LilyTopia

Returning home all partied out from Marc's wedding we decided to take a daytrip. A family visit isn't complete without that excursion usually to nearby West Point Military Academy or the suburbs of neighboring Connecticut, Boston or Pennsylvania. Ruel and I share the same passion of gardening so here we are ready to fulfill his request to see Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, Pa. My brother must've bragged about his trip to this garden when he came to visit years ago and Ruel just has to see it for himself.

Are we there yet?

We hit the road quite early but somewhere on I-276 Lady Jane must have picked up some distorted signals and sent us driving around on a loop. After what I've seen this gadget do or not do, I wouldn't trust this Lady to land a 747.

By the way, When was the last time you updated this gizmo?
What update?
Oops. After exorcizing the ghosts out of this poor Garmin, we got well on our way to Longwood and arrived there just in time for lunch.

The wooded, shady grove served as a backdrop for our picnic. What I would give to have this in my backyard. Sorry kids I already packed everything we need so you just have to fix your own sandwiches and no rice or soup this time. Bread - that's what you're eating. You are in the woods, deal with it.

After lunch, we wandered the gardens, stopping to sit awhile and take in the sights, scents and sounds. We were even greeted by one of the cats employed by Longwood to keep out mice (we were told). The perfectly clipped linden trees and well-pruned bushes are just a sight to see; 200 years old those trees must be at least.

Hah! My neighbor Lissa would have a field day chastising Mr. Pierce for planting those trees and Mr. Du Pont for buying the park. You see, sadly, this girl has a violent antipathy to trees. I gather she wants us to slaughter all the trees in the property grounds and grind them for mulching. Can you imagine?

Well, she won't get her way; instead we (the rest of the board) gladly signed up for tree stewardship with the City and adopted 26 trees for free as part of the MillionTreesNYC program of our Mayor. Lissa was livid. More trees, more birds, more bird poop on my car, more leaves to rake in the fall, she complained. Okay, so you're not a tree hugger but come on. As Philip would say, she's a loose cannon.

Longwood Gardens is a gasp-inducing site. The sprawling garden display is awesome, with over 1000 acres of indoor and outdoor gardens, and a collection of trees. Tens of thousands of different kinds of plants, tiled pools and fountains, an outdoor theatre are just some of the beauties the garden offers.

The meticulous design, the mood and the overall look remind me of the gardens in Versailles.

The conservatory is a showcase of more exotic and beautiful plants. Currently on display (LilyTopia) are about 10,000 lilies of different varieties flown overnight from The Netherlands. Some are even scented. I thought the Dutch are just known for their tulips and reef. What a spectacle.

Outside the conservatory are many pools of water featuring tropical and hardy water lilies. At this time the area is closed for maintenance. During my first visit here, I saw the large-leaved Longwood hybrid water lilies with leaves that grow up to 88 inches in diameter and dominate the center pool. The huge leaves are said to be capable of supporting the weight of a baby and are grown annually from seeds.

The grand garden is the Main Fountain Garden in front of the conservatory. Its formal design again reminds me of the gardens in Italy and France. From the porch at the conservatory we watched the show of the dancing fountains, garden theatre at its finest. We heard that this is lit at night and during the holidays.

I don't know about you, but we all had a blast. The kids are happy and impressed. The Singapore Botanic Gardens doesn't come close to this, they concluded.

With its excellent sampling of plants, different garden styles and theme gardens, it has something for everyone. Not to be left behind are the treehouses. There's just not enough time. We missed our chance to see them. The view from atop those treehouses must be spectacular.

So all you gardeners and wannabes out there, visit Longwood Gardens. It is a horticultural paradise and the best display garden in the world. Just don't invite my neighbor unless you want those trees chopped down into massive doorstops. Take a number, we all want to shoot her.

Trees will do this to you..make you become protective of them and at all cost!

Who can top dat?

As soon as we stepped out of the airport, a blow of humidity welcomed us. We're in the bayou! We made it, even Inang survived the two and a half-hour flight to New Orleans without bathroom issues. She did it for Amber and Marc, she said.

The proud parents, Carol and Ped

Marc and Amber tied the knot, a wedding in New Orleans in a 150-year old church with the 102-year old great grandma marching down the aisle. Who can top that?


