Saigon, mon amour

Tomorrow, June 1, Max and I should be celebrating our 50th or golden wedding anniversary. Max used to refer to himself as a “cradle snatcher” because I was 17 years old and he was 26 when he first met me. My identity as a fledgling housewife lasted between 1957 to 1967. After I established and developed the O.B. Montessori schools into several branches between 1967 to 1976, he then referred to me as “my commander”. But during Martial Law when he lost his job, he introduced me as “my breadwinner”. Later, he preferred to identify me as “wife number one” especially when he introduced me to businessmen and diplomats.

The wedding at St. Anthony’s Parish Church

I guess because he thought me young and inexperienced, Max did all the wedding preparation, although he allowed me to follow my personal preferences. Besides, he, as the Filipino groom had to shoulder the major expenses.

The first consideration was the number of guests. Then, the hotel venue for the reception. He also let me choose and order my gown, as well as that for my sister as my maid of honor, including bridesmaids and flower girls.

I was chaperoned even on the day before our wedding. Isn’t that incredible? Max never objected, though. But what exasperated him was my tardiness even on our wedding day since I made him wait for half an hour. His collar had blood stains for he nicked himself as he shaved hurriedly to be on time.

The nuptial Mass was held at my parish church, St. Anthony’s at Singalong. Raul Manglapus, his uncle Sixto Brillante, and my college teachers, Dr. Juan Salcedo and Dr. Intengan were the sponsors. Rather close to Max, Mayor Lacson dropped by the church briefly, and once more took a peak later at the reception.

Max made the best arrangements with 150 guests – half and half for both our families and relatives. Our wedding reception was breakfast at the Champagne Room of Manila Hotel. He was rather pissed and harried since Chat Peypoch did our portraits for the photo album right after the Mass in his studio – making the guests wait. Today, no more detours are made to the studio since photo shoot is done in the church.

Our two-bedroom house in Herran

Max built our two-bedroom house behind Mama Soliven’s house in the family compound in Herran. I hosted several small dinners for Max and foreign journalist friends. Being a Nutrition major came in handy, he was very proud of our home and my cooking.

His friends used to tease me because they would go out with Max and come home past midnight. As a young bride, I tried to hold back my jealousy and fears. Every time he would come home, I would pretend I was already sleeping.

We lived next door to Mama Pelagia. She was a very friendly and thoughtful mother-in-law. She taught me the simple Ilocano recipes while I shared with her European recipes I knew.

Crises

Max shifted journalistic assignments from one newspaper to another. When we got married, the first career shift occurred when he received an award for the expose, The Truth about American Advisers in the Philippines, written for Manila Chronicle. Then, he joined The Manila Times. He was under two wonderful editors, Joe Bautista and Dave Boguslav. Publishers Chino Roces and Bibilo Prieto took him under their wings.

Max worked out another series on the lumber controversies between Japan and the Philippines. These front-paged articles alerted the Japanese Gaimushu since Japan was anxious to rebuild their war-damaged relationship with the Philippines.

Every summer, when Max and I would go to Baguio, I was privileged to be in the circle of Presidents or Presidential candidates. They usually enjoyed Max’s company. Oftentimes, we would have meals with them in the Baguio Country Club or their residences.

Incisive character studies of major politicians from the Magsaysay, Garcia, and Macapagal administrations, including the controversial Namarco deals, won him the Ten Outstanding Young Men (TOYM) award sponsored by Caltex. Ninoy Aquino, Flash Elorde and Benito Legarda also received the TOYM at the same time Max did.

Catching the writing fever

In two years, Max and I moved to Saigon where he worked with the Vietnam Presse during President Ngo Dinh Diem’s governance. French, Australian, British and Ceylonese writers worked with Max to write a guidebook for Vietnamese journalists.

I got used to the military state of the country. Every block had a soldier standing guard with an uzi machine gun. Even the daily newspapers had empty spaces where a censored article would have been taken out.

A small community of Filipino engineers lived in Saigon, some with their families. The first lady ambassador of the Philippines, civic leader Trining Legarda, served in this community. Well-poised, intelligent and beautiful, Ambassador Legarda in her elegant Philippine ternos was popular in the diplomatic circle. She helped add color to President Carlos P. Garcia’s visit to Vietnam. So impressed and proud of this lady, I decided to write an article about her for Graphic Magazine.

This was the first time I wrote. Max encouraged me, although a little anxious, he edited my first articles. Living in Saigon provided me materials to write more articles. I was experiencing other worlds: Vietnamese and French.

Chic French ladies, some of them mestizas, were still residing in the city. At the nearby Cap St. Jacques beach, they wore bikinis with ease. Wearing the gossamer ao dai gown with slits up to the waistlines and billowing white pants underneath, they would skim around in their motorbikes with their conical sun hats. They caused the downfall of many Filipino engineers.

My first driver’s license was date-marked Saigon

Our first car was a secondhand British Hillman. I learned to drive in an auto school that provided an instructor who taught me to drive in French for very few spoke English. I passed the written exam, but almost failed the practical part. Driving an army jeep, my engine went dead as I turned a corner.

The examiner gave me a failing grade. However, when he found out I was from Manila, he asked about the Sta. Ana cabaret: “I truly enjoyed dancing there. Dancing with a pretty cabaret girl only cost 10 centavos then. I would buy a long string of tickets. Let me give you another chance.” This time, when I drove around the corner, my engine purred on continuously. He gave me a passing mark. Thus, my first driver’s license was date-marked Saigon.

Meanwhile, Max was chauffeured every morning in a Citroen French car to office allowing me to use the Hillman car.

Housekeeping in Saigon

Mama Pelagia stayed with us a few months. Although we brought Sayong, our Filipino housekeeper, to Saigon, we had to hire Thuy, who spoke Vietnamese mixed with colloquial French. She liaisoned for us in the market. I also learned to cook several Vietnamese recipes like Imperial Pate and Shrimp on Sugar Sticks.

I discovered the well-organized and neat Central market, which sold delicious French champignon, duck meat, mustard, Moroccan couscous, and other ingredients for French cuisine. The French restaurants in Rue Catinat, as well as Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants in Cholon competed with one another. (In Paris, Vietnamese food is more favored than Chinese.)

Teaching – the ideal profession

I followed the Benedictine nuns’ suggestion about my future as a Filipino woman. First, have a source of income. Then, if possible since one is likely to get married and have children, prepare to work on an interest close to home and the family.

I had a choice of a degree in Medicine or a general Bachelor of Arts, which would allow me a comprehensive preparation for several career options, I decided to take up A.B. For my major, I preferred to focus on a science-based subject. Raised in a family of good cooks, I then decided to major in Nutrition. While four classmates in Nutrition left to do their graduate courses in America, I got married and stayed home.

When we began to live in Saigon, I had my first teaching stint. English-speaking teachers were scarce so I got two jobs. Impatient to have babies, I began to teach small children in the Khai Minh Primary School near the house. Thrice a week, I taught at the Jesuit Chinese school in Cholon or Chinatown. Two evenings a week, I would be asked to give English lessons to Vietnamese businessmen.

Return to Manila

Foreseeing a coup d’etat, Max did not renew his contract with Vietnam Presse and we returned to Manila. While he became publisher of the Evening News, I worked half day at Telly Albert’s San Lorenzo Preschool in Makati. The rest of this story is well-known to all.

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