Cousins These Days

A., who's in his early twenties, finished high school and is attending College in Sydney. He is currently in the Manila as he tries to renew his student visa. During Christmas dinner, he prepared roast beef with a capsicum side dish. He made a mean leche flan, and in a country that's preoccupied with anything instant, he took time with ground arabica coffee using a French press. "A plunger" was how they called it down undah, he said. Our conversation revolved around the upcoming Phoenix concert, the musical development of Mishka Adams, and the crowd in Conspiracy.

His brother, D., will be watching a Dave Matthews concert in Sydney. D. also saw Pearl Jam, and we shared a fascination with JD Salinger. Now he's a breadwinner.

J. is in Melbourne now, but he remains both a significant part and enormous influence in my life. I end up calling him when I bump into a slump, as I did when I had trouble with grade 3 math - particularly rounding off a .5

E. has fathered three incredibly good-looking children, and boosted our family's confidence in the looks department of our gene pool. He came here on Christmas day, telling me (and not for the first time) that he's fallen on hard times. And every time, I remember how we kept me company and bought me a drink at the right time.

J., from my father side, is a cousin I didn't speak with a lot,Well, I didn't think he spoke very much. He's now based in Vienna and I see him instagramming Europe and the good life. I wished we actually talked more while drinking Pale Pilsen in the spirit of our grandfather. I imagine him telling me about those castles in Bruges.

Several of our cousins from the US, my best memory of which is how we spent their vacations either sneaking out to drink or go to clubs, are actually Honor Society students who eventually graduate from Berkeley or the University of Texas.

Many Christmases ago, I celebrated with these cousins of mine who are now spread out to Melbourne, Sydney, New York, California, Texas or Vienna. The frequency and population of those Christmas reunions scaled down, but I'd like to think our lives are all interwoven as we are all, somehow, cut from the same fabric.

When we were driving on the way home from our two Christmases last night, we asked our little what his favorite part of Christmas was. "Getting gifts" he said, all thrilled and bubbly even at one in the morning. His ironman blasters were strapped to his arms.

The little one added his second favorite part of Christmas, "Sharing with my cousins."

D. and I talked about how concerned you were with your Kuya E. when he had to throw tantrum. We knew you loved him.

Your Kuya Z. is also 9 years old. He just took his first communion a few weeks back. He also recently got his Tita D.'s pre-loved smartphone as a present. He made a comment about some songs we left there. He liked Jamie's Cullum's version of Radiohead's High and Dry. He liked the You and Me Song from the Wannadies. Hearing about his taste in music, my hopes sprang as sparkly as this evening's Christmas spirit.

That fabric will be woven quite nicely.

Like This, Like Now

We've attended several weddings in tranquil chapels and charming cathedrals which were followed by elaborate receptions in posh hotels or manicured gardens. Nothing though, comes more naturally than an aisle against the sand, sea and sky. The light came from embers of a sun that's about to rest. White cloth and orchids moved graciously against gentle winds.The waves, washing its hands with the sea came perfect with a tasteful playlist.

The bride herself made the sea-turtle knot on the guest cards. We were privileged to be among brilliant artists, and to see once again - the many people who touched our lives. To be drunk, and in love, and to witness more of love's wonderful unfolding between one friend and another. It all happened while we ate lechon and kare kare for the feast.

The sand took care of our little one, and its as if he understood that he need to be respectful of the ceremony. But truly, he was content with burying his hands and letting the infinite nature of the grains run through his small hands. Whenever asked, he told everyone his name was Sandman.

Our good friend F. hosted and used lines such as lubricated conversations, and H. was asked to deliver a speech where he both told a lovely story and  a subtle political statement to assert gay rights. "Use your freedom to promote ours" he says. We certainly look forward to attending the weddings of our dearest friends.

We spent another day or two at the beach after the wedding."Drinks on me" S. announced while sat in a half-circle facing the sea and the orange of a sunset. P.'s playlist was on via a bluetooth speaker (the natural evolution of speakers) and there was Zero 7, some ambient and some chillout. I often summon the "resolutely floating , aimlessly" feeling when I'm in the shoreline with cold beer in my clenched fist. But this time, I wasn't just happy for myself. I was happy for everyone.

