Sites in the Book: San Augustin Church

"You don't happen to know Ave Maria, do you?" 

Click photo to see large version.

If walls could talk, then I would press my ear against the San Augustin Church. It is one of Manila's oldest structures, and still stands relatively intact since it was built in 1586. With its history, this is nothing short of a miracle. 

Take a look at the photo on the left. See the little red circle? What you see is the only building left standing in the destroyed walled-city of Intramuros: San Augustin. All the other buildings (including the Manila Cathedral and 5 other churches) were pulverized into dust during the Battle of Manila. 

But that's just part of the story. The site was consecrated as a house of worship in the 1570s. This was the time of Spanish conquistadors, whom strutted around wearing iron armor in the tropical heat. Manila wasn't much more than a wooden fort on the bay, and most of the invaders spent their time searching for gold, or converting the native Filipinos into Catholicism. Business was good; they decided to stay. Entombed in the church are some of the city's founders: Miguel López de Legazpi, Juan de Salcedo and Martín de Goiti. They lie here still in Baroque splendor.

 

San Augustin has witnessed and survived Chinese pirates, looting by the British in 1762, earthquakes, floods, riots, fires, assorted plagues, and the Spanish-American War in 1898. (The peace treaty was signed here.) But its real trial-by-fire came during World War Two.

18 February 1945: Most of the Japanese Army has retreated into the walled-city. They are surrounded by the American Army, whose high powered shells are ripping into Intramuros. Homes, schools, hospitals- everything is exploding and crumbling to dust. The Japanese are killing any civilian they see: men, women, children, infants. Not satisfied, they enter churches and hospitals, massacring everyone in sight. They come to San Augustin Church, where many people have taken refuge, and round up some 125 men, including 37 priests. They are marched a few blocks to the front of Manila Cathedral. There, they are forced into underground air-raid bunkers and buried alive. Only six would survive.

Somehow, (by God or Good Luck) San Augustin remained standing. Even the magnificent trompe l’oeil has ceiling survived. The church still functions today, and is the place to go for a big, fat, Filipino wedding. If you’re ever in Manila, come take a look at this jewel of a Baroque church and the adjacent museum. And remember, you are on sacred ground.

B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Retro Filipino: Pinoy Kollector

Not all of the great sites will pop up on the first page of a Google search. Sometimes you have to dig for it. In my continuing research for The Yellow Bar, I have run across a few pages that deserve to be seen. One of them is the Pinoy Kollector blog by a nice fellow named Edward. He has a fascinating photo album of his Philippine memorabilia collection. It's a delicious hodgepodge of antique post cards, photos, movie stills, cigarette advertising, coins and paper money, toys, games and all sorts of Filipino pop culture items from the last century.

The young lady on the left is one of a whole bevy of Filipina beauties on postcards that he is featuring this month on his site. You'll have to see them to believe them! Enjoy.

Click here:  Pinoy Kollector

Sites in the Book: Malate Church

"Auntie," I said, "Get ready to run."

A mere twenty steps away from the the Aristocrat Restaurant is a small park that borders the Malate Church. This baroque-style church and open area have enjoyed the same view of Manila Bay since the sixteenth century, when it was built by the Augustinian friars. The Malate district was originally a small fishing village, but as the years passed it was swallowed up by the city of Manila. At the time of the Japanese invasion, the area was a very fashionable suburb, consisting of Filipino elites, American colonists and even some old pensioners from the Spanish days. Imagine tree-lined streets, gardens and fashionable mansions. 

Malate Church 1930s

In the 1940s, the parish was run by Irish priests and the church services were in English. These priests (who, like most chaplains were not interned by the Japanese) were instrumental in helping the imprisoned foreign nationals in Bilibid and Santo Tomas prison camps, providing food, medicine, news, and of course, spiritual guidance. 

Horrible things happened here in February 1945. The Malate district was caught between the battling Americans and Japanese. (Now imagine this beautiful neighborhood being bombarded from both sides: burning houses, trees with their leaves blown off, and screaming, panicked families searching for safety...) Many residents fled to the Malate Church, hoping for sanctuary.  They would not find any.  Periodically, the Japanese would enter the church, round up all the males in the square, and take them all away, never to be seen again. This included the Irish priests, who are believed to have been bayonetted to death along with the others. 

Malate Church and it’s neighborhood were hammered by the Battle of Manila. The church caught fire and burned down. However, the original walls survived, and it was reconstructed in the 1950s. It is hard to imagine the original Malate district these days; most of the area is now filled with business buildings, bars and high rises. But if you poke around its streets, you’ll still find some old and elegant suburban houses from days gone by.

Click on photos to see larger size. B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Happy 85th Birthday, Nanay!

