By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

EVERYONE says reading is dead or dying, the victim of shortened attention spans, TV or the Internet. Others says that reading is merely changing, migrating from the page to the screen. I’ve been asked why I haven’t moved to Amazon’s impressive little Kindle; I say it’s because I don’t just like reading, I like books: old-fashioned, made from dead trees books. It isn’t romantic, it’s just nothing matches the tactile feel of freshly minted books, the smell of the book paper, the sound of those crisp pages. I’m a holdout, and will continue to be so. My living spaces continue to be invaded happily by piles and piles of books; no shelves are enough to contain all my little treasures.

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By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz, Executive Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

IF you welcome the rains, you’re either a farmer in a parched field, a student reprieved from classes, or a resident of anywhere but the cursed coastal cities of Navotas and Malabon.

Believe me, the tiniest gray cloud, a spit of rain or a low rumble in late afternoons immediately presage panic. Especially if you’re nowhere near home. You stare at your office computer thinking, did I remember to put my stash of magazines on top of the dresser? Have I put up my shoes? Are all the electric plugs safely stowed away?

Many many years before, we’d drive into the sunset along Malabon’s main road which was then rimmed on both sides by fishponds. One of our favorite dating places was The Fish Fun, a motley cluster of adjoining huts jutting out into the waters where one can spy sprightly bangus swimming in blissful ignorance of their impending doom. A plate of grilled fish plucked straight from the waters and served with an assortment of dips and achara (pickles) cost less than P20 at that time. But that wasn’t the biggest bargain. What made people flock to this place was the sense of serenity that the stretch of waters on both sides suggested, and the feeling of contentment as one literally walked over a brimming food bin. Could life get any better, we’d think with a hearty burp after the satisfying meal.
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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

BECAUSE Filipinos only experience two seasons, we invariably attach much meaning and sentiment to both. Summer–the dry season–becomes an idyll of beaches, sunshine, freedom and long days. The other season, the wet or rainy season, becomes a poignant period of showers, cool afternoons and dreaming.

Most Filipino school children longed for summer, longed to be released squealing from their restrictive classrooms into the seemingly endless–but altogether too short–months of April and May. But I always preferred the rainy season, the raindrops of June and July, together with the pitter patter of rain as you dropped off to sleep at night.

June and July also came with its requisite typhoons of course and everyone became a radio listener as we begged for a day off from school even as the floods rose and the winds howled.

But as I grew older, I learned to appreciate the rainy season even more. Rain, you see, compresses time. There’s no telling what hour it is in the middle of a rainstorm. It’s like time literally stops to matter. All you have is the rain and you. It’s an unforgettable sensation, like kissing a girl in the gentle drizzle, or the barest hint of sunlight passing through the fragments of cloud and coldness. And people flee indoors. Some people liked to cuddle up with a book. Others cuddle up with someone they cherish. Rain translates our moods for us. If lonely, rain weeps. If happy, rain consoles. I always liked to sit by a window and just look out the window for hours, just listening to the individual raindrops dance on whatever surface they could encounter as I dreamt of poetry and better times.

By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

ANTICIPATION truly is half of satisfaction. Surprises are powerful but also elusive. It’s when we spend day after day looking out the window waiting for something, anything, in particular, that the little fragments of satisfaction are accumulated. Disappointment waits in the wings, of course, but that danger is part of the lure. Here then are the eight things I look forward to the most every year:

1) The Christmas season: It sounds cornball and can even be nerve-wracking as the activity and stress levels rise, but nothing comes close to the anticipation awaiting Christmas. From the shopping to the colors to the temperature, Christmas is the coolest occasion of all.

2) Last day of school: It is so primal for Filipinos to long for summer, but summer is most important because it heralds the end of the school year. Two semesters can stretch very long indeed, so when that final bell goes off, it is a cathartic sound.

3) The start of college basketball season: July was a ho-hum month when I was younger, but once college began, July was accompanied by the syncopated cheers, the synchronized drumming, the shrill whistles and the slide of sneakers against parquet. UAAP or NCAA: July is a month of welcome madness.

4) The Oscars telecast: Yes, the show’s too long. Yes, the gazillion commercials can be irksome. But the potent mix of movies (hopefully good) and good hosts (hopefully Billy Crystal) makes this a cinematic guilty pleasure by itself.

