Friendship Across the Miles Series: Best Friends in Florida (BFF)

My nephew, P, had finally found work in Orlando, Florida.   It had been an emotional parting for my sister, G, and her husband.  Their only child was off to conquer the world on his own.  But as fate would have it, he was not totally alone.  A very close cousin, C, had graciously taken P into her wings. 

And when a couple of months passed, my sister, G, decided to take a vacation and visit her son.  Not to let the opportunity pass, the rest of us felt we needed to visit as well.  Besides, it was finally time to accept my cousin’s long standing invitation to visit.

After five hours of air travel, our party of seven (my mom, my niece, brother-in-law and sisters: G, J, M plus me) had finally arrived at the Orlando airport.  My brother and his wife would follow two days after.  That’s how much we take family visits seriously. 

To most travelers, Orlando means a visit to the happiest place on earth: Disney World.  To my sister, it was a chance to be with a sorely missed son.  And to our group, it meant a grand reunion among cousins who were a part of our very happy childhood.

Daddy can you hear me?

Hi Daddy,

Remember how stressed out you were when you got a phone call that I had bit off my tongue as a result of being side swept by a provincial bus? Do you still remember the relief that went through you when the doctor told you that I would be alright?  Did you laugh to learn that it was not my tongue I bit off but it was the hotdog I had been eating at the time I crossed the street?

When the Living is Easy

The sea was very close to where I grew up in Cebu.  So close was the pier to our house I could hear the deep and lonely blast of a ship’s horn late at night as it got ready to leave port.  If I imagined hard enough, I could hear the ship’s porter’s warning call, “pwera besita, pwera besita”.

With such close proximity, it was only natural for my parents to bring us to the popular public black sand beaches of Talisay (famous for pinasugbo- bananas dipped in dark and thick sugar glaze) or brown sand beaches of Liloan (famous for whirlpools and rosquillos- a round, scalloped edge sweet biscuit) in the summer. 






 In the 1970s, when barges made it possible to cross over, the white sand beaches of Mactan Island became our favorite summer playground. 

Tree Stories (part 3)

I have been observing the tall Narra tree in my tiny front garden for some time.  It has been almost twenty years since I planted it.  I bought it at a nearby government tree nursery and without a second thought of how huge it could become, planted it on the side of my tiny front lawn.  

Of Trees and Memories

Aratiles or Manzanitas is a fast growing tree, 5 to 10 meters high, with spreading branches. Leaves are hairy, sticky, alternate, distichous, oblong-ovate to broadly oblong-lanceolate, 8 to 13 centimeters long, with toothed margins, pointed apex and inequilateral base, one side rounded and the other acute. Flowers are about 2 centimeters in diameter, white, extra-axillary, solitary or in pairs. Sepals are 5, green, reflexed, lanceolate, about 1 centimeter long. Petals are white, obovate, 1 centimeter long, deciduous and spreading. Fruit is a berry, rounded, about 1.5 centimeter in diameter, red on ripening, smooth, fleshy, sweet and many seeded.  It is a tree that thrives in poor soil, able to tolerate acidic and alkaline conditions and drought. Its seeds are dispersed by birds and fruit bats.

http://www.stuartxchange.com/Aratiles.html

The Aratiles Tree was the subject of my second postcard to my niece, N.  

The Tree

Rumor has it that the first Christmas tree was a sapling growing outside the stable in Jerusalem where Jesus was born. Angels came to tie their gifts on the tender branches of the young tree. Years passed. The tree grew tall and strong. Then one day, 33 years since that fateful night, the tree came crushing down. The tree was trimmed of its many branches and cut into specific portions. The tree parts were hauled all the way to a courtyard. A carpenter was called to prepare it. Two days after, the tree, now a cross, was placed on Jesus’ shoulder.


