The Secret Life of Nora Aunor and Michael Jackson

Nine months after this photo was taken, Maria Leonora Teresa (MLT) was born.

Upon learning the true identity of her parents, MLT went into a state of shock, turned completely white and became catatonic.

Deranged with grief, Nora Aunor started bringing her petrified daughter everywhere she went, telling everyone that the poor child was just but a doll.

Tirso Cruz III, her erstwhile screen partner, was paid P50 million pesos to go along with the charade. Because of this, showbiz insiders started calling him Pipty (as in pipty million fesos), which eventually became shortened to Pip.


Pressured by his family, Michael Jackson went back to America and, shaken by the experience, wrote a song about the sordid affair.

That song was about his one night stand with Nora and his disownment of their daughter. Below is an excerpt from the original lyrics , as written by Michael , before being edited by his production company.

Nora "Nor is not my lover
She's just a girl who claims that I am the one
But the doll is not my own.

Wracked by guilt, Michael slowly began to transform himself into the image of his lost daughter

Although Michael and Nora were never seen together in public again, unconfirmed speculations on the existence of another child remain. They say that show-business runs in the blood. This may very well be true in this case as the rumored second child is no other than . . . . Weng-weng .

Abandoned as a baby, Weng-weng was adopted by a poor family who thought he would bring them luck because of his uncanny resemblance to the Child Jesus.

Nevertheless, in spite of a short but memorable brush with fame, Weng-weng died alone and penniless.

In a surreal twist to the MJ/MLT dynamic described above, Weng-weng tried to fashion himself into the image of his birth-mother.



































(Last photo from http://video48.blogspot.com)

No one can tell what has happened to Maria Leonora Theresa although we do have our suspicions.

This story makes me very sad.

The end.

Feeding Frenzy in Vietnam

I'm grateful that I'm able to pack up my bags and take short holidays at a moments notice. I was in Vietnam this week-end.

The idea for the trip came up because I wanted to eat authentic Vietnamese food. The idea became a plan when I came across several good deals - US$50+ tax for airfare, US$30 per night in a nice hotel in the backpackers' area.

As expected, food was good, plentiful and cheap. I spent an average of US$3 per meal. It would be impolite to ask me how many meals I had in a day.

On my last day, I went into a feeding frenzy. So little time, so much food to try.

Or - the food in Vietnam might run out, one never knows with this Socialist states - so I figured that I should take as much as I could while the going is still good.

I burned most of the calories by walking and walking under the hot sun.

I wasn't particularly after the exercise. There were ambulant food vendors every 100 meters or so and I didn't want to miss anything. My feet ached. I was sweaty and grimy. But I was a man with a mission.

In between eating, I took pictures. Check out my Flicker page for my complete Vietnam photo set by clicking here.

I stalked a monk.

Arnel Pineda on the CBS Sunday Morning Show

I'm a sucker for stories like Arnel Pineda's.

If I tried much harder, maybe it can happen to me too.

Hmm, no, I don't think so.

Filipinos Ive Met Abroad

I’ve noticed that living or working abroad brings out the best and worst in people. I suppose its because, having to survive on your own, you have to learn to rely on your instincts. And your instincts reveal your character and values at their barest and most real. I have met the kindest, most generous Filipinos in my travels. I’ve been fortunate to hear some of their stories – ones of sacrifice and courage and – often – success and good humor.

Unfortunately, I have also come across some of the worst Filipinos. More unfortunately, they make themselves so obvious with their loudness and crassness. No matter how much they try to re-invent themselves, one word out of them and you could immediately smell the squalid low class upbringing and fifth rate education they’re trying to hide with their artificially-accented and gramatically horrible English.

Ate Rosing and Ate Conching

Back in the day, when we were still living in Pagsanjan, Ate Rosing and Ate Conching were our neighbors and my Manang's barkada. Our family would invite them over for holiday dinners and other special occasions . I was especially fond of Ate Rosing. She must have been less than five feet tall but whenever she saw me, she would reach up to give me a buss on the cheek.

They had both retired from “ the service”. They had come to town many years before from various parts of the country to work as helpers for different households. Their employers had since migrated or died or gone away. Ate Conching and Ate Rosing stayed behind, eventually sharing a small rented room together. They had been away from their own families for so long that “going back” (wherever this was) might have been like returning to strangers.

The Ates lived on selling rice cakes and doing occasional jobs for families in the neighborhood. In their spare time, they were church-ladies - part of a small army of elderly women who kept house for the parish priest and attended all the church activities. Pagsanjan had become their home. Their neighbors and friends - their substitute family. Everbody knew them. They did not lack for invitations to join neighbornnod and housenhold social occassions. And whenever someone was sick or there was a death in the community - there were among the first to commisserate and offer whatever assistance they could .

I haven’t seem them for awhile but heard about them recently. Ate Rosing is weak and slowly losing her memory. Although she remains mostly lucid, it's difficult for her to take care of herself already. Ate Conching has terminal cancer. They have to rely on the kindness of neighbors. Somebody comes to give Ate Rosing a bath once a week. Another accompanies Ate Conching to her doctor’s appointments.

There is something both sad and uplifting about this story. It is sad that f0r various reasons - each of us has to leave our families behind at some point and venture into the world alone. It is comforting that we have the ability to move on and make families of our own.

Ate Rosing and Ate Conching are quiet, simple women. Most of their lives have been spent in the service of others. But, in their quiet simplicity, they have left a mark. They will not go unforgotten.

Coming Home

On the third week of an extended business trip, I’m homesick. But, I’m not sure if I can really call my pad back in Manila "home". Leaving an empty hotel room to go back to an empty house doesn’t seem like much of a homecoming . The comfort of being surrounded by one’s own familiar things doesnt seem much compared to the comfort and familiarity of returning to your family.

Flickering

In yet another attempt at mid-life self-expression, I've begun to dabble in photography. Check out my flicker page to view my stuff.

Following are some of the pictures from my recent travels to Egypt and Dubai.