My man brought me to Pinto Art Museum one fine Thursday. “It’s my birthday gift to you,” he said. And he was ready to pay for it all.
We’ve long heard about Pinto, but had not a clue how it looks. He knew I love arts and museum though, so he thought going there in Rizal would be worth the risk.
The commute was easier than we expected – train to Cubao station, get UV express to Antipolo Church, ride a tricycle to Pinto. Tada! We were there.
While he was all agog at taking photos – however visual, he’s not much of an art guy – I was trying to take it all in. I was entranced by the amalgam of arts and nature before me. The museum’s architecture was literally a “home” for the artworks. Its vintage design – wooden doors, arches, wall lamps, huge windows, garden benches, flowers, and trees made it all romantic. There was even a chapel that cradled old holy figures which looked like part of the “art”.
The map wasn’t much of help since we preferred being surprised at what we’d see in every turn. When we felt that we’d seen it all, we sank into comfortable chairs near the pool (which was not for swimming), talked, and cherished the fresh breeze.
We got down a flight of stairs to get to Cafe Rizal. The place felt like a cave sans the pitch darkness, albeit it could also be a Hobbit’s home. A server led us to a table in a corner. We ordered a 12-inch pizza and kiwi shakes. Delectable.
I remember going through a wooden “pinto” or door at the entrance. The walls sealed what was behind the door, so I somehow feared it was gonna be a small museum. I realized, I underestimated that door. I should never underestimate any door.
P.S: Special thanks to “the man”, Guilly. More “pintos” for us.