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WHAT I found most striking about Miss Earth 2007, Canadian half-Filipina
Jessica Nicole Domingo Trisko, was neither her obvious loveliness
and appeal, which despite their abundance do not intimidate, nor
her remarkable knowledge and intelligence which, on the other
hand, do intimidate. Rather it was this: she was in slippers when I
first met her and she was wearing rubber shoes when I last feasted
my eyes on her.
I had just arrived in Bali for the UN Conference
on Climate Change when my host, the chairman of the Miss Indonesia
Earth Foundation, whisked my brother and me to an informal dinner
with his other guests. It was then that I met Jessica and her
slippers.
During that evening and the next morning for
breakfast at her hotel—not to suggest that something happened in
between—I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her
character. She was more confident of her brains than of her beauty,
as she preferred to talk about serious and intellectual
matters—such as military aid, nuclear deterrence or game
theory—over juicier topics, to my disappointment if not chagrin.
She has a B.A. from McGill University at
Montreal and a Masters from the University of Texas at Austin. She
is currently enrolled in a Ph.D. program of the Department of
Political Science at McGill on International Relations.
She relishes her new role as ambassadress of the
earth, as she has long wanted to communicate to the world the
importance of the environment and of the need to recycle. She was
surprised to find out that the Third World is woefully ignorant
of what Canadians consider basic environmental knowledge.
To her the Miss Earth contest ultimately boiled
down to a test of intelligence, her final answer being the clincher.
By that remark, I realized she was naively unaware of her
considerable charm and beauty and of their possible devastating
effect on the judges.
She was pleasantly surprised to land among the
top sixteen, as she was never prominently mentioned as a favorite.
When, as one of the eight semi-finalists, she was asked what she
would do to inspire people to care for the environment, she answered
more like a politician running for office than a beauty pageant
contestant.
With the contestants down to four, she was
completely relaxed since she exceeded her own expectations. When
asked to explain the beauty of Mother Nature to a blind child, she
spontaneously answered from the heart: “I would say that the
beauty of Mother Nature smells as sweet as the sweetest rose, feels
as soft as the softest leaf, and sings like the bird in the
trees,” after which a rousing ovation prevented her from
continuing.
The breakfast interview was delightfully smooth
and de-lectably stimulating. Caught up in the moment, I dared
request from her a picture of both of us, boldly risking the ire of
my wife if she found out. Glad to oblige, Ms. Trisko promised to do
so later after she had freshened up for her plane trip home.
An interminably long hour or so thereafter, we
met at the hotel lobby, she still without makeup and dressed in a
plain shirt and slacks with rubber shoes on. If her intention was to
look nondescript so as to ensure her privacy, she failed miserably
and would only be disappointed. For her attire, which did little to
disguise her beauty, would only embolden her fellow passengers to
chat her up, since they would be unaware of her celebrity status.
I reminded her of the promised picture. She then
graciously offered to wear her Miss Earth sash to which I did not
object.
Soon after I watched her board the white hotel
van which would take her to the airport. When I first met her, she
was a vision in slippers under bright restaurant lights; when I last
glimpsed at her, she appeared as a blur, despite clear blue skies
and a blazing noonday sun, her hazy figure in rubber shoes fading
into the distance.
It was then that I realized how truly fortunate
I was. She was, during the interview, without airs, completely
spontaneous and natural. That refreshing quality, I knew, to be
endangered. She would in no time merge into her role of Miss Earth
2007. She would then glide into a room, with a cultivated air of
sophistication and stateliness, where all eyes would be riveted at
her and where a turn of her head, a mere glance or a flutter of her
eyelash would be sufficient to send heads spinning and hearts
pounding.
From the perspective of the Miss Earth
Foundation, this anticipated transformation is both desirable and
necessary. I am not so sure, however, that it would be such a good
thing. The Foundation would do well to heed the words of Chairman
Mao, who once remarked to our former First Lady: “I like you,
Mrs. Marcos. You are completely natural and that is perfection.”
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