Ghouls' night out

We hit the road at the crack of dawn to avoid the city slickers who were heading out for a leaf-peeping road trip or the Yankees-Phillies WS game. Our destination: Big Bass Lake in Gouldsboro, northeastern Pa. on an invitation from Carol for a “ghouls’ night out” in her cabin. Thanks to a rainy morning start and a nearly pitch black US I-80 side-road pit stop, we arrived later than planned but still in time for the creepy breakfast Carol whipped up.

The scenery along the way wasn’t exactly in living color. It was a bit late for a peak foliage viewing but it didn’t matter. Gouldsboro is a charming village tucked away in the lush woods on top of the Poconos. I marveled at Carol’s beautiful chalet. It is rustic enough to allow us to commune with nature, something of a Thoreau-like existence in Walden Pond. As a matter of fact we were greeted by a bunch of wild turkeys nonchalantly roaming about, but of course as soon as I aimed my camera at the flock they quietly retreated. I should mind my manners they too need their privacy.

Carol, our hostess, had waiting for us a pot of piping hot coffee, a cup each Maria and I quickly gulped down. Caffeine starved, we had no time to linger over Java. This was Halloween, all day of eating, drinking and getting scared. Carol goes all out for the holidays I was told and the freaky menus she prepared were a testimony to that! While Carol was mummifying the sausages, Judy who is still comfy in her pj’s was delegating as usual, Dorothy was in the shower, Sheila wedged herself between Carol and the sink to clean up after her. Carol didn’t want any of that help, we got booed out of the kitchen and so we grudgingly obeyed after some silly bickering and sipped our second cup.


It was a festive table of gruesome breakfast of mummy sausages, swampy eggs with frog parts and bloody juice. And of course this was no time to curb our addiction - more coffee to build us a powerhouse ready for a scary movie or to deal with arguments over card game rules with our unworthy opponents.

After breakfast we sat to enjoy the slideshow of the pictures of Judy’s and Dorothy’s recent Tanzanian safari tour. It was awesome, about 900 pictures altogether of the lodge, the tented camp and their adventures with the great wildlife and that includes witnessing a kill and the Maasai women building a hut with sticks, mud and dung. The two of them were amazed at the vast sprawling grassland, the star-studded nights and the great sightings they’ve experienced. It is humbling just watching the whole slideshow; I can’t imagine what it’s like being there.

We didn’t have to travel far for a deer sighting. Right outside Carol’s cabin a buck and possibly it’s mate and a fawn came to visit long enough for us to snap some shots. I suspect that they were the same herd that cleaned out the puking Jack-o-lantern that was sitting on the porch.

For lunch, Carol served a snakey sandwich with a side of pasta salad topped with a deviled (egg) eye. Dorothy made her newly-found recipe for avocado dip. That sure was delicious, the whole lunch thing, but I just couldn’t eat the head of the snake. Did I mention that while we were watching the picture show, Carol also baked some pumpkin cookies? There was no end to her creativity. And I helped paint the tombstones for the ghastly graveyard dessert with RIP, a crucifix or Boo (that wasn’t easy)!

What to do next? Walk in the woods? No, it was raining. So we either stare at or try to ignore each other, but Carol had an antidote for that – a game of cards. Oh no! The possibilities of humiliating myself playing cards are seemingly endless. Like a dimwit, I’ve begged off on some of these games in the past and plotted ways to avoid joining them since I can only handle the more sedate but boring solitaire. Yup! Now the bridge experts got me drawn into their orbit of card games. It was Hand and Foot this time, something similar to Canasta I was told.

Dorothy came down really hard on me announcing “ Cecilia, that’s not a Joker, it’s a Jack!”. Who cares? And kept reminding me to” breast your cards” to which I replied “What… my cards now? Excuse me, but what exactly do you mean?". They laughed and that’s when I delivered my best Big Ass puns (as in Big Bass) of body parts and ended up laughing uncontrollably myself.

My game partner Judy was so patient and Sheila was a good teacher. I’ve fouled up plenty of things in my life before but I swore not this one – I was determined to learn and win this game. Yup, Judy and I won despite the fact that rules were made up or changed as we went along.
Tell me something new about this crew.

More of the creepy cuisine for dinner: Spooky shepherd’s pie, vampire elixir and for dessert the ghastly graveyard and eyeball snacks. Yummy!

Popcorn was handed at the movies: I’ll Drag You to Hell. Dorothy fell asleep, Judy snored, I didn’t get scared, Sheila thought it was violent, Maria thought it was okay, Carol thought she should have previewed it before showing.

I turned in after the movies and they all played the game of Things. I had no clue what it was all about, from the bedroom all I heard were the words sex and cops.