5) Formula One starts: March is a month that goes by so fast, just like the machines that inhabit the grids of Formula 1. The engines are started, the drivers get set and everything is go, go, go! At least until October. Luckily that’s when…

6) The NBA season kicks off: The best basketball in the world. Every day. The Celtics. The Pistons. The Warriors. The Cavs. The Suns. The Wizards… and whoever the Sonics are going to turn into. Hoop heaven.

7) The Manila International Bookfair: Wallets get lighter and book bags get heavier. For the Filipino bibliophile, the World Trade Center becomes the must-visit destination for the weeklong exhibition of book lust.

8 ) November 3: I don’t know about you, but the intricate craziness that builds around cemeteries on Nov. 1 and 2 is truly not of this world. I want to remain solemn about the occasion and remember lost loved ones, but it’s kind of hard when it takes two hours to get to the memorial park and people are trying to sell you cold pizza. November 3 sees the world go back to normal.

See 11 new talents to watch out for in 2008 in the August 3 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.

By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

EVERYONE’S affected by the economic crunch, and we all have to find our own ways of getting through the crisis with aplomb. Here are my five tips for riding out the crisis:

• Borrow, borrow, borrow: I understand we live in a highly acquisitive environment, but books, DVDs and the like are truly expensive these days. I won’t argue whether they’re luxuries or necessities (you can guess though) but creating a circle of borrowers can be helpful. Since we’re lending our own things, we should take care of what we borrow. Additionally, you can arrange for borrow, say, magazines from one person, books from another, DVDs from someone else and so on. At the very least, it can be a pleasure to explore someone else’s book shelf for a change.
• Take the jeep: The MRT/LRT/LRT2 is the height of public transport in the Metro, but now everyone and their entourages take the train, leading to some ridiculously backed-up crowd during rush hour. Buses are scary; tricycles are weird. Now it’s time to relearn how to take the jeeps. They run throughout the city, are still relatively cheap; and it’s just a matter of figuring out the labyrinthine routes they run and weaving them together.
• Take home everything: Foodies come in all stripes and sizes, but leftovers now become more than just an afterthought; they can be part of your daily meal routine. Think about it; when eating at a restaurant with big servings, you can already plan in advance to take the food home, making it part of your next meal (heated up, microwaved, heck, some even like pizza cold) instead of becoming literal dog food.
• Discover Book Sale: It’s actually insane how good the stuff is at Book Sale. Between the novels and the magazines, one just has to be very patient wading through the rows and rows of items. Ideally you could spend half a day at one Book Sale branch alone; you can spend the next day at another. And there’s no denying how affordable their merchandise is.
• Use landlines: Remember these? Most of these are not metered, have excellent reception (no more “Can you hear me now?” nonsense) and are just a glance away. The only downside is that you can’t move around while talking, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s very much a back-to-basics move, and makes a whole lot of sense.

Read about all the ways to ride out the economic crisis in the July 27 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.

By Leica R. Carpo, Publisher
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

1. HITCH a ride.
2. Drink Coke Zero for dessert; it’s cheaper than chocolate.
3. Recycle your wardrobe with the help of a stylish friend.
4. Sleep with no airconditioning.
5. Bring your own water bottle or coffee to work.
6. Buy from local designers.
7. Use the Internet to shop for best bargains.
8. Only buy secondhand.
9. Patronize your local library and borrow books instead of buying them.
10. Learn how to cook; it’s cheaper than eating out.

Check out this Sunday’s Inquirer Magazine. Free with your copy of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

By Eric S. Caruncho, Staff Writer
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

Being on my third iPod (the 80-gigabyte, fifth generation), it goes without saying that I have finally succumbed to MP3 technology along with the teeming masses.

There is something to be said for having all your music at your fingertips. If I get a sudden yen to listen to a particular song again, all I have to do is turn the clickwheel and there it is. Not too long ago, such an urge would have entailed digging through my collection of 1,000 plus CDs or 2,000 plus LPs and 45s and God knows how many cassettes, firing up the stereo system (assuming I actually managed to locate the cut I was looking for), and playing the track. If it was on vinyl, there would first have to be the complex ritual of cleaning the record with my antistatic brush and home-brewed cleaning fluid, cleaning the stylus of my turntable with a different brush, and carefully dropping the needle in the groove with the volume off to avoid any speaker-damaging noise, before turning the amplifier up.

