Walk on the Wild Side

Sacramento Bee Newspaper: the Sacramento region experiences the second of what is expected to be five straight days of 100-degree weather....

Read more here: http://www.sacbee.com/2012/08/09/4709458/sacramento-area-weather-from-redding.html#storylink=cpy

It's a good thing I did my walk early this morning while it was still cool and the sun still low in the blue sky.  A mid-day walk would guarantee fried brain with a side of sunburnt cheeks. I walked alone today as my mother was feeling a little bit under the weather  and everyone else had already left for work.

As I made my way around the area, I noticed how quiet it was.  Not even a barking dog to break the silence.  Occasionally a vehicle would drive out of the driveway and utility truck would pass but it seems I was the only one taking a walk.

After 20 minutes of manicured lawns and trained rose bushes, I decided to test my memory. You see, with walks with my sisters, we would go through a trail that connected two housing communities.

Pretty soon I was back on the trail with it's thick bushes,

pussy willows and cat tails (like the song),

and thorny blackberry vines.

The ground was dusty and bone dry.

Making me think of the irony of life... Here I was in a place just dying for some rain while back in Manila, there was just too much of rain.  Climate change? Man's folly? Or is it just the way it should be?  These wild  thoughts  kept me company as I hurried back home.

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Just like the many walks I take back in the Philippines,  walks I have with my sisters and mother in Sacramento are always interesting. I just need a good pair of walking shoes  and an openness to marvel at whatever crosses out path or line of vision.

A wild turkey,

, and a relaxing squirrel.

Wild flowers,

a stand of oak trees,

and graceful grass.

Even in all the dryness, there is much beauty.

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Morning walks always boost my appetite. For the time being, I have set aside my usual bowl of oatmeal and banana and traded it up for a delicious bowl of Greek yogurt with an assortment of American fruits: peaches, blue berries, cherries, rashberries. I put in some chopped walnuts or sliced almonds and a generous dollop of honey. And my breakfast is served. Tapsilog, Longsilog and Bangsilog will have to wait.

When in Rome...

Lost in America

“See you later,” was the last thing I said to my sister, V, as she and my mother sped off after dropping me at a mall.  I had been handed my mother’s celphone and some pocket money.  I was all set for the afternoon.

For a time my attention was drawn to a shop that carried every conceivable kitchen gadget and more. Fancy cupcake holders, fold-away kitchen implements and the sharpest knives to die for. These were as tantalizing as jewelry would be to my mother and sisters. But like jewelry, they were all nice to look at but had hefty price tags. Time to move on.

And moving on I did—to another mall over at the other side of the highway.  After crossing to the other side of the street under a cruel sun, the cool air of the mall felt delicious! I walked around for awhile marveling at the many offerings.  As always, the food outlets were the ones that held my attention. Like the Godiva Chocolate store with their free samples.  This was one merchandise I could splurge on and not feel guilty.

It had been about 2 hours since the time I was dropped off by V and thought I’d check the celphone for any messages.

There were no messages but I was alarmed at the “low bat” notification that was flashing.  Calmly, I immediately started to text V that  “if I loss contact, I would be waiting for her at the…..” The celphone automatically shut down before I could send my text.

O oh! I waited a few seconds before turning on the phone again. But before it could power up, “Good bye” popped up.

This was not good at all.

I found a bench and sat down to take stock of my situation. 

Hmmmm… celphone is dead; can’t remember any contact numbers; can’t even remember home address.  I was in deep trouble.

I had to reach V soon before she started calling me. I would not want for my mother to worry.

I started to pray as I searched for a communications company selling celphones.  Maybe they might have a charger for my phone; maybe they could dig out the numbers stored in the cel’s SIM.  Maybe…

Not too long I came across an AT&T kiosk.  When a sales rep became available, I quickly explained my predicament.  My mom’s cel was an old model and they did not have any charger.  And although the SIM was purchased from their company, the sales rep soon found out that all phone numbers were saved on the phone’s memory and not on the SIM.

I then remembered that my sisters had iphones and could get emails. Maybe I could reach them via email.  When I brought the idea up to the sales rep, he said he would be glad to help if I could supply him my sisters’ email addresses. 