I enjoyed the card game and the entire Halloween-inspired creations of Carol. I went to bed feeling like a pumpkin needing to be carved, my tummy was ready to explode. My last thought before I finally dozed off lingered on the fire that was burning in the fireplace - it was warm and soothing, a perfect evening in the woods.

Sunday morning Sheila, Dorothy, Maria and I went to hear mass which was held at the village firehouse next to the church. Who knows why, I could've asked the villagers but I was timid. Everyone looked so proper and reserved I'm afraid I might scare them. Before church we went to Baruta's Store to pick up a few things. It is the only convenience store in the tiny little town and run by a friendly little old lady, but mind you, she sells everything I swear.

After lunch we headed home and the plan was to take a detour to Basking Ridge, NJ for some apple picking. It's a long story. We drove around in circles, darn GPS not doing its job again, it got dark and we all decided to just drive back to the city. Traffic should be light by now, the NYC marathoners have dispersed, except probably for a few stragglers .

It was a treat! Carol outdid herself, she is the perfect hostess. Little does she know that the halloween word search game and Hand and Foot scared me to death. That was the trick - it was tough but she still gave me a prize for not getting it!

Thanks for sharing your cabin sweet cabin. We had fun.

Kandinsky on the ramps

The line snaked from 5th Avenue and around 88th St. as the Guggenheim doors open for a free admission day as it celebrates its 50th anniversary. Celine caught up with me and politely cut into the queue where I was waiting. The lady behind me didn’t mind; after all there was no seat assignment involved and giving up one space in the long line is a small price to pay for a truly unique experience to view 97 of the Kandinsky paintings.

The stately Guggenheim Museum is the host to a full-scale retrospective of the works of Vasily Kandinsky, the leading figure in the development of abstract art. If I had half the brain I would have looked him up and his works before coming here, but no, I relied on the audio guide and Celine’s eye for the art work. Which is no mistake since this is right up her alley and as usual she taught me a lot about abstract expressionism. I’ve never even heard of Bauhaus until now and why it was closed down by the Nazis who condemned Kandinsky’s teachings of modernist art.

The ramps of the six levels of the museum exploded with brilliant colors starting from the Campbell Panels originally painted to adorn the entrance foyer of the apartment of the wealthy Edwin R. Campbell of New York. The stained-glass colors shades of which I’ve never seen before of orange and yellow and pistachio green are so intense lined against the white rotunda walls. Abstract paintings which I’ve under appreciated before are of interest to me now. It was just a matter of exposure.

An accomplished musician himself, Kandinsky was fascinated with music, and its influence on his painting is very strong, particularly the music of Schoenberg and Scriabin. He is believed to have had synaesthesia, a harmless condition that allows a person to appreciate sounds, colours or words with two or more senses simultaneously. In his case, colours and painted marks triggered particular sounds or musical notes and vice versa. He translated the colors he heard onto the canvas and called it a form of “visual music”.

Halfway thru the exhibition, Celine and I paused for some coffee and pastries and what a picturesque view we had. The picture windows by the Café flashed the autumn colors from the trees across Central Park. It was priceless.

We finished off as we walked up to the sixth level to view Kandinsky’s later works of geometric shapes and a series of watercolors considered “biomorphic abstraction." Much of it looked like paramecium and amoeba to me that Celine and I didn’t particularly care for.

We then watched a 2-minute film on the winning entries to the shelter design competition. Google teamed up with the Guggenheim Museum to create a design competition to design a "simple shelter for a specific geographic location anywhere in the world." The prize went to David Mares of Portugal for his Cork Block Shelter and to David Eltang of Denmark for his Sea Shelter. One of the 10 finalists is “A Bamboo Shelter in a Garbage Dump City” by a Filipino architect Gonzalo Raymundo. I’m proud of that.

It would be a shame to miss Anish Kapoor’s sculpture entitled Memory, which is 24-ton steel that looked like it got stuck in one corner of the gallery. Shaped like a giant egg, looking like a walnut or a Zeppelin dirigible it’s a puzzle how they even got this piece inside that gallery. Known for his large scale sculptures, we’ll recall Kapoor’s Sky Mirror installation at the Rockefeller Center.

Art appreciation for one day, I can only assimilate so much, so off we went to look for a decent restaurant. What a find – Centolire on Madison and 86th, traditional Italian, substantial portions worth the money.

And there it ends - everything I always wanted to know about Kandinsky but were afraid to ask and a lunch treat from Celine on a free day at the Guggenheim. Our target for next month – the Rubin Museum of Art with Carl Jung’s controversial The Red Book on exhibit.

