By Ambassador (ret.) Virgilio A. Reyes, Jr.
Let’s put it this way. When I was much, much younger, I never thought I would reach 70.
On both sides of the family, it was rare that men lived past 60, which had something to do with genetics as well as lifestyle. My father had passed away at age 55 and his brothers averaged 60 at their demise. I never met any of my grandfathers for the same reason of their short-spanned lives.
Previous generations had also lived through cataclysms such as the Philippine Revolution, two World Wars, and the 1918 Spanish flu. My paternal grandmother passed away in her ‘70s. In contrast, the women on my mother’s side tended to live longer, with my maternal grandmother surviving till age 88, as did several of her aunts and one of her daughters. An exception to the rule was my Lola’s half-brother, who lived to be 100—a remarkable record, but then he had had a different mother.
It happened without specific design or intent that I would celebrate my 70th birthday in September 2019, not just with one shebang but with several trips throughout the year—in three islands which in retrospect reflected the Philippines’ rich cultural heritage beyond its Hispanic one.
These were Taiwan (Chinese/proto-Malay), Hawaii(Pacific/American), and Bali (Malay/Indonesian). In effect, I would “eat, play, and love” (parodying that novel) throughout this year.
Looking back, I did not know how lucky I had been since this was the time before the global lockdown of the worldwide coronavirus threat, and travel was still an everyday occurrence.
The year 2019 also coincided with the 50th anniversary of my graduation from college at the Ateneo de Manila University and preceded the clan reunion 2020 of my maternal family, the Tempongkos, of which I had been designated chairman. This was reason to stay longer in the Philippines than my usual cold weather exodus from the US.
Taiwan
Taiwan was once known as Formosa (meaning beautiful in Portuguese, “hermosa” in Spanish) and had the Spanish been more astute than the Portuguese or the Chinese, it would have been part of the Philippines.
Its own ethnic tribes are related to our Igorots; they also have rice terraces; and urban legend has it that on some days, one can actually hear the roosters crow between the straits that separate our northernmost isles from that island (a dubious notion that only shows how geographically close we are).
There is the theory that the proto-Malays, who originated in Southern China, passed through Taiwan on their epic journey to the Philippines and Southeast Asia. The recalcitrant pirate Limahong used Taiwan as his base in an attempt to oust the Spaniards from Luzon in the 16th century.
For three decades after the war, it was Taiwan that represented China in the United Nations and served as the bulwark against the behemoth that we all knew as “Red China.” As long as Taiwan and the US bases stood, the Philippines felt secure from attack by its northern neighbor.
We had all been primed in school about the heroic stand that Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek had taken against Chairman Mao Tse-tung and his flight to this stronghold, where the Republic of China was finally consolidated. The imperial treasures of Beijing had also been transported en masse to Taipeh (dated name of Taipei), where they had been guarded in secure vaults as a guarantee against nuclear attack, as the rumor went.
It had also been my dream to see the National Palace Museum of Taiwan to view these hidden treasures. The assignment of a niece to Taipei and the family’s decision to take a vacation together there finally made this dream a reality in July 2019.
Nothing could have prepared me for the modernity and progress of Taiwan which had advanced to the rank of a developed nation in the half-century after the war. Wide avenues lined with trees, an efficient urban transport system, modern skyscrapers all signaled that this political entity, albeit unrecognized as a nation, had become an economic power. At one time, Taiwan had the tallest building in the world in Taipei 101.
The drabness of certain buildings concealed the fact that they had been built during the Cold War, when some of them could have served as hardy shelters against a potential attack or invasion.
A government sensitive to its citizens’ needs had also built socialized housing when its native peoples—displaced by the sudden movement of Chinese from the mainland by Chiang Kai-shek—had to share their land with recent immigrants.
Bullet trains linked cities and towns to their capital. Nonetheless, its infrastructure was still being updated—the week after we visited, a bridge in the Northeast collapsed, costing human lives.
A short visit to Taipei should include a visit to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Museum and the northern branch of the National Palace Museum, which is exactly what I did. The Chiang Kai-shek Museum contains the monumental likeness of the Generalissimo himself, enthroned in a great hall to rival the square that Mao Tse-Tung’s portrait oversees in Beijing.
Chiang Kai-shek’s forced exile to Taiwan is ignored; instead, his victories are highlighted.
Impressive is the collection of automobiles that he had used as president, including a Cadillac that had been donated by the Chinese community of businessmen in the Philippines.
It is also noteworthy that Chiang Kai-shek, although married to Madame Soong Me-ling, who belonged to one of China’s richest entrepreneurial families, left his office without owning any substantial property. Instead, he poured his energies into leading and developing his nation into the power that it has become. Would that we had more leaders of his caliber!