My first memory of a Christmas tree was not a tree. It was a bougainvillea in a pot that my mother hauled to the middle of our sala. I remember decorating it with clumps of cotton “snow”. As I grew up, so did our lone pine tree. By Christmas, it would annually “gave” of its thicker branch and my mother would fit it into a large can filled with rocks. As the family’s financial circumstances improved, colorful glass balls and some gold tinsel were added to the clumps of cotton “snow”. I still can remember how the pine scent filled our sala. It was during my college years that the plastic Christmas tree made its appearance at our house. My mother got it on sale and for the next couple of years, this 8-foot giant graced our home. My mother had commissioned an electrician to come up with special colored lights. The light bulbs were huge as compared to the present tiny lcd Christmas lights flooding department stores.

When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, money was tight. Remembering my first Christmas tree, I brought in a potted plant. Together with my 5-year old son, we decorated our tree with cut-out characters from magazines. The “tree” was our only Christmas décor. Actually the only décor we had in our apartment. When we finally moved into our house, my mother-in-law gave us her plastic Christmas tree. She was replacing it with a taller tree. And as the tree was of good quality, this plastic Christmas tree has been a part of my family’s Christmas tradition for over 20 years now.

Over the years, I have accumulated a considerable collection of Christmas décor. A particular motif would be considered: Angels or Santa or Ponsettia,



Red or Gold, Red and Gold, and when the mood hits, we pile the tree with everything we’ve got.



My son and daughter were on hand to help decorate the tree. To help set the mood, I would play Christmas carols.

My ceramic Belen (Nativity Set), a constant fixture during Christmas, was handed down to me by a sister. She had replaced this with one that she painstakingly brought in from abroad. My kids enjoyed arranging the assortment of animals. Sometimes, if I was not attentive enough, a dinosaur would make an appearance.



In recent years, I find I am left alone to put up the Christmas tree. My son has his own place and my daughter, if she is home, would pop out of her room to give her comments on my finished handiwork. My hubby, on the other hand, considers anything decorative a woman’s territory.

Two days ago, I woke up from a long afternoon nap. As I made my way down the stairs, I noticed my two young house helps busy decorating the Christmas tree.

“What’s this year’s motif?”, I asked.

“Red”, was H’s response.

I go back up to my room to get my camera.



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What is Christmas without delicious dishes coming out of the kitchen and calorie overload? And taking a cue from an over-decked Christmas tree, no festive table would be complete without a whole lechon.

But a whole lechon could be a bit too much-- on the heart as well as on the pocket. But no worries when you try my "healthy" lechon kawali.

Turbo Cooker Lechon Kawali

2 kilos of pork liempo (belly)
10 whole pepper corn
1 laurel leaf
1/2 to 1 head of garlic (depending on size), pounded
1 tablespoon of salt

Submerge your pork belly in a pot of water and add the rest of the ingredients. After bringing to a boil, lower heat to a simmer. Cook pork until meat is fork-tender (fork easily pricks the skin with no resistance).



Remove the belly from the liquid and cool down on a rack.



Once cool to the touch, prick the skin thoroughly with a fork. Now massage about a teaspoon of rock salt into the skin.



You may want to wrap the sides of the belly with tin foil to prevent the lechon from drying out. When ready, place belly inside a turbo cooker.



Set on highest temperature and cook until skin is nice and crackly-- about 30-45 minutes. From time to time, sprinkle water on the skin. This causes blisters on the skin and aids in coming up with a crispy skin.



Once done, let the lechon rest for 10 minutes before cutting it up into serving pieces.



You may serve this with bottled lechon sauce or your favorite dipping sauces.

The Home of the Heart

My husband and I has been living in the same subdivision for the last twenty years. When we first moved into the neighborhood, there was not much neighbors to be neighborly with. There were only 8 houses stretched out along our 1-kilometer long street. My immediate neighbor was 5 lots away on either side.

Twenty years ago, there was only 1 phone inside the subdivision. It was in a house at the corner of the next street. As our area was relatively quiet, we could hear that phone ring when a call was coming in. Oh, how green with envy I was for the next five years. Celphones were not heard of then-- those were the primitive days.

