Above is where some of us got caught "buying outside". That's the waiting shed beside the imposing entrance to the San Beda Chapel. "Outside" is where one could buy mouth-watering green mangoes and of course, "pishbols" with gooey sauce laced with fresh dust and soot from diesel engines.
The corner of Mendiola and Concepcion Aguila, where Dennis Bookstore and Pasteleria are located. Inside the walls is the Benedictine Abbey, where some of us "tried out" to see if we had the "calling" to become priests. In my set of interns, Andre "Father Lukas" Centeno was recruited. These walls also witnessed the "Battle of Mendiola" in the early '70s, which pitted helpless students against the batons of the military and police.
Who will ever forget the Basilica-like paintings inside the San Beda Chapel. Truly an artistic marvel with European influence, this chapel always made me feel "closer to Our Lord". Remember the big bags of chocolate that we got from our first Communion ? And the life-sized Jesus on the Cross by the confessional, that hypnotized some of our classmates ?
The fountain and monument dedicated to our national hero, Jose Rizal, looking from the Grade School buildings. Notice in the background is our Grandstand, which now has part of the building extended above it.
Off limits or probably just locked most of the time, the Roman Gardens provided an atmosphere to meditate. We did spend a lot of time here for retreats, literature classes, and to take pictures for our Echoes '75.
St. Benedict's Hall, our home in 1975. This is where most of our fondest memories were enacted. Mrs. Carreon's love-hate relationship with her 'anaks' in TSAKIT 40...the burning paper plane crossing Mr. Blanco's windows... a firecracker exploding in the toilet while Mr. Cruz was in it...Fr. Andy's unrelenting campaign to invite us into priesthood...Philip Ocampo's perennial post as Marshall checking if we had IDs...and simply going up the stairs to our classrooms, heads turned upwards... need I say more ? I invite you to add to this list.
The only sad thing about my visit was the reality that I cannot go back in time. I was looking for a teacher or priest that I knew so that I could thank them for all that they did for us and for bearing with us during our formative years, but I did not recognize anyone, except Dugan, the security guard.
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