She only used one name—Amapola—and her voice was truly a gift from God. If purity and expressiveness of voice were the only things that mattered, she can easily be called the best singer in the Philippines and should have been a superstar. But in the strange and arbitrary Philippine show business world, connections and a generous admixture of foreign blood to give one a certain look were needed to get the TV contract a singer needed to reach the very top.

In spite of her "imperfection," Amapola had done quite well. She had gone from the shy, talented singer in Cebu City to one of the Philippines’ most popular singers. To be considered a good singer in Cebu was an achievement in itself. You can walk down any street on any given day and hear people singing as they clipped their wash to dry on the line or swept leaves to tidy up their yard. Everyone sang or played a musical instrument in the city that gave the Philippines Pilita Corrales, its first superstar. Pilita was mostly Spanish and got her own TV show early on in her career. Amapola, who obviously had no ancestors who came from foreign shores, didn’t get one.

In other Asian countries where natives were more comfortable with the way they looked, she won many songfests and had given her country much to be proud about. Her concerts were always well attended, both at home and abroad.

She wasn’t looking for money anymore and had accepted the fact that she would really never be a superstar in this late stage of her career. She had been singing professionally for two decades and was old in show business terms. She was now having problems keeping her weight down and hadn’t come out with a new album in years. She wondered how much longer she could keep up with the demanding needs of her career before she called it quits. She was tired of going from one city to another, never quite getting to know any place well enough in the few days she spent there, as she ventured regularly from her Philippine base on concert tours.

This time she was in Los Angeles. She wasn’t sure if it was the second, third, or fourth time she’d been there—cities and hotel rooms over the years have all blurred into one memory. Somehow, these foreign tours gave her a respite from being a celebrity and she took advantage of it by going shopping and dining by herself whenever she could. She didn’t get bothered by fans in foreign cities, thanks to her non-superstar status.

She had spent the better part of the morning shopping at the Glendale Galleria. Now she was going to have lunch at Kainan Kamayan which was just a few blocks away. Her agent and sponsors suggested it for lunch if she was going to be in that area.

It was an upscale Filipino buffet restaurant that was always full on weekends like the Saturday she chose to go shopping. Most of the tables were taken so the waiter asked if she didn’t mind sharing one with another customer. She didn’t—it would be good to have someone to talk with during lunch. She was seated with a man at a small table by the window overlooking the patio.

She was happy to see pinakbet and kare-kare on the steam table. She was tired of the fried chicken and mashed potatoes and the ribs and cole slaw she had been having the past several days. She was overjoyed when she saw mounds of plain steamed rice. No Filipino could live long without it, not even a Cebuana raised on corn.

It would have been embarrassing on most other days, but she heaped as much food as she could on her plate. Never mind that she could come back for more, she wanted to be sure she got enough of the food she hadn’t seen for over a month on her first pass through the buffet table.

Amapola and the stranger ate in silence for a while before she spoke.

"Are you from this area?"

"Yes, I live here. Why do you ask?"

"I’m not from here, that’s why."

"Oh, I’m sorry. I never meet anyone who’s not from here. I was born in the Philippines and came here in my teens."

"My name is Amapola. I’m a singer—I’m here on a concert tour."

"I’m Jesse Bauzon. Do you have a last name?"

"Yes, but I only use one name professionally."

"Have you made any records?"

"Yes, a few."

Jesse wasn’t sure what to make of her because he had been away from the Philippines for a long time. She could be for real or she could be a two-bit singer trying to make an impression on him. He was always wary about women because none of his romantic involvement with any of them had gotten anywhere. They had all been fleeting and empty, not close to what he dreamed they would be.

"Sorry for not knowing who you are but I left the Philippines when we only had Pilita and Dina on television."

"Oh, yes, they're both great singers. I’ve learned a lot from them."

They went back to the steam table to see what else was available. There was plenty to choose from and they selected other dishes they wanted to try.

Back at the table Amapola said, "The reason I asked if you were from here is because I’ve never really seen L.A. I’ve been to Disneyland and Universal Studios but I want to see the L.A. my hosts never let me see. I thought maybe a total stranger would be in a better position to accommodate me."

"Funny, but I don’t like those places myself and I wouldn’t take my own friends there if they came to visit me. They’re bogus and unreal."

"Good. I’d like to see the real L.A. and I was wondering if you can be kind enough to show me around tomorrow. I would be very happy to give you tickets to my show on Monday in exchange—it includes dinner and you can bring your girl friend along."

"I don’t have a girl friend but I would be very happy to show a kababayan around."

"Can you pick me up tomorrow around ten then? I’m staying at Day’s Inn which isn’t far from here."

"Oh, yes, I know where that is. It’s right by the 134 Freeway."

They went back to the buffet table to get dessert. Jesse had leche flan while Amapola got herself a huge serving of halo-halo.

Jesse still wasn’t sure about her after they parted. She looked like a nice person—frank and down-to-earth. He was even thrilled by her looks—a typical Filipina with gentle beauty, the kind one can only appreciate after he’s lived abroad for a while and saw white faces every day. Her eyes were expressive and her voice melodious with just a trace of Visayan accent. Even if she wasn’t the singer she claimed to be, it wouldn’t be such a loss at all to spend some time with her.