Once more, I hit a brick wall.  I imagined kicking myself for not being able to remember this important information. I asked the sales rep if I could get into my email account on his phone. My sister’s email address along with the email addresses of other family members would easily be available.

“Sorry, I can’t let you do that as I would loss all my data,” was the sales rep’s response.

“Do you know if there are any internet cafes in the mall?”, I asked.

“Sorry, we don’t have internet cafes at this mall,” was his answer.

And just as I was starting to loss hope, he said, “But you could easily access your email account if you visit the Apple store around the corner,” he continued, “all their demo units are connected and they wouldn’t mind if you use one.”

I thanked him profusely and hurriedly walked to the Apple store. 

The store was full of customers and there were no sales rep available to help me.  Seeing a vacant stool and a laptop, I immediately typed in my email address and password and quickly shoot off a message to two of my sisters—V and M.  In a matter of seconds, I get a response from M.  And as fate would have it, M was leaving her office and could pick me up in 15 minutes.  M then called and advised V that she was taking care of me.

There were no words to describe the flood of relief that washed over me as I waited the few minutes at the perfume section of a large retail store in the mall where I had agreed to meet up with M.

My smile was so big when I caught sight of M walking towards me.  I was like a little kid who was being picked up after the first day of school.  I would not leave her side.

We passed for some pizza on the way home where we popped the cork of a bottle of sparkling wine to go with the stories that went around the dinner table that evening.  It was the perfect ending to another unforgettable experience.

Being with family or friends in a foreign setting should not have been enough reason for me to forget basic rules on keeping essential information accessible. At all times!

Battery life of celphones should be checked.

A short list of contact information (could be the size of a calling card) should always be placed in one’s pocket or purse. Several lists should be prepared and placed in all carry-on containers/bags.

An ID card or a copy of ones passport would also be most helpful should inquiries about citizenship come up.

When you plan to be on your own, always leave a message with someone of your whereabouts and the estimated time of your return. In the case with my sister, we should have agreed that if communication becomes impossible, we meet up again at a specific time and place.

The only recourse when all else fails: Pray for safe travel and guidance to be able to calmly think of ways out of any predicament.

Least I forget, besides a full battery load on ones celphone, every excursion should start with a full belly. The better to keep one energize while taking in the sights.

For convenience and the American experience, there are the many quaint diners.  A favorite with my sisters is Mel’s diner.  There’s 50s and 60s pictures and memorabilia on the walls. And every table has a miniature juke box where you can drop a quarter to play a favorite tune.  

I always end up picking an Elvis song to go with my ham omelet and pancakes.  Yum! 

Then again, on Saturdays, my sister M wipes up her own version of a big American breakfast: bacon, eggs, sausages and some tomatoes and cucumbers on the side.  Perfect with brewed coffee and soft bread rolls.

Go on, try something big next weekend. before venturing out on your adventures.

The Universe and My Tuki Experience

Almost fifteen years ago, I listened enthralled as an officemate narrated his encounter with the whale sharks of Donsol, Bicol. He had gone with his wife and rode out into the deep ocean in search of these gentle giants. Words could not describe how awesome it felt seeing a whale shark, as huge as an EDSA Bus, swim underneath him.

From that time on, I longed to see a whale shark. And two weeks ago, I not only saw a whale shark, but swam with at least three of the eleven that were present in Tan-awan, Oslob (located close to the southern tip of Cebu). One was at least 7 meters long.  When it fed off the hand of the fisherman, I could see its tail almost reaching the bottom of the sea.

I see You & You see Me

To quote Paolo Coelho, “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.” And boy oh boy, did the universe deliver.

Mouth Wide Open

Like my officemate, I too am at a lost for words to describe my experience. Instead, as best as I could, what follows are my impression of the Oslob “tukis” in Haiku.

so close to shore

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Tuki
From underneath you
Come to feed on hand-held krill
Have you lost your mind?

For long months you swim
In shallow waters to play
Forgetting to flee.

You are to teach us
Open our eyes to see the
need to live as one.

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While the “tukis” had their krill, my sisters and I had the best ever tasting grilled pork chops prepared by the cook at the MB’s Sunrise View Resort. 5 pork chops with a cup of rice all for P300. The universe had given us so much more.

