Category: Blog

Some of the biggest changes in a career do not come from a plan. Sometimes you are only passing through, and the door is already open.

For me that was 2011. I was passing through Manila, I dropped by a rehearsal, and they told me they were auditioning for someone who could sing opera.

I auditioned. They got me.

In my Juego Todo interview I called it “maybe the dream moment of my life”. Fifteen years later, I still think that is the right word for it. But to understand why it hit me that hard, you have to go back to Madrid.

A kid watching rehearsals

I was born in Madrid to a Spanish father and a Filipina mother.

When I was small, we came to the Philippines on vacation many times. My family’s theatre side here is the Barredos of Repertory Philippines, and whenever I was in Manila, I was the kid watching the rehearsals. Some of that family history is in Baby Barredo, Repertory Philippines, Meet the Family.

My mom also took me to London and New York to watch plays. So I grew up loving musical theatre long before I knew it would be my job. I still simply love going to a Broadway musical.

Spain: competing without family

My career started in Spain. I started doing theatre there and studied voice and acting. Musicals, theatre, everything.

In Spain I was competing against the whole world without family. My artistic family was on the other side of the planet, and the question was always there: what are you doing all the way over there, when your people are here in the industry?

But leaving your country to start again somewhere else is scary. So I stayed in Spain and worked.

Then the 2008 financial crisis hit. There were no new projects. The government did not have money to sponsor new artistic projects. You can have the training and the hunger, but if nobody is producing, there is no stage to stand on.

So I left Spain.

Six months in Shanghai

I went to China and performed for six months in Shanghai. The idea of the show was to make Chinese audiences curious about Spain, so they would want to travel there.

Here was the catch: the audience did not speak Spanish. So the show had to be very clown, very big theatre. We did things like a bullfighting show. Very visual.

That stayed with me. When the words cannot cross the border, your body, your face and your timing have to. It is a lesson I still use under a circus tent today.

The drop-by that became a career

After Shanghai, I passed through the Philippines. I came by to say hello and watch a rehearsal, and that is when I heard it: they were auditioning for someone who could sing opera.

That is the whole story as it happened, and I am not going to decorate it. I auditioned, and they got me.

What made that moment so big was everything sitting behind it. I was disconnected from new projects in Spain because of the crisis. And for years I had carried one question. As I said on Broccoli TV, “I always questioned what would my life be if I came here.” Half my artistic family was in the Philippines. Suddenly the answer was standing in front of me.

Starting again, in a new language

When I arrived, I barely spoke English. Tagalog? Hardly. People made fun of my accent. It was scary. A whole new beginning.

I stayed anyway. I have now been working in the Philippines for about 15 years, in TV commercials, movies and theatre. I have been performing since 1998, 28 years as an actor. It’s more fun in the Philippines. I am very happy here.

My first big lessons here came from my Tita Baby, and I wrote about them in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

What saying yes really means

Saying yes does not mean accepting everything without thinking. It means staying open when an opportunity shows up in a form you did not expect.

Leaving Spain was scary. Performing for a crowd that did not understand my language was a new skill. Arriving without English or Tagalog was another. None of it was guaranteed. Each piece just became part of the road.

You do not need to see the whole road before you take the next step. Sometimes you only need to walk into the room when they say they are looking for someone who can sing opera.

If you want the advice version of this story, I wrote it as a letter in Notes to a Younger Actor, and the longer road is in Life on Tour: What 28 Years on the Road Taught Me. The interviews are on my Video page.

From Madrid to Manila, it was never a straight line. In 2011, I walked into the room. Tell me in the comments: what door did you almost walk past?

Under the tent in General Santos, our week is simple. Shows run Tuesday to Sunday. Monday is always a rest day. No circus shows on Mondays. Ever.

People think a rest day is a lazy day. For me it is part of the job. Touring is a sport: long days, late meals, strange beds. The body you bring to the stage on Tuesday is the body you looked after on Monday.

I’m not a doctor and this is not medical advice. These are just the habits I already talk about on this blog.

1. Change the environment

When the head gets heavy, I change where I am. Stepping outside, getting some sunlight, getting out of the room. It sounds too simple. It works for me. I wrote about it in Mind Over Matter: Tips for Mental Wellness.

2. Breathe before you sleep

At night I do a simple meditation with deep breathing to unwind. After a week of shows, breathing is how I land.

