European Grand Prix for Choral Singing

After our Sunday morning stroll in (mostly deserted) Maribor, Mimi, Pete, Marlon and I ran into the Glee Club right outside Union Hall, where they were due for their soundcheck. 

After hugs were exchanged and manic shrieks faded away, we went into the holding room with them for last-minute instructions from Ma'am Malou, prayers and a huddle. I really have to give it to Ma'am, she was the picture of calm and purpose—exactly what a big group needed at a time like this.

It felt so strange to know what they were all feeling, but not actually be part of it—to be outside the circle looking in.

Then it was time for their 15-minute rehearsal, the only time choirs actually get to step inside the hall they compete in. Since the full repertoire is 25 minutes, the soundcheck was just about enough time to check the acoustics against a portion of each piece, and also if everyone can hear each other. I've been in halls where the audience enjoys a fantastic sound but you can't hear yourself at all, let alone the people next to you, and it's always a freaky feeling.

To me, they sounded amazing. Sparkling, fresh, warm, pino, with heart. And it's not just because I used to sing in this choir, okay. I think I've heard enough choirs to know.



Lunch followed at a park nearby. We got a chance to catch up with darling Leo, who was also with the Glee Club when we competed in the European Grand Prix in 2001. I can't believe he now has two Grand Prix competitions under his belt.

Then, back to Union Hall to claim our tickets and wait for the competition to begin. The event had been sold out for weeks. Slovenes love their choral music!

We got the nosebleed seats in the very last row, but asked to be moved. In hindsight, we should have just stayed here so we could see what the judges were writing down!

The organizers very kindly moved us to the upper left of the hall, where we unfurled our handy-dandy Philippine flag and got ready to cheer for our Glee Club. Can you say groupies?

Then the competition began.

Number one fan

Everyone needs a number one fan.

The Ateneo College Glee Club already had its own when I joined it as a freshman in 1999. His name was Dr. Fernando Hofileña, M.D. To us, and the generations of Glee Club members who knew him, he was simply Doc Hof.

Doc was a tenor in the Glee Club during the 1950s, when it was still an all-male choir. He stayed on to become its tireless cheerleader, mentor, guide, morale booster and its number one fan.

You couldn't be in the Glee Club and not know him. Your identity as a card-carrying member of the Glee Club was not valid until you had seen him strolling in his stately pace with his trusty umbrella along Katipunan; until you'd been stopped by him in the hall and held by the arm for a long chat (often, just as you were dashing to class or to rehearsal); until you had heard him speak in superlatives of the group you belonged to.

Everyone has their favorite Doc Hof story. Mine is the time when, after a particularly disastrous rehearsal, our conductor launched into a cutting sermon that left our confidence in shreds (as conductors will often do).

At the end of Sir Joel's tirade, Doc walked into the rehearsal room beaming, bringing his hands together in slow, emphatic applause. "Incandescent!" he declared beatifically.

Well, nobody could stay angry or tired after that.

My other favorite Doc Hof story is how he, as an octogenarian, was hit by a truck while walking home in Loyola Heights. We were all horrified when we heard. Oh, no, not to worry—he was okay, he said. He simply got up, dusted himself off and walked home. After getting hit by a truck. True story.

Doc Hof's unconditional love and support was constant even in the toughest times—when we sounded anything but incandescent. I was president during a difficult time in the Glee Club: we changed conductors twice in one year; we were on our own after a dramatic break from our alumni members; the makeup of the group shifted suddenly towards young, inexperienced singers. After our hard-earned triumphs in Europe, listeners expected a seasoned, winning sound that the "new" Glee Club simply didn't have and couldn't rush no matter how bad we wanted to.

During that transitional period, I heard many things from many people—but not a single thing from Doc. Making difficult decisions for the group was nerve-wracking and we officers could never be sure we were doing the right thing. In those times, Doc Hof's quiet kindness was a gift. His constant presence was reassuring. His unshakeable faith in us, that we would endure and flourish, was a soothing balm. He simply knew that we would make it, even if I wasn't sure we would.

Doc was so in love with the Glee Club, it was all he ever talked to us about. He never said much about himself. We were all stunned to learn about his achievements when he was awarded the Lux-In-Domino Award by Ateneo in 2008.

Here was a man who, when World War II broke out, stopped med school to return to his province of Negros to help his father, then the Mayor of the town of Silay. After fleeing with his family and townspeople to the mountains, he joined the Resistance against the Japanese and became acting Mayor at the age of 22.