Swimming with the “tukis” is a once in a lifetime experience. But having finger licking pork chops for lunch is an experience that is easier to recreate again and again.

My Pan Fried Pork Chops

4 pork chops
Half a head of garlic, smashed
Juice of 6-8 calamanis (or 1lemon)
2 T soy sauce
A dash of tumeric powder (optional)
A dash of cumin powder (optional)
Salt and pepper
Vegetable Cooking Oil
Marinate the chops in the fridge for at least an hour—best if overnight.

Heat up a pan and add about a tablespoon or two of oil. When hot, drop your pork chop and fry one at a time. Add oil as needed.

Serve with some pickled vegetables.

Live to Walk; Walk to Live

I love to walk.

Day or night, rain or shine? It’s hard to decide the best time to walk. I love the feel of the cool air during early morning walks with only the occasional bird announcing the arrival of the sun. Evenings give me a chance to glance at the stars and reflect on the day that passed. I come alive when walking in the sun—with hat and shades of course! And walking in the rain brings back childhood memories of paper boats and wiggly earth worms coming up for air.

Most walks are uneventful— most times with my lonesome self. Just my thoughts to keep me company. But there have been a few walks that have been quite memorable. Like the surreal walk through the hills of Cappadocia, Turkey. And, that time my daughter and I got lost and walked for 4 hours in a forested area of St Remy, France. But those are stories for another time.

I smile now as I recall a more recent walk that took place two weeks ago in the backroads of my grandmother’s farm.

My sister, M, had come to visit. She has been residing in the US and the last time she visited the Philippines was 7 years ago. She was eager to renew ties with relatives and friends as well as check out old haunts around the farm.

It was 6 in the morning and the air was chilly as usual. Soon the house will stir to life with breakfast preparations. Smoke from the old wood fed iron stove whiffed through the house.

 But first, M and I will take a walk.

“Let’s go,” I called to my sister as I laced up my rubber shoes.

First stop was at the grave site of grandmother and grandfather— close to the house and beside a small chapel. Looking up, we see the thick stand of trees on a nearby hill.

Because it had rained hard the night before, we carefully skipped through puddles and gingerly walked through some mud. 

Along the way, we saw a young boy and a girl. They were on their way to fetch water from a spring.

As kids, we used to visit the spring to check for turtles. The turtles are gone now but laundry continue to get done by the women folks.

Not too long into our walk, my sister called my attention to a man who had quietly joined us and was trailing behind us. I took a side glance and noted that he was muscular and had a bolo slung on his left side. Having seen too many thrillers, I decided to face my fear and casually, I turned to face him.

“Maayong buntag ‘Noy,” was my greeting.

“Maayong buntag sad,” was his response. He gave me a respectful smile.

“Asa man ka padung ‘Noy,” I asked. (Where are you heading?)

With the same respectful smile, he answered, “ Gi-sugo ko ni Inday C na pakuyugan mo.” (I have been asked by your aunt to accompany you)

M and I laughed with relief to realize that he was no assassin but our very own close-in security sent by my aunt. The area is noted for cobras and although I have gone alone through the same route many times before without incident, my aunt did not want to take any chances.

Every now and then as we turned a curve or reach a good vintage point, Mt Boga-boga would show her majectic self. Mt Boga-baga has a solid rock facade on one side and we still saw the skid marks made by bullets fired by American soldiers during WW2 in an attempt to flash out retreating Japanese soldiers.

Before long, not only did we have protection but our “body guard” was quite helpful answering our questions about plants and birds and cobras.

We spotted a young carabao and his mother. They temporarily blocked our path but moved along without protest at the urging of our “body guard/guide”.

20 minutes into our walk, we reached a man-made pond that was fed by the rain water coming down from the hills. It was just as lovely as we remembered it to be.

My sister and I recalled that time the floating hut we were on got stranded in the middle of the pond. It was a while before a cousin came by to pull us back to shore. We continued our walk and occasionally, a dog would come out barking from under a lonesome hut.

We will probably be the most exciting thing the dog will come across the whole day. The presence of our guardian made us bold enough to shoo the dog away.

The road was getting narrower as we came across a brook close to some rice paddies.

We were quickly warned by our guardian of the leeches that liked to hang out in the clear water.

