February 2009 Archives

By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz, Executive Editor Sunday Inquirer Magazine IT was our version of this year’s global meltdown. It was 1984. The year struck a fearsome chord in us, and not just because of George Orwell’s futuristic novel and its vision of a totalitarian society. It was the year after the Ninoy Aquino assassination and suddenly, the country erupted into daily protest rallies, capital flight, business slowdown and a general sense of panic and doom. Pundits gleefully described it as 1980-POOR, and indeed, everyone feared for their jobs and their wallets. Everybody was talking sidelines, ingenious ways to make ends meet, and soon enough, everyone in the office had something to peddle—from frozen hotdogs to local chocolate bars to Bangkok clothes and Marikina shoes. Except for me. Well, I’ve never been good at business, thinking it an imposition on other people to take their money in return for my merchandise. “Baka hindi lang makatanggi,” I would think when people actually bought the toys I had thought of selling on installment basis at one time when I wanted to add up to the kitty for my C-section delivery. I’m definitely the exception, but most women I know, especially when faced with the prospect of their kids going hungry, manage to hold their own in a strange trade, including business. In fact, given a bit of training, women have excellent business sense. A few logical explanations: 1. You can bank on women; they’re a good credit risk. Women have a much higher chance of repaying a loan than do men. The Grameen Bank experience in Bangladesh and similar schemes show that women pay back loans 97% of the time, compared to only 89% among males. The conscientious payment can often be traced to women’s socialization as mainly responsible for the household. NGOs that loan out money to women note that while men tend to go out and gamble or indulge in similar vices (like drinking or smoking) when flushed with cash, loans to women often end up improving the lot of the family: the children eat better, they go back to school, the home repairs get taken care of. 2. Women’s training in household management also comes in handy when handling a business. When you think of multi-tasking (watching the baby while cooking rice or cleaning up), attention to details, budgeting skills and resource management, you’re describing a housewife or a homemaker. Those same skills can translate into a sharp eye on inventory, counting pesos and centavos and balancing the budget, sourcing out good suppliers (the “suki” mentality comes to mind), and keeping long hours. 3. A financial analyst also notes that men can be too competitive and take too many risks. In contrast, women are more risk-averse and take time to plan and study their next move. Most women go into business while still holding down another job, just to make sure they won’t be risking their regular paycheck. When the business takes off, that’s when they let go of their monthly pay and bring along the husband into the business. Of course one hopes they wouldn’t open up too many sari-sari stores that end up under pricing each other, but that’s the dark side of being too timid in business. The tendency to go into this micro enterprise, even among women OFWs who have sizeable capital, can be traced yet again to women’s primary role in the household. Most sari-sari stores, usually just a few bottles of candies and chips, some canned goods and softdrinks arrayed in front of one’s home, provide women a good excuse to earn some money while staying home minding the kids and doing the chores. But if you really want to earn serious money in business and become an entrepreneur, you’d do well to check out the March 1 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine. It’s all about women, money and business: how to start one, where to invest your money, how to protect your funds, how to choose a pawnshop, what luxuries to indulge, which businesses are recession-proof, what traits you need to succeed in your venture. This issue is SIM’s way of celebrating Women’s Month with its female readers. SIM comes free with your copy of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor Sunday Inquirer Magazine THERE is a common perception that women are crazy about shoes, but guys are just as capable of filling closets with footwear. But instead of the formal and party footwear so beloved by women, guys have a tendency to accumulate voluminous assemblages of athletic footwear—in particular, basketball shoes. A lot of basketball shoes. Collectors are proud of their finds, with the complete pristine selection of Air Jordans as the sign of true accomplishment, a feat that can be beat perhaps by only one other thing: A collection of original Nike Air Force Ones in all the available colorways and special editions. In other words, mission impossible. Still, there really does seem to be a gene in Filipino guys which makes them swoon over basketball shoes (sometimes known as high tops except that they aren’t, you know, high anymore). At the beginning, from the arrival of the classic (and still very collectible) Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars (more commonly and affectionately known as Chucks), basketball shoes were usually “high-cut”: good exemplars would be the iconic Adidas Pro Model, the Converse Weapon and the aforementioned Air Force One. The 1990s saw the rise of the “mid-cut” shoe and recently we have seen more evidence of actually “low-cut” basketball shoes being worn on the court; the most famous low-cut hoop shoe would probably be the Puma Clyde, a wonderful confection of suede and rubber worn by the iconoclast Clyde Frazier of the New York Knicks. The arms race in hoop footgear has been going on since the 1980s primarily by the two superpowers: Nike and Adidas. There are many brands which have come and gone and come and gone again on the court, such as Spalding, Fila, Oakley, Brooks, Avia, LA Gear, Etonic, British Knights and so on. The fierce rise of Reebok gave the superpowers pause in the 1990s, but Reebok is now essentially part of the Adidas arsenal. But back to Nike and Adidas: today, these two wage a war over players (Nike: Kobe and Lebron vs Adidas: Garnett and McGrady) through a long line of technology (for example, Nike Shox vs Adidas Bounce). It’s a fascinating tug-of-war with cool results such as the Nike Foamposite Lites worn by Knick Nate Robinson in the Sprite Slam Dunk final versus Dwight Howard’s Adidas TS Bounce Commanders. As for the view closer to home, we remember the days of the mighty Grosby basketball empire followed by the Kaypee enterprise. Today, only one local company is still working to get Filipino athletic footwear on Filipino feet, and that’s Accel, which notably has signature shoes for Jay Jay Helterbrand and Mark Caguioa. It may be an uphill battle but Accel has been nobly climbing with very colorful results. Athletic shoes often breed loyalists—there really are Nike guys, for example. Perhaps the shrewdest move by Nike was to sign up the Alpha Pinoy. Today, Manny Pacquiao is a Nike guy and in a way, maybe that means all of us are too—to a certain degree. Or not. Read about Nike and Tweetie de Leon-Gonzalez in the Febraury 22, 2009 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.

