lifeofnes

[lifeofnes]

Change starts from the heart. Not from the habits.

#quips

[lifeofnes]

Wk 5

Ok so from Sunday to Wednesday I did nothing but stay in bed. The weekend really kicked my butt.  I researched and listened to OPM and read manga and comics. I caught up on Shokugeki No Soma and the Immortal Hulk. Both I feel describe me well: a culinary enthusiast who is a thoughtfully aware rage monster. That’s a joke. I’m only up and mobile a 6-8 times a day to eat, bathroom, or say hi to inay and tatay. I don’t want to get them sick so my interactions are distanced and brief. I can still tell inay’s not at one hundred, but in your mid-eighties who really is? Every day I hear my mom buzzing around the house trying to literally do everything she can to make the living situation more comfortable for inay. They got her an at-home oxygen machine and a new cane. Mom is cooking almost every meal for five people. Cleaning and trying to find a suitable home and caregiver. Most of which is impeded by her brother and inay who do not want to spend the money they’re not even using. When she’s not here she’s at the apartment holding herself back from sticking her foot up the neighborhood managements ass to come fix our roof. It's been a month. We’re already bribing them to put us on the top of the list of repairs. I have no idea if its worth it, or if it will matter since we leave in a day. She’s also trying desperately to sell our car, but with only a weeks worth of time and wanting a full payment in cash in hand, I doubt this last day will be any different. It’s heartbreaking really. I knew we were coming into this to take care of inay, but I had no idea the amount of pressure she would put on herself doing so. Not to mention the lack of thankfulness and for some reason underlying anger, I have noticed coming from either of my grandparents and uncle Ver. We have a few moments with each other during those days and she tells me that of all the times she’s ever been back to the Philippines, this has been her loneliest experience. She starts crying and I hold her hand. She really wants to go home and see dad. And I get it. Imagine having to live with your parents who still treat you like a irresponsible teenager, when you’re 58, in front of your own child. The difference in tone and dynamic in how they talk and act towards my mom and how they talk and act with me are worlds different. I have no idea who’s mad at who, or for what reason, but every conversation is laced with this scent of resentment. It is a sad feeling to want to raise your voice, but know that it has no sound behind it. By Thursday I was healthy (enough,) fed up, and only had six days left. I escaped quarantine and went to the mall to have churros and by a sim card. With that pocket Wifi gone I needed to have some form of communication. A sim with 5 gigs cost 20 pesos. That’s less than fifty cents. That was wild. I got churros with an ube white chocolate dip. That was wild. My mom was letting me travel by myself. WIIIILD. We met up for lunch at this place called army navy burger and burrito. I had a burger for the first time in thirty Gregorian calendar days. Though not the best burger I had, it was welcoming. Mom and I talked about the plan for the next few days and told me that she found someone to replace her and convinced everyone in the house it was the smartest decision. What a trooper. I love her. The next few days mom and I spend hanging out with Kristel and Vicky, sleeping at their place, and being treated like proper guests. It’s nice to see my mom not having to everything for a change of pace. I work a few shifts at Conrado’s and hang out with two of Kristel's friends. Both of whom are lesbians and in a very “will they, won't they” rom-com situation. It’s entertaining. I’m hoping they don’t because they seem bad for each other, Kristel doesn't want it to happen because she knows one of them isn’t a lesbian, she just likes the attention lol. We go out to Korean BBQ! It was pretty good, and super cheap for unlimited everything! Like 6.50 usd. But I did spend 700+ on a plane ticket here so my small monetary victories don’t mean much. On Friday ate Vic brings us to Tagaytay to go sightseeing. We eat bulalo and is easily one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. They also did a beef shank karekare which changed all my life experiences with that dish. The view we had was over a cliff during midday. The whole experience was Michael Lawrence Tyler (Mystkal.) We hit a few other restaurants on the way back home for coffee and pastries. The first is at the newly opened Ridge Park. They have natural cut bench tables and secluded huts for bigger parties, lining a path mere feet from the edge of the mountain. We grab coffees there which are crap, but we’re there for the view anyway. Wish we could visited the island that’s inside a lake that’s inside an island that’s inside a lake that’s inside a island. We were really close to it. You’ll know what I’m talking about it you Bing it. View is breathtaking and I’m happy to be sharing the moment with my family. We head out to a cafe called Bag of Beans. This one is definitely ritzier, not at all indicated by its humdrum name. Like destination wedding reception levels of fancy. It’s terraced, meaning all of it’s rooms are on different levels of the mountain but all part of the same grounds. The main area has 3 dining rooms. One next to the cashier and glass shadowbox with their baked goods. Its adjacent to the kitchen which looks fully loaded and up to date based on my nosy looks though the circular glass of the door. There’s the upstairs dining area accessed only by spiral staircase, and an outdoor area with a view of Mt. Taal and its lake. One terrace down is a newly renovated ballroom, that is slightly overhanging the cliff-side. One terrace above is an auxiliary kitchen/ power/boiler room with rooftop garden access. There’s a ridiculous water fountain piece stocked with koi between levels 2-3. The grounds manager stocked every nook with flowers and every flavor plant. This joint is swanky. Kristel and I take a look around with hot cocoa in hand and I jokingly (not jokingly) tell her to make sure to have her future wedding reception here. We head home after sundown and hit a night market before the highway to eat jackfruit on the ride home. Saturday the Mayor side throw me and my mom a going away party. My cousin Onyok who owns a wild boar piggery comes through with the lechon. It’s sweeter and has a deeper savoriness than all of the other lechon I've had. I think it’s because he finishes raising them on just fruit in their final months. It’s also ate Agnes’ birthday but as usual she’s cooking something. I join her in making empanadas, fish lumpia. She says she wants to make a career of this somehow. I tell her that just because she’s 40 now doesn’t mean she shouldn’t go for it haha. My two eldest cousins Cesar and Emma got to see each other. They’re the ones who both got strokes within weeks of each other and are pretty much bedridden. Everytime they see each other Cesar is crying and Emma is getting mad at him for it. Kuya Onyok’s wife, Cori, wouldn’t stop taking pictures of every single thing. It was a good day for her. After eating twice, I ended up playing volleyball with Onyok’s grandkids (they’re my age so that how old Onyok is if you were wondering) and I had a hard time keeping up. It was my first physical exercise in over a month I think. All of my older cousins were asking how my time here was. If I had a relaxing time being back or if I had hard time adjusting. It was “all of those things and more.” I told them. Some of the physical space I was in, but mostly depended on the people I was getting to know. Some gave me hope and drove me to keep going. Others filled me with pity, a longing to help, but not knowing where to. But all of them gave me a perspective change. Life in the Philippines is hard. Weather you have money or don’t. There are going to be relational problems between families and lovers. Government here is twice as corrupt and convoluted as it is in the states. There are actual ongoing armed conflicts, real firefights, going all over the islands. Wages suck, good jobs are scarce, and opportunities to get ahead in life seem narrow. There are some beautiful places but the uneducated majority of the populace leaves pollution thick in the air, in the water, in the streets. Religion and tradition still hold a tight grip against modern, practical, and sound policies. Still, all of the people I’ve interacted with and observed seem generally happy-go-lucky. Like things are going all according to plan. Maybe I’ve only met a handful of people here in a small amount of time, but a spirit of endurance is prevalent here. I have to pack still and say bye to the cousins I can manage to get in touch with. So i’ll leave it at this, I love this place and I’m thankful for how it both made my world smaller and larger in perspective. Ingat ka! See you in Eat-aly.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Wk 4