The sun was coming on strong as it moved up into the sky. It was time to turn back as our stomachs reminded us that breakfast was waiting for our return.

As I turned around to thank our guardian, he was nowhere in sight. As quietly as he joined us, he had just as quietly disappeared into the thick forest cover.

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I am a firm believer of the health benefits from a good walk. But more than anything else, a good walk increases one’s positive attitude in life. Problems may not be solved but walking does provide an avenue to release stress and anxiety. Ultimately, being able to walk is a great reminder of how beautiful the world is and how lucky I am to be alive! For that I am grateful.

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Now a good walk is sure to build up one’s appetite to take on challenges head on. And appetite we did have when we returned to my grandmother’s house. On the table were cups of hot tsokolate and fried eggs.

Plus the left-over lechon from our Sunday lunch celebration was now transformed into paksiw.

Mind you, this was the Visayan version—meaning no bottled liver sauce added.

I challenge you to try the following recipe--- but do take a walk first before you indulge.

Visayan Style Lechon Paksiw
2 kilos left over lechon—best if you can get hold of the head and knuckles (feet)
1 head garlic, crushed and peeled
4 T vinegar
4 T soy sauce
1 T pepper corns
4 T brown sugar (more or less depending on how sweet you like your paksiw)
3 bay leaves
Any left over lechon stuffing (the lemon grass/onions/etc inside the lechon's cavity) , optional
about 2 cups of water
Salt

Throw everything in a pot and bring to a boil. Then lower heat to a simmer until meat is tender. Adjust seasoning and serve with lots of rice. 

Walk again after your meal.

Numbers Game

Mang D used to work in my grandmother’s coconut farm. He was an expert at climbing the tallest coconut trees and usually got top pay for bringing in the most coconuts for copra production. A cheerful fellow, he was well liked by many.

One day he was invited to take a swig of some tuba (fermented coconut water) by the men who frequented the local watering hole (sari-sari store). Unknown to Mang D, a pill was mixed in with the tuba. Before long, Mang D felt strange and he noticed the quickening of his heartbeat. He thanked his generous host and went off to the direction of his house.

While on his way, he noticed that there was a beautiful bird singing up high a coconut tree. It was as if the bird was calling to Mang D. Without a second thought, he climbed up the coconut tree.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground and wringing in pain. Luckily, a neighbor happen to pass by. Noticing that there was something terribly wrong with Mang D, the neighbor went off to get help.

When asked what he was doing climbing an electrical post, Mang D could only shake his head. Everything was a blur for Mang D. He had burned both hands.


In order to save Mang D, the doctors had to cut off both arms. The right arm was cut just below the elbow. While the left was cut closer to his shoulder.


That was several years ago. Mang D can no longer climb coconut trees but he has found another source of income. He goes around the barangay taking in bets for the local numbers game popularly known as Masiao. Bettors reach into his shirt pocket for the neatly folded paper and pen to write their number combination. They then place their bet in the right pocket of his pants.

Life goes on for Mang D.

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Masiao, the illegal numbers game, is alive and well in Leyte and many parts of the Visayas. A bet of P1 on a three number combination can mean a kilo of rice the next day—if one is lucky. The problem is that kilo of rice may be long in coming if one does not have the winning combination.

And so it goes in many barangays in the city and in the rural areas. Stories of large winnings fan the gambling flame. This is an addiction that is hard to beat when hope for a better life is just a P1 away.

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On a lucky day, a hearty meal for many rural folks consist of a can of sardines. To extend the amount of serving, vegetables, noodles or an egg is added. But on a bad day, a meal could mean day-old rice and ginamos. Ginamos or bagoong is tiny fermented fish.

But to me, it’s always a lucky day when ginamos is present in any meal. Served plainly with a dash of calamansi and it’s a dipping sauce for fried meat or boiled green bananas. It can add life to stewed vegetables or the perfect addition to sautéed trio of tomatoes, onions and garlic.

It’s a numbers game when guessing how much rice you will end up eating when you have ginamos--- plain or fancy.

Star of the Sea

"Oh star of the sea keep burning bright..."

I went to a Catholic school for girls that was managed by Franciscan missionary nuns. For eleven years, from kindergarten to high school, this was my world.