Grand Aida

Overheard while in line for the ladies room: "This is on my bucket list. At last I can say I saw this grand spectacle". I couldn't agree with this lady more. Aida, with its most exotic setting, is the grandest of the grand operas. Filled with spectacular scenes, large sets and a cast of powerful voices producing out-of-this-world sounds, it is the mother of all operas.

It was absorbing all throughout. The most unforgettable moment is the popular triumphal procession impressive with its cast of over 150 on stage, beautiful horses without any harness and performers stepping in style and marching in synchronized presentation. Do not blink or you'll miss something.

The music, the arias, the magnificent choruses and elaborate ballet make up the complex ensemble. A high point was the heart-warming solo "Celeste Aida" by the tenor Johan Bohta who played Radames. Violeta Urmana starred in the lead role and sang equally striking melodic solos all throughout the opera. From season to season, it is the same blockbuster opera lovers would not want to miss.

It was hard to escape the fact that on this Saturday matinees, the average subscribers are senior citizens. They are the opera buffs who, cane and all, would rather climb multiple steps with but a few landings to the Family Circle section to see the performance than go to the theatre to watch the live HD transmission. Not that I do not support the Met's program of widening its audience globally and to all age groups, but I'm also one who likes to see the act on stage while I listen to singing. What can I say, you can't teach old dogs new tricks!

Below is the newly renovated plaza of the Lincoln Center. The well choreographed water effects of the fountain is the centerpiece of this iconic performing arts center.


Aptly said, "Even the water dances".

Coco before Chanel - a lovely tribute

It is as if Audrey Tatou was born to play the role as the legendary couturier Gabrielle Coco Chanel in the period piece Coco before Chanel.

Looking at the window displays at the Chanel boutique, I've always admired the style of Coco, that classic simple but elegantly expensive design. She was able to get away with the creations that are boyish in look but were worn in style by many socialites. Among her signature pieces that became fashionable were strands of pearls, the simple black dress, cardigan suit and the menswear-inspired suit vest.

What I didn't know was behind all the success as a fashion designer her early life was tumultuous. Hardly free of hurdles, she somehow lived through the struggles bravely and with such resilience. The movie is a classic much like Chanel's style. Tatou is the perfect model for the elegant clothes. During an interview with Charlie Rose, she claimed she hardly read up on the life of Coco, but it appeared that she captured the character she played in the movie.

Coco's designs remind me of the style popularized by two of the best dressed women I've admired - Katharine Hepburn and Diane Keaton. Known for their non-conformist style, both broke the dress code for women. Nobody wore pants like they did.

Headstrong but extraordinary, that's Coco Chanel and for Audrey Tatou, a very fine performance portraying the complicated life of a pioneer in design with true elegance.

You do the math, Helen

So, is it possible to find someone who is out there somehow lost in the black hole of Twittering or "booking Faces"? You bet it is.

I'm surprised it took her this long to make contact.
About 42 years ago pretty little Helen sat in my Math class in our local high school. Today, she was genuinely ecstatic that she was able to track me down. "A dream come true", she uttered. That was a compliment, but I thought I terrorized my students then. She must not think so.

Our reunion may not be headline-worthy but it sure left us both feeling great and nostalgic about the good old days. The meeting place was the front door of the St. Patrick's Cathedral on a cold Tuesday morning. We both spotted and recognized each other without a hitch. She didn't change much, not even an inch taller it seems, still looking young and sporting that shy-Helen smile.

The day proved to be a mini-vacation/tour for Helen. Realizing that she hasn't seen much of the City even as she stays with her son in NJ, I showed her around. We got good lessons on how cranberries are harvested by flooding the bogs. The Ocean Spray people had a nice display complete with flooded berries corralled in front of the Rockefeller Plaza. Harvesters in tall rubber boots and with their raking tools wade in a sea of bright ruby red cranberries. It was awesome. We even got a free bottle of cranberry -pomegranate drink.

We then strolled down nearby Central Park. Dwarfed by the towering skylines in the backdrop, she was so thrilled as we crossed the park to get to the west side of Manhattan.

Nothing much has changed between us it seems. Feeling a little awkward calling me by my first name, she addressed me as "Ma'am" or "Miss" all this time. Let's face it, there's really no way to put a youthful spin on "Ma'am", but I didn't mind, Helen is just too polite and respectful.

Her stories came pouring out - the success stories and whereabouts of her other classmates. I remember most of those kids and I feel like I'm part of their accomplishments.

As it turned out, Helen and I share the same passion - baking and cooking. We had lunch at Whole Foods by Central Park West. That's when she told me she was in the restaurant business for a good two years until it got too exhausting for her. She still does private catering and party planning and so we had lots of baking experience to share. We drooled as we window- shopped at Williams- Sonoma. Aside from the fact that I no longer have room for any more cookwares in my small kitchen, I've made a vow that my kitchen shopping days are pretty much over.