On sunday I met some cousins from my Mojares side! Mom was being real loud about, how I didn’t know that I had cousins from her side here also. I thought that I had met them all. Which I did, but these aren’t first cousins. I don’t know what you call the grandchildren of one of your grandparents sibling but I’m gonna go on a limb and say they’re third cousins. Don’t really feel like Bing-ing it. Also I exclusively only use Bing now. The Philippines has changed me. I’m kidding I haven’t become a monster. Anyway, I get to their lolo’s house, (my great uncle Ano) and they’re all there pretty giddy to meet me. It’s flattering, as they’re desperately trying to use English as much as they can even though I tell them I can understand Tagalog well. I think most of them don’t believe me haha. They constantly say they’re gonna “have a nose bleed” from talking all this english. An expression that I thought only was prevalent around perverted Japanese people, but you learn something new every day. We decide on going to Nuvali, a huge outlet mall in Laguna. They want to window shop and show me around; I want to get to know them, we both win. There’s 7 of them and all of them are all first cousins with each other. We leave behind JM, his wife Ed, and their baby Adley because Adley isn’t feeling too well. On the 1 ½ hour drive, I find out most of them are roughly around my age and in the middle of some romantic/ career debacle and quickly spill the tea on that. Again, no real huge revelation that many people around this age are trying to find, or are double checking their identity, purpose, love life. Although, what it does do for me is reinforces that new perspectives help me form my own. That societal pressures might be different from the outset but once you scratch past the surface everyone kinda deals with the same base level things. And that empathy, along with English I guess, is a universal language. Which I guess I already knew, like theoretically… I mean I watch t.v. and have a twitter. It’s nice putting it into practice? Getting out of my bubble? I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Don’t be a dick. We get there and they want to eat at Wing-Stop of all places. I pay for the chicken wings saying it’s my treat for my birthday that I didn’t invite them to on account of not knowing they existed and they get very mad at me haha. They get over it and we’re eating chicken wings and gabbing about regional weird flavors. It was nice. After some window shopping they stop by a donut shop, J.KO. We grab a dozen glazed with almonds and they end up buying me a mug and singing me happy birthday which was sweet. We get home around 8 and I hit the hay pretty quickly, mom’s glad I met them. So am I. The next two days kind of go by fast. We’re staying every night at inay’s house trying to help with the house work while she continues to recover. She’s pretty weak still, now using a walker which is so strange for me to see. Mostly helping mom with cooking and folding laundry is the bulk of my duties. Mom’s turned into a maid at this point. Which is stupid. My grandparents have enough money to hire a maid. Who will gladly and willingly take the work. I’m not sure who is handling the money but I got a good feeling it’s not being put to use properly. I don’t know it seem crazy tense in here since inay got back in the hospital. Aside from the house chores, mom had to jump back to the apartment in San Carlos a few times to bug the home engineers to fix the leak in our ceiling. They always seem to be busy or away on break. What are we paying these people for? Mom is getting tired taking care of inay, and I am slowly realizing the gravity of the burden she’s carrying. I’m starting feeling horrible about myself for being short with her last Friday. Monday night I find myself at Cafe De Lipa, about a 5 minute walk from the apartment and I run into Leah! She’s my one niece studying to be a lawyer. We greet and work next to each other. Says she’s usually here studying till they close at 12. She’s the one who already has a criminology degree, the single mom to a one year old because her husband, a cop, died in the line of duty during a drug raid. She’s remarkable. I say a prayer for her while she starts to doze off around 11:30. She gives me perspective. I’m thankful for her. Tuesday I get another shot to work at Casa Carmen, and I think i’m on pata duty. I go downstairs to the underbelly of the house and kuya Toto is shaving the pig legs with a Gillette refill razor blade. There’s about 50 of em. I have work to do. He goes over what to look out for, how to hold it, and where to make cuts in between toe webbings. It’s the kind of gruesome experience that makes you thankful for the meat you eat or want to go vegan. But then you remember the end product and you’re thankful again. Crispy pata is so freaking good. So after about 40 minutes of shaving disembodied pigs hind legs in very minimal lighting we set them to boil in a 30 gallon pot. A bone broth fortified with lemongrass, peppercorns, and lemons. We let that go for an hour and a half, and make our way up to the kitchen where I’m shown their dinuguan recipe. It close to our own but they use way more ginger. Which is not a bad thing! Just their take on it. So with most of their recipes, they do all their prep work in huge batches and then cool them down and portion them out into serving sizes. Once portioned out, they store it in the ref or the freezer and heat it to order adding finishing elements at the end. Things like dinugs, or karekare, they have the sauce base done and prepped and cook the vegetables and grill or fry meats right at the end. I think this is the only viable way to do to order Filipino food in a timely fashion due to the cook times of most stews. With mom and I feeling the wear of work we decide to take a spa day with Ate Vicky. Our only ticket out of this apartment fix/ inay’s house work loop. Mom goes behind their back and hires a maid for the day and we skip out of town to Laguna with Vicky, uncle Jun, and Kristel. The drive to Laguna takes about an hour due to the traffic. The first part is dreadful but when we get onto the highway and into the province the drive turns into one of the best parts of the whole drive. Mountains that massive and casual in the background still put me in awe. Going down into a valley with the sea in the background made you feel really small. One tends to lose that sense of how small they are when only facing suburban Virginia. Los Banos, Laguna was felt opposite that. Cliff faces and rivers, with housing cut into them. Every corner bustling with people and signs for hot springs. We turn into one that has 3 different temperature areas. The hottest one didn’t feel like much of a difference from the outside temperature, so I spent the least time there. There wasn’t many people there on account of it being Thursday, but there were plenty of stroke survivors doing physical therapy there. Kristel and I ditch the hot spring and our parents. We hit the warm spring where a bunch of old heads are getting massages and doing water