"Crafty" 'cause it's deceiving. Who'd know there's a fascinating place of peculiar finds and catalogs along that narrow road in Quezon City? Lucky, curious ones. And "crafty" 'cause it's an arts and craft fair. Hihi.

The logotype gate. Photo from 10a Alabama Facebook page.

A friend and I tried to catch before it opened on the first day of the fair last July. Exhibit owners and salespeople were just starting to set up their wares and populate the place with quirky little decors and exotic trinkets from God knows where.

Met up with good friend Noreen Bautista, director at social venture Jacinto and Lirio bags, whose youthful passion, hard work and love for her country drove her to become among today's movers in the country's social entrepreneurship scene.

She appeared at the fair to showcase the latest product line of her company: Journals made of water lilies, the signature native material of Jacinto and Lirio creations. It's called "water lily leather," by the way, and that's legit. Needless to say, innovative and resourceful.

Inside the big house at 10a Alabama. Every space and corner has something curious to behold.

Noreen Bautista poses with Jacinto and Lirio journals.

Journals made of water lily leather.

Noreen's stall was among those other interesting sites at 10a Alabama. There were vintage items, handmade accessories, colorful prints, postmodern displays, lots of dust (literally), an outpouring of creativity, resourcefulness and rare talents.

What's amazing with crafted items is they're devoid of that commercial, industrial feel, miles away from the texture of China-made products we've grown so used to. Every item in this fair bears a stamp closer to our humanity, as if each has been borne from the heart. And well, people, that's what makes art.

An illustration on canvas sitting by the window.

Postcards, anyone? Each is one-of-a-kind.

Recycled notebooks, covered in anyone's favorite slice of pop culture. I'm the last person to be fond of A Clockwork Orange though. Blech, no thanks.

It was the time of transition from Spanish rule to at least an impression of independence, and the Philippine state was slowly evolving to having its own identity. A war was ending, the flag was weaved, and patriotic hymn was composed.

Living room of the Agoncillos.

Given that context of the country's history, we entered a family's dwelling place in a small town in Batangas that may rival Vigan for its preservation of Spanish-era architecture and artifacts. The house where the family of the woman who weaved the Philippine flag, Marcela Agoncillo, lived perked our interests in the life of this minor historical figure and transported us to a time when the study of the liberal arts, musical instruments and foreign languages was staple if one was to become a discerning individual.

Marcela Agoncillo sew the Philippine flag with her daughters in Hong Kong where they stayed for a time to accompany Felipe in his exile.

Portraits of the members of the Agoncillo house.

The master's bedroom and a dress worn by Marcela Agoncillo.

Most the books the Agoncillos read were the classics and serial textbooks on foreign languages.

Marcela's husband, lawyer and the first Filipino diplomat Felipe Agoncillo, carried out negotiations for the Treaty of Paris to be forged. Another foreign power, the Americans, came in and became the mother of the newborn, "freed" state.

But to add anachronism and fun to those scenes of history flashing before us through the material order and space of the residence, my friend took advantage of playing the age-old piano of an Agoncillo daughter and displaced a key in the attempt.

Watch those decaying keys!