Instituto Cervantes, Manila

This will be sketchy at best as I don't want my blood pressure to go up, in a manner of speaking. Last week my sister told me there was going to be a guitar-cello recital at Instituto Cervantes. She asked if my husband, son and I wanted to go. it was a free recital, she said, so I said yes to her invitation. Saturday we picked her and her daughter up. Show was slated to start at 8 p.m., we were at the venue's lobby by 7:15. There was a light shower outside and the entrance didn't have an awning so we got wet, but what the heck, we were going to listen to good classical music.

As people were streaming in, the lobby was filling up. I wondered why we weren't let into the hall yet but my sister said there was a movie screening ongoing. Fine. we people watched. Saw the Orosa sisters, one of whom writes reviews on performances for Philippine Star's Sunday magazine, Starweek. The young mestiza lady assured us we could all be accommodated because that had never been a problem in any of the performances at Instituto. (She and my niece knew each other but for naught, as you'll read later.)

Fast forward to 8 p.m. Someone announced, "Those with reservations may go in first." The man had a typewritten list of names against which he checked those coming in. Fine. Shortly after those in the list and a few others not in the list went inside the venue, what do you know, the man was moving his palms signifying "no more room." By then the lobby still had a good number waiting to be let in. But the man, now looking like the bad guy in The Matrix was adamant. In true Espanol fashion. "I'm sorry," he said though he didn't look apologetic at all. The Filipino by the doorway pointed to me and he called me and my husband asking, "You have reservations?" I said, "No." He looked at the hall, waved us in with a "tsk, tsk" expression. As the Filipinos were adding chairs to the aisles, he signaled for them to stop doing so. The Filipinos meekly obeyed. I asked my husband to tell him we had 3 other companions outside and he looked at us, one eyebrow raised, "Sorry. You should feel lucky you're in." Pray tell, he meant our companions would just have to go home? I told my husband we should leave but he said he'd let our son take his place. I guess at that point my husband thought they'd change their policy and let everyone in. When my son finally came in in lieu of my husband, my son said, "Mama, nakakahiya kina tita. Let's go out." That's what I wanted to do in the first place. So we left the hall and the Espanol didn't look like he cared. He ignored us. Once outside, although I'd have wanted to leave right away because I found the place and people so inhospitable, my other companions chose to linger. How optimistic of them. It was 8:15 by then. The Spanish guitarist and the British cellist didn't enter the venue and chose to talk to the Matrix contravida lookalike. They managed to thaw him a little because he let a few more enter but unluckily for us, we weren't among those. I pitied most the young men and ladies who were obviously music students because some of them even had guitar cases with them. Possibly they came straight from school.

Bully for the Instituto for being so inefficient. They should have given numbers to people entering the lobby so they'd have known when to stop letting people in. We waited for an hour only to be shooed away.

Of course the Orosa sisters were let in. So that this happened will never be known to the general public. They took care of media, maybe because they were media and old. Oh well, that's the last Instituto Cervantes will see of me.

I thought this would be sketchy but I guess I was just too angry to stop.

the experience brought to mind my experience in Germany 26 years ago. My sister brought us to a recital. The hall was full. what do you know, the organizers let the overflow crowd go up the stage to watch the concert/recital from there.