And so it was arranged for my mother to spend a week with relatives who dearly missed her company. I, in turn, was spending the weekend with my sister, G, in San Francisco (in California—not Camotes this time). G, who worked for the airlines, was flying in to spend the weekend with her son P.
My nephew, P, and I drove all the way from Sacramento early Friday evening to meet up with G at a hotel conveniently located near the airport. There was no set plan on what we would do or where we would go for the weekend. We were letting serendipity take care of our itinerary.
The minute we let go of our expectations, serendipity immediately took over.
As is the practice of my sister, she had a maleta of food cooked by her loyal help in Manila. All we needed to do was heat it up in the hotel’s microwave oven. Best of all, two of her friends joined us for our cozy Pinoy dinner of Sinigang na Hipon, Ginataang Puso ng Saging, Ensalang talong, Inihaw na Bangus and a big pot of rice.
Where there are two or more Filipinos gathered together, you have a fiesta!!
Over home-made chocolate cake, I laughed at the stories of passengers gone wild, of pilots who were comedians, and quirks of famous personalities who took the flight. ( I would be a big fan if G started a blog on her experiences up in the sky)
I slept like a log that evening. Relaxed in the thought that the weekend began on a very happy note.
Being an early riser, I was up and done with breakfast at the hotel’s tiny kitchenette by 7AM. Upon entering my room, I heard the familiar beep of my celphone. It was a text message from my sister, M. She and her husband, J, were on their way to SFO with plans of going trekking in one of the parks. Would we like to join them? More importantly, could I get my sister, G, and her son up and ready for this sudden adventure.
As fate would have it, my sister, G, and my nephew, P, were just coming out of their deep sleep. When I told them of the text, they both quickly got dressed. And in a matter of minutes, M and J arrived. We all met up at a nearby diner to map out our day’s plan. As we let serendipity take over, the trekking activity was exchanged for a visit to Half-Moon Bay (HMB).
Normally, it would have taken only 15 minutes to get to HMB from the SFO airport but traffic slowed us down and we arrived at our destination 45 minutes later. It was a small price to pay for the experience that awaited us.
From the top of the cliff to the creamy sandy beach to the huge waves, there was but one word to describe the State Beach of HMB: breathtaking!
On that particular morning, we threw away our cares and cheered on a glider as he swept by us.
On the beach I let the waves chase me back to drier ground. And they almost got me.
I wondered what kind of fish will a solitary fisherman catch in these waters.
At the tip of the beach were huge boulders where my nephew, P, set up his tripod to capture the moment and give way to his passion.
By 2 o’clock, we were ready for lunch--- a big one. It took a bit of looking around at the city center of HMB. As with any tourist town, most of the main street restos were packed. With the aid of my nephew’s GPS, we found a Mexican restaurant, tucked in a quiet part of town, a distance away from the main road.
The restaurant had a homey feel.
There was a little scuffle on our table as we all grab for the chit when it came. J wanted to take care of it as he said we were his guests. I in turn countered that if he paid, G & I would not be riding with him on the way back to SFO—forgetting that we had taken only one car and left my nephew’s car back at the hotel. G immediately exclaimed to leave her out of the threat and that I was on my own. She promptly handed money to the waitress who was observing us with great amusement. There was much laughter after that as we slowly made our way back to the car.
There was an assortment of eye-catching structures as we walked back to the car.
We passed a shed whose wall was full of metal renditions of sea animals;
and a Methodist church built in 1872 with quaint stained glass windows.
Reluctantly, we piled into the car for our ride back to the hotel. This time it took all of 15 short minutes to get back.
It was the end of the adventure for M and J as they said their good-byes before taking off on a 2-hour drive back home. Meanwhile, G, P and I continued with out adventure as we got into P’s car.
Since we have seen the usual touristy sights in SFO, we decided to try our luck at the local thrift stores in the area. In a way, it's an adventure of a different kind. The adventure could lead to a discovery of a book of poems I have been dying to have; other times, I just have a big smile as I remember that I have the same junk back home. Once at the stores, I had to strengthen my resolve to put back the delicate cup and saucer or return to the shelf a heavy hard bound cookbook. Yet, I still managed to walk out of the stores with beautiful finds— a shirt that still had store tag on it,
a funky 1940s brooch and necklaces (as told to me by the sales clerk)-- all for under $12.
With time to spare, we decided to drive up to the highest point of SFO to take in the view of the city. But the fog was so thick, it was impossible to see anything. Still it was an experience to be enveloped by all that fog and getting chilled to the bones. (not so chilly for couples whose cars were descreetly parked at a distance)
By 8 o’clock, darkness had finally descended. One last adventure awaited us and that was to find parking close to Boudin for it’s famous clam chowder.
Like little kids, reluctant to go to bed, we dragged our feet back to the car. But not until after we enjoyed the antics of street entertainers doing a good imitation of Michael Jackson.
Later as I laid down on my bed in my hotel room, it occurred to me that the best adventures are the ones that are spontaneous-- it's when you let serendipity take the driver's seat.
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Back at my sister’s, M, house, I decided to take a chance that I could come up with a chowder to go with the bistek I prepared. Although I did not have clams on hand, a quick check of the pantry shelf yielded a can of corn. This would do nicely with some potatoes, carrots and bacon.
Here’s what I did.
In a small pot, I sautéed some minced garlic with some sliced onions. I then added about 4 strips of chopped bacon. Once the bacon crisped up a bit, I poured in the can of corn. As it gently simmered, I mixed in about half a cup of cubed potatoes. I increased the liquid by added a cup of chicken broth. I let the mixture simmer until the potatoes became tender. I dropped in a handful of diced carrots and let the soup continue to simmer.
In a separate pan, I melted about two tablespoons of butter. I then added 2 tablespoons of flour and briskly stirred the mixture up. I then poured in a cup of warm milk and stirred the mixture up until it thickened. This is what chefs call a roux.
I next incorporated the roux into the soup and gently stirred it up. I added salt and pepper to give it the final touch. The soup was deliciously thick in consistency and ready to be served.
So do take a chance and try your hand with this simple recipe. Who knows, maybe the gamble you take will pay you big dividends in the form of praises for a job well done.
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