Above is the altar of the historic Saint Mary's Assumption Church and the National Shrine of Francis Xavier Seelos.

Reception was at the House of Broel, a gorgeous Victorian mansion located in the beautiful garden district. The wedding cake is a lovely three-tiered Louisiana-style King Cake a cinnamon-roll cake with sugary icing inside with traditional Mardi Gras colored sprinkles on the outside. Here we are, or some of us:

Dance away, it's your day. The groomsmen got Converse sneakers for their gift, Marc took the lead in showing them off at the dance floor.

Rehearsal dinner was at a rented circa 1880's Greek-revival house on 1448 Magazine Street where the rest of the family also stayed. We all stayed near the French Quarter and I loved it.

How about a crawfish boil? Served the traditional way, potatoes, sausages, corn and crawfish spilled along the length of newspaper-covered table, served steaming and spicy hot!!

Here's some highlights of our trip:

My mission was to find a balcony and earn some beads without having to lift my shirt. After all this is not Mardi Gras. I found this store that sold them, but nah, these won't do!

Hey, there's a bunch of guys up there .

Throw me something, Mister.

I was so totally into Bourbon Street. The jazz and club beats permeated the street.

Drink more beer.

Beer, beer and more beer, Huge Ass Beer.

The hot weather did not seem to weigh down the street walkers.

Cafe Du Monde

There's music outside to eat the beignets by... yummy, piping hot, mounding high with tons of powdered sugar.

We toured the Oak Alley Plantation, about an hour drive and midway between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. 26 oak trees believed to be 300 years old line the avenue leading to this classic Greek-revival antebellum home.

I've always craved for a taste of New Orleans. It must be the Southern charm that attracts me. Thanks to Amber and Marc who made it happen and showed us how to have a good time. It was the wedding of the year, you couldn't have picked a better place, your hometown Amber.

We love you both and welcome to our crazy family, Amber.

Hakuna Matata

Some forty years had passed since I left for the US and still fresh in my memory was the scene at the airport when the whole family sent me off. There was my tiny godchild and nephew, about three years old who among my dear family I'm leaving behind. Over the years, on my regrettably infrequent visits home to the Philippines, I've become acquainted with him as he grew to be a young man, and now a climbing enthusiast and a family man. He's the soul mate of sweet Rosette and proud father of Rachel Ann and their adopted child Ileana.

That's Ruel. He and his family, except for three year old Ana, came to visit us and to attend Marc's (his nephew) wedding in New Orleans this month. I would soon realize that I owe him at least 40 years of birthdays and Christmas gifts, and now he has come to collect those overdues! Oh horror, I'm screwed, I thought.

So I struck a deal with his brothers Mel and Ped, that we would take turns in showing them around. No sweat. Clearly accustomed to entertaining out-of-towners at least once a year, they mapped out a plan. At first I wasn't sure what that meant. I say that because I usually end up as the professional tour guide when family comes to visit. I guess for obvious reasons - that I'd be free most of the time since I'm retired. Not so fast - I'm not exactly skewered to the rocking chair idling, my dear nephews.

It turns out the boys and their cousin George have been true to their promise. We are taking turns scurrying all over the City to show them the sights and of course - to shop! And here's my part.

I took them to see the Broadway show The Lion King. Totally not free of jet lag after a nearly 20 hours international flight, they managed to keep awake, with a few little snores heard every now and then. They were impressed and who wouldn't? Julie Taymor's production was a masterpiece, from the sets to the masks and costumes, to the acting and dancing. Ruel said he was in tears at start of the intro chant song The Circle of Life sung by Rafiki with the two antelopes and the chorus engaging in call and response.

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba (Here comes a lion, Father)
Sithi uhm ingonyama (Oh yes, it's a lion)

Magnificent and breathtaking. The puppetry is spectacular. Only those versatile performers can drive those puppets to assume realistic movements without taking the focus of the audience away from the animals and onto the faces of the actors. We all enjoyed the show. Ruel confessed that he'd been watching the film with Ana at home but it never occured to him that he'll end up seeing it staged on Broadway.