aerobics. Not our vibe either. We grab a San Mig and smoke a cig on our way to the cold spring. She still is hiding it from her mom, but Vicky already knows lol. We jump into the cold pool and another party there is belting out karaoke. Perfect. Seriously. They have a great voice and we chill in the pool for like 30 minutes before meeting back up with our parents at the hot spring for lunch. We jump back in the hot spring before chowing down on guyabanos and sinigang. I honestly would’ve killed for a cold salad or some not warm fruit but beggars can’t be choosers. Anyway I finally towel off and we head back to Lipa. I slept the entire ride. Good day. Was feeling sick from the hot spring/cold spring hopping I did Thursday but I sucked it up and went out anyway, it was friday night. Me and the Mojares girls went to this outdoor bar called Central. It’s about the size of The Shack but it’s roofed, and less Pinterest-y. We grab a table and share a few good apps with some capri sun tasting cocktails. They don’t taste or feel strong. I feel like we got shamed but my cousins are lightweights and got litty…I had to clean up barf. The night goes on and we get to know more backstories from some of the other girls I didn’t get to know all that well during the mall trip. My cousin Aiyis brings her friend Rhoe and I think was trying to introduce me to her. Like romantically, that was nice but i’m not trying to start nothing here. Hittin a LDR is the last thing on my to do list. Its sort of flattering but it also kind of makes me feel like an object? Actually now that I think about it, almost everyone of the girls is trying to hook me up with one of their friends. One of them says she has a cousin’s cousin who lives in Texas...Yeenah on that partner. Dating someone I might be related to is like my worst fear. Apart from my parents dying slow painful deaths. Not really a joke, both legitimate fears. The night goes on and at one point I lost my pocket WiFi and never noticed. Probably in the smoking area where I’m playing look out for Aiyis because she doesn't want her sister and cousins to know that she smokes. I think they already know lol. Why is every cousin I’m close with a closet pack a day smoker? Hahaha I tell her about Kristel on my Mayor side and we laugh about it. I end up sharing one with her to cut the “are you being judgmental” judgmental look on her face. She ends up opening up about her weird stalker-ish ex, who I give the thumbs down to. She gets vulnerable about her accounting career and being forced to quit to help out her family butcher shop. She opens up about her faith and asks me about mine. She points out many times that Rhoe is single. While Rhoe is next to me lol. She was kind of slow to open up but once she did, only knew how to be forward. I think that’s why I connect with Aiyis so much. We take a picture and I forget to that the loosie outta my mouth. No, I do not feel cool. I feel like a turd. I legit forgot I had it in my mouth and was too embarrassed to take another one. So here am I being honest. On our way back to the table there were some people kind of dancing in near the bar area and I end up joining in. I was looking for a perfect time to cut loose and ‘Get Ur Freak On’ by Missy was playing. I mean the people dancing were bad... this is a song from my actual homeland… this is a perfect storm. It’s like you’re asking me not to breath. I boogie. A circle is now formed and it gets rowdy. Some guy does a backflip in the middle and it gets even rowdier. Girls are now twerking in the middle, rowdiness is at it’s maximum. One connects with me at the hips. It’s a kind gesture but with all my girl cousins that I’m still getting to know being there watching me I feel a certain awkwardness that I cannot describe in words. I make eye contact with the youngest of my cousins Ella (19) before I politely and firmly push the very thoughtful stranger off. I don’t know what exactly puts it over the edge for the management, but they get the security titos to start breaking up the circle and start kicking people out like this was the town in Footloose. Pootloose. I still needed to look for my only connection to the www. but before we can really comb the area for it, the girls drag me out and we skeedaddle. I think those capri sun cocktails actually did have something in them, and only when we’re actually out of the establishment does it start to hit. Sweating out all the water I so desperately need is making me feel like a sack of potatoes. They rest of the night they were laughing at my antics in a 7-11 parking lot. I don’t really blame them for it. Aiyis and I take a tricycle home and mom hits me for smelling the nicotine on my breath. Worth it still. So next day rolls around and my lack of bodily self care has caught up with me. My cough is hoarse and phlegmy. My eyes want to stay closed and I feel sore and hot and cold all at the same time. I probably have the flu. But all week my uncle Ver has been reminding me that he has plans for us on Saturday night. Everyday this week he’s told me not to make plans with anyone else and that I’m gonna have a good time. I keep pressing him on what we’re gonna do and only hours beforehand does he finally spill the beans. We’re going to a hopia party. Look, I don’t know what this is. I only know hopia are a sweet, slightly savory, baked treat that are little hand pies of goodness and mercy. What a whole party of that entails, I have no idea. I ask cousins from both sides on what this is or if they have ever heard of one. No one has an answer. I Bing it. Dead end there too. I’m getting nervous. My uncle has been a bachelor his whole life and is very much not gay. The only information he gives me is this “I know you’re single now, and many millennials will be there.” We drive 15 minutes to this very swanky villa with an outdoor pool and several banquet halls. *Anxiousness anxtensifies* There are pretty girls and guys there wearing 70’s style clothing. Some guy has an afro wig on and another is rocking a dashiki. I don’t know if I should feel ashamed or offended. Something is telling me both. Two small waiters bring out a very large box filled with other boxes. My uncle introduces me to people and none of them will tell me what is happening until it starts. My palms are sweaty, yadda yadda stain on my sweater already, Jolli Spaghetti. I’m feeling weird, and I’m already sick, so my head isn’t in the right place. Then with the people that are nice but tight lipped, you start to think things alright? At best, I was about to go speed dating with my uncle. At worst, this is a weird sex thing. Thankfully this is neither -- there were hopia in those smaller boxes and we rolled dice to win them. This was a philanthropy social group and their annual hopia party is one of their popular fundraisers. There were some interesting characters but I was not at all feeling right so as soon as we got our hopia I begged my uncle to leave and we dipped. I’m going to sleep like a rock that can sleep tonight. See you next week.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Wk 3