After the war, he became a Fulbright scholar and studied pediatrics and child psychiatry in New York, Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. He came home to become the pediatrician and clinic head for the very first school for special education in the Philippines—now the Cupertino Center for Special Children in Loyola Grand Villas. I could go on and on, but you can read more about Doc's remarkable life here.

He loved music, theater, debate. If you had ever talked to him, you would realize how much he exemplified a bygone era—one where people were kinder, greater, more genteel, more noble. Now that Doc is gone, I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone whom I could accurately describe as genteel or noble. Now I feel like his era has passed with his passing.

Everyone needs a number one fan. That a man as accomplished and remarkable as Doc Hof could be humble enough to be ours—so unabashedly, so unconditionally—was a gift beyond our deserving.

Doc was laid to his eternal rest today. Though it was always an honor and a pleasure to sing for him, I believe that we were only the opening act to what awaits him. I can only imagine what beautiful music must have been prepared to welcome him. I can only imagine his face when he hears it.

Dear Doc, rest well and enjoy the music. We love you and we will miss you.

Paris, 10 years later

Do you remember?

Do you remember waking up to days, weeks, months where all you had to think about was what you loved to do most, in the company of the people you most loved to do it with?

Do you remember sound checks and rehearsals...



Churches upon churches...



More masses than you'd ever attended in a single day?



Do you remember passing the hat for money? And being so thankful for every deutschmark, franc, guilder, peseta, tolar, lira, and much later, euro, that our voices earned for us?



Do you remember the bread broken with strangers who made the meals and cared for us, so that after those meals they were strangers no more?



Do you remember taking too long to load the bus with suitcases that got heavier at each stop...



... and laughing at the most ridiculous things that only we could find funny, together?



Do you remember the applause and the cheers, how they made your heart feel all warm inside no matter how tired you were... and smile so hard you thought your face might split apart?



Do you remember singing our joys, sorrows, triumphs, exhaustion, even our goodbyes?



Do you remember what it was like to win?

And what it was like when we had to start all over again?

That was when I wish someone had told me that in spite of everything I feared, what I loved would continue, grow and flourish.

And though the songs may be new ones...

The faces may have changed...

And although now we can only be on the outside looking in...

It looks and feels as sweet as I remember. And I know they'll always remember it this way, too.

Wiping my eyes after the Glee Club sang for the morning service at the American Church in Paris, I asked Gutsy: "Why did we have to grow up?"

I'm not sure, but I think maybe we leave some things behind to make room, to clear space for new and different things...

... things that make new selves of us, and that assure us every day that becoming an adult is worth it.

And while we leave some things behind, some things, like laughter, music and friendship...

 

...are simply forever. 

"We'll always have Paris," goes the famous line from Casablanca. But I think we'll always have much more than Paris. And for that I will always be grateful. 

Home alone

i just dropped marlon off at the airport for a four-day business trip to kobe (as in beef). and while i love coming home to the quiet solitude of our little place with its cozy lighting, newlywed furniture and manic kitten, i could use a sleepover at someone else's house just about now. 

agree or disagree: sleepovers are a staple of a girl's life. do guys sleep over as much as we do? i don't think so. 

my sleepover history started in second grade, when my mom and her then-BFF tita nettie decided to introduce their daughters to each other, spawning a lifelong friendship and a spate of almost-weekly sleepovers. i still remember my first sleepover at chiara's house -- she told ghost stories that ingrained in me a staunch refusal to sleep with (1) my hair spread out over a pillow, (2) feet pointed towards a closet or door, (3) with closet doors open, and (4) in front of a mirror, to this very day.

i think i stopped sleeping over at friends' houses when i lost touch with chiara and nash, two of my childhood best friends (probably because my mom didn't trust any of my school friends enough for me to go and sleep over at their houses). 

in college, when my mom decided she would rather entrust me to friends then make me commute home in the dead of night after glee club rehearsals or performances. thus began a sleepover renaissance, and my kaladkarin days: sleeping over at leo's, pia's, dianne laserna's, justine's, gids', lesley/mags', eunice's, gutsy's, chris', gp's, maggie's, mimoy's. (omigad ang dami. i'm sure kulang pa yan.) 

while they were mostly necessities, college sleepovers were also the most fun i ever had. maybe it was because they usually were with big crazy groups of people, involved cry-your-eyes-out laughter and eat-till-you-burst food, and were flavored with anything from adversity (preparing for a tour, reviewing for philo orals) to whimsy (midnight baking frenzies) or obsession (marathon tv series) for that extra kick.

what do you know, i started out sleepy -- now i'm just sentimental. that tells me that it's time for bed. good night.

