Remembering Mr. Bon(g) Vivant
For a long period of time in the ‘70s, if one traveled to Paris and was of a certain age and possessed the inclination to explore the Paris that existed beyond the tourist destinations, one inevitable stop was the restaurant Aux Iles Philippines at Rue Laplace on the Rive Gauche.
There to welcome you would be Bong Daza, the “other” Philippine Ambassador to France of that era. A true Francophile, Bong took to Paris and French-ness like an amphibian takes to water. And I say amphibian because despite the easy shift to being the champion of joie de vivre, he also never lost sight of being the innate Filipino, of his UP roots and kenkoy nature. And that was what made Bong so special, so ready to enjoy, exult in life, to share that feeling with friends and mere acquaintances, whether in Paris or in Manila. For after Aux Iles closed its doors, Bong’s managing the Makati branch of Au Bon Vivant still meant an endless stream of friends ready to make Au Bon (or as we liked to call it, Au “Bong” Vivant) our nightly hangout before hitting the clubs. Always ready to party, to laugh, to joke and enjoy, Bong was the original Revel Heart.
To hear of his passing away on July 14, Bastille Day, left a really empty feeling in my gut. At the same time, I wryly smiled. Born on the Ides of March, the 15th, it was so in character of Bong to take his leave on a day that carries so much significance to the French. While I had lost touch with Bong over the last decade, I still recall how many times I would be traversing the restaurant row of Power Plant’s lower level earlier this year, and hear the shout of “Philippus” or “Ipe” and see Bong waving from one of the establishments, raising a wine glass in salute. His was an irrepressible nature, and while others may think of him as the cosmopolitan, man-about-town he certainly was, what I will miss is the joker/prankster, laugh-a-minute, Bong I knew, ready to make anyone, even himself, the butt of his jokes, anecdotes and kwentos.
As his brother Sandy recounted during the wake, there was the time they went to a family gathering and some tita of theirs was gushing about the television set Bong had gifted her for her birthday, only for Sandy to return home and discover that the TV in his room had mysteriously disappeared! Or the time Bong was going to some Attire: Bad Taste party and had used Sandy’s favorite shirt. Needless to say, Sandy threw away the shirt after the party. Bong Marcos similarly reminisced about how the two would be so inseparable during the Manila ‘70s night life scene, that rumors would spread that they were a couple. And so he joked Gloria Diaz that now was the time to confirm it was all true. It was that kind of wake, full of joking and happy memories, as we were all certain that Bong would not have wanted it any other way. And before I forget, my thanks to Irene Marcos-Araneta for providing me with the photos of Bong.
For me, one of my favorite memories of Bong has to do with a trip we took back in the 70’s when we ended up in the ski resorts of Crans-Montana. And on the third morning, we looked out from the hotel rooms to see one individual eliciting the stares and laughs of all the people surrounding the skating rink as he was skating with pillows tied around his butt and his crotch area. Of course, it was BD, making sure that he wouldn’t get hurt while trying to ice skate for his first time. And there was his anecdote about the first time he was flying to Paris on an Air France flight. When he was given the toiletries bag before landing, he proceeded to the rest room, took out this little blue tube and smeared the white cream on his toothbrush only to think the French were crazy for having toothpaste that was so bitter and wouldn’t lather or foam. His punchline? Never use Nivea as toothpaste!
That was Bong through and through, and it is painful to think that someone like Bong is no longer among us. I know it may be wishful thinking, but when I walk along the lower level of Power Plant, I’ll still be hoping I’ll hear someone shout, “Philippus!”
Treasure Trove
Today’s three novels all make for precious hours of reading. Johnson gives us a winning portrait of an unusual Hollywood child while Liu is one of the finest writing science fiction and fantasy today. As for Martel, you would know him for having written Life of Pi.
Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson ( available at National Book Store) A female novelist who wrote a seminal bestseller decades ago and has since been a Los Angeles recluse in JD Salinger-style. Her eccentric nine-year-old, Frank, who dresses up like some refugee of ‘40s and ‘50s films. When impending financial disaster requires her to write a new novel, her New York publisher sends publishing assistant Alice to see to it that the new work of fiction comes to life. This tale explores this volatile situation with humor, compassion and insight. And at the center of it all is the precocious, emotionally immature, semi-idiot savant Frank. A dismal student in a regular school, his wardrobe is a treasure trove of top hats, a monocle, Rough Rider uniforms, morning suits, a fez and scarves. A quirky novel, with a whole lot of heart.
The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu (available on Amazon.com) In Ken Liu’s hands, science fiction, fantasy and Chinese history commingle in a language that is vivid, prescient and illuminating in equal measures. Name any meaningful writing award for Sci-Fi and Liu has won it. This is his first collection of short stories and it displays the range of his imagination and writing ability. The title story alone is worth the price of admission as it touches on Chinese mail order brides, family and compassion. His Sci-Fi may involve futuristic plots and technological marvels, but there is always a very human, blood-and-guts story to make us feel true affinity for his tales. While it is a distinctly American voice, Liu’s reverence for his Chinese lineage adds texture and depth to all his stories. The diversity of the stories, all told with a true voice, gives resonance to the collection.
The High Mountains of Portugal by Yann Martel (available at National Book Store) Basically three novellas set in different time frames — 1904, then 1939 and lastly in the ‘80s — Martel’s latest is essentially a meditation on love, grief and loss. It opens with Tomas, a widower and recently orphaned, who sets out on a quest, spurred by the diary of a 17th-century friar who worked with slaves bound for America from a Portuguese colony. Then there is Eusebio, a pathologist who loves Agatha Christie novels, and with a touch of magical realism, encounters his late wife then deals with the visit of a farmer’s widow and her husband’s corpse. The last section deals with a Canadian senator who is similarly grieving and heads to Portugal, his home country, with a chimpanzee in tow. While the narratives elliptically intersect, the stories do stand on their own.
