CYMA yet again

CYMA has become synonymous with Edsa Shangrila for us, if we are lucky enough to get a table, that is. The waiters there are friendly, and there’s one who was particularly welcoming yesterday. I guess because he has seen us often enough. My son ordered an appetizer, a cheese dip with pita bread. A bit on the spicy side because floating on it is a huge green pepper. My husband threatened to crush it to make it even spicier, but luckily, he was kidding. Husband ordered gindara, very simply cooked so it tasted clean — i think in olive oil and just a few other spices. It was served in a small platter and was rather pricey at P450. But healthy, I suppose because that was olive oil it was cooked in. My son ordered chicken kebab. The order came with two sticks of chicken cubes interspersed with vegetables, a few pieces of pita bread and a cheese-garlic-yogurt dip. That order was a steal at P280 but since he added a side order of roasted potatoes, the total came up to P360. I, on the other hand, ordered the pork chop which I did before. Two 3/4-inch pork chops came with two slices of roasted potatoes and one rice-stuffed green bell pepper. The rice was orange (cooked in tomato) and had raisins in it. Very tasty. we’d have ordered the dessert skolatina which was recommended on a previous visit but the waiter said we’d have to wait 30 minutes. Skolatina is molten chocolate cake but they serve it with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. P230 per order but we have yet to try it. We just might next time, if we order it early enough.

As usual, the place was packed and we had to wait a bit before we were led to our table. The wait was well worth it, as expected. I lifted the photo of CYMA from www.unlawyer.net/wp-content/photos/cyma_greek…

Favorite TV commercials

EDEN cheese – it starts out in a classroom of maybe 3rd graders. It’s work ed class and the students made friendship bracelets. Before dismissal, the teacher said they should give what they made to their best friend. All but one proceeds to tie said bracelet on the wrist of one or other classmate. But one girl pauses to think, smiles, and rushes out to the playground where her mom has her lunchbox ready. She gets the cheese sandwich and then ties the bracelet in her mother’s wrist — the unspoken message here is that her mom is her best friend. How touching. each time I see it, I can’t help but smile.

NEOZEP – I find this so bizarre but my son seriously thinks it’s an intelligent commercial because it’s so stupid people will tend to remember it. It has become a series of sorts where the housegirl and the son of the matron of the house fell in love in the first of the series. By the nth installment, the maid and her master who have since been married, are in a party, but not together. The houseboy/gardener sneezes and talks to the ex-maid. then from out of the bushes, the master appears and looks like he’s about to hit the houseboy. The master shouts, “Aha” and proceeds to accost the houseboy. No, not to shout at him, but to give him a sheet of Neozep tablets. Then the three of them walk off together smiling. No enmity there.

New Discoveries: Omakase and Booktopia

This morning, shortly before 11, the widow of a good friend called to invite us to lunch, it being the birthday of her good friend who’s also my co-parent in my son’s org. Not wishing to disappoint the one who invited us, I immediately concurred but when she mentioned the name of the restaurant, Omakase, and said it was in Eastwood, I asked if it was accessible. In Eastwood, though there are elevators, there are portions that have steps leading to certain areas. She promised to get back to me.

When she called almost an hour later, she jubilantly said there was an elevator. So off we went.

The building is but two floors which made me skeptical about the existence of an elevator. Never would I have imagined a two-floor building’s bothering to invest in one. But it did and a spacious one at that. Shame on the elevator in The Spa in Tagaytay Highlands. Shame on the elevator in Glorietta.

Omakase, as the name hints at, is a Japanese restaurant. Sorry, but I don’t know what it means. It doesn’t have the classy look of Kimpura but it is clean and well lit. And the customers are a decent lot. And the food was marvelous. We left the ordering to our hosts (the widow brought along her son) who must have ordered at least 5, maybe more, kinds of sushi and at least two kinds of sashimi: tuna and salmon. The son also ordered beef teppanyaki, shrimp tempura, gindara, and chicken teppanyaki. He also ordered cold noodles for himself alone which came in what looked like a bento box. He didn’t think anyone else would like it and no one minded because there was just so much food. When his mom asked him what it was and he answered “Cold noodles” I thought of my Koreanovelas, haha. And the son could pass for an actor– very good looking, he bears a resemblance to Diether Ocampo, and very intelligent. Back to the food.

The sushis he ordered included the more common california maki, a tuna maki with cheese I think, one he teased us was spider maki (it was actually soft-shell crab) which I liked. He also ordered a mixed seafood maki which had scallops and eel. Everything just tasted so good. we also ordered rice — but I hardly touched my fried rice as there was just so much food and of course they were all filling as the makis have rice to begin with. Good company, good food, what more could one ask for? Made me count my blessings, they did.

