my limit is: 5 Gay Guys in a Room [no, it's not about an orgy]

Okay, let me put this out there since it has been popping-up during my recent conversations with the heterosexuals lately. Someone once asked me why I rarely frequent places where the rainbow flag hangs or in plain terms, gay-oriented clubs and bars?

Well, the Barefoot Baklesa is not necessarily what they call a Scene Queen -defined as one who frequents the gay scene and "where it doth play" -a little Elizabethan English there for you. I'm not being an elitist about it but when I was studying at the Ateneo some years back, when we had the time to go out, I never sought to go to the places where people like us [PLUs] frequent.

Back then, Eastwood City at Libis was the farthest most of us could go, and often out of necessity; to find a good place to eat. Tanghalang Ateneo rehearsals would normally last until midnight, therefore dinner would be after that. Between academics, the theater,a part-time job in the live performance industry, and whatever is left to spend time with my family, a gays-night-out was just an impossibility.

On the other hand, I don't really have a lot of gay friends, nor did I seek their company. The amount of homosexuals in Tanghalang Ateneo was the right amount of gay I could handle. I did prefer hanging out with the breeders, truth be told. I thought I had the obligation to be the token gay guy; and also because the Doll House Bench by the side of the Rizal Study Foyer facing Kostka Hall where all the effete homosexuals of my day converged wasn't really my crowd. Although some of them were pleasant acquaintances, it was just a matter of preference.

If any Doll House gays are reading this, I mean no offense. You see, I also had a bench where only a select bunch of gay guys hung-out: the second set of benches after the vending machine at Kostka facing the quad. But strangely enough, there were only five of us there. Even in Tanghalang Ateneo, when the Alumni leave, there were five of us from the usual stock. So, I reckon five became comfortable for me. If under these consequences, I have developed that kind of comfort zone, then so be it.

When I was working with Circuit Asia for an event before, I felt so awkward inside Club Government and at Bed. I just wanted to get it over and done with! An entire club of gay men was not my thing. I read somewhere before that it's called "homophobia from a homo", but I do protest that term. It's not that I can't stand my own kind, but one thing that adds to this is the elephant in the room that is out and about when a lot of gay men are around:the gay brand of competitiveness.

It's like when a group of girls are competing for the attention of the attractive guy that walks into the club, and all the claws are out. Men, being naturally competitive are much more complicated when they are gay. Ergo, I can't stand it when the fangs of our kind are bared. Gay people have defined the word MEAN for quite some time now, and we know what we are capable of. I don't want to be caught in the middle of that one...

Is it just me? I really don't know... Tell me what you think.


thus spake the barefoot baklesa

Scenes of a Rainy Nature: Valentines Day 2009

It was a rainy Valentine's Day afternoon when I got off at Quiapo Church to pray a little before I went on my way to my friends' play. To those of you unfamiliar with Quiapo Church, words fall short in describing this amalgam of Filipino religious, historical, economic, and social traditions; you really have to be there and see for yourself. At the heart of it, is the Basilica of the Black Nazarene [an image of Jesus Christ bearing the cross that devotees flock to by the millions on its feast day], yet by its shadow lurk sellers of talismans, charms, and herbs -remnants of the animistic old ways. But that is another blog...



So by the historic square called Plaza Miranda, located in front of the Basilica, there were flowers stalls with their sellers busy for the day's trade of roses and bouquets... It was a sea of pink and red as even the balloon sellers were out with heart-shaped ones [but I don't think these photos do it justice].



What I found odd were these caucasians dressed in the fashion of those polygamist families I saw on television recently: ladies in dated blouses and skirts with hair white coverings like that of nuns while the men in collared shirts tucked within their trousers. The thing is, the guys who looked like they were in their 20s were really cute! But then again, they give me the heebie-jeebies. The only thing I could make out from their assembly was that they were members of the Philippine Mennonist Church [Whatever that is]. I thought how futile was it of them to seek converts in the stronghold of Roman Catholic faith in Manila. Oh well...that's typical Quiapo for you.

the barefoot baklesa restaurant review: Sumo Sam at Powerplant, Rockwell

The Barefoot Baklesa’s Restaurant Rating Guide

The way I see it, I might as well create a way for me to rate the places where we go to eat. A taste for fine things, or for food in this particular case does not necessarily mean eating out at the most expensive places but rather enjoying a meal prepared in the best way possible whether it be some local eatery by the street corner, a specialty food cart, or the most fashionable eating places about town.

I have decided to use plates as a way to rate them. Yeah I know, how original, right? [ Sarcasm… hint… hint… ] First, let’s break them down… Not the plates, the categories, I mean… We will get to the broken plates later.

