Trains, boats, planes and buses: The Lakaran Lecture series tours Italy
NAPLES, Italy — “You wouldn’t think it,” a Filipina OFW named Alice tells us, referring to her modest attire while holding a mic in a Napoli church hall, “but I was earning P200,000 a day. But I wasn’t showy about it, I would just hide all this money away.” Turns out Alice’s job was “holding all these international credit cards” for her Makati boss while traveling in Hong Kong. “Yes. I was a smuggler,” she laughs, working the crowd like a Netflix standup comic. Seems Alice earned so much from her “job” that she gave away money to priests in Italy, even sent her neighbors’ kids through school. “I had so much money, I didn’t know what to do with it,” she says in Tagalog.
Then one day, “In Hong Kong, on the airport camera, I saw my boss being put in handcuffs, because it turns out one card I gave to him was a lost card. He started yelling, ‘Alice! Alice!’ So they asked me, ‘Are you Alice?’ and I said no, because if I’d said yes, they’d put me in handcuffs, too. So my boss said to me, “P*tangina mo!”
Fortunately the boss had money to bail himself out. And Alice changed her ways. “I confessed to Father at church, ‘Father, I think it’s better if I just apply for work in Italy.’ He said, ‘What could you even apply as, a domestic helper?’ I said, ‘Anything, as long as I can make a clean living!’”
Alice’s was one of the more dramatic, laugh-inducing tales midway through our Lakaran Lecture/Workshop Series through Italy. Lakaran is a collaborative undertaking between the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), the Philippine Arts in Venice Biennale (PAVB), the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) and the Office of Senator Loren Legarda. As Senator Legarda describes it, “Lakaran is both a journey and an experience. It mirrors Filipinos’ efforts to travel, to meet people, deepen connections, despite challenges. Similarly, this lecture workshop bridges physical and cultural divides, bringing conversations about art, memory, and identity closer to the Filipino diaspora.”
Other stories we heard broke our hearts. And yet others showed a sense of community among Filipinos scattered throughout Italy, working for their families back home and trying to keep an image or personal connection to that idea of home.
Following the successful run of “Sa kabila ng tabing lamang sa panahong ito (Waiting just behind the curtain of this age),” the Philippine Pavilion at the 60th Venice Biennale, which featured artworks by Mark Salvatus curated by Carlos Quijon Jr., the NCCA, through the PAVB, launched an ambitious road trip: five Italian cities in a week, starting outside of Venice in Mestre (via bus), down to Ferrara and Napoli (via train), then up again through Belluno and Udine (via train).
Participants were asked to bring photographs, letters and memorabilia to prearranged meeting sites (usually local Italian churches), to create “a tangible assemblage of their voice, serving as a lasting reminder of this collective journey.”
For the lectures, the trick for Salvatus and Quijon was to boil down their rather abstract, immersive approach to a crowd of local Filipino-Italians who had just come from a day’s work, and were sitting in Monoblock chairs in various church halls. Local FilCom leaders, like Joey Esteban in Venice, invited members to “bring something that connects with their family, their roots.” At each stop in Italy, Filipinos brought rosaries, photos, keys, stuffed toys, and were led to a table of art materials—colored pens, pencils, paper—and instructed to make a traced drawing of their most personal item. “It’s a good bond for those living here,” said Esteban, who’s from Isabela, Cagayan Valley. “Filipinos, we are like telenovelas,” he said, smiling at a first night in Mestre that elicited tears, but also stories of strength and connection.
(It also helped that catered or donated Filipino dishes—pancit molo soup, lumpia, cassava cake, and what Italians call “porcheta grande,” aka lechon—were offered to guests at the end of the “sharing.”)
This was actually the second lecture series, after the 2018 Philippine pavilion “The City Has Two Navels” led to a speaking tour through Padua, Milan, Venice and Treviso. “We kept an open mind this time, saying, okay, whoever shows up, there will be no wasted effort,” said PAVB head Riya Brigino, noting that, for time’s sake, a lot of lectures had to be held on weekdays. “There is an open house, and once you open doors, there are a lot of possibilities. For us, doing it this way with communities, we provide a platform for sharing.”
And sharing there was, after everyone put down their papers and pencils and picked up a microphone. Whether the rectory halls held 10, 25 or 50 locals, it seemed natural that Filipinos really wanted to—in some direct way—be seen and heard.
Mestre
We heard from Wilma, a hotel worker who affixed various currencies to her white paper: a US Army guy who left a sizable tip after a seven-day stay in Dubai; one from a Saudi man in 2008; a tip in dirham from her longest work stay, in Dubai. “So I really collect these tips, from 2000 until now, because it’s a way to push myself to owning my own hotel or B&B.”
One collage caught the eye of Salvatus and Quijon: a seemingly random facemask and brown candle traced and taped on paper. “These two items are always in our house, they’re very memorable materials,” says Winnie. This candle, I light it when I visit my late husband. He was gone three years ago during COVID, so this facemask is very memorable, too. That’s why these two items I will never forget.”
Ferrara
Elda, a bespectacled OFW, spoke about her drawing: “I drew a camera because it’s my stress reliever, and I also can’t work or take pictures without my glasses. One time, going back to Prague from the Philippines, I was with my aunt who was on the older side. Immigration asked for her passport and we couldn’t find it, so we had to empty our bags on the airport floor to find it. We got on the plane without realizing I’d left my glasses behind at the airport. So when we got back to Prague, I was forced to buy new glasses.”
