I watched an old Hero Angeles-Sandara Park movie called “Can This Be Love?” and it was surprisingly not bad. (Well, I’m also quite easy to please when it comes to movies.) The story revolved around a Korean girl studying English in the Philippines, and a young man getting a nursing degree to pursue that American dream. Sounds familiar? Maybe that’s why I was able to sit through the 100-minute film in ten 10-minute installments on YouTube—-it reflected too much my own college days.

It was 2004 when the Koreans came to my school. I would like to say I didn’t laugh, or smirk, or raise an eyebrow at their permed hair, the bright contrasting colors of their outfits, their shirts worn one on top of another in the sweltering Philippine weather, and their pointy-toed kitten-heel pumps that nobody would dare to wear with our boring, plaid school uniform, but I remember the conversations all too well. In the movie, Sandara was walking alone when a group of girls loudly talked about her. “Look at what she’s wearing,” one of them remarked, “It’s like she’s going to dance on TV.” Laughter ensued, and so did taunts of “Koreans go home.”
Flashback: One girl walking to school, wearing a colorful blouse with puffed sleeves paired with tapered black jeans, toting a hot pink purse. Her hair cascading in giant curls and her eyes shielded by oversized sunglasses. Laughter among my friends. One of them remarking “She’s got to be Korean.”
How long before all the kids—including myself—started dressing up like the Koreans who were teased so much, I don’t know.
It was also 2004 when the so-called Nursing Boom was felt in my university, and three quarters of the 11 000 enrollees in the first semester were all future nurses, most of them with the hopes of working in the United States. A scene from the movie made me smile. Sandara and Hero were forced to share a table at lunchtime. She asked him, “What are you taking up?”
“Nursing.” He replied.
“Lahat kayo nursing!” she said. (All of you are taking up nursing!)
“Kasi yun ang in demand,” he answered. (Because it’s in demand.)
The sudden population explosion that semester led to a confusion in room assignments and we non-nursing students had to have classes in the oddest of places—the gym, the chapel, under some tree. (This fact made its way to my humble college newspaper column which was probably the beginning of all the administrative trouble I got myself into.)
Back to the movie—Sandara’s wallet was skillfully nicked by a female thief while she was grocery shopping. As she was about to pay and she realized her money was gone, the unsympathetic cashier called her stupid. A friend was luckily in the same place, and her boyfriend paid for Sandara’s purchases. As they got out of the store, Sandara’s friend said “I told you to be careful. There are so many pickpockets here!”
Which was painfully true.
How embarrassing it was, when the 14-year-old Korean girl whom I was tutoring in college told me that at first she didn’t want to go to the Philippines. She was afraid of the stories she had heard—that ours is a country of thieves and con men. Flabbergasted, I simply warned her not to go out alone. Her unmistakeable features not to mention her obviously pricey clothes can make her an easy target.
It was exactly what Sandara’s character in the movie wrote in her term paper—an honest observation of the Filipinos from the point of view of a Korean who has only experienced bad things so far. The typist tasked to encode her work (of course, that is Hero) was angered by the truths in the paper that he said “The one who wrote this is definitely Korean. Who else is this bad in English? If she doesn’t like the Filipinos then she should just go back to where she came from.”
Of course, as with any Loveteam-based movie the two eventually fell in love, despite the initial hate and cultural differences.
Hero Angeles’ relatives are scattered all over the globe, and as they were reunitedin the Philippines on the birthday of their grandmother, they all shared their stories, unnecessarily emphasizing their new countries and jobs there. One aunt who has a degree in Nutrition is proud to be working as chambermaid in London, one other aunt yaks about Japan and her Japanese husband. They all advise Hero to study hard so he could go to America. Sandara listens to all of these with a distressed look.
“Please just bear with my family, it’s just that we don’t see each other that much. Look at us, we are all over the world.” Hero told Sandara.
“And you left Grandma here?” she asked.
That scene somehow hurt.
Can This Be Love? is something that’s okay to watch on a boring weekend with nothing else to do. The script was actually not as lame as I expected it to be, and the acting didn’t make me cringe. Above all, you’ll be poked and prodded with the little scenes that mirror the average Pinoy setting. (Sandara Park running away from Hero and falling into a hole in the ground. C’mon, where else would there be holes in the ground without barricades or warning signs? Yay’ Manila!)
And with Sandara making her debut in Korea as a pop act, I expect her projects here in the Philippines to be dug up by netizens. They will find Can This Be Love?, conveniently subtitled in English, and I can’t wait to know what they have to say.













































