After lunch, we went our separate ways. When we had arrived before the lunch, I saw this place Booktopia. Netopia is an Internet cafe, so I was curious what Booktopia was about. I asked my son and husband if they wanted to check it out and my son promptly opened the door to it, saying that the son of the widow said they had good books in Booktopia(Told you the son’s intelligent, so he reads). We were impressed. Though the store wasn’t that huge, the selections were very good. My husband found the collection of poetry by Borges which he couldn’t find in Power Books and Fully Booked, much less National. My son bought a book, two books, in fact, as did my husband, while I bought a magazine. I seldom buy books because there are so many I haven’t read yet and I always worry about where to put all the books the two of them buy– which is why my dream house will have a huge library so that all the books we have will be in one room, not in several rooms as they are now, not in the sala, the hallway, the bedrooms. But I digress.

Booktopia also had this quaint book marks called Literary Luminaries which were paintings, caricature style – if they were pictures, they would appear like they were taken with wide angle lens or fish eye- of yes, literary luminaries like Virginia Woolf, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Hemingway, Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe, etc. At P100 each, not bad. But I thought to myself, there are so many substitutes I can just get in lieu of real bookmarks here in the house. Cheapskate, no?

When we got home, my husband noticed that the books they purchased had one bookmark each– free, bearing the logo of Booktopia. It also contained the bookstore’s address and guess what, the building that houses these great finds is called “Intrepid Plaza”. How erudite the owner of the buildings must be. Oh, and by the way, my son said of the way books were classified in the bookstore, “Very intelligent classifications”.

An aside, as they were browsing, I made small talk with the sales girl who was all alone. I asked if she were bored in the bookstore. She admitted she was. I asked, “Don’t you read?” She said, “no.” I told her she should. She merely smiled. I pointed out to her that she should take advantage of all the books around her which she could read for free. Though I didn’t see a cellphone, I’m almost sure that’s how she keeps busy, tinkering with it. Though to her credit, she didn’t seem to have it nearby unlike so many sales clerks and elevator girls in the other malls.

Another by the way thing. The building is along E Rodriguez, Libis, not in Eastwood. The landmarks are Pizza Hut and Rufo’s which are housed in the same complex. there’s also a stall selling Lotto tickets. If you’re along Libis, coming from Makati, it’s after Shopwise. And you know what? As soon as we were out of the car, the aroma wafting in the air reminded me of my childhood. A certain restaurant – Little Quiapo or a Magnolia place — which carried a distinct smell. Each time I smell it I just remember myself as a little child. I cannot describe it in words, my nose just knows and remembers.

 

How safe is Greenhills?

Two nights ago, I saw a footage of the writer Isah Red being interviewed. His BMW was parked in the Greenhills Commercial Center and it had been broken into. The window was in smithereens and his laptop was gone, a Mac, I think.

How safe is Greenhills? Someone assured him they’d pay for the damage and lost laptop, but what about the files? Though if truth be told, Isah should have known better because laptops are easy prey for thieves. Along Katipunan fronting Blue Ridge is a laptop pawnshop. I find that really crude because somehow, while it serves a purpose — for a student out of money who needs cash– it also encourages the stealing of laptops. Ateneo students have been targets on campus. But what did I mean when I wrote Isah should have known better? Weeks back there was news of a young lady’s laptop being taken from her car too. And the police have been warning the public against leaving valuables in the car.

But as Isah reasoned, “But this is a private place, there’s a security guard outpost nearby so I thought it was safe.” Perish the thought Isah.

Way back when my son was in Prep, maybe 11 or 12 years ago, our car was taken in Greenhills. Thank God not at knife or gunpoint, just taken. We were there to watch the Ateneo-sponsored premiere of Angels in the Outfield in the afternoon. After the movie, I asked the maid to leave the angel wings my son used when he was asked to go onstage. The maid also put in the helmet he wore, a cheap one but special because he had stuck several different kinds of stickers on it. Then we did the groceries.

When we went back to the car, the grocery boy with us, the car was no longer where we parked it. We thought we had mistakenly remembered – okay, forgotten– where we had parked the car but we were certain, actually that we had parked it in that place (across Virra Mall) and it just wasn’t there. It felt like a nightmare. I mean who’d want to steal a car that was then 20 years old, a Colt Galant that had been overhauled so many times yet refused to start with one click? It had to be pushed on occasion to run. Aghast, we went to the security office of Greenhills and to the police outpost nearby, yes nearby. The policeman there had a radio. They told us to go to San Juan police, which we did riding a white, Ilonggo taxi or something to do with my province. We filed a report, still incredulous. But we thanked our lucky stars that we weren’t in it when the car was taken.

The parents of my husbands students offered to help, one of them was a colonel. He got the details, so did several others. nothing happened. two weeks later, I got a call from the Makati police. He asked for me and said the car had been found in the Quad carpark 3 days after we lost it. So why did it take them so long to call us? Who knows?

We told one of the parents of a student of my husband who has clout in Makati that the car had been found but we were scared to claim it as we might be asked for grease money, so she called her police friends to help us out. When we went to the police station, the policeman on duty chided us for seeking out this friend whose plice friend must have told them about us. He was needling me to admit I didn’t trust them, which was true. I brought out my rosary and novenas because I wasn’t sure how things would turn out. In the meantime, Bong Daza dropped by to give the police Jollibee foodstuff — nothing to do with our case, just an aside. Ultimately, we got the car but its battery wasn’t in it. We had brought a friend’s mechanic along to make sure it would start and he saw the slot for the battery was empty. The police said they had removed the battery. What the…? Why on earth? Then they gave us back the battery — it was small and white. Big deal. Of course it wasn’t the car’s but we let that pass. We wanted to leave the police station as quickly as possible, no point arguing.