Maxima Reynaldo, my mother-in-law and the inspiration for the character of "Imang" in The Yellow Bar, turned 85 this week. She has accepted her birthday with her usual quiet dignity and grace. (It was our family that made such a fuss. I'm sure she would have been happier if we'd just let her play Mahjong with her friends as usual.)

Happy Birthday Maxima! You are a hero in so many ways. No book could do you justice.

Color Photos by Kong Reynaldo.

Retro Filipino Breakfast!

Pork alert. I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Manila to see family and to photograph historical sites from The Yellow Bar. On one lucky morning, me and my nephew, Kong Reynaldo, stopped by the Aristocrat Restaurant for breakfast. I do not know who owns this diner, but I'm going to do a 5 star review for them just the same.

I ordered the Longanisa plate. This is the best breakfast in the Philippines. Period. Here's what's it is: Two (2) perfect eggs, garlic rice, coffee and two (2) Longanisa sausages. If you have never eaten a Longanisa sausage; it is the sweet and flavorful pork sausage of the gods. There are many varieties of Longanisa in the Philippines, but the ones at this restaurant are masterpieces. Delicately charred and seasoned with sage– it will send you to heaven. Served with a vinegar dip to take the edge off all the fat you're consuming. (On the left is a picture I took after the second bite. It demanded to be preserved for history!)

The Aristocrat has been there since 1936. It is spacious, comfortable, and spotlessly clean. A family diner, nothing fancy, but much better than any over-priced 5 star hotel.

If you're in town, you must go there: 432 San Andres Street, Malate, Manila. (Located a few steps from historic Malate Church.) Take Roxas Blvd. Easy parking. Get a window seat so you can view Manila Bay.

Sites in the Book: 1940s Filipino Country Homes

"In 1939 we built a big family house..."

The original Reynaldo home that they (and the Japanese) lived in during World War Two is long gone. There are no known photos of it. I remember from my father-in-law Felipe's stories that it was two stories tall, with a cement first floor and a wooden second floor. This picture that you see on the top left, was a typical home of a well-to-do country family in the 1940s, and it was the image that I used to imagine as the Reynaldo farm in The Yellow Bar. 

In the olden days, a house like this would have window panes made of capiz (oyster) shells. It was cheaper than glass, and still let the light in. The wood used in a house of this type would usually be a mixture of coconut and/or narra, which is Philippine mahogany. It had high ceilings and wide open windows to keep the house cool. The roof was made of zinc or tin, which was considered very modern and leak proof. The only problem was that in a heavy rain, it was very noisy; the roof reverberated like a drum at a rock concert. Some homes used used spanish tile.

Back then, the majority of country folk in the Philippines lived in Bahay Cubo, also know as Nipa Huts. These were made of bamboo, rattan, planks and nipa grass. (And whatever else was around.) They were usually elevated on stilts, and in a land where earthquakes, typhoons and floods are a constant, these houses are ideal for their climate and are easy to repair.

Houses such as these are still ubiquitous in rural  southeast Asia: Philippines, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam and Malaysia. I have stayed in a few of them over the years and have found them surprisingly comfortable and hygienic (apart from the occasional lizard that falls from the ceiling.) Plus, there is nothing quite as comfortable as walking bare-foot on a split bamboo rail floor.

Nowadays, the modern asian family prefers a cement house with air conditioning. Ceilings are lower and windows are smaller. God help them if the electricity ever goes out.

Note: As the title says, these are country homes, like the one ones situated in The Yellow Bar. In contrast, 1940s Manila was one of the most modern and historic cities in Asia. There, the architecture varied from from Spanish Adobe to Art Moderne apartment buildings to American suburban. I will be posting more pictures of these remarkable building in the near future.

B/W photos courtesy of John T. Pilot. Click on image to see larger version.

The Yellow Bar is based on a true story

The Yellow Bar is a work of fiction, but the main story line is based upon true stories my father in-law, Felipe Reynaldo, told me in the 1980s about how he and his family survived World War 2.

Here's the true part:

Felipe's family had the biggest house in Culi-Culi due to the successful notions and home goods store that they had. During the World War Two occupation, the Reynaldo's were kicked out of their home and forced to become servants in their own house for the Japanese pilots. As the war years went on, these pilots would become kamakazi. Felipe (Pepot) was just a child at the time. He told me how the pilots lived, celebrated, and ultimately went to their deaths.

After the horrific Battle of Manila and the return of the Americans, a relative began selling homemade booze (lombanog) to the American GIs and the Yellow Bar was born. The bar ended up being the most popular bar for visiting servicemen in Manila for over 30 years. (The stories he told me about the Americans at the Yellow Bar after the war could make up of book of its own, and may be my sequal one day.) By the time I met and married my wife, Leonor, in the 1980s, the Yellow Bar was long closed and had been converted into the local wet market, but it's art deco entrance still remained– loose chickens, cats and dogs dodged in and out its door. It was intriguing. It deserved a story.