By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz Executive Editor, Sunday Inquirer Magazine I KNOW, I know. It's like being a wallflower in an orgy or Cinderella moping in the kitchen while everyone else steps out to party. But if you haven't yet made reservations for lunch or dinner or a Valentine tryst in that hideaway, I beg you: cease, desist and judiciously hold your peace. Believe me, you don't want to wind up as a statistic on this red-letter day. Take it from me, I know. I used to be one. Like millions of other romantic couples, the hubby and I would usually join the throng of lovestruck Pinoys who tenderly make goo-goo eyes at each other in the car, squeezing each other's hand (and possibly other parts as well) while patiently waiting out the traffic. Your roses might wilt by the time you get to lunch or dinner, that overpriced Valentine entrée might be nothing but a reheated bistek with a complimentary glass of Novellino, and the bed sheets in your favorite hotel/motel might not be freshly-laundered, but one thing remains constant: it will be a bumper to bumper road situation this Saturday (a Valentine weekend and on a payday, hello?) Love may endure and first love never dies, but after running the gauntlet of Metro Manila traffic and waiting almost another hour for a parking slot, we find the sigh of violins being replaced by a low ominous rumble from our belly. Finally ushered in, we squeeze ourselves into a tiny table crammed on all sides by 10,000 other tables, each with lovers trying to look oblivious to the cacophony of commerce around them. The Valentine special arrives: paella topped with a shiny red but miniscule shrimp, a disjointed red crab's claw and plenty of red peppers (hey, we're painting the town red, remember?). Famished by now, we manage to wolf down a few bites without pausing for the obligatory declaration of endless love. Then it happens: we glance up from our plates for some amorous gesture and find ourselves staring into the hungry eyes of two other couples obviously waiting for our table. We felt like lovers caught in flagrante delicto (or as a friend says gleefully: in flagrante delicious!) We almost choke--especially when we espy our waiter with dessert in tow-- crème brulee and coffee-- making his way to our table. Gee, you think they're hurrying us up? We must have qualified for the Guinness' fastest Valentine dinner that night. Mas matagal pang mag-park! Oh, and forget about checking in. My friend, the Love Guru (yes, the same one behind flagrante delicious) recalls how Valentine's is the Christmas day of the motel business. Hardly has their car nosed into the tiny eskinita on its way to biglang-liko when the roomboy would materialize, gesturing frantically that there's no vacancy. "Like a semaphore guy at the airport when a Concorde's about to hit," she says. Four or five semaphore guys later, she and special friend finally find a room and settle in uneasily: "Ateng, mainit-init pa yung kama!" Ewwww!!! To avoid the crowds, we once checked in after Valentine's. Ooops, wrong move! This day (and the day after Christmas), we were to learn from Love Guru later, has been consecrated as The Day for Mistresses, Second Girlfriends or Other Women. No wonder I kept getting these leery glances from the receptionist and the room boy. ("For a mistress, she certainly looks frumpy," the guy must have thought). So lest I be martyred like poor old St. Valentine's for spoiling your special day, let me end with a few tips on what NOT to do on this occasion: 1.. Never wear red-unless you'd like every kanto boy, Metro aide, MMDA patrol and konduktor to greet you, "Happy Valentine's!" 2.. Don't flaunt your roses, stuffed toy or other tokens of love. You want it to look like to get this kind of tribute everyday, right? And please, bawal mang-inggit! 3.. Don't send yourself roses with a card signed by "Your Secret Admirer." The delivery guy just might spoil the effect with his inadvertent honesty, "Ma'am, eto po yung change ninyo." 4.. Don't send a barrage of text messages pledging undying love. Hey, us spoilsports still need use our cellphone for the usual dirty jokes brigade, so don't tie up the networks! 5.. Minimize the PDA, especially in fine dining restaurants. We're all trying to have a decent meal here, you know. 6.. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel when driving. Watch out for the little old lady crossing the road; that might be me. 7.. If you have to use your cell phone for sweet nothings, keep your voice low. We've been rolling our eyes heavenward all day we might not be able to properly focus them again. 8.. And finally, don't hog the sidewalk, the overpass or the skyway with your arms wrapped around each other while strolling leisurely in the Metro. Repeat to yourself: I am not KC and he is not Richard and we're not on location shoot. If you've read too many Valentine stories thus far, you'd welcome the Sunday Inquirer Magazine's issue this Sunday. The Out of Body Band on the cover makes beautiful music sans the trappings of Cupid. SIM comes free with your copy of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor Sunday Inquirer Magazine SITTING next to the radio growing up, we learned the words to songs the old-fashioned way: straining and trying to figure out what the heck those singers were saying. Now, for the most part this was not too hard; there seems to be a gene inside all Filipinos that allows them to understand, memorize and then regurgitate on command every single Barry Manilow song. But