I was peeping.  Full of remorse.

There’s a lot to love about my Tatay.  There’s even a lot more to hate too.   But tomorrow, on his birthday, nothing of those mattered.  He is, after all, my father.  Just for his birthday, I might as well call him again and might probably cry it all out.  So he’d know his son hasn’t learned anything from him and is still a cry-baby.  Very much like his father.  Yep, tomorrow, I’d call him again.  That is, as soon as he’s back from tormenting the neighbors.

Wilson’s Shy Niece Rests or Rants?

I don’t really want my second foodie post to be about Chinese restaurants.  Why?  Because Chinese restaurants, wherever you go, tend to be so generic.   Here’s some of their recognizable aspects.

• has glass door with chimes on it.  A statuette of a dragon, a frog biting on a coin and/or a waving golden cat is the first thing you’ll see.
• the walls of the restaurant are either panelled with mirrors or are decorated with Chinese artifacts or Thai wood carvings.  There’s always a sparkling faux-crystal chandelier at the middle of the ceiling, like it’s some sort of a homage to Phantom of the Opera.
• The service crew (attendants) wear bow-tied long-sleeves and pants for the male and embroidered cheongsams for the female.
•  The tables are round, huge, have red table cloths and have lazy susans on top of it.
• The ceramic wear are generic white consisting of tall single-serve bowls, heavy plates, saucers, and a flat-bottomed Oriental soup spoon.
• Occasionally, there’s table napkin decoratively folded like an open fan and a packet of wet wipes but there’s always a pair of disposable palitos chinos and  mint-tipped toothpicks on your table setting. 
• Chances are you’ll be given peanuts or chicharon bulaklak as you place your order.
• Finally, if you happen to choose a usual comida china, it will consist of a thick soup, a choice of dumplings, a couple of seafood dishes, fried chicken, pancit, fried rice and for dessert, a choice  buchi and almond jelly.

Not that I hated Chinese cuisine.  I love it and I must say, every restaurant I’ve been to really really delivers, except probably for Chowking, Maxim’s and David’s Teahouse, whose take on Chinese food is so… fastfood.  I’m merely lamenting the fact that in a Chinese restaurant, everything has gone predictable, boring na tuloy…  But last week, we went to this chinese restaurant in Wilson St, Greenhills and had a definitely new (but not necessarily better) dining experience.  Something I must really write about.

A friend of the community, a middle-aged Chinese lady, brought us to Hai Kang Seafood Restaurant two weeks ago as a sort of despedida for our priests bound for a mission appeal in US.  We learned from her that Hai Kang means “Ocean River,” which is a sort of a push-gone-to-shove in underlining the fact that we’re in a seafood restaurant.  Or not.  “Ocean River” might be a safe name if they in fact served a dish containing some fresh-water lifeforms.  Or it could point to EAC, an underwater current where Nemo and Dory met Shell and the gang of hippie turtles.  But anyhow…  We entered the establishment.  Yep, there’s the chime on the glass door.  Waiters on bowties, waitresses on cheongsams?  Check.  Mirrored walls?  Check.  operatic chandeliers?  Check.  Red round tables with lazy susans and a setting of generic white ceramic wears?  Check.  Disposable chopsticks, fan-like table napkins and  a packet of wet wipes?  Check, check and check.  Every inch screams ”Chinese restaurant!”   But since this is just libre I kept mum about it.  We were seated and the lady who was paying the bill placed the orders.  Saucers of peanuts were served (check!) and so, the saga of a confused Chinese course meal began.

I was expecting an (imitation) bird’s nest soup be served first but we got, to my surprise, pancit canton guisado instead, a bit too savory and heavy to be an appetizer.  But as every Chinese restaurant’s staple, the pancit is steaming, loaded with seafood and veggies, shimmering in sauce and  is perfectly tasty.  The noodles slides off your chopsticks if not properly pinned between the sticks.  Then, we were served some shrimp dumplings in a platter.  In some other chinese restaurants, dumplings like these are served in plate-sized bamboo steamer, ensuring that your (kunya-kunyariang sharks-fin) siomai is hot and freshly steamed.   These dumplings, though cold, still tasted great. 

Then arrived, still not the soup, but same sort of a fish generously covered with crunchy roasted garlic and ginger.   It’s pearl fish, our benefactress declared.  Why pearl, she has no idea.  Whatever it is, it definitely rocked on our palate, as the tenderness of the fish melds on the tangy taste of garlic.  At last, the soup was served.  it was oriental seaweeds soup which tasted like… (imitation) bird’s nest soup.   But it’s good to the last drop, having us tilting our soupbowls away from us sooner than we think.

Instead of fried chicken, we were served with fried pigeon on a bed of (very Indonesian) krupuk.  I don’t have the heart to taste this dish as the sight of the heads of the pigeons (may expressions pa kasi talaga!) reminded me of that forwarded pictures of deep-fried human fetus engagingly eaten by a huge Asian man.  Sick.

Buti na lang, the next dish is my all-time favorite basta nasa mga tsinong kainan, the beautiful “Pork in salt and pepper.”  My kidneys may be swollen from their ordeal with stones but that didn’t stop me from taking loads of it.  What’s good with this dish is the way they aged the pork, a bit pungent and ripe, the smell of culinary perfection for me.

Two more dishes were served but didn’t catch my attention (I was busy sinking my teeth on slices of pork in salt and pepper) as they probably do not merit my attention.   Then, someone commented, “Wala bang kanin?”  Like a stale afterthought, shanghai fried rice was belatedly served and was hardly touched.

For desserts, we were given the de rigueur mongo buchi, mango tapioca pudding, and that gluten balls with ube jam center and covered with ground peanuts whose name eludes me right now.  I washed my lunch with 500-ml size Lipa Fresh Buko Juice with a token strand of buko meat in it.  Solb!

Now, I have to say something about other aspects of Hai Kang.  The waiters are courteous, especially the one assigned in our room.  The toilets are clean and spacious.  There’s ample parking space for those who do power lunches.  I cannot comment on the bill because really, I didn’t even had the slightest idea how our lil lunch costed our benefactor.  The service is fast though really, they botched the proper line-up of our lunch fare.  Unlike Gloria Maris and a few other restaurants I know, there’s none of that dreadful ipis smell.

Do I recommend Hai Kang Seafood Restaurant?  Yep, syempre.  But in way how I would also recommend any other chinese restaurants of the same mould.  Their food is already great, almost great enough to be on the leagues of Li-li, Causeway, North Park and the classic Ma Mon Luk and Panciteria Lido.    A little more creativity on their ambiance won’t hurt.  Why not add a live performance from a Wonders acrobat?  Or choose a more modern Oriental furnishing?  Or do fusion dishes? I don’t know.  Just give me something new.  As I would always say when asked what would I like to order, “Surprise me.”