3. Talk to real people

Small interactions matter. Greeting the receptionist. A real conversation with a friend or family, even a short one. On the road, the cast and crew become your family, but it is good to hear voices from outside the tent too.

4. Keep the training honest

My training is a four-day split with heavy weights: legs and core, chest and triceps, back and biceps, then shoulders, calves and traps. The full list is in my bodybuilding workout.

Consistency is the whole game, in the gym and on stage. Rest is part of that consistency, not the opposite of it.

5. Do things that bring you joy

Sleep enough. Eat properly. Do something that makes you happy and has nothing to do with work. A big plate of bulalo after a long day counts, as far as I’m concerned. Haha.

6. Ask for help when you need it

If you are struggling, talk to a mental health professional. There is no shame in it. Asking for help is part of taking care of yourself, on tour or at home.

Why Monday matters

Tired actors get dramatic offstage, not only onstage. One honest rest day keeps the other six honest too.

If you are coming to see EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! at Zaldivar Field before November 22, plan it from Tuesday to Sunday. Everything you need is in EuroXtreme Circus General Santos: I’m Under the Tent.

What does your rest day look like? Tell me in the comments.

Dear younger actor,

I’ve been doing this for 28 years. I started performing in 1998, and I’m still learning. So take this as notes from a colleague who has made a lot of mistakes, not a lecture from a master.

Where I’m writing from

I was born in Madrid to a Spanish father and a Filipina mother. As a kid I watched my family’s rehearsals at Repertory, and that is where the theatre bug bit me.

I studied voice and acting in Spain, competing against the whole world, without family around. I sang in around 30 zarzuelas and operas across Spain and Portugal. When the 2008 crisis dried up work in Spain, I went further: six months in China, at the Universal Expo in Shanghai.

Then in 2011, passing through Manila, I dropped by a rehearsal. They were auditioning for someone who could sing opera. I got the part, and the Philippines has been home ever since.

I tell you this because none of it was a straight line. Yours won’t be either. That is normal.

1. Talent gets you in the room. Daily work keeps you there.

My Tita Baby, Baby Barredo, used to say theatre is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration. I only understood it when she pushed me so hard in Guadalupe the musical that I wanted to quit. I didn’t. It became the best performance of my life. The whole story is in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

2. Turn what they tease you about into a tool

When I arrived in Manila, I barely spoke English or Tagalog, and people teased my accent. That same accent later helped get me cast as a Spanish priest. I wrote about that this week in why I always get cast as the priest or the soldier.

3. Build relationships before you need them

The phone call usually comes from someone who already trusts you. Be on time. Know your lines. Be kind to everyone, because the assistant today might be the producer tomorrow. I learned that the funny way, in what it really takes to get cast in a commercial.

4. Say yes to the reasonable things

They change the call time. They want you shaved. They need photos in 30 minutes. Each small yes quietly answers one question: can this person be trusted on a busy set?

5. Tap, learn, go again

You will lose castings. You will get notes you don’t like. You will watch someone else get the role you wanted. On the jiu-jitsu mats we call that tapping. Tap, smile, ask how they did it, and go again.

6. Choose your voices

Listen to your director. Respect your fellow actors. But don’t rebuild your character every time someone has a new idea. Commit to a direction and go deep.

7. Take care of the instrument

Your body and your voice are the only tools you carry everywhere. Warm up even when the schedule says there is no time. Train. Sleep when you can. Tired actors get dramatic offstage, not only onstage.

8. Nothing comes in one big jump

Nothing in my career came in one big jump. It was a lot of small days stacked on top of each other: zarzuela ensembles, a stage in Shanghai, a musical on a school campus in Cavite, films, series, commercials, and now a circus tent in General Santos. Every stage counts.

So start where you are. Do the work today. Then do it again tomorrow.

With love from the road,

Kuya

P.S. If you want to see where all those small days led, my full list of roles is on my Work History page, and the longer story is in Life on Tour.

At every show under the tent, the feathered dancers take the floor, the whole tent leans in, and I speak the first words of the night: “Welcome to the EuroXtreme Circus!”

That is my job in EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! at Zaldivar Field, General Santos City: I open the show. It sounds simple. One line. But that line has to carry a lot. Here is what opening a show under a tent asks of an actor.

1. You set the energy for everybody

The first voice the audience hears tells them what kind of night this is going to be. If I come out half-awake, the tent feels it. If I come out with everything, the tent feels that too.