Up till now we have no idea who took the car. Also we wonder why the person/persons who took it left it in Quad? One thought, maybe it refused to start. (My husband thinks, maybe the thieves were in cahoots with the Greenhills police and were told the owner was a disabled person so pity her.) Also, why did they get such an old car to steal? How stupid. Why didn’t they choose a newer, more plush car? Silly. Imagine, had they been caught, they’d have been punished for taking such a not-worth stealing car. Amateurs? Or were they planning to use it for some dastardly act?

Oh and the angel’s wings were still there, but not my son’s helmet. Sadly…

Memories of Iloilo

Lolo lived in Iloilo and we visited him a lot summers. This noon, as I was being wheeled homed from the grocery, I saw two Magnolia carts plying their wares. Their drivers were riding a bike, the cart in front of them, a tune, probably electronically produced, calling attention to the ice cream. Seeing and hearing them evoked memories of Iloilo and how excitedly we’d step out of Lolo’s house to buy popsicle whenever we’d hear and/or see the Magnolia cariton bell tinkling. The Magnolia man didn’t ride a bike but pushed the cart the whole day. He had a counterpart, the dirty ice cream man but we were forbidden to buy from him, the operative word there being “dirty”. the few times we were able to (furtively, I think), we enjoyed the experience. Very yummy.

Another maglibod in Iloilo was the corn person. Corn was placed in a kaing lined with newspaper. The corn was smoking hot. We’d always ask the maglibod if we could peer at the corn so we could check if the corn was soft enough or if the kernels weren’t too far apart, though I preferred the latter to closely placed kernels that usually spelled “tough”. Corn then was not the sweet corn or Japanese variety. It was a pale yellow and very sticky. Since those days I’ve only eaten the likes of it once here in Manila.

Memories of Iloilo meant walking to the shore near Lolo’s house. I liked soaking my feet in the water except that as the shore was littered with nipa huts, I saw human waste along it once. So I’d wait for Mama or the driver to take us to “cota” where we’d walk on water and pick up different shapes and hues of stones. Very refreshing experience that. we’d also buy some inasal in the kiosks around. One time as we were seated on one of the benches, my sister and I decided we’d speak English. Suddenly I blurted out, yawning “I’m so tuyo“. yes the English term for it slipped my mind – sleepy. I was so embarrassed.

Iloilo also meant going to Villa Beach to buy lechon manok, lechon and sticky coconut bibingka. Lechon was bought per kilo, chicken as wholes. Mama and I wouldn’t wait to reach Lolo’s’ house to eat. we’d start eating in the car. Sometimes we’d stop at the house of the Jison family (Hizon?) to buy pina or jusi for Papa’s barong. we’d also stop to watch the lady weave. sometimes the owner would give me a wallet for free which had the word “Philippines” spelled out. Sometimes we’d buy some ourselves for pasalubong to the maid. Pasalubong. That was a Mama practice. She never failed to buy something to bring home to the maid, driver, boy whenever we’d go to Manila or Iloilo.

Sometimes we’d go to Panaderia de Molo where Mama would buy cans of their bakery products: the green can without holjaldres, the red can with hojaldres. We’d also go to Lucy’s pinasugbo where we’d get to sample hot pinasugbo right off the pan laced with sugar.

Oh, for those days, mama and Lolo.

Oh yes, we also went to Asilo de Molo, an orphanage where Mama had a gown(?) made for San Nicholas de Tolentino, our town’s patron saint. we had his statue at home which Mama lent to the parish on his fiesta.

we’d also go to the bodega where Lolo’s 4 caros were kept. We’d watch as the encargado of the farm led the men in trying out the generator and checking the bulbs of the caro. We’d help fix the flowers of the caro and sometimes, we’d go up the Last Supper because it was huge.

And on the feast of Sta. Rita, we’d go to Molo church to decorate the altar with daisies we bought from one of the gardens in the outskirts. we’d also arrange roses for giving away on aluminum trays.

One summer, Lolo was sick so Mama stayed an entire month in Iloilo to take care of him. I joined her and enjoyed going to two stores there: Central Trading and Fatima where I’d get books for my teacher-teacher.

As I try to remember those days, more memories come back but those I’ve written should suffice for now.

Probinsiyana …

Blogs ago, I think I mentioned how Bishop Chito Tagle said, “I remember you, you’re the one from the province” when we met several years after he was my teacher in college. While I admit I was taken aback by his remark because I thought there was a tinge of insult there–backward, baduy, etc., I think that wasn’t what he meant. Besides which it is true. I am a probinsiyana, born and bred. And proud of it, I must add.