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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

THINGS in the Big City are hard enough, especially in these days of spiraling gas prices, but there are some things that really make life even harder. Beware:

1. People who line up to use the ATM on payday with TWENTY-ONE ATM cards from their officemates!
2. People who line up at the CASH ONLY line and insist on using credit cards!
3. People who line up in the EXPRESS LANE with more than 10 items! Learn to count, people!
4. Drivers who move across FOUR LANES of traffic to turn right!
5. Telemarketers! Telemarketers! Telemarketers!
6. Customer service “hotlines” that put you on hold FOREVER!
7. People who send CHAIN LETTERS!
8. People who drive scooters WITH SOUND SYSTEMS!
9. People with FAKE AMERICAN ACCENTS!
10. People who don’t like movies THEY HAVEN’T WATCHED!

For more of what really drives people crazy, check out the July 20 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.

By Pennie Azarcon Dela Cruz, Executive Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

THE THING is, I was raised to scrub the toilet. With five girls in the family and Nanay being the scourge of hired help, the household chores were evenly divided among us siblings. Ate got to cook and was soon attending night courses at a nearby public high school learning to bake cakes, make embutido from scratch and concoct commercial-type goodies. A younger sister was in charge of setting and clearing the tables; the fourth sister was the designated dishwasher, and the youngest girl was the all-around go-fer.

I don’t remember if we drew lots, or if this was payback for my incredible good looks and brilliant mind that surely must have stirred terminal envy among my other siblings, but I wound up being assigned to clean the bathroom, the toilet and kitchen floors. This was fine for my Cinderella complex for some time, but soon enough, my Bella Flores nature began to surface and I was Herr Bella to anyone who dared cross the kitchen threshold or had to use the bathroom while I was scrubbing them. I swear you could eat off my toilet floor. Why, even Adrian Monk would approve of the antiseptic gleam that my labors induced from these ghetto areas.

Things were fine — until I got married. With us living with my in-laws, I had to somehow prove myself domesticated enough to stir the pot. In my previous forays in the kitchen, I had been known to burn a hole in the ozone layer when I attempted to cook gumamela jelly in a classmate’s house in Pampanga. But being a type A personality, I immediately sought to rise above the scorch marks and tackled other fancy dishes meant to impress my in-laws. To dismal results. Fortunately, the hubby was complicit enough to help me get rid of the evidence — until his rapidly expanding belly literally became Exhibit A. Realizing that her son could only do so much for love, my mother-in-law soon planted a simplified cookbook among the dishtowels. Thus began my delicious adventures into gastronomy and my enduring affair with the Lifestyle Network’s Wolfgang Puck, Giada de Laurentiis, Nigella Lawson and oh joy, the “Iron Chef”!

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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

IT’S a Filipino thing: playing in the streets as the sun goes down. The very names of the games played speak to their exotic and mesmerizing nature: tumbang preso, patintero, and so on. It’s a siren song; when the mothers start asking their children to come home because it’s getting dark, the need to play becomes so much stronger, like a mild muazzin. Every second of play becomes all the more precious, even as the mothers’ voices grow shriller.

But not everyone thrives in the streets. Those who are neither fast nor athletic nor well-liked literally don’t play well with others. Truth is, they don’t play with others at all. I was one of those. I never learned to ride a bike; I tried, it didn’t go straight — or well. I was not only a weakling, I was an annoying weakling prone to holding grudges and getting ticked off.

But I found a refuge in the library, be it at home or in school. I know, I know, it seems so contrived, but I enjoyed playing inside my own mind much more than I did outside with the others. I liked watching events unfold even if I knew what was going to happen. And we had amazing books at home because my parents bought all the books they could. We had encyclopedias, Reader’s Digest Condensed Books (those were awesome), hardcover classics, and the holy trinity of Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys and the Bobbsey Twins.

They were my companions, my playmates. I worried after Ivanhoe and Rebecca, knew that nothing good would come from Lancelot making goo-goo eyes at the Queen, disliked Bess, found Chet Morton annoying though found his hobbies fascinating and while the Bobbseys were predictable, the places they traveled to were not; Greece and London were the best.

And it never, ever occurred to me that I was learning. Countless suns have set. Endless games have ended. But I have never regretted not spending my time in the sun. The ultimate games were those found in the cool places between a book’s pages, each shadow stretching into forever.

Check out the June 22 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.