So I treat the first line like the most important line of the night, because for the audience, it is.

2. A tent is not a theatre

I’ve stood on a lot of stages. A circus tent is its own animal. The air is different. The crowd is closer. And you can feel when a whole field of people is holding its breath at the same time.

Big, open spaces change everything. The space is bigger, the sound travels differently, the light keeps moving. You have to fill a lot more air with your voice and your body. I learned that on an outdoor stage with mountains behind it, which I wrote about in the last days before opening night.

3. The voice is the instrument, so protect it

Opening a show is vocal work, night after night. Planes are dry, air-con is drier, and everyone around you wants to talk. I warm up even when the schedule says there is no time. That habit has followed me from zarzuela stages in Spain to this tent in Gensan.

4. The body has to show up too

Your body is your instrument. The audience reads you before you say a word: how you stand, how you walk in, where you look.

That is one reason I keep training. My split is in my bodybuilding workout. Consistency is the whole game, in the gym and on stage.

5. The face has to read from far away

Under coloured lights, and with the audience at a different distance every venue, makeup reads differently. What looks good in the mirror can disappear in the tent. My theatrical makeup guide covers the basics.

6. Calm is a skill

Live shows move. Things change at the last minute. What saves you is what you have practised. Calm under pressure is not magic. It is reps.

7. Respect the people around you

The opening number is not about me. The dancers, the artists, the crew: we are all building the same moment. My part is to welcome the audience into it. Do it with puso, and get out of the way.

Come and see it

EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment is at Zaldivar Field, General Santos City, until November 22, 2026. Shows run Tuesday to Sunday. No shows on Mondays. Get tickets at artboxentertainment.com, the venue ticket office, or the SM City General Santos ticket booth. Check showtimes and prices with Art Box directly.

Watch my opening and read how it all started in EuroXtreme Circus General Santos: I’m Under the Tent.

People ask me how I learn a role when I’m living out of a suitcase. Short answer: the same way I learn it at home. Just with less sleep and more airports.

I’ve been performing since 1998, in Spain, in China, in Holland and Portugal, and in the Philippines since 2011. Here is the method that keeps working for me.

1. Build it at home, test it in the room

People think the learning happens in the rehearsal room. A lot of it happens at the kitchen table, alone, with the script in your hand.

The room is where you test it. Home is where you build it. On the road, “home” is a hotel desk or the seat in the van, but the rule is the same. I showed what that looked like before one out-of-town opening in Off the Plane, Into Rehearsal.

2. Small things, every single day

When I worked on my character in Guadalupe the musical, I did not wait for rehearsal. At home, in the car, before sleeping. A look, a pause, the way a line lands.

That is still how I do it. Small things, daily. Talent gets you into the room. Daily work keeps you there. The full story is in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

3. Do your homework on the character

Before I meet the role in a rehearsal room, I want to know who I’m playing, who is directing and what story we are telling. I wrote the basics in ways to prepare for performing auditions: research the character, know your lines, and record yourself so you can see what the audience will see.

4. Use your own memory

When a director asks for a specific situation, I look for a real moment from my own past that felt similar, and I play from there. That is acting 101, but under pressure people forget it. On the road, with new people and a new stage every week, it keeps me honest.

5. Pack your basics

On tour the stage changes. New wings, new floor, new lights, new acoustics. What travels with you is your basics: your warm-up, your voice, your lines, your marks, your face.

Even your makeup changes with the venue, because coloured lights and the distance to the audience change how it reads. I break that down in my theatrical makeup guide. And I keep practising my singing between cities with a very cheap setup, the one in my home recording studio post.

If the basics live in your body, a new stage is an adventure. If they don’t, it is a panic attack with costumes.

6. Choose your voices

When the director is not around, a lot of people suddenly have opinions about your role. Listen to your director. Respect your fellow actors. But don’t rebuild your character every time someone has a new idea. Commit to a direction and go deep.

7. Expect the plan to change

Airport straight to rehearsal. Rain in the “sunny” place. Rehearsing while having dinner. On the road, the schedule is a suggestion.

Stay flexible, and save your energy for the stage. Calm under pressure is not magic. It is reps.

Language is part of the role

One more. I did zarzuela in Spanish, Peter Pan in English in Spain, and now I work in Taglish every day. Each language opens a different door to a character. If you work on the road, collect them.