Suddenly seeking singing

i don't know why, but this evening while getting ready for bed, i started telling marlon about john tavener's "the tyger," my most recent ultimate favorite acs song of all time. ah, i remember now -- i was reading tracy chevalier's girl with a pearl earring. i had spotted another tracy chevalier novel in the library, which captured my attention with its title: burning bright. yes, as in "tiger tiger" etc etc. which led me to thinking about the tavener piece. and of course once i started trying to describe it, marlon wanted to hear it, which is why i'm still online at two in the morning.

i miss singing that song. i found a clip of the acs singing it on youtube, and wished it could have been a clearer recording -- i was hardly satisfied and just wanted to be bowled over by the sound, as i always am.

sana meron akong pwedeng salihan dito na makakakanta nun ng maganda. pero parang wiz eh. 

sadness.

Meet the kiddies

from left to right: me, gids, pia, leo, maggie and jonel. m.i.a.: tor (off being a fashionista in nueva york), mimoy (off being a fledgling opera singer in indiana) and loi (off being an aspiring music student/auditionee at time of photo).

a brief history of the kiddies: we were the youngest members of the glee club when it spun off into being the acs; some of us had just stepped up from being trainees. as the tendres (late-thirties and above) and the semi-tendres (mid-twenties and above) seemed to naturally aggregate in and out of our little sphere of choral music, so did we. i don't remember who started calling us "kiddies" (short for "glee club kiddies" or "acs kiddies) , but it kind of fit, since we -- and others -- would always see ourselves as the kids of the group.

the kiddies are the friends i thought i had. until recently, when i had the great pleasure of rediscovering that they are the friends i really do have. i won't expect that to make sense, but that's what it is.

these photos were taken at our march kiddie dinner in north park -- the first of the monthly kiddie gatherings that i'd ever been to. we had another one just last week at maggie's house, when loi got back, where we sated ourselves with pizza, loi's lomi, banana walnut praline cake from roshan samtani (incidentally maggie's neighbor), pugon, red iced tea, and wonderful company.

landmark ladies: me, gids and pia

bisayas + papista: leo, mags and jonel

over lomi that night, pia declared: "i love being with you guys! i'm so lucky to have you!"

i didn't say it then, but i agree with her. i guess these these photos are like a delayed outburst of my own.

i'm the first among the kiddies to move into a world that's not so kiddie-like: away from the world of school and first jobs into marriage and the eventual family of my own. but i take immense joy in the knowledge that part of me, the part that loves these guys and fully enjoys the friendship we share, will always, always be a kiddie.

Slowing down

lately i realized how fast-paced my life is. so many things have happened to me, and i haven't had time to really stop and write about them. that's worrisome, because many times blogging helps me savor, learn from and immortalize the moment. i'm worried i've been letting too many of those moments just zip by.

suddenly the tour is three months behind me, and in not communicating how meaningful it was to me, the meaning itself is beginning to slip away, and the details are beginning to lose their crispness and clarity.

i have been wearing my newfound identity as a bride for a month now, and all the little unfamiliarities and insights and surprises that came with slipping on that identity are also fading.

things go by so fast! i often find myself too tired to write about all the things that have happened to me. the iffy internet connection at work lately hasn't helped either.

i need to slow down. weekends like this -- quiet, at home, not a lot to do -- help, but sometimes they're just too short.

--

this weekend was nice though. friday morning, i spent with a young and enthusiastic designer who not only totally got what i wanted, but trimmed his rates so that they fit neatly into my budget. and let me tell you, after all being confronted with one heart-stopping quotation after another, plus a slowly inflating budget, it was all i could do not to jump up and down and clap my hands with delight.

in the evening, a despedida for gutsy at her place. she's leaving for oz to study for a year. intimate party, lots of great food, and (as the theme for the evening) lots of embarrassing photos of ourselves. there were almost too many embarrassing photos of jd and andrei, considering they weren't even at the party. my photos were reverse-embarrassing: i was so thin pre-marlon that i'm embarrassed for myself now! not good. as sir jojo once said to me as he attempted to snatch a piece of iloilo butterscotch out of my hands:ang traje de boda!

we ended up staying at gutsy's until 5 a.m., since mimi, our designated driver, was knocked out cold by a heavy dose of cough medicine. oneill fell asleep on the chair in gutsy's sala that is extremely cushy but looks uncannily like a giant sanitary napkin.

had giggly wedding talk with the girls, and -- surprise surprise!-- jay tamayo, who assured me that our wedding budget was commendably low for tagaytay. grabe. everyone is so excited for this wedding. it's the next big gc/acs wedding after aui's. a full third of all the guests are the choir. wonder what it will be like when they all stand up to sing -- sasabog ata ang chapel on the hill.