I finally got into a kitchen this week! Two different ones! On Monday I got to work in my niece’s restaurant, Conrado’s. I’ve talked about it before, but it’s this quiet, cute, 25 seater diner right above their family’s nail salon, in the middle of the busy market. None of the hustle and bustle seeps into the place. There’s wood floors, light-weight metal patio furniture for tables & seating, potted succulents, dangling light fixtures, framed portraits of our family members, and gaudy but cute melted glass decorations hung up. It has a bunch of chalkboard quotes that you’d probably see on a 17-year-olds pinterest homepage. Matter fact, most of this is rather pinterest-y. But that’s not a knock, it’s cute, and most importantly: it’s clean and air conditioned. Both rarities here, believe me, and to have both? 5 stars. Kristel has an acoustic Filipino folk-song playlist on repeat. Think, Bahay Kubo and the like, played on a soothing Spanish guitar. She serves all day breakfast and these gigantic pandesal sandwiches the size of a child’s head. And while it’s not the culinary work that I thought I’d get into, work is work. I’m gonna make this french toast. Yaherd? Things move slow mostly in the morning, a few orders of pancakes and pandesal french toast. A few ‘silogs are slung, and a maniac orders alfredo at 10am. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad alfredo, but it is 10am. Anyway 1:30 rolls around and orders come to a dead stop. We don’t get anyone in the door for an hour. I ask Kristel if this is normal for them and she says yeah she usually watches a movie or plays with the little baby that belongs to one of the workers downstairs. We get maybe 2 sandwich orders in the next 3 hours but for the most part, a pinoy movie is in the que. So we watch a flick on YouTube. Some rom-com with Sharon Cuneta falling back in love in her 50’s or whatever. It’s funny I guess. Kristel asks me about my love life and I tell her I don’t have one right now lol. She presses me for details and as I’m about to give in and tell her, she cuts me off and says “Your dad told us everything! Hahaha! He was crying and telling us to take care of you! Hahaha!” I’m laughing but taken aback to one thing in particular. “He was crying?...like crying, crying?” I ask. She says yeah, “One day he called us, I guess it was after you made up your mind to come over here and was saying that you’re so hurt and that you don’t know what you’re doing with your life.” Naturally defensive, I fire back that i’m good, that I haven’t felt like that in a while, that we’re friends now/she isn’t to blame as to why I’m here, and that I do kinda know what I’m doing with my life sorta, but I’m really kinda shocked still that my dad...cared. Through tears, called my relatives to take care of me in an emotional capacity that he believed he could not. I’m sure he would’ve done fine if he tried. I felt hope and disappointment kinda all in one. I wanna do better. I tell her some half-drawn sparknotes version of my romantic life and she does hers. It’s a nice bonding moment. By this time it's 3:30-4 and no one is eating in the restaurant. So Kristel send me and her only other employee, CJ, out to the palengke to grab groceries for the store. Out the door with list in hand and 500 pesos in her pocket. Time to make magic happen. CJ was so quick on her feet it was hard to keep up. Weaving through stands of vegetables, dodging hanging clothing items, correctly predicting every direction people were walking while looking at their cells, she was masterful. Everything she did was efficient, but charming still. She was like a studio Ghibli character come to life. Tastes a grape, squeezes a mangosteen, makes a face at a baby, takes a sharp left, selects the vegetables, haggles the grocer, pets the cat that's always sleeping at the light bulb stand, it was fun to witness. We get back to Conrado’s in no more than 30 minutes and unpack. Just in time too, after a few games of cards we get a last minute rush and are on our feet until close at 7pm. Everyone loves Kristel’s sandwiches, I think it’s the size and quality of the pandesal. It’s sweet but not overly so, and chewy but not heavy. Also did I say that it was the size of a child’s head? For like 200 pesos (4 dollars) what a bargain. That was the template and timeline of pretty much every day I spent there, (which was only 3 this week but I’m expecting to be there a lot more this month haha) Ate Oya (Oyo’s older sister, convenient, I know) finally took me to her new restaurant, Casa Carmen Cafe. They soft opened in June and are planning a grand opening in November. It’s a gutted out traditional bahay kubo house with original elevated skeleton, the exposed wood beams, and refurbished exterior; complete with the sliding capiz windows. It’s a little more upscale and twice as big as Conrado’s, but simple and elegant nonetheless. She Introduced me to the staff and the other co-owners. They’re five cooks in the back, five servers, and six owners. All really friendly people and excited to have a free set of hands. Casa also does food to order, but they do Filipino food instead of breakfast and pasta. They make some of the best regional dishes I have ever had in my life. Dishes like Kansi, which is a Iloilo regional beef and jackfruit soup. It’s made sour with the batwan fruit -- which is native only to western Visayas -- instead of tamarind, sampalok, or vinegar. It’s tart like sinigang but has a deeper savoriness and more dimension due to lemongrass and asuete. Suman sa Gata at Manok which according to one of the cooks, says is a super specific Cavite specialty; a sticky rice cake cooked in coconut milk and then steamed with a sliver of chicken on top. They also put spins on classics without losing the heart of the dish. Things like crispy dinuguan and fried halo-halo. They had me finishing and plating dishes first day. Finishing final grill items, wiping edges, garnishing plates, my hands felt alive, useful in a way that I can only compare to making art. It was surreal to be