Their dad calls them his “dalaga,” a term of endearment quaintly Filipino that not only describes a woman coming of age, but a young lady in full bloom, a woman finally making her own choice and fording her own path.
I’m not an easy guy to offend. Born and raised in New Jersey, I come from a culture of casual ribbing, where teasing someone with the most vulgar, personal remark is done in jest as part of male bonding. The context—non-verbal communication and underlying camaraderie—is what keeps this kind of nonchalant tradition from escalating.
Friends fondly called her “Tita O,” “Lola O” or Odetski, while her detractors might have called her “The Green Witch,” for her stubborn defense of environmental causes. But for me and others who had visited her home, the late Odette Alcantara, founder of Earth Day Network Philippines, Inc. (EDNPI), would always be the “Green Angel,” and not just for her advocacy.
One day in December, 2004, stuntman and now fight director Andy Lora, 70, recalled rushing to St. Luke’s hospital in Quezon City after he heard that “Manager” had suffered a heart attack during a party.But when he reached the hospital, Lora saw people weeping, Vandolph Quizon among them. The atmosphere had turned gloomy.
Born of a poor family in Xiamen, China, Henry Sy Sr. has come a long way from selling shoes from a small store in Quiapo, Manila, to become the richest man in the Philippines with an estimated net worth of $13.2 billion as of March 2013, according to the financial Bible, Forbes Magazine.
Like the enigmatic characters in her books, Kate Evangelista lives a secret life. To the people she encounters every day, she seems to be living anonymously—just another woman in a car. But the 30-year-old is actually an international best-selling author—one that most Filipinos have never heard of.
In a ramen shop in the Ginza district of Tokyo, everyone is silent at noon. Save for the raucous welcome greeting as new customers enter the door, guests sit quietly, focused on their ramen.
The first time I saw The Wuds perform was in August of 1986, at the Trinity College gym. It was a fund-raising concert called “Oi! Punk! May Concert!”
Her mother might have held her hand through her first baby steps as a fledgling singer and performer, but come September 26 when she holds her first solo concert, Zia Quizon will be taking the stage of the Music Museum and facing the glare of the spotlight on her own.
On a rainy afternoon in Cabuyao, Laguna, Charice decides to bare all. She first takes off her leatherette jacket, then a printed tank top. Tucking in the spaghetti straps of her sando, she deftly turns it into a tube top.
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