I’ll never tire of this story. Back in college we were in the house of one of our classmates, a very rich classmate whose parents were Imelda’s friends. When we’d attend their parties in hotels, it wasn’t unlikely for Imelda to be around. Anyway, one afternoon, we had to do a project in her house. We were there for so many hours but we weren’t served any food, not even water and my throat was parched.

In contrast, when we went to the house of a fishing family in Pateros, we were served fish and rice and soft drinks. The family wasn’t rich because though we were guests and they knew we were coming, that was all they could afford to serve us and they did so with gusto. They kept prompting me to eat more but I really couldn’t because I have this phobia of having a fish bone jutting out of my esophagus, tonsils or that part of me where they somehow lodge themselves if I fail to remove them before putting the fish meat into my mouth. Back then Pateros was provincial. Proof of that was the flock (?) of ducks that greeted us on the stretch of land before we could see the bay.

So, who cares if someone remembers me as a probinsiyana?

Feeling Special

Reading the article of Conrado de Quiros brought back a particular memory — no this isn’t angst ridden–not at all. Back when I was working in the admissions office of a school I used to love, it was near five o’clock in the afternoon when the phone rang. When I picked it up, it was Fr. O’Brien asking who I was. He also asked if I could wait for his friends from Baguio who had come over all the way to submit an application form to the college. They were with him in the high school. I said I would, it wasn’t a problem. He was concerned because offices, as a rule, closed at 5 pm.

I didn’t have to wait long, I think he accompanied the young boy and his sister who came to submit the application form. That was quickly done with and I went home, not thinking about it.

The following day, lo and behold, the applicant gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses to thank me for waiting for them. Up to now I recall that it came with a card indicating where it was bought, Perlie’s near Quezon City Hall. Never mind that it wasn’t obtained from a more plush flower shop, it was the gesture plus the fact that holding a bouquet of roses as I walked to the car made me feel like a beauty queen without a crown, a scepter or what would have merited them, guess what? Never mind. So I brought home the bouquet to show off to my sister though I would have wanted to give it to Mama Mary in the chapel. But I think Mama Mary must have understood how I felt then. After all, that was the first time ever I received such a gift of so many red, sweet smelling roses.

Disabled-Friendly People/Estalishments

I find it very considerate when an article ends with a sentence or words signifying the accessibility of a restaurant or resort. The last I read which had that was one written by Margaux Salcedo in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine. How thoughtful. (She wrote on IN-YO).

SM malls are also particularly attentive to the needs of the wheelchair bound. Years back we had this standing joke, my husband and I, that whenever the CSRs (customer service relations) people saw me, they looked the other way or fled because otherwise, they’d have to escort me to the elevator near their storage area. Back then, the elevators weren’t for customer use and were therefore not evident unless one asked. When Megamall came to be, however, SM became very disabled-friendly. It has even hired elevator girls who would explicitly tell customers wishing to ride the elevator to let the disabled get in first. Or if no one would budge, the girl would return for the disabled, express style, to ensure there would be room for the wheelchair bound. How nice. SM Malls were the first (and possibly the only ones) to have wheelchairs available for rent (or borrowing) for those who needed it while shopping in the mall. Their theaters except for the one in Podium, are wheelchair friendly as well. (I haven’t seen the one in Podium for obvious reasons but a friend told me there were steps leading to the theater).

Now watching movies on a wheelchair is often a problem, except in Greenhills and Power Plant where there are ramps. In Shangrila, Gateway and Greenbelt, the theaters are built such that the wheelchair of the disabled have to be positioned on the first floor. The first Harry Potter movie was punishment for me. I couldn’t wait for it to end. We watched it in Shangrila, the first time we ever watched a movie there, and the last time too, and I developed a stiff neck. I pitied my husband and son who had to suffer the same for my sake. Same with Gateway and Greenbelt, though not as bad, possibly because their first rows are farther from the screen.

Elevators are also a problem. Tagaytay Highlands is lovely. It’s like what I would imagine Paradise to look like without the serpents lurking. But one of their lodges Spa has this tiny elevator where the wheelchair could just fit, and barely. At first we even thought it wouldn’t. It was just so tiny. Even worse is the elevator in Glorietta where Hard Rock is. Glorietta has a bigger elevator but it stops operations early and doesn’t provide access to Hard Rock. So we took the other elevator which was even smaller than the one in Tagaytay. Heavens, not only was it small but it closed so very quickly. Luckily for us, there were people who held the elevator button outside to keep it open long enough to let us through.

Restaurant tables are usually too low for the wheelchair bound to be positioned facing the table such that the person could eat off the table like a normal person. So i have mastered the art of eating side view or off my lap. Or to eat facing the table as though I were playing the piano with the chair moved back. That means straining my arms so I could reach my food. Offhand I cannot think of a restaurant that allows me to eat like a normal person but I’ll be sure to take note of it if and when I find one.

Oh and there have been ramps in certain establishments where when you reach the top you don’t see access nor a pot of gold but a huge plant in a terracotta pot. Who’s to move that if the disabled were alone?