in a kitchen like that, and to be cooking and serving food that I've worked my whole life around. It really brought a prestige to Pinoy cuisine that I've only ever seen in Instagram photos. To see very humble stews and barbecued meats elevated to this level, at this capacity really brought me hope that I could do something like this someday myself. What was surprising was while all this gorgeous food was around them, the most excited the kitchen got was when Kim; the heaviest of the line cooks bought really crappy pizza with the promise of drinking beer later on that night. Which was so hilarious, and comforting to me. They tell me next week, i’m prepping pata and learning their dinuguan recipe. Word. On Friday my birthday happened, I shared it with my cousin Lou! He however was turning 50 lol. And before you think this is gonna be all island boy vibes and noodles, think again. It starts with a cat. 5 hurricane and ends with a very unpleasant argument with my mom. There are noodles still. So that’s good. As the day was happening I was angs- y from the two different super storms planning to DDT my whole life and not being able to gather all the family I wanted to see because of them. I ended up a touch frumpy most of they day. For some context, with Oyo now gone I didn’t really have a mode of transportation the whole past week. Mom didn’t believe I could drive by myself here. She didn’t know I drove his sisters car last week and was thriving in this type of balls out driving culture. Yeesh, and God forbid I take a tricycle by myself and get kidnapped?...I don’t know, I’m a clear half foot taller than most of the people here, in the best-ish shape of my life, and I don’t want to brag, but can throw a decent punch. I don’t know. So this whole past week I was at the mercy of my mom taking me places. Dropping me off to either of my nieces that owned restaurants, which was clearly awesome. But when I wasn’t working and being checked on constantly I was stuck by her side running errands or fixing the up the apartment in San Carlos. I felt like a preteen again. On top of that, there were things I wasn't giddy to do like: being drug to 6am mass, (rough) she then told me to order then cancel catering, (twice??¿?) and the city had erratic brownouts for 15 hours. All of which making me feel a bit—powerless. So after mass (which I mostly slept though) I was stuck at the house with nothing to do on my birthday, and no one was coming over hahaha. It’s a peculiar kind of “kick-in-the-groin” paradox when you’re not trying to make a day all about you because it makes you feel cringey and childish, but in doing so you end up trying to please yourself anyway by not feeling those things. After some alone time filming ants and laughing at myself I decided to interact with people. Tatay and I feed chickens and I tried having a comprehensive conversation with him to no avail, oh well. He end up telling me he had to get me goats. Like a switch flipped in his mind and he wouldn’t rest until is original programming was complete type of vibe. I didn’t want to fight him on it, and so about an hour later he comes back with two goats, a mom and a kid. He made me name them, THEN told me we were gonna kill them later. Cool. That’s cool. Couldn’t really sway him, being stubborn is his worst and best trait. My mom ended up taking them down the street to some relatives to take care of them and told tatay that they were too small to kill and eat anyway. Good going mom. I went inside and started looking at old photos with inay. She had stories for almost every person and photo we looked at. That was beautiful. All of my mom siblings are really brave, but especially my mom. Hearing first hand accounts of her young adult years was assuring. A few hours later I got wind that everyone at home was a-ok. What a relief. I took a step back from the lack of command I had going into the day and laughed at the parallel it had with my whole past year. I can toil and strive and work with what I got, the best that I can, but at the end of the day, things are gonna keep on turning beyond my control. I get gratification of autonomy with what I do yet the assurance of things moving forward without me. What a rad gift. Power got back on about 6pm -ish and we decided to head out to kuya Lou’s house to celebrate together because they also had power back on. We ended up having pancit and spaghetti. Noodles for long life or whatever. We ended up hobo drinking beer and a handle of jack. I had some pretty good conversations about dreams and goals with some of my cousins and got to know each other better. My one nephew JR is an aspiring historian and we talked about Philippine history for a pretty long time. That was really exciting for me, he knew so much and I don’t usually have anyone to gab about that kinda stuff or even ask questions from. At around 9 when it was dark two of my pamangkin shut off the all the lights to fake a brownout. They ended up walking out with 2 lit birthday cupcakes. It was really sweet of them, too bad I didn’t take any pictures. Live in the moment and what not right? I ended up having to go home early that night because my mom’s foot was acting up and after a few sharp looks shot my way I could tell she wasn’t feeling comfortable. I told her to go home by herself and that I’d get a ride back to the bukid somehow. She sternly said no and  I resigned my pride to argue in front of family,  I could tell she was more uncomfortable seeing me drink that much with my cousins than the pain in her foot. On the drive back home I argued about the lack of freedom I was feeling with her and the juxtaposition of her own life around my age. I think I nailed my talking points. She ended up seeing my side of things and we apologized to each other. I think the pressure is getting to her from both sides, of being a child again living with her folk and remembering to be a mom. I doubt it’ll be the last time I talk about this dynamic. I do hope it gets better soon.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

