Velada Tomasino

I once dreamed how life’s like 400 years ago, living in a country dominated by Spaniards, studying at a University ran by Dominican fathers – kalesa as our mode of transportation, guardiya civil surrounding the campus, Spanish (and not English) as the second language, and veladas as our 21^st century all-white uniforms. On the 25^th of January 2012, I woke up with exactly the same thing on mind, only this time, it was real. Every little thing I imagined is in front of my eyes. “Maybe time machines aren’t just found in movies,” I wondered.

Prior to that day, I was stressed out, thinking to myself “Where do I find a Filipiniana that won’t cause me thousands?” I loathed the anxiety felt when I realized I only have less than 24 hours to produce an attire for the next day’s event. Lucky enough, I scouted a fair and definitely unfancy terno, all for 550 pesos. Yes. 550 pesos wasted for a freakin outfit that I’ll only get to wear once.

Then came the day of the Velada. I arrived in school seeing [not all but mostly] everyone in their old-school get-ups. Was greeted “Buenos Dias” by a guard who’d normally tell me “Good Morning.” I even overheard some male students exchanging “Mi amore” with their boy friends – like they don’t know what it means. Bromance, I supposed. Going back (oh, how I hate distractions), sans the cars, gadgets, modern-style buildings, you’d really feel the 1600s vibe – made better by kalesas roaming around, giant tarpaulins of ancient structures which probably came from our tuition fees, and most importantly, the attitude of everyone who participated. Had free food ala Barrio Fiesta courtesy of the College of Science, attended a talk about stress management, picture taking all over UST, and did what we do best: played Fashion Police slash critic slash red carpet commentators during the La Naval procession. We all had a good laugh over our choice of Worst Dressed, That B*tch Stole My Look, and even of those who just looks funny to us (for this, we are sorry).  Must I say, there’s no one I could have spent this Velada with other than some good old friends – who somehow made the exhausting activity uplifting. A day earlier, when I think of the hassle I had to go through, I feel nothing less than rage. But when I heard the wows and saw the smile on everybody elses faces, I felt grateful. And was dumbfounded how brilliant the minds of Thomasians are. Clever, aren’t we? ;-)