Am I complaining? Not really because being disabled has shown me the good side of so many people as well. But such experiences should be written about in a separate blog.

Stardust, Freakonomics

Watched Stardust this afternoon. Normally movies of this genre really make me want to sleep or leave. So why did I watch it? My husband has been waiting for it for ages because he read Neil Gaiman’s book and was enamored. Our son had a paper to finish so it was just my husband and I who watched, though before we left the house, I assured our son we’d watch it again with him tomorrow. (Have you noticed — I have a persecution complex? joke). Anyway, the movie was a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be. The addition of a “chorus” like in a Greek play made it fun. The chorus was made up of ghosts who appeared in black and white. And there was a narrator who helped me follow the story (very helpful because my mind tends to wander about). And Robert de Niro was a riot! He is such a skilled actor, he always stands out in a movie no matter his role. The movie lasts just a few minutes beyond two hours. Watch it for de Niro. And watch it for the two leads: Clair Danes and the male lead who portrayed Tristan. They look well together and are good looking to boot.

At the start of Clair (Claire?) Danes’ appearance in the movie I kept thinking about the negative remarks she made about the Philippines (dirty, etc.) years back, shortly after she came here to shoot a movie. But she was so into her character in Stardust that I glossed over her lack of tact. Forgive her? I’m not so sure I should…

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Speaking of lack of tact, a college friend came here to stay in the house some twenty years ago. She had the gall to point out that the light switches were dirty. I mean, hello, it wasn’t as though I was charging her for her stay or the food she was eating. (Though I must admit I now look at the light switches to check if they’re clean.) So how tactless of her. And she also said that my 5 year old son’s drawings were not proportioned. The heads were too big for the rest of the body, she said. I was so hurt for my son who heard her say those nasty things. I haven’t hosted her since. She called once to ask to see each other. I made all sorts of excuses and succeeded. We did bump into each other in a party and I was nice to her. But host her again? NEVER.

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Remember the baked goodies bazaar I said was in Power Plant for the month of September? Last weekend they were there for an “extended run.” This weekend they’re still there. I asked my suki how long they were staying. She said month of October. I said “sana permanent na lang.” She answered, “I’ll tell my boss.” How cute — as though it was as simple as that. Another funny thing re this outlet of brazo de mercedes. They sell it in two sizes: one mini and the other, small. But there was no whole or big. And listen to this: mini costs P170. Small costs P330. But guess what? Mini is two-thirds the size of the small. So why get the small? Poor mathematical sense. It happens a lot (in a lot of stores/outlets of various products) and just goes to show how people don’t know their math enough to price to entice. And maybe, some buyers don’t bother to think mathematically when they buy? I don’t know for sure. Which reminds me of the book Freakonomics.

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My son’s friend gave my son one on his birthday. He said he wanted to share a book he enjoyed reading. When I read the blurb outside, I thought it was cute. My son also told me he had read the first essay and suggested I should too. But being older, I didn’t jump into the first essay but read the preface and explanatory note. Good grief, what I thought would be easy reading, one that would lead to a restful sleep, ended up bothering me. One contention in it was this: in the US, in the 1980s or 1990s (i forget which), the crime rate went down. The initial and immediate conclusion behind this phenomenon was the improved economic situation. But lo and behold, when they studied the matter further, it boiled down to one woman’s having been decreed by a court not to have an abortion after which there were entities that fought to have abortion legalized. It was legalized in some states afterwards, and this, the book said, accounted for the low crime rate. Why? Because allegedly, those fetuses that were aborted were the type who, coming from the background they did, were prone to commit crimes. Their having been aborted meant they weren’t around to commit the crime. A matter of predestination? I guess statistics bear out this bizarre conclusion. But does it mean one doesn’t have a chance to change one’s destiny? That one is doomed by one’s genes to perdition? How odd. I guess they have found proof to this effect. But how sad.

 

Medicines

Why are some medicines phased out? Is it really true that they were found toxic or were they just so good that the patients stopped coming?

Years back my husband was prescribed Hismanal for his early morning colds. He took that for a month at least and lo and behold, his colds hardly came back. Now Hismanal which a US president purportedly took, is no more.

Dimetapp tablet was also very good. Now they no longer sell it in tablet form but as a syrup . And the main ingredient has been replaced.

Tonight my husband asked if I had Ornex. The doctor saw that his ear was clogged and prescribed the medicine. Ornex is the decongestant of choice of several doctors. But it no longer is sold in the Philippines but apparently, the doctor who prescribed it didn’t know?

Years back I went to a doctor who prescribed me a medicine for my aching knees (he thought I had rheumatism). When I went to the drugstore, I was told it was not a capsule but a tablet (or vice versa), which was contrary to what was written in the doctor’s prescription. When I called the doctor to verify, he seemed annoyed. Maybe he thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill?

Years back, a drug company was promoting a cough syrup on TV. Miguel Rodriguez was one of the show’s hosts. He opened the bottle, took a sip and said, “it tastes good.” That amused/dismayed me because who in his right mind takes a sip of a medicine for the sake of finding out how it tastes?