oyo’s outtie five-thou

The past 10 or so days have been dope. Almost every day I’ve been meeting up with Oyo and we’ve been going around Lipa; eating at places we haven’t been before, and hitting all the staples. I put him on to Nene’s Siopao and Mami. He introduced me to inasal. I feel like getting to know him in this time frame was so critical seeing as I’m gonna be living with him and his mom next month for at the rest of the year. He like’s current pop songs, and got me on OPM. I’ve been on this Up Dharma Down tip and have a kind of celebrity crush on their lead singer, Armie Millar. She’s like the pinay Hayley Williams. Who am I kidding, no one has a voice like Hayley. Anyway, Oyo’s one of the best eating partners. One of those people who make anything he eats look like it’s the best thing he’s had. Like young Bryan Ongoco. Who am I kidding, no one makes a face like Bryan. Also I think he’s trying to be a Instagram food influencer hahaha. He’s constantly singing, thankfully he has a great voice, and has a bad case of last song syndrome. The guy is usually laughing or smiling at something. Even when he’s complaining he meets it with a laugh. Dude’s super lighthearted and it is on constant display. Complete opposite of my usual RBF self. I have to take notes. Another thing I see in him, which is something I hope I don’t mimic is his complacency about the restaurant business. I think it might be because he went the traditional culinary route and burnt out at a pretty steady pace. I hope that doesn’t happen to me. I hope the grind and grime don’t ultimately take out my love for this medium. Like quite a few former chefs I’ve met in this past year, Oyo is going into the IT field haha. There’s nothing wrong with the IT field. But, I don’t know, there’s something sad about letting go of a dream. Or I think in Oyo’s case, realizing what you were doing wasn’t your dream in the first place. And that you sunk years of your most productive part of your life into something just because you were already there. I am super thankful that he’s giving me a perspective from the other side. Thankful for being my interpreter when I don’t know how to say some of the deeper thoughts in tagalog to my other nieces and nephews has been a fantastic help. Also, for driving me everywhere ahaha. I don’t think I could be as free roaming as I have been these past two weeks if it wasn’t for him. Mom doesn’t trust me by myself because people can tell I can’t speak tagalog straight. My accent gives me away she says, and then I’ll get robbed. We’ve been literally hanging out with just family...so... Anywho, hanging with fam is great, but he only knows his immediate cousins. So while he took me to the family he was close with I introduced him to family that he’s never hung out with before. Which again, is so surprising to me, but makes sense due to the generational separation. It’s relieving how easy a deck of cards or a plate of food will make anyone of these people open up and share. We heard a lot of the sap stories these past 10 days. Sucks that he just left yesterday, but I’ll see him in about a month. Hope he does well on those entrance exams, because I know for a fact he did not study while he was here.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Wk 2

Ok so I was wrong. I think admitting that you are, quickly I might add, is a good habit for me to keep up. Not everything here is dripping with that peace. Well for clarity, life where my inay and tatay live-out in the boonies-is peaceful. It’s different when you aren't just on the farm, enjoying the fauna - when you aren't here just for the island hopping, enjoying a vacation. Outside of the bukid, it's MFin threat level midnight. Things are as busy if not busier than they are in the states. Oyo and I have been eating our way through Lipa’s gullyworks, and visiting family along the way. Some of whom he’s never met before. That’s not really surprising to me seeing as he’s a visitor too, albeit a more frequent one than me. What’s really taking me back is that most of them don’t really know or seem to care to know each other. Maybe it’s because i'm still part of the second generation. Most of the people i’m hanging out with are part of the third, and that gap to know each relative and how we’re related seems too tedious and uninteresting. Which makes me sad in a way that, I can't really explain fully. My cousin’s cousin's, the Marasigans, are close. LIKE REAL CLOSE. I thought I’d find that feeling here with the Mayors. That doesn’t seem to be the case, and so I get to finding out all the nitty gritty in my families stories. The time I have left here is a double edged sword working my my favor. Long enough to scratch past the surface of everyone's hospitality phase. And just brief enough to everyone that the time I have to spend with them is such a rare commodity they try to really get to know me and vice versa. Plus, being an outsider that hasn't known them adds to the level of candidness that they have with me. There aren’t expectations that are there as one who had known them growing up, going through their changes and turns in faith, world view, or beliefs. These stories filled with so many twists are so surprising, and when finally finished, are somehow so relatable, understandable. But again, with ridiculous plot details that they might be Teleserye worthy even. Two close siblings that both had strokes within weeks of each other. Both deciding to tell their respective families not to break the news for 6 months. Thinking that when they each found out, it would do the other harm enough to put them over the edge of life that was barely there. Newly wed husband, turned father, turned martyr leaving behind wife and child. Wives lost to cancer, new wives left due to cheating, old flames rekindled at the end of it. Abusive husbands concealed by hopeful wives. Sons ostracized by fathers for being gay, but accepted by other family. Running from gangs, getting basketball scholarships, dreams on pause due to children. Every scenario, every a, b, and c movie plot you could think of and then some. Relationships are messy and strained no matter where you are on the map. The human heart is complicated and difficult to suss out. Stories and stories and stories stacked up like a rainbow. Coloring what would be an otherwise gray-scale life. Hurt and joy and pain and reunion all here in even fuller effect than what I would expect. Than what I’ve come to experience in the comfortable pocket of my world at the beach. Those rose colored glasses that I saw only peace with start to change hue. That same peace I felt those first 2 days here is so easily snatched as inay gets hospitalized after turning purple and passing out. I'm reminded that peace can’t solely be defined by physical location or surrounding circumstance. Peace is something that preeminently begins within yourself. Between you and your god. That fact is so obvious to me now that I'm staring at her in a hospital bed. She seems at ease. Like pneumonia isn't a big deal for geriatrics. Like Parkinson's is reversible. And maybe it's this prideful, 'don't want to worry my family' attitude she's putting on display. That same attitude so many of my relatives put on for their own households, but she seems strong. I believe her. She's at peace. I can see it in her eyes as clearly as I see how weak she is to lift her legs, & the trembling in her hands. Those steady hands that raised me, now quivering to hold on to mine. I hold back a tear. I look at her face. She smiles. I thank God. She asks “Na kain ka na?”  and the dishes she cooked for me as a child come flooding back to my mind. Tinola, with the overcooked chicken. Tulingan with gata that I never appreciated until recently. The buckets of spam, eggs, and corned beef. All the love and desperation to make sure I had enough to eat. The love. The love. The love. It’s what made the food so good. It’s what transcended it beyond daily sustenance. Now worked into a space that makes sense of the struggle that inay and so much of my family has fought through. Food is their medium for care, for compassion, for community. Their translation dictionary when communication is cut short. Their tether to peace in the midst of this hectic life. I’m so grateful that I get to share in that. So peace to you and yours.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Wk 1

