The end of an era
When the war ended, daddy decided we weren’t going back to Quiapo. We had property in Malate where used to stand a screen-covered chalet being rented from us by an
When the war ended, daddy decided we weren’t going back to Quiapo. We had property in Malate where used to stand a screen-covered chalet being rented from us by an
When World War II was over, my father decided we weren’t going back to Quiapo. We had property in Malate, where used to stand a screen-covered chalet being rented from us by an old American lady named Mrs. Grove. (She kept a canary like ours on her porch.) But now it was a war casualty, a rubble.
My adolescent memory in Quiapo was of the boy living in the house across, falling in love with me and doing a really reckless thing. Totoy put some lanzones in a straw hat with a love letter and left it on our doormat. It was discovered by one of the servants and promptly presented to my mother.
At the World Street Food Congress held on the first week of June, a friend griped that there wasn’t any Filipino street food mentioned, nor were there any on exhibit.
Once majestic, the ancestral houses in Quiapo have fallen to urban decay. The affluent families have moved to Makati, leaving the old residences in disrepair and often rented out to lower-income families.
When in an interview on US television “The Bourne Legacy” director Tony Gilroy said that after seeing Jakarta and Saigon he decided to shoot his movie in Manila because it felt so “Bourne”-ish, he was just being factual.
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