Now/here no/where woman

The invites you to the 1st WORD FOR WORD! book sale Pre-loved books at bargain prices! Donated from the shelves of avid readers and book connoisseurs, the collection is bound to please the word-hungry! Great finds await you! March 22, 2009 10 A.M. onwards at the dap-ay of Proceeds from WORD FOR WORD will go towards the BWG’s literary workshops! Our aim: to enable writers and teachers in the Cordilleras to teach, critique, and encourage young talents. Our dream: literary workshops held by new writers and teachers in their own languages and hometowns and their work published in the vernacular. We will continue to accept book donations as we plan to make WORD FOR WORD a regular event on the Baguio calendar. See you! is a non-stock, non-profit organization. We exist to celebrate Cordilleran literature and to nurture the souls of Cordilleran writers. For inquiries, email baguiowriters@gmail.com or text/call 0908 361 2844

Beginning today until April 16 Babeth Lolarga's crazy cats and funky visions will be bouncing off the walls and spilling into your fruit salad (figuratively speaking, ok?) in the Cafe by the Ruins. Come get your dose of quirky colors! God and Babeth know that we all need a bit of that.

12 March 2009 PIRMA NA! The Baguio City Public Market is the womb of Baguio City. While we celebrate the city’s centennial year, the market quietly passes its 101st year. That is, one hundred and one years of the growth of a public space that has a unique aesthetic and a vibrant atmosphere. 101 years of extensive, thick, living networks of farmers, fisher-folk, entrepreneurs, their families, and the families of Baguio residents and visitors. 101 years of trade in the products of our region, and products from around the country and the world. Baguio City was born out of the Baguio market. It was said in the early 1900’s that all one had to do to see how cosmopolitan and international Baguio City was, was to go to the Stone Market on market day. The market is one of the last places where Baguio’s original sense of community and belonging continues to thrive. Today the colorful market is an essential part of the Baguio experience for tourists. It continues to be a source of fres

Wheeee! This blog turns two today! I didn't bother to announce our first anniversary because I don't believe in celebrating personal anniversaries. There are better milestones to celebrate, such as personal victories. (Although admittedly, for some, two people staying together for a long period of time could be a personal victory of sorts. Ok, I concede that much.) Also, I didn't know where this was headed, which now strikes me as silly. Why should that have mattered to a self-professed now/here no/where woman? Pff! And for the record, I still don't know where this is going. But since keeping a blog alive is a personal victory for little ole scatter-brained, undisciplined, "this-takes-too-much-effort", but "let's-spread-ourselves-a-little-more-thinly" Me), I've decided to symbolically gift my blog with two, lovely carabaos. (Because I love carabaos. I also just love the sound of their scientific name: Bobalus bobalis . It has a nice ring to i

PHOTO CREDIT: http://www.aprilwinchell.com/ Barack Obama is tired of your bleep! bleep! bleep! Weeeheeeheee!

Photo by FGSLP "The university as arena for competing discourses" -- Prof. Delfin Tolentino That's the first line of notes I wrote during the Baguio Centennial Conference, which was held in U.P. Baguio on March 6 and 7. Two whole days of discussion from academicians, activists, advocates, and Actademixvocates ! The geek in me was thrilled to attend this occasion as an observer, and the participant in me left exhausted. Before I go on and share some of my notes on the conference, here is an introduction to the actademixvocates. The Actademixvocates are a fascinating tribe. They are a proud people but, strangely, are often quick to deny their identity due to a strange cultural discomfort with being "put in a box," as they are often heard to say in casual conversations. A semi-nomadic people, they migrate from issue to issue until they find a time and place where their skills and knowledge may best be suited to prevailing conditions, at which time they may decide t

Martin Masadao's 5-bean chili. P65 for a hefty serving topped with Hungarian sausage and Parmesan cheese. YUMMY! You have until Sunday to enjoy this hot stuff outside the Rumours window on Session Road. (That's my lucky crock pot on the right hehe. I hope it brings Martin good luck throughout the week!)

If the Baguio Public Market could be compared to a tray of eggs, it would be like this: Many good eggs surrounding one, sad, burned egg. The other day I wrote about going to the market as though I were going to a funeral, but that's wrong. The market continues to thrive around the burned area. The vendors on the edges of the ruins are already setting up their stalls and doing brisk business. The vendors on the inside still have a lot of work to do, but they are there, cleaning up and preparing to spread their wares. It's true they lost a lot but they are quickly picking up the pieces and they are determined to re-occupy their much-loved spaces. After the fired consumed the GI sheets, wood, and wires, the old, pink, Baguio stone pillars have re-emerged. They stand out and somehow look grand amidst the wreckage. This reminded me that the Baguio Public Market is a historical site for the City! (Yes, I had to be reminded. I think we all do!) I want the Baguio city offic

Much of my beloved market route now lies in ruin. Many of my sukis' stalls burned down today: the manang from whom I buy sweet mangoes so tiny that the only way to eat them is with your hands and lips working at the precious flesh; manang Lilian and her family from whom my family and I have been buying shitake, juicy red tomatoes, goose-liver sausages, marble potatoes, special tofu, and other fine vegetables for three generations now; the manangs and manongs from whom I buy okra, squash flowers, malunggay, kangkong, camote, garlic, and onions across from the tobacco sellers; the calm and always busy manangs seated down low among sacks of fresh herbs, from whom I buy lovely-smelling basil and mint, and also pungent chives and wansoy; the manangs and manongs from whom I buy wonderful varieties of bananas; the families from whom I buy strawberries, persimmons, avocados, chicos, oranges, and passion fruit, depending on the season. All their stalls and stock up in smoke in a matte

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