The first week here has been great. Third day in and tatay brought me to Sabong. His favorite pastime and the only thing that he seems to be living for these days. I’m positive tatay is a famous sabongero. Everyone knew him and he got in for free. Forgive the pun but he was cockier in there. Nut checking damn near everyone he saw. Told one of the women taking bets that she had a fat booty. It was uncomfortable, and hilarious and surprising to see him so alive, enthusiastic, and interacting with people, not chickens. There was an outdoor restaurant, all bench seating. We pop a squat with our future opponents, and share a laugh and a meal before we go in. The salmon head sinigang needs more sampalok. Not nearly as sour as it shoulda been, but that's me. Same lady serving the food, cooked it & be handing the money. No gloves or hand washing. Taking pesos from the sabong that's ruined with bird feathers and excrement. "Here it is." I thought as I took a bite of the best bopis I've ever tasted, "This is where I catch my first case of bubble guts." But I didn't! Still haven't. Waiting for that other shoe to drop. Anyway, no real perspective shifting revelation this time around. Food is cooked. Food is shared. Relationships deepened. Bets are made. People win. People lose. Chickens die, such is life. My nephew Oyo and I have hung out a few times this past week and getting to know him better along with some other nieces and nephews has been real swell. A lot of them are smart and ambitious as hell. Some part of me feels kinda incompetent just being a cook and food writer, if I can even call myself that. Even typing that out loud makes me feel kinda arrogant and lame all at the same time. My cousins are going to law school, are engineers, comms professionals. It’s beautiful. It’s hard. They talk about no matter how well they study or how successful they might be come over here, they will never have the opportunity or privilege that I have for being american. The other batch of them seem to be wading dead in the water. No ambition or dream for a better future. Hand to mouth living because of the cards they were dealt. It’s heartbreaking to see such smart men and women succumb to the situation they’re born in and lean on that as an excuse not to dream, or act on those dreams. I think it’s kinda like the chickens at the sabong...some win, some lose such is life. 

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Flight/Takeoff

Boarding quickly I search for the puke bag. Nervous, still in disbelief that I'm doing this. That I'm leaving everything I know and love for who knows how long. Well, 4 months doesn't seem thaaat long. It's only a quarter of a year. Holy crap, that seems so long. But that's barely a deployment? Buuuut then I think I've only been on the other side of that. To be going out to (and forgive the poor use of parallel but I already made it) war, is another animal. War on my own mediocrity, my unfaithfulness, my fruitless grips to conformity. I think of every comfort I laid in bed with, the creature it turned me into. And then I think of her. No, not her... I think of Emmy: if that really is her name of course, which I highly doubt. Emmy, my Asian grocery vendor, owner of the astutely named Asia Grocery.  Early/mid-thirties Chinese immigrant along with her husband "Danny" and their strongest manual laborer Juan, who's name I actually believe is Juan. I think of them. I don't even know why exactly myself, but I think it has to do with the fact that they live what I'm about to do. And they seem fine—and more than that, they seem to be thriving. I think of their strength, and that beyond their clumsy second language that they use to communicate to one another, it's their will to live that they share. The plane starts down the runway. Secondly, I'm reminded of them probably because I can't remember if I told them or not that I was going on this trip. That I wouldn't be the one shopping with them for a time. Which then reminds me of people outside of the 15-20 minute bi-weekly interactions bracket. Did I say goodbye to enough people? Did I tell too many? What if this journey takes me away for longer and I really don't see them for a while? Will it have been worth it? Take off. Still in my head about this. Time for podcasts and sappy airplane rom-coms. The Boy Downstairs was way too accurate. Connecting flights go so smoothly because we’re getting escorted straight to the front of lines due to mom in a wheelchair. Land in Seoul, doubts show up again, but there’s no looking back now. We just crossed the pond. Last connecting flight gets delayed, 6 or so people missing from the flight. Filipino time at its best. They end up showing 10 minutes late and just when they board, a thunderstorm blows in. We get caught in it for another 10 or so. We take off and I feel like I’m in that Andy Mineo song “...Lost”. This one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhdxiB8171o That’s what I’m singing to myself, it turns into a prayer. It really is the entire mood. We take a few zero-gravity dips and I’m thinking this is it, we’re not even gonna make it to the PI. “We just hit some turbulence, but if I let go now How far will I fall? I can't see at all. When I get above those clouds, yeah, I know that the sun's out, I'ma be alright” We land and get connected to the airports WiFi. My phones blowing up from likes and comments from my friends posts, and goodbye text messages and I start to sink again. “I hope I don’t let them down.” times infinity. A luggage doesn’t make it at the same time, and one of our balik-bayan boxes gets ripped open by TSA. Not a great start. 2 different family members show to pick us up, and my mom has to awkwardly tell tita Vangie sorry and that they’re gonna have to drive back 2 more hours, pay tolls, gas, and time. It’s already stupid tense because my mom and uncle Ver, (who we go with) are kinda on bad terms from moms last trip. Exhausting 2 hour car trip lands us at my lolos house at 1am and I knock out from the trip almost immediately, but we’re here…stay present.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