A long and narrow dirt road lead to the entrance of our subdivision; going out for groceries or medicines was a great inconvenience; there were no fastfood outlets willing to deliver to our area; and, there were but 5 for-hire tricycles (motorcycle with a sidecar) serving our subdivision for certain hours of the day only. Water was pumped up and distributed through the subdivision's tired and old water system. The water contained interesting foreign objects.

But what little there was in terms of urban convenience was made up for by 30-year old acacia trees lining up the streets; views of rice fields on each side of a river; the sound of my children's and their friends laughter as they race through the streets in their bikes; clear night skies blanketed with a million stars.

Friendship with the neighbors were forged initially through the children. It is the natural progress of things. First the kids learn to play in the enclosed gardens. Then they move onto the streets and finally into each others homes. Soon birthday parties were not complete without including our neighbors in the invitation list.

What I lacked in terms of family relations, was made up by the warmth and cordial relationships developed with my neighbors. A cup of sugar, an egg and a bowl of cooked rice would be requested over the fences. A cry for help was never ignored and thankfully emergencies have so far never ended tragically.

Twenty year after, we have a phone plus several celphone lines. A few years ago, we finally got connected to a reliable water provider. The flow of water is strong and clean. Our present access into the subdivision is now a well-lit, wide concrete-paved road. We have a mall, a gas station and a McDonald's Restaurant a mere 20-minute walk away. Where once was a horse stable, now is a taxi company operating so close to the subdivision that travelling to the airport at 5 in the morning is no longer a pain.

Gone though are the rice fields. In its place is a large squatter colony whose size continues to grow each year. And what once was a river is now a thin excuse of its former self. But we do still have the trees and the occasional quiet starlit nights. The neighborhood has considerably filled up and new relationships are getting harder and harder to form. (Is this the price to pay for progress/urbanization?)

Many of the neighborhood children have left their homes to work, to migrate, to marry. Although they may have outgrown street games and slumber parties, they still keep in touch: thru celphones; at chance meetings in coffeeshops; and, Facebook.

My children too have moved on but my neighbors and closest friends, thankfully, remain. It is comforting to know that should a serious need arise in the middle of the night, we need not think twice about waking each other up.

As my daughter once aptly put it in a submitted neighborhood newsletter write-up so many years ago: "You can get a person out of our neighborhood, but you wouldn't be able to get the neighborhood out of the person."

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How do you start relationships with your neighbor? By taking the initiative! And nothing gets things started better than a homey gift-- a potted plant or a bunch of garden flowers; a delicious bowl of soup or a plate of home-baked cookies. Timing is important and if you are observant of their comings and goings (read: nosey ..he..he) you would more or less know the best time to drop in with gift in hand. But if you are shy and fear rejection, you could simply ring their doorbell, hand over the goodies and wish them a good day. Do not be discouraged if nothing happens right away. Good relationships take time and need nurturing. A smile, a wave of the hand, a greeting over the fences can do wonders to hasten things a bit.

To get you started, try out this neighbor-pleasing recipe:

Clementine's Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies
(I found this written behind a bag of choco chips-- the brand escapes me right now. Why they call it after Clementine is probably an interesting story--if I decide to make one up).

You will need to cream the following together:
1 1/4 c margarine or butter
3/4 c packed brown sugar
1/2 c sugar
1 egg
1 t vanilla
Then add to it, these ingredients that have been stirred together:
1 1/2 c flour
1 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 t cinnamon
1/8 t nutmeg
3 c Ouaker Oats (Quick or Old Fashioned, uncooked!)
Fold in the following:
2 c semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 c chopped nuts
(you can add raisins as well but just cut back on either the chips or the nuts)

Drop by rounded tablespoon onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake in a 375*F oven for 8 to 9 minutes for a chewy cookie, 10- 11 minutes for a crisp cookie.

Cook for 1 minute on cookie sheet; remove to wire cooling racks. Store in tightly covered containers.