I decided to approach the novel though 10 year old Pepot's eyes- a simple story of how a family survives World War Two. Although it is set in 1940s Philippines, I didn't want it to be an exotic travelog about the wonders of that island nation. (Let a future James Michener write that.) No, it needed to be easy to relate to. Therefore you will find very few Tagalog words and references to quaint social customs, such as balut. The Reynaldo's story could have happened anywhere, to any family.

Manila: 27 February 1945.

B/W photo courtesy of John T. Pilot.

Grandpa, what did K-rations taste like?

Well grandson, they tasted like Spam and crackers for the most part. Sometimes there was a hard slice of fruitcake. Chocolate bites. Chewing gum. Instant coffee, instant bouillon soup and fruit flavored drink powder. And they always came with 4 Chesterfield cigarettes and a pack of matches... maybe to take the taste away.

In the 1940s, K-rations were the portable foods that the American soldiers carried with them into combat. They weren't designed to be delicious, or even particularly healthy. The Army was more concerned with giving its soldiers the energy to keep fighting. And it had to be light enough to carry up mountains or hiking through jungles. The K-rations came in 3 different servings: breakfast, lunch (supper) and dinner. But most soldiers couldn't tell the difference.

K-rations were produced by the Cracker Jacks Company and used a waxed paper box about the same size as their popcorn product. It was small enough to fit in a soldier's uniform pockets. The American soldiers quickly grew tired (even physically sick) of these ready-to-eat meals; whenever they liberated a town, (be it Paris or Manila) it was usually the first thing that they gave away to the malnourished natives.

And when you're starving, K-rations are the best tasting meals on earth.

Click on photos to see K-rations in all their glory.

On Writing Your First Novel: Part 2

So how did I write The Yellow Bar?

Just like everybody else– I sat down and stared anxiously at a blank screen for a few hours. Had a beer. Put it off until the next day. The next week. The next few years...

Until I had a great opening line: “I was sitting naked on my carabao.” That got me started.

I think the hardest thing for any would-be author is the commitment you have to make. After a few hours of writing, you realize that your novel isn’t going to write itself and you are not Lois Lane. It takes a lot of brain power, a lot of hours, and a lot of false starts.

I outlined the plot with pencil and paper. This was mentioned in part one. Although I didn’t know exactly where I was going in the writing process, I had a general idea of the beginning, the middle and the end.

Get into the mood. Writing a novel involves a lot of day dreaming. If the idea for your book is strong, the dreaming will come naturally. I started to envision my characters as real people. (What would Pinky do?) However, I must warn you that if you day dream in public, and stare into space like I do, people will think you’re on drugs or about to go postal.

I made a place and a schedule to write in. I work hard as a teacher. Sometimes those kids knock the stuffings out of me. I would use this as a excuse not to write. What I did was put it into my daily activity. Instead of going directly home from work, I would stop at an obscure, quiet coffee shop next to a supermarket. Something clicked, because page after page started to flow for that magic hour or two of caffeine bliss. It became something to look forward to at the end of my day.

I made myself comfortable. The Yellow Bar started on my desktop. It felt like an office assignment. My laptop was long gone. All I had was an iPad, so that’s what I used for most of the original writing in the book. I can’t recommend this to perfectionists (or touch typists) because the virtual keys can be a bitch sometimes. However, it flowed for me. What I learned to ignore all the typos and type, type, type away. It was an easy matter to transfer to my desktop and correct later.

I didn't read any popular novels during this time. I was afraid of being intimidated, or worse– copying someone else's technique. I DID read Mark Twain stories. His stuff seemed safe enough since it's 150 years old.

The book I referred to the most: The Elements of Style by Strunk and White. I'm an English teacher and even I get confused with grammar rules at times. It is the author's Bible and best friend. I highly recommend all first time authors keep this small book at hand, at all times.

Music helps. I found an obscure radio channel on-line that specializes in 1940s swing tunes. (AddictedToRadio.com: Big Band Cantina) It gave me a great feel for the era that I was writing in. I also listened to just about everything: from Classical Mozart to Eminem hip hop. Again, music helps you get into the mood.

Be prepared to be lonely. I cannot write with other people interrupting or looking over my shoulder. Hence the coffee shop. I also occasionally lied to friends about not joining them on the weekends, so I could keep on writing. Most of them have forgiven me by now.

Ignore your deadline. I originally thought I’d have The Yellow Bar done in six months. Ha! It took me a year and a half. Again, schedule your writing times, not your ending.

Enjoy it, and ignore your page count. I started The Yellow Bar as a scared, trembling, little flower. At about page 50, I knew I had something. By page 100 I was so excited that page 200 flew by without me knowing it. Let the story come out the way it should; don’t force it, don’t time it, don’t count it. It’ll work.

NEXT: In Part 3 You will learn about all the stupid mistakes I made PLUS the long and strange road called the editing process.