Pre-show, we were treated to a Carmine's feast by Mel and George. As usual it was a delight. I never knew to order steak at this seafood specialty restaurant and it was no mistake - that 40 oz porterhouse was the juiciest and to die for! I could do this again and no, I'm not shy about my meat.

We did chill out, my boys and I. Mel took the picture, but where's the food? Boys, boys. Growing up with six boys this was not exactly initiation for me. I love being with them.

And for someone whose natural state (almost) is worry, I say Hakuna, I say matata.

No worries, let's just have fun. Three weeks of fun (that's how long these guys are staying).

Your race, your day

Bib 96 and looking good in a wetsuit. Downright nervous, that's normal! That crash training on lap swimming will be tested today. Chilly waters, never mind; slap, kick, punch anyone who gets in your way.

A borrowed bike - it's Jong's. Watch that barbecue pit.

4.1 miles, easy does it. You're not setting a record.

Lunges and squats, endless hours in the gym, a mouthful of chlorine!

It all paid off.

That's my boy, Ped.

Focused, motivated and inspired. Our ironman!

Event: Bassman Spring Triathlon and Duathlon

Bass River State Forest, New Jersey

May 2, 2010

Distance : 0.5 MS/29MB/4.1MR

New York Noise

And so the season ends with a fan favorite, the famous opera Tosca. A modern suspense thriller, it is the story of a turbulent love affair between the opera diva Tosca and the painter Cavaradossi who got into trouble with the police, etc.

Torture, murder and a firing squad, sounds a bit like a modern-day CSI? If that's not enough, it ends with Tosca fleeing inside a tower and in a fleeting image, a body is suspended in free fall. How did they do that? Was that a double? It sure looked real to me.

Another superb production but then again I expected no less from the Metropolitan Opera.

We are New Yorkers, try and stop us from making noise or producing good music especially underground. Here we see the Elianto String Quintet, exceptionally talented Juilliard grads delivering Music Under NY down below the busy Times Square station.

All you need is a Metro Card and a good pair of listening ears! Even our subways make music. Remember West Side Story? There is a ballad from the show entitled Somewhere. Listen closely as one of the newer trains pull out of a station, you'll hear it whine a three-note tone resembling the beginning of the song!

My neighbor Jeff, a professor of electrical engineering at Cooper Union has an explanation for this phenomenon. He said: "The sound is a fluke. Newer trains run on alternating current, but the third rail delivers direct current; inverters chop it into frequencies that can be used by alternating motors. The frequencies excite the steel, which in the case of the R142 cars respond by singing Somewhere. Inverters on other trains run at different frequencies and thus are not gifted with such a recognizable song."

Yeah, yeah. Gotcha or at least I think I did. Whatever it is Jeff, the subways, and I don't mean the British rock group, serenade me with Somewhere. There's a place for us.....

Demons and Devotion

When I found out that The Morgan Library is opening its doors for The Hours of Catherine Cleves, I knew the manuscript sounded familiar so I shuffled to my less than veritable home library to check out my collection. There it was lying on the shelf, a small book which I purchased in the early '80's and provides as close a glance into the original hand painted illuminated manuscript. You can't imagine how ecstatic I was, as I now would have the opportunity to view the original "greatest Dutch illuminated manuscript in the world" in person.

The Morgan Library and Museum elegantly displayed the pages of the stunning medieval book of Hours created in the 15th century for Catherine of Cleves, duchess of Guelders, a wealthy but politically ambitious woman of serious marital problems. The Hours was commissioned for Catherine as a wedding gift from her husband Arnold, duke of Guelders, and was painted by an artist known as the Master of Catherine of Cleves.

Illumination is an art of important tradition. The Book of Hours was a devotional book popular in the Middle Ages. Each manuscript is unique in one form or another, but most contain a collection of prayers, psalms, and text often with appropriate decorations for Christian devotion. Those made for the wealthy patrons may be extremely lavish, richly decorated and painted in gold.

These devotional miniatures are a gem. The detailed borders in The Hours of Catherine of Cleves are charming. Among them are stylized leaves, flowers, peas, birdcages, animals, garlands of mussels and crabs and each closely relate to the subject of the page. It is such a unique creation. Nothing quite like it that I've seen before.