The northern branch of the National Palace Museum reflects its didactic purpose since its sections are divided into China’s historic epochs and exhibits are scientific and scholarly in nature rather than esthetic. Chiang Kai-shek’s retinue, generally mainlanders, were committed to reminding Taiwan and the world of China’s long and historical past. This is the intent of this teaching museum. Historic scroll paintings, furniture made of rare woods, porcelain, jade objets d’art—all that one would expect of Chinese culture are amply represented here.
But one may venture to say that the best artistic pieces are displayed in the southern branch, which are located in a spectacularly designed and sited contemporary building in Taibao City.
My out-of-town trip proved to be a most rewarding one with my visit to the southern branch of the National Palace Museum. Here I found national treasures such as jade sculptures that portray a piece of pork and lettuce with amazing artistry and verisimilitude.
One cannot approach the museum in a vehicle but must descend and step over a winding causeway crossing water to contemplate the magnificent new southern branch of the National Palace Museum. That in itself is a Zen experience.
Our trip was further enhanced by being able to stay in a French hotel which is splendidly located with great nature views and amenities to pamper tourists.
The trip to Taiwan was the “eat” portion of my yearlong odyssey. My niece Angela and her husband Miguel made sure that our palates were satisfied during our family’s stay here.
Dim sums and noodles galore, a restaurant offering goose prepared in myriad ways, a fish market where one’s choices could be cooked on the spot and matched with appropriate wines or beers—these were some of the choices offered to us at this weeklong binge.
The care and attention that the Taiwanese give their cuisine is not surprising for a race that celebrates the mimicry of food in rare stones like jade. Art imitates life and vice versa. The Taiwanese have also perfected the art of packaging and of updating and developing local snacks, perhaps a legacy of the times that they were also a Japanese colony.
What the “eat” part of my journey revealed is that the Taiwanese used their resources and political ties well, playing both the Japanese and the American cards well, to defend their Republic against their cousins across the strait. With the success of their health policy in combating COVID-19, there is even talk of their being recognized by such bodies as the World Health Organization.
Hawaii
If there is any point in the world that might claim to be its navel, Hawaii could very well capture that title.
It emerged as a central point in the vast Pacific Ocean due to seething volcanic movements and it was peopled by adventurous mariners, Polynesians (of the same stock as our ancestors) who lived in blissful isolation till found out by later explorers. The world has never let it find peace since then. The Pacific phase of the Second World War began here in Pearl Harbor and in the 21st century, Hawaiians experienced warning of an impending nuclear attack, which turned out to be false.
Besides imperial conquest, Hawaii has also experienced tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcano eruptions. As virtual navel of the world, Hawaii met these with fortitude and equanimity. Far away from the power centers of the world, Hawaii has nonetheless produced a US President while its racial mix provides an example of how the people could live together in harmony. How the Hawaiian answers to climate change and the rise of the oceans as well as to the challenge of the coronavirus will be important for our fast-changing world.
One does not associate Jose Rizal with Hawaii because he did not visit these lovely islands in his peregrinations. My trip to Honolulu from August 23 to 25 was to attend the First Hawaii Rizalian Conference sponsored by the Hawaii Chapter of the Knights of Rizal. As a Knight myself with KGOR ranking from the Rome chapter, it was my privilege to participate with the paper, “Rizal as a Globalist and an OFW Precursor.”
Besides the Deputy Supreme Commander Lutgardo Barbo from Manila attending, also present were such luminaries as Dr. Raymond Liongson, Hawaii area commander; Dr. Patricio Abinales; Dr. Serafin Colmenares; and Dr. Pia Arboleda.
The Rizal Award for Peace and Social Justice was given to Justice Simeon R. Acona, Jr. who has done all Filipinos proud for his record as Associate Justice in the Supreme Court of Hawaii.
What impressed the participants to this event was the engagement of the mind or the “intellectual play” that it generated. Hawaii for Filipinos represents either the hardscrabble world of the mostly Ilocano migrants who became the plantation workers of this pineapple economy or the fantasy paradise of Polynesians known for surfing and hulas. It also became the refuge of President Marcos and his family after they had been expelled from their own paradise in the Philippines.
In the 21st century, Honolulu was holding its first Rizalian Conference and celebrating a legal luminary from the Philippines who had been outstanding in his field. Among topics discussed were “The Subversive Maria Clara,” “Nueva Calamba: Rizal’s North Borneo Dream,” and “Rizal and Human Rights: Lessons from the Noli.” Young Filipino-American students reacted to these discussions, demonstrating that Rizal’s ideas have taken root in this Pacific State.
Proportionally, Filipinos have made their presence felt here even more than they have in California or New York, states with equally numerous Filipino communities. It is the only state in the Union thus far which has elected a governor of Filipino origin, Mr. Rene Cayetano.
