Paul's posts with tag: up diliman
 The first of the weird theater dreams.
The day after Writers' Night in 2003, I went back to UP on some business or other. As usual, I was coming from the UP Quill tambayan (Talulah Craft to the uninitiated) and had to go somewhere inside the Faculty Center. This involved the usual walk up the stairs and walkway that follows the FC's façade, which we called the Confessional. This walk gives one a peek through some windows into some of the faculty offices that line those academic halls. One professor had left his (or her) windows open, giving me a view of a figure with long hair, with a shawl wrapped around its shoulders as it looked into some frosted mirror. I was in a hurry, and as always, I climbed, Batman-style, into the hallway linking Gallerias I and II. This maneuver always saved me a round trip to the door facing AS. Once inside, I was suddenly naked and aware that a play, staged in the nearby Teatro Hermogenes Ylagan, was just about to end. Not wanting to be exposed, I rushed through the hallways of the first floor. The hallways describe a figure eight, with two long, parallel corridors and three shorter ones cutting across: Gallerias I, II, and the corridor at the end where the faculty restrooms are. I passed the entrance to Ylagan and turned the corner at the end, looking for an empty office to hide in. Of course, I didn't want to hide in the room where some professor was conducting an arcane ritual. I found one around the next bend, near the stairs leading to the basement.The door was blocked by a large dog, though. It seemed friendly enough and let me into the office, or at least what looked like an office in the middle of some repairs. For some reason, I f ound a quilt in there, which I wrapped around me. Then the theater-goers went out, and it didn't seem to bother them that I was naked under the quilt.I went down into the basement with some people, but instead of finding the usual canteen (Katag, if it's still there now), it was some kind of loading bay for museum artifacts. By this time a suit and tie had somehow materialized and clothed me under the quilt. So I walked towards the Academic Oval, where I was met by a bunch of other people in similar attire--without quilts on their shoulders, that is. And for some reason, Diliman had merged with London. Big Ben and the Carillon were one and the same, and there was a light mist in the air, as if it were spring in England or an early morning in December here.Apparently, the people I was walking with were part of some artsy protest march, and they were headed towards the Sunken Garden (maybe Hyde Park, too?). We all took our seats near the Grandstand; mine was on the far left of the audience. It became clear then that this group was protesting the banning of some film from the local cinemas, and in defiance of this censorship, they decided to screen it in as public a manner as possible, projected onto the rear façade of the Main Library. But before any of it could be shown, we had to sing some kind of invocation. They needed a flag, and apparently it was the quilt I found back in that FC office. In a few moments, it was flying from some flagpole that showed up just for that moment.I woke up after that, wrapped in a comforter against the December cold.
* * *
Carillon picture from Wendell Capili.
Hardin ng mga Diwata and Faculty Center pictures from the College of Arts and Letters website.