Impression and Ambience – the appeal of most restaurants depends on the combination of two things: the aesthetics of the venue and the atmosphere it provides. I decided to generalize these under the category of Impression and Ambiance. Yes, we have heard of a many bad Filipino movies and sitcom situations where they call an order for Ambience and that is one over-plucked chicken. Ambience is a critical mix of visuals, light, music, and thematic treatment while Impression is the initial reaction you experience upon entering a place.

Service – from the moment you walk into any establishment, there are certain expectations you have of the way you should be served. So don’t go on expecting five star service from a place that can’t provide it, right? Service in itself is basic courtesy extended to any customer, the quality and type varies over the practicality in a particular type of service an establishment sees it should provide under the operating circumstances. Service is comfort, good manners, and efficiency.

Food – of course you went there to eat, right? The way I see it, every establishment that serves whatever cuisine it chooses, must at least provide each dish with the appropriate preparation, taste, and presentation. Each place, having a particular specialty, surely by the taste of their own could distinguish themselves from the rest, by my standards, if I could at least finish it, then it is edible enough. If I want to come back for it, then it’s worth trying. And if I’m raving about it, then get off your bums and go there!

Value – simply put, is what they are asking you to pay for it worth it? Value for money is probably the most practical part of this equation.

So, each category shall be rated thus for their desirability or lack thereof:

Must be a Wedgwood Plate – I’m raving about it!

Nice Plate – Quite satisfied.

Clean Plate – Good enough?

Dirty Plate – There’s room for improvement…

Cracked Plate – Leaves much to be desired.

Broken Plate – There’s no hope for this one.




The other evening, my family had dinner at Sumo Sam’s at Powerplant Mall in Rockwell; much to my disappointment, as I had expected to dine at C2 next door. Their rice rolls leave much to be desired -for we pretty much ordered half of the types of rolls available on the menu and there was nothing with the way they were made that excited me about them. Their so called dynamite roll with the crisp salmon skin was no different from the Philadelphia, the crispy kani, nor the California roll and two others I can’t seem to recall. I was looking for certain distinct characteristics in each one but only found variations on the mayonnaise and the freshness a bit questionable. Their gyoza was not so appetizing either; because I don’t know if it was supposed to have an aftertaste or not. Their version of yakisoba was a bit ‘woodsy’ even if I enjoy mushrooms myself, the ratio of the noodles against the mushroom and the vegetables seems to be out of proportion.

And talk about efficiency, or the lack thereof, my lychee and rose drink never got to my table until forty-five minutes later. This was above the fact that the other drinks –which were the most basic like sodas and their iced teas were called to their attention or follow-up three times before they arrived.

And don’ let me get started on the fish…well, I already have, might as well…hahahaha!!! Isn’t fish and the preparation thereof what makes a Japanese meal? At least in my book it is, and no self-respecting place that serves this particular cuisine would do so much as to remove this pleasure I derive from fish. However, I thought having ordered the sea bass, the salmon, and the gindara, would have been the saving grace of this meal but then again, Sumo Sam does not fail to disappoint, right?

All three fish dishes seem to me like they were intentionally made to swim in a sea or stream of butter. I don’t know if they were serving me fish or a tin of that Queensland butter to begin with. The salmon seemed a bit overdone and tasted like butter, the gindara was too salty and tasted like butter, and what a surprise for the sea bass also tasted like butter! In all fairness to the miso soup, that particular bowl made the meal somewhat…the word escapes me…bearable?

There were fourteen of us at that dinner, mostly kids, who were happy enough with the generic teriyaki dish or the ika fry they had. But my Aunt Mirza and I were by our end of the table doing our bit of iron chef judging and watching my niece Zeejay eat chicken teriyaki with her pink Hello Kitty baby spoon and fork which made it quite an interesting evening. My mother on the other hand was content enough to mention missing the old Japanese restaurants from a decade or so ago. Knowing my mom, that’s quite a subtle hint that she was not enjoying the food either.

Ergo, the Barefoot Barefoot Baklesa gives Sumo Sam the following plates:

Impression and Ambience: Sumo Sam sure showed a Nice Plate
[At least they got this one right…]

Service: I think Sumo Sam needs to see if it has a Cracked Plate
[the servers were all over the place, they brought over three orders which were not ours, and the drinks were more than acceptably late…]

Food: Sumo Sam puts his food on a Broken Plate
[I don’t think this place could redeem itself from getting pushed out of the doyo –Sumo metaphor, if you get it…]

Value: Sumo Sam charges this much for a Broken Plate
[We paid around 9,000 plus Pesos for that meal and it did not seem worth it.]