Rumours
Session Road, Baguio City
Old Charm
By Mikee dela Cruz
FIRST PUBLISHED: APRIL 2008
UPDATED: FEBRUARY 2010

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The AFAM (from “a foreigner in Manila,” traditionally used to refer to gay Americans in Metro Manila out to pick up locals – the term has since evolved to include Western men, in general, out to pick up Filipinos/Filipinas) eyed me, rather in a dirty way, looking at me from head to toe, his gaze stopping at my crotch.  Then he smiled, his eyes finding mine, as he nodded at me.

CLASSICS ROCK Considered a classic, this venue has been in existence for... ages. It manages to retain it charms, though.

“What’s he looking at?” I asked a friend – I was shifting uncomfortably in my seat, not too far from the bar where the AFAM sat on a stool.

“Ask a stupid question and…”

“I know he’s looking at me,” I reprimanded, in return, “but why THAT kind of look, like he’s going to eat me?”

“Oh, that…”

Then this Filipino – from Benguet, I supposed, based on his good looks: chinky eyes touched by frilled straight black hair; nice smile that bared coco-white teeth; good build as if born in a gym, though, most likely, farmed to perfection – walked in, heading straight to the bar, finding a seat right beside the AFAM.  After a few glimpses at the foreigner, he dared to ask the AFAM something, which made the foreigner laugh, before reaching for something inside his pocket.  I saw him give the guy something, and then ordered the two of them beer; afterwards, they both stood up, then headed to one of the tables in the inside of the club, where it was more dim, for them to have more privacy, away from everything/everyone.

"He may have thought you’re a sex worker," my friend said, lips pointed as he eyed me, dressed in blue jeans and white shirt, the typical gigolo get-up.

I nodded, more fascinated than insulted, truth be told.  “And now he got one.”

This, unfortunately, is one of the more popular reasons of the fame of this club, right in the middle of Baguio City (along Session Road).  It is, many accept it to be, a place for locals to meet AFAMS (for pay or more than that).

Fortunately, though, this isn’t everything there is to Rumours, what is now widely recognized as the gay institution (the only one, actually) in these parts of the Philippines.

For one, this one’s the most accessible venue, ever – and that’s saying a lot, considering that Baguio City’s CBD area isn’t even THAT big.  But in the very middle of Session Road, this place makes it visit-worthy, just as it makes other venues in the area accessible, too, when tired of Rumours already.  Secondly, the beer’s cheap – just under P50 per bottle, so there’s no use complaining on budgetary limitations.  Thirdly, the crowd – well, most of them, anyway – know each other, so it’s almost like being in a barkada place; you are bound to feel welcome when there (well, mostly, anyway…).

Oh, admittedly, this one isn’t perfect.

For one, it closes at 12.00 midnight – at times, especially when there are a lot of people there, it is open until 1.30 A.M., but that is only when I wake up to get dressed to go out in Metro Manila (!).  Secondly, because the people there know each other (mostly), if you don’t know anyone (or nobody liked you), you’re bound to go solo the whole night, thereby defeating the socializing part of going clubbing.  Thirdly, the place needs to be upgraded somehow – the feel when in the place is very, very… early 1990s, the remnant of the 1980s obvious in the wooden chairs scattered around wooden tables, at times pairing upholstered seats of dark red, faded by time (I daresay that for this one to attract the new blood, it has to look NOW, when being loudly gay is largely okay; instead of dwelling in the past, when everything gay wasn’t THAT gay).

And then there’s that supposed sex work – and this is whether it’s truly happening or not in the venue.

“Happens a lot here,” my friend said.  “The picking up has become…”

“Normal?” I asked.

“Well, not normal,” he said.  “But common-place, yes.”

Apparently, especially for AFAMS visiting the city.

“Is this good or bad?” my friend continued.  “I honestly don’t know.”

Just then, a group of five relatively matured AFAMs, with three Filipinos of their age, entered the venue, heading straight to the bar, too.  At least three, maybe four of them eyed me.

“They’re looking at you,” my friend said before I can open my mouth, just as he took a swig of his beer.  “Look, look!”

I didn’t say anything.  Not a word.  Not this time.

At least I know we are – I am – wanted.