 I was a freshman in UP, waiting for a friend to get done with his studying for the day so I could go with him to meet his mother. He said he would be done by 1:00 AM. His boarding house was was placed where the UP Cooperative is now and was run by my ninang. She was too busy to talk or even pay attention to me, so I alternated between sitting in the cramped living room and going back and forth into the rooms, passing my friends equally uncommunicative boarding-house mates. At half past midnight, I noticed that my friend had fallen asleep on his bed with a plate of food on his lap, and everyone at the boarding house looked like they wanted me out of there.So I went out and looked for the jeep that would take me through Sta. Ana--the geography had changed sightly and shifted Diliman closer to Manila. There weren't any jeeps, so I tried passing through the Shopping Center. The people there were closing it up for the night, with chains and padlocks around the door handles and signs prohibiting people from staying inside after hours.I walked some more, this time to the Bahay ng Alumni. I entered through what must have been a backstage entrance, because there was some activity going on up ahead. There were several foot-wide gaps in the floor that stretched out towards the front, and I followed them by walking on the uninterrupted floor on the right. It wouldn't do to fall into the gaps, after all. When I got to the front, I remembered that there was a noodle exhibit I'd forgotten to attend. Fortunately, the entrance was free and you could go in anytime. Of course, the highlight of the exhibit was just about to start. I found myself--and at least a hundred other people--on top of a black, 100-foot platform studded with smaller white platforms. In front of the small platforms, noodles dangled, dry and brightly colored, like straw or hay. We were supposed to climb down those white platforms and stroke the noodles for the acoustic pleasures they produced. The absence of safety harnesses was probably part of the experience.But before I could do any of that, the show started. I sat on the far right of the stage, with a guy and his son (he must've been six). The whole thing was sponsored by this brand called Lively, a variant on the brand of breadsticks that came packaged with its own chocolate dip. Anyway, the show started off with some ominous organ music with techno undertones. Suddenly, there was this screen in front of the stage, blending projected images with neon lights displaying "French" words for 'breasts' and 'woman' and 'prostitute'. It was obviously preaching against commodified or shallow love in a way that was so bold and avant-garde it could only be French.Then the stage we were sitting on (my feet were thankfully long enough to rest on one of the little white platforms) started moving backwards. It picked up speed. The father beside me told his son, "Don't be lively!" perhaps so the little boy wouldn't fall off. I retreated into myself and tried not to move so much; I didn't want to fall off, either. The speed picked up, and the images on the screen in front flashed with greater frequency as the whole experience built up to some climax. When the stage stopped moving, I jumped off to the more solid sidelines and ran off.My feet were hot. I woke up, and found the sun shining on them.
 Originally, it was supposed to be dinner at Makati last week, but stuff happened and we had to postpone. We had more success today with a Chocolate Kiss brunch, followed by a walk and coffee at the Vargas Museum. Yay for catching up.
We saw a bit of creative vandalism just outside the museum, which led to the following bit of fun, courtesy of Ian's phone camera: 
Snagged from that host of UP alumni who've been posting, although this one's from Macy. Originator of survey now unknown. 1. Student number? 95-16230 2. College? Arts and Letters 3. Course?
English Studies: Creative Writing 4. Nag-shift ka ba o na-kickout?
Neither. First choice, baby!
5. Saan ka kumuha ng UPCAT?
AS 324
6. Favorite GE subject?
Humanities I, under Conception Dadufalza. Professor Emeritus, w00t!
7. Favorite PE?
Archery
8. Saan ka nag-aabang ng hot guys sa UP?
Walang abangan. They tended to jog past on the academic oval, along with the hot girls.
9. Favorite prof(s)
Gisela Aceremo - French 12-13
Jose Bartolome - Soc Sci I Wendell Capili - CW 101 Conception Dadufalza - Hum I Neil Garcia - Comm I, CW 120 (Poetry), CW 160 (Non-fiction Narratives) Judy Ick - English 23 (Shakespeare) May Jurilla - English 21, 22 (Survey of English Lit I and II), 42 (Survey of American Lit I), 143 (Early 20th Century American Lit) Preachy Legasto - CL 122 (Literary Theory II) Luisa Mallari - CL 123 (Non-western Literary Theory) Paolo Manalo - CW 198 (Special Problems: Comic Book Writing) Kats Mendoza - CW 198 (Special Problems: Erotic Writing), 110 (Fiction I)
10. Pinaka-ayaw na GE subject.
STS. It tried to fit in too many subjects into one class, tapos ang dami pa ninyo.
11. Kumuha ka ba ng Wed or Sat classes?
The aforementioned Erotic Writing Class. We opted to change it to just a three-hour Wednesday class, because not even sex stories are worth getting up on a Saturday morning for.
12. Nakapag-field trip ka ba?
French 12-13 - Eurocampus somewhere near Sucat. Friendly Francophone kids, lots of fun and games.
Hum II - Tour of churches in Laguna, including Paete, Pakil and other towns there.
13. Naging CS ka na ba or US sa UP?
Does it count that for one sem, my average was 1.70?