This presence could also be seen in the Museum of Asian Art, where a section on the Philippines correctly depicts the Philippines as a bridge between Asia and Latin America in the art objects chosen to portray it: anitos and Philippine santos displayed together with modern Filipino art and traditional textiles.
As a tourist destination, Hawaii has a rich gamut of “play” offerings for its visitors. Guided by Filipino friends, I capped my visit to Hawaii by visiting the site of the Pearl Harbor and the Dole pineapple plantation which showed how this island paradise became incorporated into the modern world of capitalism. Pearl Harbor was important for the Philippines since the attack on Manila and Clark Field followed the day after, signaling the outbreak of the Second World War.
The elegant and relaxed setting of Honolulu, with its palace of the last native Hawaiian monarchs and the new classical architecture of the mainlanders, surrounded by lush tropical greenery of palm trees and bougainvillea’s, gives us an idea of how Manila must have looked in the prewar era. Several thousand miles away, it must have glittered like a gem to its American rulers as the jewel in the crown of its overseas colonies.
Bali
Love is the keynote to Bali, which has long been a travel destination for artists and honeymooners. Among the latter were Ambassador Leon Maria Guerrero and his lovely wife Annie Corominas in the 1930s.
A Fil-Hispanic painter, Antonio Blanco, made Bali his home and established a noteworthy museum there in Ubud. The German Walter Spies also made Bali famous in the ‘30s and ‘40s, when it became the height of exoticism; his works are now housed in the Agung Rai Museum, along with those of Indonesian artist Radan Saleh, who introduced Western techniques to traditional Balinese painting.
My second visit to this Hindu-Buddhist enclave in Indonesia was occasioned by the invitation of Martine and Steve, a French-American couple whom I had met on their previous diplomatic assignment to Manila. They had now retired to what I could only describe as a love nest in a secluded part of the island, with the typical open construction of a Balinese house and a magnificent view of the ocean.
Tourism is now one of the challenges for Bali as it is also a major source of its revenue. Bali is also now beset by tourist crowds and traffic jams. While cellphone apps and Internet had rendered it more accessible and navigable, it has also become a commodity available for all who could travel there.
Near the summit of a site considered sacred, Mount Agung, is a tourist shop selling trinkets and toy souvenirs. Young vendors cajole tourists to buy their wares supposedly for their education.
One has to separate the chaff from the grain to discover its essence.
And it lies in this—the Balinese truly love their culture and territory. Aside from geographical happenstance and good fortune, this is what made them persist in their religion when the rest of Indonesia had turned Muslim. Very few migrate to other places. Their idea of heaven is being reborn in Bali.
The Balinese have a communal approach to community issues and much consultation takes place before a decision is made on something that affects everyone. Water is evenly distributed among the Balinese, for whom it is crucial to irrigate their rice fields. The many little shrines which dot their gardens and streets show how deeply ingrained their belief system is. Prayer is integrated in their everyday life.
Their common sense of aesthetics prevents them from cluttering their surroundings with garbage and huge signage. It is reassuring to see how houses are kept low and neat tile roofs prevail throughout the island. The architecture in the land is uniformly beautiful. I was impressed about how rice fields were cultivated so close to the ocean, what would be rare in the Philippines.
I was eager to visit once again the Museum of the Dali-esque Mr. Blanco, who married a Balinese lady and whose son continues his tradition. The museum incorporates elements from Filipino and Spanish Catalonian culture to blend with the native Balinese one. Exotic birds punctuate its tropical lushness.
On the other hand, the Neka Museum features such Filipino artists as J. Elizalde Navarro and Roger San Miguel, who also portrayed Balinese themes in their respective works.
Close by to the Blanco Museum in Ubud is one of Bali’s best gourmet restaurants, CasCades, perfectly set amid a forest-like atmosphere. Indeed, it is set above what is known as the Valley of the Kings. It offers both Indonesian and Western menus with vegetables grown from its own garden. These are paired with appropriate wines and beers.
Dance is ritual in Bali so that even the versions presented to tourists, such as the Legong Court Dance and the Monkey Dance, at the palace of the royal family, retain much of the authenticity with which they were conceived and presented.
It is interesting to observe that the taxi driver who has taken you around during the day may also do wood-carving during his free time, which eventually lands in the tourist market. Art and life are interwoven in Bali.
It seemed fitting that I would end my birthday tour in Bali, since it is an island that is easy to fall in love with, fulfilling the last part of my trilogy. Now that the world is facing the problem of the coronavirus, one may well ask what the future is for Bali, where “social distancing” amid mass tourism would seem to be an alien notion. Knowing the Balinese, they will adjust in their own unique way to this new challenge.
Last but not least, Bali’s endurance is a prayer to overcoming all the difficulties that the world undergoes in its long quest for survival.