Years back I was made to drink Ipesandrine for my acute bronchitis. Years later I found out it had a narcotic ingredient. The medicine had a picture of leaves on the label — wonder what those leaves were such that the medicine has since been pulled out of the market. But it was really effective.

Another medicine that helped me when I thought I would die because of asthma was Nethaprin Dospan. I think I was in grade school or early high school when I took it. Still another was Optalidon for my toothaches, a perennial problem way back. When I look for them in PIMS/MIMs, I no longer see them. Thank God they were around when I needed them.

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I just checked: Ipesandrine had opium/ephedrine. My goodness gracious!

Optalidon was mere Ibuprofen which comes in many different forms now.

Sandwich the Band

Last night it was past midnight when my son arrived. He had been invited to audition for a choir and had just come home from it. He was hungry so I ordered food from McDO for him– thank God for 24-hour delivery. One need not wake up a sleeping maid.

Now Sandwich — no, not the one from McDO but the band. I was impressed. As I tried to stay awake to keep my son company, I was channel surfing when I chanced on MYX. There were two young men each holding an electric guitar so I stopped right there, almost certain my son would want me to. He looked up from his laptop and began to listen. As I did. The two men weren’t playing the guitar non-stop. They were actually talking about playing the guitar. They taught different techniques and notes/chords and that truly impressed me. They were decently/cleanly dressed in clean looking T-shirts. Their haircuts were such that they wouldn’t be nagged into going to the barber by their moms for one. I was really impressed. They weren’t the head banging type, they could actually speak or walk the talk or rather talk the walk. Whatever…

So I shouldn’t be fearful that my son will turn out to be a head banger despite his belonging to 2 bands. Sandwich is very reassuring.

What should we do…

In one YAHOO page, a question was posted, supposedly by Chris Tiu, as to what we should do to interest people in the Philippines in sports other than basketball. Fancy that considering that Chris Tiu is a basketball player. The question reminded me of another issue that is somehow similar in a subtle way…

Months back, in a contest in Eat Bulaga, the participants were very young ballroom dancers, and when I say young, I mean dancers who weren’t yet in their teens. When one of them was asked if she could dance the tinikling, she looked puzzled. When one of the hosts asked her if she knew what tinikling was, she shook her head. She didn’t know what maglalatik was either. How sad. Can’t schools teach those dances again or invite performers to show these to the students?

Manny Pacquiao on SIS and the state of Philippine media from a bed potato’s viewpoint

A few minutes ago, I watched SIS, curious whether Chris Tiu would join Manny Pacquiao in his first incursion on Philippine TV after his victory over Barrera 4 days ago. Chris wasn’t with him but some things I noted were the following:

1. Manny Pacquiao is polite. When Paolo Bediones who was seated behind him asked him a question, Paolo interjected as Manny began to answer, “Don’t look back you might get a stiff neck”. At the time Paolo said that, the camera was not on Manny who was answering the question (yes some TV cameramen aren’t alert). Anyway, as Manny continued to speak, the cameras finally zoomed in on him and this time he still appeared to turn so he could look at Paolo as he answered. I’m impressed. Way back when I was much, much younger, Papa always said “When you talk to someone or vice versa, always look at the person in the eye.” Manny was doing just that.

2. German Moreno asked Manny how he found Kyla’s singing of the National Anthem. Manny answered, “ok lang,” GM said, “Okay lang?” Kyla who was seated nearby merely smiled, while GM was trying hard to elicit more effusive comments from MP. Why do people on TV who ask questions– be they tv show shost or news anchors– persist with their questions even if these have been answered if the answers given weren’t what they expected? I think this is downright impolite. And watch out when they ask questions… they answer it before the subject who is supposed to do it does.

Another thing with GM, he had a follow up question asking MP why he didn’t drop by for the motorcade in Manila when the people there were waiting. MP said he didn’t get an invitation until he was on the plane. By then it was too late to change plans. This time GM said, but you have no plans of disappointing them, right? You’ll go there? MP was trying to think up an answer when Gelli interrupted and changed the subject matter. GM can be so pushy. Poor Manny. Good thing Gelli sensed the tension there.

I stopped watching at that point. I didn’t like GM’s bullying MP.

Like mosquitoes, why are there so many bullies in this world? In the Senate or Congress, they also abound.

The JOSES of Eat Bulaga

Joey de Leon is admittedly naughty, has a propensity to use double entendres; that he has wit and intelligence cannot be denied. Purists might just outrightly dismiss him as bastos, but there’s more to him than meets the eye. Wit cannot be had without intelligence and Joey has both in surfeit. He observes people with a keen eye and does his homework. That he reads books, watches the news and has a healthy respect for the learned is evident. Watch him nod/ sport an admiring look when a contestant answers a less than easy question correctly. Listen to him as he comments or issues repartee or ripostes very quickly. His recording successes aren’t whimsy, they are grounded on ingenuity. And he is a good father. He works every single day of the week because his children want to study in the Ivy League schools and are in fact there now. When his children in the grade school were in the honor roll, he was present during the reading of honors, lining up along with the other parents. He values education, that’s for sure. And for his stance I respect him.