More about the suitcase side of the job is in Life on Tour: What 28 Years on the Road Taught Me.

How do you learn your lines? Kitchen table, shower, or the jeepney? Tell me in the comments.

Another uniform. You saw that coming.

In the feature film Sisa, directed by Jun Robles Lana, I play Commander Harrison.

If you read my post on why I always get cast as the priest or the soldier, you know the pattern. Whenever there is a historical film, my name pops up. This time the name on the call sheet was Commander Harrison.

Opening week, on camera

I filmed the opening week of the film for my vlog. Such preparation and promotional events for this film. Loved it all!

People see the poster. Opening week is also preparation, promotional events and a lot of showing up. I wanted you to see that side too.

Where Sisa sits in my work

Sisa is part of my screen work in the Philippines, next to GomBurZa, Heneral Luna and Lav Diaz’s Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis. You can see every credit, film by film, on my Work History page.

I’m not going to tell you the story of the film here. Watch it, and then come back and tell me what you thought.

A small thing I keep doing

Every officer I play is a new man, even when the uniform looks familiar. Same face, new person. That is the job, and I still love it.

More vlogs from rehearsals, film openings and my everyday life as an actor are on my Video page. And if you are new here, start with my story.

Mga kaibigan, week two. I’m still under the big tent, and I’m still loving it.

I’m performing in EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment at Zaldivar Field in General Santos City, until November 22, 2026. If you have not come yet, this is your sign.

The quick facts

• Show: EuroXtreme Circus ¡Carnavale! by Art Box Entertainment
• Where: Zaldivar Field, General Santos City
• Until: November 22, 2026
• Show days: Tuesday to Sunday. No shows on Mondays.

Where to get tickets

• Online at artboxentertainment.com
• At the ticket office at the venue, Zaldivar Field
• At the ticket booth in SM City General Santos

I’m not going to guess showtimes or prices on my blog. Get them straight from Art Box, then get yourself under the tent.

Why Monday is sacred

No circus shows on Mondays. Ever. Monday is our rest day.

So if you are planning a family night, plan it from Tuesday to Sunday. And if you see me walking around Gensan on a Monday looking very relaxed, now you know why.

What a tent does to a crowd

I have the honor of opening the show. I told you about that moment in EuroXtreme Circus General Santos: I’m Under the Tent, with the video of my opening.

A tent is its own animal. The air is different. The crowd is closer. And you can feel when a whole field of people is holding its breath at the same time. You do not get that from a screen. You get it from a seat.

Bring everybody

Live shows need live people. A full tent changes everything for the people performing inside it.

So bring the barkada. Bring the family. Bring your lola who says she is too old for the circus. Nobody is too old for the circus.

Filipino audiences are the warmest and loudest crowds I know. General Santos, prove me right. See you under the tent.

When I sat down with Broccoli TV and we talked about my career, I said it plainly: I always play the priest or the military. Whenever there are historical films, my name pops up.

And then I added the honest part: “If they get me or not, that’s another question.”

That is typecasting in one sentence. So let me show you what it looks like from inside the collar and the uniform.

The collar

Look at my Work History and count the priests. I did, and I laughed.

• Padre Tressera in GomBurZa, directed by Pepe Diokno.
• Padre Camorra in Lav Diaz’s Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis.
• A Spanish friar in The Agony and Fury of Hermano Puli.
• Fray Santiago in Amor y Muerte.
• A Catholic priest in Ang Sugo: Felix Manalo, and a deputy priest cameo in Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo.

On stage it is the same story. I played Padre San Vitores in Pedro Calungsod the musical on a national tour. Back then I wrote that I was probably cast because of the looks, my accent and my performing skills. In that order. Haha.

The uniform

Then there are the soldiers, the officers and the men in charge.

• Tenyente Mateo Flores in the GMA series Katipunan. I broke him down in this old post.
• Lieutenant Jose in Ang Supremo.
• Commander Harrison in Sisa, directed by Jun Robles Lana.
• Spanish General Ramon Blanco in Miong for Repertory Philippines, and General MacArthur in Sindak 1941.
• The Gobernador Heneral in I Love You Since 1892.

Why my name pops up

It is not a mystery. I have a Spanish face, a Spanish accent and a Filipino heart. Philippine history has a lot of Spain in it, so when a production needs a friar, a governor or an officer from that time, somebody remembers me.