We spoke with Amiel Masarap, who runs the Filipino Association in Ferrara. He moved with his family to Italy at age nine, but Amiel still harks to his homeland, having spent a season campaigning for Leni in the last election. That’s why he brought his Kakampink “Leni” bracelet for the art project. “I was the HR head for LGBTQ issues,” Amiel says, gathering voters door to door. When she lost, “I cried. It was heartbreaking, but the most amazing year of my life. Whenever people would ask us, ‘Bakit Leni?’ I had to explain: Baka posible. It created a spark and hope para sa bayan.”
In Italy, you must renounce your Filipino citizenship after two years, then you can reapply for dual citizenship. While Amiel chose Filipino, his younger brother, raised abroad, chose Italian. He admits there are major health and wage benefits to staying abroad, but it’s a “tough choice.” He wants his country to do better, not have to send people overseas. He’s “proud” of Leni’s fight, shown by the pink bracelet. “But now, it’s time that we use the slogan of the UniTeam because all of us, regardless of presidential candidate, are just hoping for a better future for the Philippines.”
Napoli
In addition to “smuggler” Alice, in Naples we met Bernadette, a young art student who brought samples of her paintings to show Mark and Carlos. Her on-the-spot drawing—a collage of hearts and purple colors and the words “That’s amore”—clearly show deep love for her mother, who’s worked as a domestic helper in Napoli for 30 years. “Before art, I studied languages,” she told the group. “My mother said, ‘Don’t you want to study at a fine arts academy? This is what you like.’ I chose painting so that I could be more personal, share and express myself.” Perhaps direct access to a successful Filipino artist like Salvatus will inspire her to keep at it.
Belluno
Known for its surrounding Dolomites, quiet Belluno is another outpost for far-flung Filipinos. We spoke with Gravoso Isidro Jr. Borabor, FilCom Belluno president, who explained how his group helps local Filipinos adjust, offering assistance with permits, passports, and just providing a sense of community. After working for a Saudi company that imported Italian ceramics, Gravoso was invited to move to Italy and be a supervisor; his family followed a few years later. There are worse outposts than picturesque Belluno. What he likes about it? “Fresh air,” he says. And peace and quiet: “Hindi makatulog in the city.”
At Chiesa di Cavarzano church, we meet a cheery older couple, Italian Evaristo Marchet and Filipina Esther Macatiag. A music teacher, it’s a kick to hear him launch into Tagalog. How did he learn? I asked Esther. “He is too much curious,” she says. “I met him in 1990, I was a babysitter for doctors. I met him at the hospital. He’s in love… immediately! After 10 days he told me, ‘I want to marry you.’ I said no. I ignored him.”
“Only a friendship,” Evaristo shrugged. “I said, ‘Okay!’”
It continued, by phone, writing her letters “always.”
“Traveling in France, I called her three times a day,” says Evaristo.
“Stalker!” laughs Esther.
After three years, they married. They plan to retire “six months here, six months in Tarlac,” where they have a house. Learning Italian, for her, was “traumatic.” But here they are, in Belluno, proof that love trumps even language.
Udine
Mitchie Ijan is quiet when you approach her, but she’s been the president of Samahang Filipino Sa Udine (SFSU) now for 11 years. This year, she’s proud she “finally got to see the Philippine Pavilion.” Mitchie offers Filipinos here support and behind-the-scenes help, as I hear from Omar, a young Filipino seaman who, while he’s between jobs and getting his paperwork done, has been staying with Mitchie’s family. It’s an informal network of Filipinos, always reaching out, offering help.
Mitchie and Floyed Ramirez, VP for the Association of Filipino Workers in Northern Italy, lament the pay disparity that makes it hard for Filipinos here to even consider returning home. “I can’t even pay my Visa bill, working in the Philippines,” laughs Floyed. Most say they’ll probably opt to remain in Italy, because living at home is “mahirap.”
But mahirap is a double-edged sword. We met many Filipinos who have been separated from family for years, like Lea, whose drawing of many flags shows her siblings are scattered through New Zealand, Dubai, Cambodia and Italy. “We see each other in the Philippines every five years.”
This is a common theme of this Lakaran, which we have traveled from Venice down to the opposite coast of Italy, and back again. Tears are never far from the surface when they share.
Loida, who organizes cultural dances for Christmas parties and the Italian Embassy here, shows us a collage of her kids and a candle: “My two kids are here,” she says, pointing to the drawing. “But they’re now 29 and 27, so they no longer live with me. Now I’m alone at home with my two dogs.” The candle symbolizes her husband Sandro, who died a few years back. “My drawing is really pretty, too. I surprised myself with how good it is,” she says, sniffing away tears.
“It was really sakit,” she says of losing her husband. “I want to cry about it, but I tell myself, that’s enough. I already cried, I’ve already gone through everything, but I’m still here.” She credits the SFSU, “where we help and support each other.”
“So that’s all, that’s the story of my life. Thank you,” Loida says, passing the mic to the next one ready to share.
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The Philippine Pavilion opted to close this year’s exhibition “Sa kabila ng tabing lamang sa panahong ito / Waiting just behind the curtain of this age” with a Lakaran Lecture/Workshop Series through Mestre, Ferrara, Napoli, Belluno and Udine from Nov. 24 - Dec. 1, 2024. The exhibition was curated by Carlos Quijon, Jr. and presented the works of Mark Salvatus.
The Philippine participation at the 60th Venice Art Biennale is a collaborative undertaking of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA), and the Office of Senator Loren Legarda. (Thanks to Therese and Isobel for helping with translations.)