14. Ano ang Org/Frat/Soro mo?
UP Quill; UP Kontemporaryong Gamelan Pilipino.
15. Saan ka tumatambay palagi?
Freshman to sophomore years, Main Lib, Arts & Humanities section. Junior to 5th years, Talulah Craft (tambayan ng Quill) and KontraGaPi. Other places: Sunken Garden, Lagoon, FC Steps, FC Grove, and a lot more that I forget.
16. Dorm, Boarding house, o Bahay?
First three years, bahay. Nightmarish commute. Minsan overnight in the open air. I once spent the night in that bamboo stage, the panggao, in FC Grove. Malamok! Fourth year, Pabling Station, w00t! Fifth year, balik commute. Pero may MRT na by then.
17. Kung walang UPCAT test at malaya kang nakapili ng kurso mo sa UP, ano yun Given ang mentality mo nung HS ka)?
I wanted to take Creative Writing ever since I was 14. :D
18. Sino ang pinaka-una mong nakilala sa UP?
Si Neal Saveron, blockmate.
19. First play na napanood mo sa UP?
The Rogelio Sicat retrospective series in 1997, kasi Noreen was part of the chorus then. That was where I met Ralph, actually. Pen Medina as lead actor in Tatalon.
20. Name the 5 most conyo orgs in UP
JMA, hahaha! And yes, some of my blockmates are members.
21. Name 5 of the coolest orgs/frats/soro in UP.
UP Quill, obviously.
Kontra din. And our non-recognized writing group, the Conclave Workshop, hahaha! I didn't join any others, but I do have friends in Cineaste and Tomo Kai. 22. May frat/soro bang nag-recruit sa yo?
Ako, frat material? Perish the thought! 23. Saan ka madalas mag-lunch?
Beach House. Greenhouse (later Orange House). CASAA. Katag. Chocoloate Kiss once in a while, pag feel mag-splurge. Khas, for Arabic food, and that infamous entree: It's Not What You Think It Is. Rodic's. 24. Masaya ba sa UP?
Guess you couldn't tell from my previous answers, eh? 25. Nakasama ka na ba sa rally?
A few, yes. 26. Ilang beses ka bumoto sa Student Council
Twice or thrice. Only really remember voting for Argee Guevarra. 27. Name at least 5 leftist groups in UP
Stand UP, Gabriela, and I'll be damned. I used to know half a dozen of those orgs. 28. Pinangarap mo rin bang mag-laude nung freshman ka?
Mwahahahaha! 29. Kanino ka pinaka-patay sa UP?
No one, really. This might be one of the few tragedies of my life. 30. Kung di ka UP, anong school ka?
I passed UST's exam for their AB English, but that was my just-in-case. I've wanted to go to UP ever since I was a high school freshman, so some dreams do come true.