The school grounds were huge. Upon entering the school gate, one had to drive thru a pine tree-lined road and rows of asosenas and rose bushes as one approached the L-shaped building. The school was a narrow three-storey building consisting of very long hallways.

I remember how during my elementary years, I would “skate” down the hallway in my white socks— with nary a thought on the extra work I would give to the laundry lady. And oh the thrill I would get from taking a walk at the back of the building to investigate the insects and frogs that lived in a thick bamboo grove.

I knew almost every nook and cranny of the school minus the nuns’ cloistered area. There was a closet under the stairwell where it was rumored that the nuns “aged” their habits to get that particular shade of ivory. The threat to be placed inside for misbehaving was every little girl’s nightmare.

During my high school years, there were more threats and thrills. The sisters kept a close watch on the lengths of our skirts, our hair styles and our eyebrows. Those were days when chunky boy shoes, rolled down socks and tiny brass bells were the in-thing. And how vividly I remember our Principal (Sr L) standing in the middle of the road to block the entrance of a motorcade consisting of several busloads of high school boys. I joined in with the rest of the girls screaming at Sr L to let the buses through.

Fun and crazy. An emotional rollercoaster ride of growing pains and joys shared with girls of different backgrounds and personalities. Of overnight stays at retreat house where wet toilet paper fights broke out and buckets of tears were shed during “bull sessions”. A shared time that bonded classmates together.

My high school batch was the last to graduate. The school had to close down because it could not manage to pay the real estate taxes on its huge land. The convent has since relocated to another area on the other side of the city.  With no school to go back to, there have been sporadic reunions arranged in other venues.  And as we continued to age, the desire to meet up more frequently became stronger.

Thus two weeks ago, after much search for each other – some with ease, some with hesitation, some involving travel of great distance— a dozen classmates came together once more in what could only be described as a riot of a reunion. Although time has managed to change our physical appearances, a strong connection still lives inside our 16 year old hearts.

Our hearts swelled with happiness as we spent time catching up with each other’s lives. And even if there were sad stories told – of separation, of death in the family, of health issues—just being in each other’s company gave everyone a natural high. Reconnection was complete.

Before we bid each other good-bye, we promised to get together more frequently in the coming years. In the final analysis, a lot of change have occurred in our lives but one thing remains constant— true friendship.

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Very recently, I was told that the school property was sold to a real estate developer. In a matter of time, our school will fade away like so many landmarks that have been replaced by condos, malls and call center buildings. But no matter.  The memories I have always make going back to Cebu a happy occasion.  In addition to my happy memories, there still remains a delicious array of delicacies and dishes that give me a sense of connection.  Here are just a few of my favorites:

Steamed Fried Rice ( now served in many dimsum establishments but was exclusively served at Ding Haw Dimsum Revolving Restaurant)

Cebu Lechon (Sunday family lunch would not be complete without a kilo or two of lechon.... there's Luz, CnT, Rico's, ZuboChon, and many more outlets now)

Puso ( rice in a handy heart shape coconut leaf woven container). Where there is barbeque, there is puso.

Bibingka from Catmon, Rosquillos from Liloan, Tagaktak and Marreal from Mandaue, Ampao and Chicaron from Carcar (rice cake, a cookie with scalloped edges, triangular shaped fried sweeten rice noodle, peanut based delicacy, rice puff and pork crackling. Now available at most food carts in the mall)

hot bibingka

ampao, tagaktak, piniato, marreal, rosquillos etc.

Breakfast of corn grits, fried eggs, chorizo and tsokwate

Ngohiong- similar to a long spring roll but with a crunchy exterior and an ubod-singkamas based filling (used to be sold only at a rinky dinky canteen near San Jose Recolletos Universary but is sold almost everywhere—fastfood areas in malls and street food stalls)

Cebu breads and pastries: King Roll, Bohol, Elorde, Everlasting, Monay, Binankal, Darling, Sweetheart and much, much more.

The ultimate Cebuano treat: Sweet Mangoes paired with puto (steamed coconut and ginger flavored sticky rice) or budbud (same as puto but rolled up in banana leaves and steamed) AND tsokolate (thick chocolate drink whisked to perfection from hand-made chocolate tablets.

I yum Cebu-- the star of the Visayan sea!