When I arrived in Manila, people teased my accent. Today that same accent helps get me cast as a Spanish priest. Turn the thing they tease you about into a tool. That is one of my favourite lessons, and I wrote more about it in Life on Tour.

Being typecast is not the same as being booked

Here is the part people miss. My name popping up only gets me into the conversation. “If they get me or not, that’s another question.”

So I prepare like I could lose it, because I could. I research the character and the director before the room, like I explain in ways to prepare for performing auditions. I show up already looking the part, so the director can imagine me. I learned how much the small things matter in what it really takes to get cast in a commercial.

And once I have the part, I do the work daily, even when nobody is watching. Tita Baby taught me that the hard way, in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

Not every role wears a collar

To be fair to the casting directors, they also let me out of the cassock sometimes. I was Mr. Clarke in Bad Genius, Ahmed Al Juffali in Can’t Buy Me Love and Headmaster Mendoza in He’s Into Her.

I’m proud of every priest and every soldier. Each one is a different man, with a different voice, in a different moment of our history. Same face, new person. That is the job.

Watch the interview

The full Broccoli TV conversation is on my Video page, together with my behind-the-scenes vlogs.

Now tell me in the comments: which of my priests or soldiers did you see first?

If you follow me, you know I love the gym. I’ve even shared my bodybuilding workout here on the blog. One year I did 315 push-ups in a day, just to see if I could.

But nothing humbles you like Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

In the gym, the weights don’t fight back. On the mats, the problem is a human being who is actively trying to stop you. And that’s exactly why I keep coming back. BJJ keeps teaching me lessons I end up using everywhere else: on set, in sales, in business, in life.

Here are the big ones.

1. Thank the problems

In jiu-jitsu, every training partner is a problem to solve. Some are stronger. Some are faster. Some are just smarter than you on that day.

At first you get frustrated. Then you realize: those are the people making you better. If everyone let you win, you’d learn nothing.

I try to bring that into life. A hard client, a tough director, a project that keeps going wrong. Instead of complaining, I try to say thank you. Difficulties are the training partners that make you stronger.

I learned the same thing in theater from a very tough director. I wrote about it in The Toughest Director I Ever Had.

2. Ego is the first thing you tap out

You will get caught. You will get pinned. Someone smaller than you will submit you. It happens to everyone.

The people who quit BJJ are often the ones who can’t handle that. The people who stay are the ones who tap, smile, and ask “how did you do that?”

That’s a great attitude for an actor too. You’ll lose castings. You’ll get notes you don’t like. You’ll see someone else get the role you wanted. Tap, learn, go again.

3. Pressure reveals your training

When someone is on top of you and you’re tired, you don’t rise to the occasion. You fall to the level of your habits.

It’s the same in a live hosting gig when the program changes five minutes before you go on, or on a shoot when the call time moves. What saves you is what you’ve practiced. Calm under pressure isn’t magic. It’s reps.

4. Breathe, and stay calm

Beginners panic. They burn all their energy in the first minute trying to escape a bad position, and then they have nothing left.

Experienced people breathe. They make small adjustments. They wait for the right moment.

I’ve used that so many times in life. When things get bad, money, health, career, the panic move is rarely the right move. Breathe first. Then fix the next small thing.

5. Sell the change, not the feature list

This one surprised me. BJJ made me better at sales.

Nobody signs up for jiu-jitsu because of a list of techniques. They sign up because they want to change: feel confident, get fit, defend themselves, stop being scared, have a community.

When I explain a service to a client now, I try to remember that. Don’t list everything you do. Show them the change they’ll feel. That’s what people really buy.

6. Small daily progress wins

You don’t get good at BJJ in one session. You get a tiny bit less bad every week. A slightly better grip. One escape that works today that didn’t work last month.

That’s how careers are built too. I’ve been performing since 1998. Nothing came in one big jump. It was a lot of small days stacked on top of each other.

7. Respect the people on the mat

At the end of a roll, you shake hands. You just tried your best to choke each other, and you say thank you. There’s something beautiful about that.

Hard on the problem, kind to the person. I want to work that way too.

Try it

If you’ve been curious about BJJ, my advice is simple: go to a trial class. You’ll be bad at it. Everyone is at the start. That’s the point.

And if you already train, tell me: what’s the biggest lesson the mats have taught you?

Want to know more about me? Start with my About page, or read more on the Blog.