From there we walked down Broadway and took some shots by the Ed Sullivan Theatre, the home of the infamous The Late Show with David Letterman. Without the traffic from cars and cabs along the stretch going towards Times Square, we didn't find ourselves weaving through a mass of lost tourists. Helen had fun, I acted as her guide. "Let's do this again", she said, and I didn't protest, but next time it'll be with her classmate Antera from Maryland. They are welcome to stay with me.

Being with Helen for a very short time, suddenly 63 felt like half the number.

Not quizzing you Helen, but you do the math. How many miles did we walk without being bogged down? You think this "Ma'am" still has some good years left?

The wrath of Ketsana

Typhoons and monsoon rains are a normal occurrence in the Philippines around this time of year. I'm no stranger to this. It was something we've learned to live with, seeing trees get uprooted, roof covers blown away and entire cities knee-high underwater. I remember wading through a sea of water to get to the college campus at Intramuros and only the VW Beetles float and survived those floods. But that was nothing compared to the disaster typhoon Ketsana (locally named Ondoy) caused this Saturday.

Winds up to 65 mph and heavy downpour believed to have left twice as much rainfall as fell on Louisiana during hurricane Katrina, hit the area. Ketsana drenched major parts of the metropolitan Manila and wrought havoc that so many lives were lost and homes swept away in the deluge.

Rivers swell forcing dams to release water and consequently causing flash flooding in the low lying areas. As expected, the government authorities were blamed for the delay in the rescue efforts and the lack of preparedness. Among the many people marooned by the flash floods were my family members - the daughters of my brother Rene and the entire family of my sister Clarita, both own homes in the city of Marikina which literally drowned.

As the water quickly rose to the ceiling of their houses, my nieces and my sister had to climb up to the roofs to escape drowning. And then they clustered with 20 other people at their neighbor's roof deck for over 12 hours under the rain waiting to be rescued or for the water to recede. In the early morning they were able to move to safer grounds where they sought temporary residence until they will be able to return to their respective homes. That will not be for some time since none of their belongings can be salvaged and will most likely need to rebuild their houses. We are just so grateful that they are alive but what a traumatic experience that must be.

Entire families were displaced while some did not even make it. Questions are now asked, was it an act of God or failure of mankind? Global warming, clogged drainage systems, lack of disaster planning are named as only some of the causes of the devastation.

Signs that the climate has changed drastically are felt worldwide. We have experienced the coolest summer and the warmest winter ever in the US. Drought, wildfires and natural disasters have left catastrophic effects in many parts of the world and while enough has been said and written about environmental protection, forest preservation and the likes, what are we doing about it? Isn't it about time we do our part in order to save this planet?

Let's think about this and seriously. Before it's too late.

It ain't easy going green

Leave it to me to embark on a project with very little planning. My unstoppable urge to replace my wood floors with bamboo got me working like a hamster on a wheel for a few days. Prepping a.k.a. moving everything out of the way, was no easy feat for an old lady like me, but being on a poor man's budget, I convinced myself that I could manage. For three days, I was carting and hauling stuff into the garage. My bedroom looked like a dumpster filled with books and chairs. Except with the piano, I had little help lifting and gliding furniture from the living room, no surprise I ended up with a few scratches and black and blues.

It wasn't totally just my desire to do something good for the planet which drove me to this madness. For such a long time, I've thought of replacing my old worn out wood flooring (my mother will disagree with that), so I said why not go green while I'm at it.

After hearing so much about how bamboo floors look great, I requested a few samples from my contractor. Choosing between the vertical and horizontal cut, and picking the color of the unstained plank wasn't so easy. Remember I have to live with this hopefully for another couple of decades. My choice was the pale yellow vertical cut showing the nodes in their natural pattern.

It's a beautiful thing. It took three workers two days to install the floors - nailed-down, no glue and another couple of days to clean up. I feel like I have twice as much space as I had before, the place now looks like a piano studio, or a loft or a bowling alley. But I'm loving it! I like a lot of room.

Apart from being eco-friendly, it is easy to maintain. Aaahh.. walking barefoot indoors never felt so clean and good. Unless you are allergic to grass, since bamboo is actually hollow grass and not wood at all, bamboo is the way to go. It is considered one of the most renewable sources of timber as it grows very rapidly. After cutting the plant, it is able to regenerate and grow as fast as several feet a day which is the down side when growing the ornamental species in your backyard. Watch out, unless carefully contained, bamboo can be intrusive and will take over the entire yard in no time.

Just like Kermit who embraced his greenness, my story had a happy ending. I love Bein' Green.
"It's beautiful and it's what I want to be".