A few years ago, our neighbours had a worrying problem. They said a hobgoblin - a dwende - had recently moved into their house and was living under the staircase. They claimed it was invisible, but they knew it was there because late at night it would growl and shout and curse.
You're driving around Manila at night and turn into one of our famously narrow, crowded streets. Seeming to float towards you amid the urban grime, you encounter a vision that makes you blink; a glittering parade resembling a cross between a fashion show and a fairy tale.
I am sometimes asked by friends why, with the Philippines in the shape it is in, I do not join the queue heading for the United States, Australia or Europe. I can't. As a journalist, I am hopelessly addicted to my country.
by Alan Robles
"Can you assist?", reads the subject head of the email. It's from an African bank official who's looking for a partner to help him hide a fortune that's being hunted down by investigators. If you're willing to allow your account to be used, he'll immediately transfer the loot to your name.
Beneath the bright sunshine, the great city lies deserted. A slight breeze blows through its empty streets, barely disturbing the silence that prevails over the once-bustling metropolis.
A vision of the apocalypse? No, Lent in Manila.
by Alan Robles
Picture this: a young American, newly arrived in Manila, is stranded on the streets with no money. To anyone who believes all the hair-raising stories about this country, his future could be summed up in two words: "dead meat".
Listen up, everybody. This is an article on Filipino food in a magazine for Filipino readers, so you are expected to refrain from snickering when reading funny-sounding words such as ukoy or sisig. Neither are you supposed to run out of the door, hand cupped over your mouth, when you hear details about balut.
So, OK, you all ready? This is what you should remember about the state of Filipino cooking. It's pretty gruesome.
When she was still a college student, Jessica was one of the most active
personalities in the campus. She joined the beauty contest, was in the
debating club, and qualified for the swimming team.
Martial law may not be here in legal fact, but it’s here for all intents and purposes. And if it arrived scarcely detected, as apparently it did in spite of our long and recent and stark experience with martial law as a phenomenon, that’s precisely because this time it entered surreptitiously – not to mention that we might, after all, have been predisposed to deny it, having been deeply traumatized the first time.