Antulang redux

Antulang is one of the best seaside resorts I’ve experienced. The opportunity for a revisit, however all too brief, came by way of a sudden two-day jaunt in Dumaguete two weeks ago.

Annabelle Lee Adriano, the resort’s GM, was kind as always to collect Iligan-based poet Anthony Tan and me from Coco Grande hotel at Silliman University for the one-hour drive from Dumaguete to Siaton, the last town right on the southernmost bend of Negros Island. 

It was great to touch base with Annabelle again. She had wanted for us to spend some hours with her and husband Edo at their current favorite hang-out in Dumaguete, Gabby’s Bistro, to try out the excellent food that poet-novelist Ian Rosales Casocot also vouches for, and to play some board games. But we could only get together on the day I was to fly out by late afternoon, so we had to confine it lunch at Antulang, and as I hoped, a quick swim.

An hour’s ride with Annabelle is a quick one, with the familiar roadside scenery turning into fleeting interest since we had to bring one another up to speed with everything since our last communication by e-mail.

Their precocious daughter Ann — also called Suyen by her lolo, after the Chinese novelist — had turned 13 and was still drawing and writing a lot. I recalled her to be a sports-minded kid who’d proudly show off the fish she caught on a hand line before turning them over to the kitchen. At one time a Napoleon wrasse was part of her catch, but I only noticed it over lunch, and just had to kid her over unknowingly bagging an endangered species. It was tasty all right, however.

Now her mom said she was really getting into poetry, although still believed that her lines should rhyme. We agreed to try to get her to sit in at the National Writers Workshop now conducted by S.U. (which starts today, by the by). There’d be Jimmy Abad, Sawi Aquino and Neil Garcia in the panel — three fine poets from whom Suyen could learn much and well at her tender age. Her Tito Ian could accompany her to the poetry workshop sessions.

Annabelle also recounted how S.U. graduated a couple of summa cum laudes last March. One was Tracy Alcantara, a bright young girl who had also sat in at the workshop a few years back, when she was about to complete the manuscript for a fantasy novel. Surprisingly, she earned the supreme academic honor for Communication Arts or Journalism, a course that’s subject to subjective grading.

The other young achiever was Marvin Flores, who graduated a Bachelor of Science in Physics, summa cum laude — a rare academic distinction last awarded by Silliman in 1988. Marvin’s feat was particularly remarkable since it was a classic case of transcending great odds that came with poverty.

His father Alvin was a carpenter who earned P150 a day, while his mother Marilyn supplemented the family income by helping stuff longganisa for P100 a day. As a young boy, Marvin had to help out by selling mangoes. They lived in a nipa hut without electricity. Throughout his primary schooling, Marvin had to rely on a kerosene lamp while doing homework at night.  

His determination saw him through. As a sixth grader, he represented his school in a national contest on Philippine history held in Tagaytay. He topped the competition, so that upon coming home he was honored by the city mayor who took up a teacher’s suggestion to have electricity installed in their hut.

He had also won a computer set, which his mother had to claim in Manila. Getting into debt for her ship fare, she convinced her son to sell it, with the rest of the proceeds going into the purchase of a television instead. He was happy to keep abreast of his schoolmates when it came to popular entertainment. 

He graduated from high school as the valedictorian. Prize money he won from another academic tournament was used to buy a VCD player and have their house’s walls cemented. A recent Bank of the Philippine Islands (BPI) Science Award cash gift went to repairing their toilet.

Marvin took the college entrance exams for UP, Ateneo and Silliman, passed all three, but chose to stay close to home. Academic scholarships from Silliman and the Department of Science and Technology saw him through college. He also worked as a student assistant in the Physics laboratory.

This summer, the summa cum laude who dreams of a Nobel Prize in Physics, but also swears by rock music and computer games, faces a dilemma. He wants to go on to graduate school, but there’s a tempting offer from a bank that will give him a P30-thou monthly salary, which he knows will go a long way in helping his family.

What a remarkable story. Clearly, Tony and I told Annabelle, certain institutions should simply help him get to graduate school, preferably abroad, while also providing for his family’s needs, maybe even enough to match the bank’s offer.

Annabelle said she could try to arrange for a conversation with Marvin Flores, but again there was no time to conduct it that day. I still hope to meet the boy sometime, but for now the hope is greater that a senator who has been championing science and technology in his laudable legislation will read this story and ensure a happier future for Marvin, and consequently our country.

Such are the conversations we enjoy whenever we find ourselves in Dumaguete. They range from poetry to academic stuff, while still finding space for how the tides shift the white sand and form beaches off Antulang, depending on the cycle of the habagat or amihan.

It was Tony’s first time to see the place, and he came away as impressed as I was two summers ago. Annabelle reads voraciously, swaps books via the Internet, and is looking at picking up a Kindle for electronic perusal of just about everything. She welcomes writers and regularly invites the summer workshop participants to spend a day in Antulang.

I can imagine an anthology eventually shaping up with poems on the magical sunset experienced when cruising on the Annabelle Lee to nearby Tambobo Cove with its impressive array of international yachts. Or stories that will have a pool villa for a setting, with lovers laving in the private pool and jacuzzi that overlook the sea.

A recent addition to the luxe resort, facing the large freeform freshwater pool, saltwater infinity pool and diving instruction pool, is an airy pavilion for conferences and formal dinners, with a stage for presentations and entertainment, as well as a collection of paintings on sale, done by the increasing number of fine local artists.

Among them is Lito Aro, who also designs art and craft items for the resort, and is often commissioned by foreign guests for portraits. His oil paintings of indigenous flora and seascapes struck us as excellent collectibles. Among the other notable young artists whose works were also in display are Susan Canoy and Muffet Villegas.

Annabelle and her folks had always believed that “antulang” was the local word for gumamela or hibiscus, which grows wild all over the place. Recently it surfaced that antulang also meant the bivalve, large specimens of which are also found in abundance among the coral reefs that ring the area. Now Annabelle, and maybe her resident artist Lito, may have to face a creative challenge in designing a new logo, one that would incorporate both the flower and the seashell.