there were challenges: Pearl Jam and every single band who tried to sound like them were really hard to get. But sometimes we had help. Aside from being just the best music magazine like ever, Jingle had, notably, correct lyrics to the songs of the day. As the articles receded and the lyrics spread, Jingle Songbook/chordbook become the go-to mag for the words even as a virtual legion of imitators came out of the woodwork, some of them with ridiculously erroneous lyrics. Who knew that the ultimate solution lay in weight on TV of all places. A nation weaned on the power of videoke was waiting to watch even more TV. When ABS-CBN started up Myx in 2001, it seemed like a quaint variation on MTV and Channel V. Wow, I was really off on that. Myx, by streaming the words to every single video they aired, was perfect. So now, I find it odd when I'm watching a music video and the words are not on the screen. It also had the interesting side effect of showing you could write lyrics and who could not. Pupil's "Disconnection Notice" and Sandwich's "Procrastinator" are sublime examples of songs with lyrics that not only work but bear thinking about long after listening. And sorry, Lady Ga-ga but "Poker Face" has an infectious hook but wow those lyrics are really dumb. Your mileage will of course vary depending on why you want the words. For those who simply want to be able to sing along, then it really doesn't matter how awesome the lyrics are. Po-po-po-ker face it is. But for those who adore a good line or two, then this new way of appreciating Pinoy music works on so many levels. So ride with the wind and hold that grip steady to watch and read and appreciate that new Kjwan song. It's perfect. Read about the Out of Body Special, Manila's best-kept musical secret in the February 15, 2009 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.

By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor Sunday Inquirer Magazine AS a dual-layered way of expressing affection, choosing favorite romantic movies, books and whatnot resonates. It is not only a choice of a specific form over another (It loves me, it loves me not…) but also of specific content. Living up to the fact that I am very much a book nut, I've decided to impose on you dear readers certain books I've recently read, books centered around a love story (as compared to plain old romances). Take note that this is a list of book's I've read within the last year or so, not an ultimate all-time list of books about love stories. That would be a truly intimidating task, though I imagine Pablo Neruda and Nick Bantock should make that list easily. But this is about new reading material. Some may be a bit out there, but at the end of the reading, each one exemplifies the magnetic pull of romance, a force strong enough to mend or rend lives. In no particular order: "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" by Rachel Cohn and Dan Levitan: My current favorite. Ostensibly a novel for young adults, "Playlist" is a stunningly winning tale of a single night in New York built around punk rock, Judaism and a yellow Yugo (the car not the defunct nationality) named Jessie. Oh and two lost soul mates named Nick and Norah, duh. There's a charming movie based on it starring Michael Cera and Kat Dennings, a thoroughly enjoyable adaptation that diverges away from the book rather heavily. The movie is pretty good. The book is awesome. "Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane" by Sean McKeever and Takeshi Miyazawa: Why is a comic book series included in this list? Because McKeever and Miyazawa, through a reimagined contemporary take on Mary Jane Watson, (she has a cellphone now) tackles the bittersweet and yet broadband-quick world of high school romance with just the barest dappling of superheroic high jinks (though the bit with Firestar was very nice). The series has been restarted with Terry Moore at the helm, but the original two hardcovers are just lovely. "The Post-Birthday World" by Lionel Shriver: Perhaps the saddest good book on love you will find, Shriver's novel is easily compared to that Gwyneth Paltrow-John Hannah movie "Sliding Doors," where a woman makes a choice and two timelines emerged. We find out that sometimes things are beyond our power to change. This book is the intelligent, nuanced, heartbreaking but unforgettable iteration of the idea. "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer: Yes, this book has its share of flaws and yes Stephen King hates it, but this book won over readers because of ideas. One of them is the forbidden and problematic attraction between a vampire (how much badder can this boy be? He's dead) and a human (a self-involved ninny at times to be honest). But it's the other element I'm impressed by: Meyer's ability to accurately or at least convincingly depict the modern teenager's thought process when falling in love. It's the best of the series even if it was the first because—painful dialogue aside—it made us think that the vampire-human pairing could happen. "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro: Ishiguro knows how to write about the slow burn of affection. "The Remains of the Day" smoldered with it. But "Never Let Me Go," an unusual concoction of sci-fi and romance, takes the idea to a new level. If clones, grown only for their organs, fall in love, what are they to do? This book has the haunting but subtle answer. Read about other things Valentine's Day related in the February 8, 2009 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.