In the beginning, she and Miriam were not aware that they would be introduced to the Queen. When the two ladies were finally told that they were going to face Her Majesty, they panicked because they knew they had to observe protocol and they didn’t know what to do (and what not to do). Inside the powder room, they met a regal-looking lady wearing a big hat and they asked her to give them tips on how to behave before royalty. The first thing they were told was never to speak unless spoken to. And then, there was the matter of doing the proper curtsy.
After their crash course on protocol, they felt prepared to meet the Queen. Donita was thinking of the most appropriate thing to say in case Her Royal Highness spoke to her. She initially thought of saying, "On behalf of the Filipino people, blah, blah, blah ....," but that would be too long. Later, she thought of simply saying, "It’s a pleasure to meet you . . ."
But when she finally came to face-to-face with the Queen of England, all she was able to utter was "It’s a pleash . . ."
Miriam Quiambao did worse. She wanted to say hello to the Queen, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was "Hell . . ."
I can’t blame Donita Rose and Miriam Quiambao for getting tongue-tied before Queen Elizabeth II. After all, it’s not every day that we face royalty.
Here in the Philippines, in the absence of royalty, most of us just pry on the lives of the First Family.
I am among those fascinated with Malacañang and its occupants. Lucky for me, I had access to the Palace grounds as a kid because one of my godfathers used to work in Malacañang. (During my first trip to Baguio, I even slept at the Mansion House, mind you.)
But even if I was able to roam around the presidential residence as a child (when security was not that tight yet – and before it was overhauled by Imelda Marcos in the mid-70s), I never got to meet any member of the Marcos Family. (Since he stayed longest in office, Marcos was the only President I knew from the time I was small until I grew up.) It was not until I was already working as a journalist that I got to see some of the members of the Marcos family up close.
Among the Marcoses, it’s Imelda whom I’ve seen the most number of times – at weddings, concerts and in some private parties. (She was all over – to begin with.) Although I’ve rubbed elbows with her on these occasions, I doubt very much if she’s even aware of my existence. But even if she’s still unable to recognize me the next time we meet, I’m sure I’ll stil be able to forgive her (but not for the things she, her late husband and their cronies did to this country) for she can be extremely gracious and charming in person.
The last time I saw Imelda Marcos still in power was at the wedding of Chona Ampil (Marichu Maceda’s youngest sister) at the fabled Vera-Perez gardens. In a figure-hugging terno, she kept dancing the boogie with Luis Gonzales until late in the evening. This was in mid-January, 1986. A month later, the terno was traded in most likely for a grass skirt when she and her late husband went on exile in Hawaii.
Mrs. Marcos returned to the country in November 1991. At the wedding of the late Pasay City Mayor Pablo Cuneta to Elaine Gamboa in early 1993. I saw her from afar wearing a really short formal dress at the Santuario de San Antonio in Forbes Park. The next time I saw her was at the Pavarotti concert at the PICC in 1994. Up close, her face looked grayish and I was told that she’s suffering from pigmentation of the skin (common among the Romualdezes) which when covered with makeup turns gray.
Today at 72, Imelda Marcos is still the handsome woman that she has always been. But age has finally caught up with the most beautiful First Lady to have lived in Malacañang.
Among the Marcos children, it was Imee who made herself very visible to the public. But even if she was also all over the place like her mother, I never had the chance to meet her when she was still a Malacañang resident. At parties and in other movie functions, she’d be standing a few meters away from me in one of her santacruzan dresses. (Remember that rebellious period of her life?) But never was I introduced to her.
The only contact I had with Imee Marcos was when she was made one of the segment hosts in the 1999 Gawad Urian. After the awards night, she was thoughtful enough to have sent me a letter thanking me for asking her to host the affair. I was deeply touched by the gesture until I realized that the letter was practically screaming with grammatical monstrosities. I don’t know how that escaped Imee. It must have been either one of two things: She doesn’t bother to check on the work of her staff members or they teach bad grammar at Princeton.
(On Saturday: My encounters with other Malacañang tenants.)