Day 1

It’s 5:10 am and the cocks are crowing. I shuffle downstairs and inay tells me to cook, "we have ingredients outside bunso." she says. Eggs, Saba bananas, and the cocoa for the champorado were all grown here by tatay. His life work, trade, and passion are tasted through what I hope to make my own. First meals in new places (or familiar places that you haven't been to in a while) kind of hold a significance to them not really said out loud. They set the tone in a way, of what to expect & hope for. I hope I get the stick outta my ass and enjoy the peace that seems to be dripping off everything here at my grandparents home. We finish up breakfast and uncle ver and mom pull me out to go to a grocery store in the major downtown area. Its this half block wide air conditioned haven right off of the major highway about fifteen minutes from the bukid. We walk in and are greeted by Lou Bega’s Mambo #5 blaring from the p.a. system, this is a sign. We come back with the groceries, and make our way out to the palenke. Jojo and Agnes’ house, dad’s old spot. The one that he grew up with his eight other siblings, and ten+ nieces and nephews. I’m reminded again how small it is. No bigger than 500 square feet. There’s a shower area. Four bedrooms: two at the entrance, two at the back left of the house. All separated by sturdy and suffocating cement walls.  A living room with a small CRT-TV and horribly tattered couch patched together with old rice bags and clear masking tape. A dining area filled with plastic china and thin silverware separated from the toilet room only by a metal shelf holding dry goods and flatware. There’s the dirty outdoor kitchen, stocked with old pans, dull knives, and ants. Lots of ants. In the a toilet room there is no door, just a shower curtain. Matter fact, there’s no seat, lid, or tank -- just the pot. There’s a spicket; jerry-rigged with rubber tubing and pvc pipe snaking its way up and out of the ceiling; just above a bucket of water with its complementary tabo of course, and a family sized bottle of hand soap. We give pasalubong to Agnes and Jojo then head out to Conrado’s to greet ate Vicky and pick up our car. I share my plans with her and she encourages me with my goals. We pick up the car and mom is driving like a jekyll and hyde. She’s too scared to be assertive but angry when she gets taken over. It’s infuriating, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I could do better. We text Oyo and tell him we’re on the way to our apartment in the San Carlos subdivision. I let him know that we’ll link up at Robinson Mall around 5:30. He agrees and specifies that we should meet in front of the Jollibee there. We get there 30 minutes late and I’m freaking out. I don’t have any way to contact him, and I vaguely remember what his face looks like from his facebook profile. So I’m pacing frantically looking at strangers dead in their faces to see if I recognize them at all. Which if you can imagine, is intrusive and strange. I do this for 40 minutes. I work up the courage to talk to a random girl who, due to her thumb twiddling and phone checking, seems like she also is waiting for someone. Do I try my broke tagalog or just go full on american tourist? We make eye contact. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you but, I’m looking for my cousin and I don’t have any way to contact him using my phone. Could I use yours by chance?” I chose Am-Boy tourist. She looks surprised and nods yes and I hand her my phone as a form of insurance. I fb message Oyo and he says he’s like less than half a mile away and stuck in parking lot traffic. I calm down and thank the girl who’s name I learn is Joan, and stay at the table. We chat and get to know each other a bit. She twitch streams DOTA2 (coolcoolcool) and is going to school near by. She’s waiting for a friend who works at the mall to get off. Oyo comes in and I thank her for her kindness, and offer her to buy her a soda. She politely declines and tells me she helped because I looked helpless... and nice. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) anyway, mom and I greet him and we sit at a table to eat Jollibee. We hit off the bat immediately. We exchange sob stories and where life has brought us to. 25, turning 26 this year. He worries what this age means for him and the life of his parents. Likes food and eating it, but realized he can’t cook for his career for the rest of his life. Enjoying the freedom of this last break (he thinks) he’ll be on with his 6 year girlfriend ‘Chesica. Yeah, funny name, I know. They met at church and she used to go out with one of his friends. Yeah, funny set up, I know. Lately she’s been having a crisis of what she wants in her life and trust issues founded on by what he believes can only be a case of heavy insecurity of herself. Yeah, funny cause of tension, I know. I pick my jaw off the floor and cock my head back to laugh at the similarities. I tell him my whole gist and some of the differences we do have in our stories, and he’s weak. So here we are. Nephew and uncle on similar journeys, feeling a little less alone in the world. He tells me that his old chef that he used to work under had just DM’em him last week to tell him that he’s starting a new restaurant soon in Milan and was asking for his old sous chef back. Oyo told him probably not but he’d think about it. The chef said that he understood, but if he could find anyone to help to “send them my way.” I’m bright eyed. The guy is japanese and so the restaurant he’s starting is going to be Japanese Italian fusion food. I think I pass out a little at this news. I ask Oyo how close they are and if I could really get an apprenticeship there. I find out that for 3 years he worked directly under him, many times by himself as his only employee. So yeah they’re close. I’m reeling from the serendipity. We plan our day out tomorrow and then say goodbye. Back at the apartment at San Carlos and I sleep on a thin futon a top the tile floor. It’s unforgiving, but I couldn’t have slept better believing, knowing, God still has a plan for me.

#alloranes

[lifeofnes]

BNF

Back and forth, back and forth Lost in here which way is north? Lack-a-sleep plus ADD And OCD I needa hoard I hold on to, some fleeting thing That turns to dust, avengers 4 Undecided but undivided Many months still under guidance Back and forth, back and forth In magnet fields, like what's a north? Pockets light dog, whats it worth But my dad God, shouts out to North Know I'm this way, feeling that way But the path ahead, more than it seems I'm mixed up, from the head down, North-Face hat with the SouthPole jeans Back and forth, back and forth In the way, maybe I'm the mountain? Wanna talk but keep on shouting

[lifeofnes]

dark moody shit

My so called opened eyes see darkness still I look to my sides or navel gaze As I sink and grasp at anything my hand can hold.

#wip #poetry #i know im cringing too

[lifeofnes]

run john run the law commands, but gives us neither feet nor hands.

far better news the gospel brings: It bids us fly and gives us wings.

-john bunyan

[lifeofnes]

its a little funny

how easily I scoffed at the over used, mishandled phrase “let go, and let God.” Maybe it was because I was becoming way too cynical in my own faith after some deconstruction in past years. But I’m beginning to think it was because I was so damn comfortable. I was privileged to scoff. Hell, I’m still privileged now. Definitely not as comfortable. Lots of that sinking feeling when you earnestly realize you actually can’t do something about a situation or someones feelings and every reaction is so viral. Either my reptile brain starts firing on all cylinders, and outwardly comes off as desperate and mad. Or “I’m fine.” So yeah to be without control or even the perception of it is a scary, glorious thing.

[lifeofnes]

the fear of the LORD is the hatred of sin

Piper

[lifeofnes]

an unseeable war

It’s intense, unrelenting, and unfair. These describe the war of your mind that goes on. Which makes sense, your mind is your greatest asset. “Whatever gets your mind gets you” Warren says in this passage. Which is so simplistically true that it almost hurts. What you set your mind to think about is what you end up loving or doing. Sin is battled against in our mind. That’s where it starts. 2 Corinthians 10:3-5

#thinkinglovingdoing

[lifeofnes]

Psalm 62:4

“He alone is my rock and my salvation, I shall not be greatly shaken.”

Doesn’t mean you won’t be shaken still. Buck up champ.

#quips

[lifeofnes]

Speak from you faith not your feelings. But don’t completely discount those either, its a tightrope bud.

#quips