--

stayed in bed most of the weekend and caught up on my "to watch" pile of dvds. marie antoinette last week, misery and little miss sunshine this week. i must say misery is one of the creepiest films ever -- so much nail-biting tension packed into one slow zoom-in of james caan's face as kathy bates' character puttered closer and closer to his bedroom door. (it also helped that he had some very expressive winces and facial tics. galing.)

went to a bridal fair and found a great deal on white gold wedding rings, so i paid the reservation fee after discussing it with marlon and sleeping on it. eavesdropped at a couple of bickering couples ("hindi, hindi ko naman sinabing walang kwenta yung wedding cake!"). was dumbstruck at how crappy some suppliers are and how much pretense they employ to get people's business. generally enjoyed being by myself since everyone was hounding the couples.

finally, thankfully, got to blog.

and it's sunday night all too soon. another fast-paced week coming right up.

Singapore silliness

... and for once it's not with my boyfriend fiance.



yes this is what acs does in such an esteemed venue as the esplanade -- choose the most unphotogenic corner (in this case, a backstage emergency exit), huddle together and let 'er rip. or at least the soprano 1s did. from left: perpetually sleeping jett, round and giggly liz, plain old me, boobic beauty elaine and hyperactive nutcase stalee.

but here's the token boyf photo anyway. elaine took it on the bus to the airport monday night, right after our concert.



marlon has become such a tour fixture that mimi gave him his own official acs count-off number in lah-lah land (# 35). see, i finally got him to wear pink (also got him to wear subtle embossed florals); i think he kind of likes it now. and he looks cuter than me here. hmpf.

Postscript to palpitations

the wonders of technology: you can now choose to give yourself a heart attack at any time or place you so desire.

last night, a bunch of us from the acs were having a late-night meeting at mcdonald's katipunan. we got to chatting about our upcoming competition (three weeks until we fly! aieeee!), and were idly wondering about our competitors and their programmes. then we discovered that alex happened to have his laptop on hand, conveniently wired with pldt weroam. how could we resist not checking online?

silence -- then, shrieks. "nandyan naaaaa!"

and so eight hyperventilating choristers huddled over the laptop, poring intently over lists of choirs, competition schedules and jurists. each of us scrambled to dig up every possible scrap of information and experience stored in our memories, ranging from the reassuring and relevant to the jitter-inducing and absurd.

"si volker hempfling, head ng jury sa marktoberdorf, mahal tayo niyan! siya yung nagsabing, 'we are not machines'... ayan may babae sa jury, mata-touch yan sa buwa-buwa [a lullaby]. harap na lang tayo sa kanya pag buwa-buwa na! hahahaha! ngeh may taga-ukraine? sino 'yan? peter broadbent! artistic committee din yata siya ng polyfollia. o ayan si bo johanssen taga-sweden, may swedish piece tayo, pasok na yan... bakit nga ba hindi tayo sinali sa small group category? jusko wesna! sila yung nanalo sa arezzo tapos nag-grand prix the following year... omigod nandiyan nga yung batavia [indonesian choir that is eerily similar to acs in sound and setup]! shet sa sabado pa sila, mas matagal silang makakapahinga... mag-espia tayo, pwede tayong manood ng rehearsals nila... what if hindi pala batavia yung makakatalo sa 'tin, what if university of hickville eck-eck... wag naman sana... kakanta tayo ng 4pm tapos 10pm yung sunod na category? 10pm?!? pwede bang magbaon ng masahista galing polyfollia? aaay certain cutie yang basque judge na yan ha, may pagka-sergio ni marimar... okay, let's analyze... ano ba, let's not read too much into the schedule... uy ankapella ulit, diba nakasama natin sila sa marktoberdorf? ... magaling ba sila? umm okay lang..."

panic and excitement kept us chained to the screen for what seemed like ages. hindi na butterflies in the stomach ito. cavorting elephants is more like it.

like i said before --

oh. my. f*cking. gawd. this is really happening.