Feeling cooped up at the house this evening, I went out on a whim and made a beeline for UP. Manila's distinct lack of parks and other noncommercial open spaces left me with few other options, and UP Diliman is a familiar stomping ground anyway. After getting off the Cubao-Kalayaan jeep at Philcoa, another whim overtook me, prompting me to walk down University Ave instead of waiting in line for a ride. The line was still there, of course, serving as reassurance that there are commuter queues somewhere in Metro Manila that are orderly and civilized, unlike the sweaty, maddening chaos of the MRT. Already the greener environment of Diliman made the air cooler--foggy, even--reinforcing the idea of its difference from the rest of the metro. Long before I got to The Checkpoint with the Huge Paper Airplanes, I'd plugged in my earphones and one of the smooth jazz stations programmed into my phone was feeding my ears pleasantly anonymous music to match the evening's chill. Naturally, a full moon lit up the sky tonight, as if aware of all the clichés associated with nostalgia; bwiset siya. Because it's a sem break, there were few joggers circumnavigating the Sunken Garden and the lagoon, although an event had lit up the Vargas Museum with white light and crammed several dozen people in there for cocktails and perhaps a showcasing of one of the newest artistic talents. Since I'd spent six years in UP, it still holds hundreds--if not thousands--of associations and memories for me. The randomness of FM radio brought Lee Ritenour to my ears, reminding me of the time when I started listening to stations like this--also the same time I was a freshman in UP. By this time I was walking past the FC grove, Talulah Craft, the Faculty Center and the Lagoon. Writing this right now I remember another sem break nine years ago, when, coming from Pabling Station in UP Village (naka-pambahay pa ako!), I'd gone to the Faculty Center to submit a paper. While walking on the grassy area bordering the FC planter boxes, I saw Lorie and one of our other friends at Talulah Craft. Happy to find a friend so unexpectedly, I called out to Lorie, and spread out my arms in a grand gesture of hello to match my voice's decibel level. It was late in the morning, so the sun was bright and yellow and it spotlighted the perfect hello. And then I fell down. My enthusiastic, effusive greeting caused me to miss the open manhole we Quillfolk had managed to avoid so deftly, even in various states of inebriation. My foot--wearing Mayo's mojo sandal, borrowed for that one occasion--made contact with icky sewer water, and the rusty manhole rim scraped my thigh. No, my jaw did not lock. Six years later, Lorie and Nathan got married across the avenue, at the Lagoon, with no mishaps on my part. A year after that wedding, we filmed Twilight Jedi there, with more amusing mishaps. Walking on, I passed the AS Parking Lot, also bereft of its usual occupants. There were, however, security guards posted there: two teams of two guards each, wearing those plastic vests striped with neon. The administration had put up signs advising people to take their personal belongings with them, as the university cannot be held liable for their loss should they be stolen. Another Quill memory, this time of us being stuffed into a car with at least fifteen other Quillfolk. We'd joined some fraternity's car-stuffing contest. We lost, but it's an experience I'd forgotten until tonight. There were slightly more people as I neared Benitez Hall. As expected, the Sunken Garden had its share of couples. One pair seated on a Beltran deserves some mention, because when the girl smooched her guy on the cheek, I actually heard it through my earphones; basang-basa talaga. I walked on some more, passing old and familiar sights (the Katipunero at Vinzon's Hall, the Law of Supply and Demand Fishballs) and new and familiar sights (BA's new, white and uplighted façade, the alien probe-shaped Grandstand). For a moment, I considered having dinner at Khas, the Arabic food place in front of Ilang-ilang, which served a spicy dish called That's Not What You Think It Is. I stayed on University Ave, because tonight, I had to go with a classic dinner: tapsilog at Rodic's. I turned right at Apacible while the radio station's plastic surgeon sponsors informed me, in badly-pronounced English, about the many benefits of tumescent liposuction. I was momentarily possessed with the urge to somehow tell that doctor that the company I work for can teach him better elocution. My professional thoughts flew away the moment I got to the Shopping Center, and were replaced by momentary confusion, as most of the shops I used to see there were mostly replaced by Internet cafés. Charisma, that book store that sold me a lot of used books, was gone, so were the shops that sold tie-dyed shirts and ethnic-style fashions. The old steadies were there, however, like Sarabia Optical and, of course, Rodic's. Tapsi at Rodic's reminds me of my short stint as a probee news and features writer with the Collegian. I'd have dinner with various permutations of Collegian people: other probees, staffers from the three sections (Newsfeats, Kultura, and Grapiks), editors, etc. And of course, the Collegian just reminds me of the first time I met Reitch, when, during our first Friday night Genmeet, I accidentally elbowed her boob. Once I was done with dinner, I took a jeep headed for Philcoa that was waiting right outside the SC. Thankfully, tonight's little jaunt to UP offered no epiphanies (those things are dangerous, believe me). I just left with the knowledge that now, in my vagabond days, UP remains one of the places where I can feel at home. I'll torture you gentle readers a little further by ending with a quote from Cameron Crowe's Singles, a movie I saw ten years ago: "We had good times and bad times, but we had times."
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