Jose Manalo started out as a PA or production assistant. But talent cannot but surface and Jose has TALENT. He dances very well and is quick witted too. He has a way of leading the audience to follow his dance moves, no matter how crazy these moves seem. I just hope he won’t go the way of Richie D’Horsie who drowned himself in illegal drugs, so it has been said. Sometimes he has a tendency to be patronizing and that irks me. He can be downright smug, insulting, occasionally taunting like when he once said, “kayo talagang mga taga-Tondo”.

Burma and Mr. Aung

The thing going on in Burma is depressing, distressing, especially because years back when my son had a project that necessitated his submission of Myanmar-related info, I called up their embassy in Makati. A Mr. Aung ( I cannot now remember his first name) answered my call and even more, he compiled materials for me and lent me his son’s national costume: a top, pants and a head gear. He was hoping it would fit my son, he said, but while I knew this unlikely (his son was a young grade school student, mine was in high school), I borrowed it nonetheless and thanked him afterwards. I never saw him but my husband did as it was he who went up the embassy to pick up the things. Even for the sake of that one Myanmar person I’ve ever spoken with, I hope the problem in his country will be settled soonest and lives spared.

A New Sandwich Song

When the band to which my son belongs sang in Hard Rock, two bands later, SANDWICH performed. As I couldn’t stand the loudness of it all, I left but my husband stayed on. SANDWICH, according to him, has this new song about a barkada saying let’s eat out. Then one asks, “where?” Somebody answers “Anywhere.” Then somebody suggests, “McDO.” thereafter the one who said anywhere says, “Huwag naman diyan.”

This is an awfully common scenario, one my family of 3 is guilty of, mostly me. In fact I’d now tend to say, “Anywhere; but not McDO, Jollibee, Shakey’s, or anywhere with a branch in Katipunan.” Logical, di ba? We can get food from those restos anytime of the week, but we go to the mall at most twice a week. Sometimes I also draw the line on Fish and CO and CPK. Fish and Co – I can only stand so much of fish and chips, and CPK, Pizza for me isn’t a meal. It’s merienda. So again, spare me.

Kyla

Kyla was impressive when she sang Lupang Hinirang before the Pacquiao Barrera fight yesterday. Weeks before the event, when she was interviewed, she was reassuring all and sundry that she had no plans to belt it out nor to sing it R&B style (she is known as the R&B princess), etc. She said she knew it was composed as a march and wanted people to hear it as such. She said she’d call attention to the song rather than herself. She kept her word and it was one of the best ever renditions of the Philippine National Anthem that I have ever heard. No frills, just straightforward singing from the heart. Kyla was worthy of having been chosen to represent the country. She was decently dressed and yes, she delivered. Check out the following link if you missed it yesterday: http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=kyla+pacquiao&search=Search

Mi Piace 2

The other day, my son’s 18th birthday, we had lunch at Mi Piace in Manila Pen. While previous to this our meal in Mi Piace was stunning, the one last Sunday paled considerably. I am not sure if the disappointment lay in what we ordered or whether they might have a new chef, I don’t really know. My son ordered Trentina pizza which had leaves galore. The ham was so thinly sliced it could hardly be tasted. Sad. We ordered a pasta dish with ham and cream. It wasn’t superb, though it wasn’t that bad. The piece de resistance or so I thought had yet to come. I ordered osso bucco because of my elating experience with it in Amici. The menu said it came with saffron rice so definitely it had to be special. But I was sadly disappointed. It had a funny taste to it, possibly my uneducated taste buds didn’t like the alcohol (brandy, wine, marsala) or whatever it was that laced the dish. The meat was way to dark too. Perhaps that’s how osso buco should go, but even then, I didn’t like it. What made us happy where the different kinds of bread they laid on the table. we had a second serving of those and what we didn’t finish in the basket they smilingly packed in yellow paper bags. At least the staff was most cordial…

The next birthday will be mine. Will it be Mi Piace again? I doubt very much. Myron’s maybe or somewhere else…

Latest Food Finds

The whole month of September, in the food court of Power Plant Mall, several establishments set up tables/display racks/kiosks. The ones whose products I tried were Vargas and Diamond Hotel’s. The Vargas brazos was really yummy. It reminded me of one a friend from Bacolod gave. The custard had that true butter taste. It wasn’t at all floury. I tried the chocolate ice box cake but it wasn’t too great. The cream stood out and I generally am not too enamored with cream. Up till now, I can’t get over the ice box cake someone brought to a party in the house when I was that small. I really liked that and will somehow recall the taste if I get a chance to try it again. I’ll just know, I’m sure. Being so young then, I didn’t ask who brought it. I think I had a chance to taste it just one other time and no more. Wonder if I ever will. That must have been over 45 years ago. Memories of that prompted me to buy the Vargas version. Like the quest for the Holy Grail. I thought I might just have found it. I didn’t. Re the Vargas brazos, the one Blue Kitchen sells (Shang, Power Plant) is similar, I even have this sneaking suspicion they get it from Vargas. A word of caution though: one time I got brazos from BK in Power plant and wow, when I got home , it was rock hard. Like if someone hit me with it, the area hit could have swelled. To their credit, they gave me a new one when which I had to pick up (hassle) the next time I was in Power Plant.

