tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61791542403187467172026-05-06T13:33:11.028-07:00My Life At NInety: Looking Back And Moving OnJulehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06871071428100101808noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-75908556851531839862010-01-29T02:29:00.000-08:002010-01-30T08:41:28.870-08:00

I do not remember what my reason(s) was/were then but I never told my friends that men in our village, it does not matter what age, wore nothing but loin cloths, like the teen age boy in the above photo. The cloth functioned more as a protection rather than  serve as a cover. Could it be that was I ashamed of my own people or was I just afraid they would be judged by my friends based on

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06871071428100101808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-60458560150157232472009-07-30T06:02:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:24:17.359-07:00

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Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-39403440861987443262009-07-25T21:25:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:23:08.555-07:00

Eva was ringing the bell like she was training for some bell ringing competition. It was the signal for us to finish cleaning up the tell tale signs of our just finished bare hands dining experience. The much awaited event of the night was going to commence. The bell did wonders I must concede. Everyone was in the hall in no time. Once again, everybody looked charming, clean and coiffed. Eva

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-60983145459699540512009-07-20T20:50:00.000-07:002009-08-07T22:16:31.749-07:00

Their laughter was simply symphonic. Never had it crossed my mind that the day would come I would find their laughter musical. It must have been the silly fences they built around themselves that had in the past made their laughter sound like discordant notes which assaulted the senses. Not anymore. They have leaped out of their fences. They had freed the spirit chained within themselves and

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-31254204109956574972009-07-17T21:56:00.000-07:002009-08-07T22:28:54.300-07:00

I gazed at the sepia print. It was all faded except for what it stored. I closed my eyes. My senses took the cue. The memories began to take life.I could hear the crickets chirp like mad. They must be happy the weather was beautiful that night. I felt the cold breeze caress me. I shivered. It was beginning to get cold. Mother Agnes insisted I should wear my sweater. I did grudgingly but as soon

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-10181272965440482372009-07-14T01:40:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:10:46.938-07:00

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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-123478925098446852009-07-12T05:20:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:09:11.619-07:00

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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-43976395522153467002009-07-10T00:11:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:07:49.485-07:00

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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-5384248645493014312009-07-08T02:51:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:06:22.191-07:00

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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-60999400015614402582009-07-04T18:22:00.001-07:002009-07-04T18:33:25.959-07:00

An aerial view of Luneta. You could see here Manila Bay. Mother Ana often brings me here to watch the spectacular show of sunset. I mentioned about this in my previous stories.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-61668219999207241592009-06-27T18:49:00.000-07:002009-06-27T18:56:09.059-07:00

Calle Real inside the walled city of Intramuros. I got a very vague memory of the place as we seldom visit it although it is not really that far from our school.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-17267842281489100292009-06-24T18:35:00.000-07:002009-06-24T18:56:14.466-07:00

The old Quiapo Church before which itenerant traders set their stalls on fiestas. Emerging from mass, congregations shop about for bargains, anything from a dollar watch to a fighting cock. Coming toward you here is a carabao cart loaded with lumber. Two wheeled horse drawn carriages ply for hire. Every aspect is old Manila except for the automobile parked before the church doors, the telephone

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-22363939686139372482009-02-16T18:12:00.001-08:002009-02-16T18:26:34.333-08:00

This is the San Agustin Church as it looked then. I always looked forward to visiting this church for some very special reason. I will talk about it in a later post.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-51351658313387007042009-02-12T18:06:00.000-08:002009-02-16T18:32:14.973-08:00

Collegio De Sta Rosa, one of the best school for girls then

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-59907831864547091832009-02-08T17:58:00.000-08:002009-02-16T18:29:23.719-08:00

Ateneo, the country's premier private university in its early years. The university is run by the Jesuit fathers.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-49812513824954142402009-02-06T17:54:00.000-08:002009-02-16T18:28:34.432-08:00

Binondo, Chinatown, as it looked then.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-30807691998905364542009-01-30T17:49:00.000-08:002009-02-16T18:27:59.183-08:00

Cariedo in the 1930's. It used to be the big city's center of commerce.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-28412691938430982472008-10-13T08:02:00.000-07:002009-06-13T18:04:47.692-07:00

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Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-74791249543425548732008-09-04T07:15:00.000-07:002009-06-13T18:06:55.567-07:00

The famous San Sebastian Church as it looked then. This is where I and my classmates go to hear mass on Sundays. The nuns were always there to check on our attendance. They did not really have to. At that time, going to hear mass on Sundays was very much a part of our social life. It was an opportunity to meet with friends and having some fun so we seldom miss it. Besides, missing it would be a

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-65116363739796278162008-09-03T07:06:00.000-07:002009-06-13T18:08:10.769-07:00

The country's most famous park is named after the national hero honored on this monument. The park is fringed by the sea I mentioned at the onset of my story.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-44245134263182486192008-09-02T07:02:00.000-07:002008-10-24T07:55:06.835-07:00

For a village girl who never saw big buildings , I found the big city both awesome and intimidating.

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179154240318746717.post-74526735843875870912008-09-01T06:38:00.000-07:002008-10-24T07:50:43.694-07:00

This is one famous road. A legacy of our people from the colonials. I passed it for the first time on our way to the big city To give the readers a clearer understanding of my story, I would be posting vintage pictures related to the story on what I would call my September brochure

Julehyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031060175865109363noreply@blogger.com0