The demons are frightening as they depict visions of the gates of Hell. Saint Cecilia was pictured in her aristocratic sport of falconry a symbolism luring the faithful with music and using hawks and falcons for the borders. She is the patron saint of music. Saint Bartholomew represents secular baking, the gilded plates are bordered with biscuits and pretzels. Who would know they already had pretzels in those days.

Saint Lawrence is shown with the grill of his martyrdom, and the alms purse attribute as patron saint of the poor. The delightful border shows fresh fish, which are ready for grilling, and the big fish eating the little fish, representing the rich devouring the poor.

The Master of Cleves conveyed irony and humor in the detailing of each of more than 160 plates. It's as if they were painted to enact pious dramas of the lives of saints and in a playful way. The trove of the workings of the great Dutch masters are not only in their paintings and tapestries but are also in these gilded illuminated manuscripts. It goes way beyond basics. It is marvelous.

There was a lot of silence in the gallery, except for an occasional question from a grade school kid to his art teacher. I enjoyed getting lost in the collection.

The J P Morgan private study is equally deserving of admiration. The room housed Mr Morgan's personal library and art collection. The Museum boasts a collection of first editions of Copernicus and Galileo, three well-preserved copies of the Gutenberg bible, the first substantial book printed from movable type in the West. More than 14,000 books are in his library. The walls of the study are covered with red silk fabric, the rooms filled with Flemish art tapestry, paintings and sculptures of the great masters and thousands of precious manuscripts. One set currently on exhibit are the Letters of J D Salinger, letters to his friend Michael Mitchell who designed the jacket for Catcher In The Rye.

In the same private office, Mr Morgan conducted business, and history as our guide one important event took place in October 1907. A financial panic occurred as a result of unregulated business, a quick reminder of current day affairs. He gathered his Wall Street cronies in this room and put together a bailout package to try to stabilize the economy. The crisis was resolved and he was considered the savior of the Panic of 1907!

Thank you, Mr Morgan. Your exhibition does what the Morgan Library and Museum does best and that is increase my admiration for the arts, particularly that of illumination. The Hours of Catherine of Cleves is now on top of my list. A book to keep in the night stand, skim a page each night and enjoy the arts as I recite my prayers.

Don't jump, naked man!

With public art displayed all over the City, there is no need to set foot in a museum. New Yorkers love their public art most especially on a lovely Spring day.

Stop, stare and gaze. Look up in the sky.
There are 31 naked men all over Madison Square Park in Lower Manhattan and 27 of them are perched on the ledge of rooftops! A conversation piece, to say the least, they compliment the architectural treasures found only in the Flatiron District. However, these men spark concern among many but the police have reassured viewers that the life-sized figures are not people contemplating suicide.

Nudity in the arts has never been a problem with most New Yorkers. No fig leaves are necessary. These pieces currently on display are not there for leisurely contemplation but as busy as the locals are rushing to work, some will pause in their tracks to take in these sculptures. Some will want to reach out for that no-longer-so-private part such as what happened to Botero's Adam and Eve on display at the Time Warner Center.

Some will want to tweak the discs on the chest and butt, the knobs that seem like electrodes ready for some connection in order to make the sculpture come alive. It's all part of an installation entitled Event Horizon the works of artist Antony Gormley. The exhibition first went on display in London in 2007 where a series of emergency calls where made to the police by concerned on-lookers. The life-sized pieces of iron and fiberglass are said to be body casts of Gormley.

He succeeded when he said he wants "to play with people's perception".

I saw it myself. A startled passer-by stopped and checked one of the sculptures up and down. I pointed out the rest of the naked men who looked like jumpers from the rooftops. He was in awe , started snapping photos and exclaimed, "Only in New York!"

Click on the images to enlarge and try to find those nude men on the rooftops. How many did you see?

The Flatiron Building is an artwork as it is but add to it a sculpture atop its roof and so close to edge, that is some work worth craning your neck for.

People gawked, some smiled and others shook their heads.

Some are creeped out, many are impressed, others are amused but hopefully most will understand that these are just sculptures.

Don't trip over that naked man. Don't call the cops on that stuntman or the guy attempting to take his own life. They are just a provocative work of art, you look at them and they look at you.