The evening came and sky lanterns were rising up to the sky. We ate the leftovers from the wedding. And we found the perfect time to open the bottle of Patron, which stood in our shelf for so long, waiting for some real, shared joy.

We talked about the sky lanterns we saw flying last night. How Monday morning glittered with gold carved delicately in the water.

The Wise Trees

Old trees arch, leaves bow 
as they have learned resilience
looking up, you learn. 

Here's to Long Family Lunches

I knew we'd have to endure the Saturday traffic given that the coding scheme was suspended and the truck-ban was off. We braved it anyway and went out of our way to Quezon City for lunch.

Thaipan described itself as a fine-dining restaurant, though it felt more mid-range. I came in my maong shorts and they didn't really impose on having me wear long pants or a dinner jacket. They were right about the place being "reminiscent of home." Even better, it genuinely felt like somebody who cooked well invited you to their home and served you lunch.

The place was quite literally, formerly someone's home. They refurbished and re-purposed the house. The bedrooms were turned into private dining rooms and the wide front lawn became an outdoor dining area. We had a good conversation around that as D. says it gives an aura of preserving a heritage, the way families pass on good values to their children.

D. lived in Thailand for about a year, and she's always a good judge of food that brings her back there. I suppose this one does. The aesthetics in the presentation suggest that it was carefully and expertly prepared. The servings are generous and it would have been awkward if you're out on a date and you were to finish the whole plate of pad thai or bagoong rice on your own. But it's perfect for sharing especially if you are a long-time couple who wouldn't mind maybe even eating it in the same plate.

The little one has also began to develop his own taste and palette. He's got something going on for some of the crunchy stuff and he voted for the Catfish Salad as his favorite. He warmed up to the spacious former lawn area.

The afternoon breeze was comforting so lunch was long, delicious and filled with conversation.

I suppose I mentioned the traffic earlier because it sparked a memory of how a few years ago, we didn't have to go very far for good Thai Food. A place called Sala Thai was in Malate for more than a decade. It had to close and was converted to another fast food joint. D. and I had several dates there years back, and it was some of the best food we've had together. We remember hearing the cook barking orders back to the well-dressed waiters, speaking to them in Thai. I even remember the how even the elegant utensils and table top cloths all look like they were imported from Thailand to keep the authenticity consistent.

Some of our other favorite Thai restaurants end up closing down. Suko Thai's another one. So it's probably why there's an ephemeral element about the experience in Thaipan. We would have wanted more restaurants to conserve the good-looking houses, the same way that families pass on the good values and preserve heritage. And we wouldn't want it to close down.

So yeah, fancy that we brave the traffic and ate there while we can.

The Best Bar in the World

The best bar in the world is our dinner table

Fiction lay along a bowl of chips 

and my wife's homemade salsa

seasoned lovingly 

using himalayan salt balanced with parsley leaves. 

There was no talk of sports, but my three-year-old tells me, "Drink your beer daddy" 

as he sings to Mickey Mouse clubhouse. 

We dance. 

When the little one was put to sleep, 

my wife and I have more conversation: 

familiar, spontaneous, honest and heedless 

as conversations of married couples go. 

We play some more music 

I'm my own DJ, dancing randomly 

to Talking Heads 

and Lyke Li 

and Up Dharma Down. 

We drink some more 

grocery-priced beer 

This price makes it tastier 

No service charge either

and I don't mind washing up a few dishes. 

And oh, the bed is so close 

for us to stagger silly on the way up. 

Why Fiction?

An exposure to what is unfamiliar makes us know who are: the more we lose ourselves, the more we discover ourselves. Travelling sets us up for that realization. We step away from our comfort zones to the wideness of the world, and to the true bounties of discovering the secrets of life in the universe.

 

This was a golden nugget that got laid as I read Jennifer Egan's "Why China?" in her collection of short stories, Emerald City. I paraphrased some of the sentences I liked. While the story induced it, the thought it is entirely mine. Reading does that to you. It challenges you to either figure out or build your own metaphor, write your stories, transcend what fascinated you in fiction to polish your persepctives, maybe even change your outlook, and entertainingly so.