Diamond Hotel: months back, I read a personal account of a young lady who said she didn’t mind driving all the way to Diamond Hotel for its chocolate cake. So when I saw the table of DH I was so excited. But I didn’t see any cake, just ensaimada. I thought nothing of getting any, as ensaimadas are everywhere. My mistake. The next time we were in Power Plant, I saw the DH rack had chocolate cake. Got a slice and just closed my eyes as it cost over a hundred bucks. I told myself that’s cheaper than driving all the way to DH in Roxas Boulevard. And as the ladies selling said the ensaimada was good and I’m usually gullible, I got one. You can forget about the chocolate cake, but do get the ensaimada. Wow, it has butter with sugar and cheese piled high on top of it. Glorious. Divine. The variant I got was chocolate, the only one left of the 4 kinds (ube, cheese, plain and choco). I thought my son wouldn’t like it because he isn’t too fond of chocolates anymore. But he swooned. One piece is a hundred and it’s huge. We sliced it into six so each of us (husband, son and I) had 2 slices. Well ok, it’s not that huge, maybe as big as the palm of my hand, but given the price, I’d like to think it was huge. So the next time we went to Power Plant, we got the ham, chocolate and plain. Stop computing how much. And best of all starting 28 September, they’ll deliver anywhere in Metro Manila for a minimum order of P1500. That’s 15 ensaimadas. I can give away some (Rationalizing yet again?) to my neighbors. I think that’s a better deal than traveling all the way to Roxas Boulevard and being tempted to buy other stuff, not to mention the hassle and the gasoline.

Speaking of ensaimada, we have a Christmas suki (source): Cunanan in Valle Verde. Ensaimada topped with queso de bola. Yummy. A bit salty because of the cheese but special. I think a box of 12 cost P450 last December. I’d usually order as early as November for picking up 24 December and 31 December otherwise I might be locked out. When they have too many orders they stop accepting, see? But perhaps this year we’ll have DH ensaimada instead. Still on ensaimada, a cheaper alternative is Manyaman (or something like that), available from a kiosk in Unimart and elsewhere. I think one costs P20 plus. “Tastes” (and is) cheaper but not bad. Mary Grace has ensaimada too, P30 plus but too expensive considering that their cheese rolls taste so much better and are cheaper. Speaking of cheese rolls, when we were much younger, Mama would get from Balbina in Iloilo so the thing was called “balbinitas”. Just a few years back I think someone gave me but it no longer excited me the way it did when I was younger because I’ve tasted better since. But of course the memory of getting an order with mama lovingly lingers. Mama and I would also go to this place that sold yummy food for the gods in Iloilo. Can’t remember the owner. And bilong-bilong. She was always so excited to eat that and now I regret not having shared her passion for it then. I was so anti-fish because of traumatic bukog experiences. But now I appreciate such. Too late. I don’t know if bilong-bilong is still sold in Iloilo, especially where Mama and Lolo used to get them.

Travels with My Mom, on second thought, memories of Mama

Mama was a constant travel companion. She had the wanderlust. Papa would always say she must have moles on her feet as she was hardly stationary. She wasn’t athletic and I took after her in that sense. I took after her in a lot of other ways too, like my love for shopping and not just anywhere but in sparsely populated malls. In Bacolod she preferred Servando’s to Lopue’s though she’d also go to the Central Market, China Rose, etc., if necessary. I think there was one other reason she didn’t frequent Lopue’s but I don’t want to make up stories which might be erroneous. So suffice it to say that she preferred Servando’s. But I digress. To our travels…

Travels with Mama meant not too many places but she tried to make them special. For example, I recall we went to Baguio riding the train. Being yet so young, I don’t know where the train let us off but that certainly was the first and last time I rode one. Going home that time I remember we took a bus. Oh and one other trip which was cute was this. The Love Bus, the first ever in the Philippines that was airconditioned was a novelty back then. She wanted us to try it. So we did, in Cubao I think, while she let the driver wait for us in the car in Makati. When we’d go to Iloilo she’d bring us to Villa for the lechon, the yummy bibingka. We’d also go to the Jison house for pina products. We’d watch as someone wove the cloth.

In Negros, though, Mama hardly went out of town with us. I recall but one time when the Constantinos were our house guests. That was a surprise move: she asked her friend who had a fishpond for permission for us to go to her friend’s place where there was a pool. Generally, therefore, travels with Mama, except for Baguio, Manila, and Iloilo, meant going shopping.

In a sense, I guess I was spoiled because she’d always ask me whether I wanted the doll I was looking at. I also got whatever books I wanted for my teacher-teacher episodes. Back when credit cards weren’t de rigeuer besides which I would have been too young to have one, she gave me signing rights in Servando’s, but these rights I never abused. I did buy stuff from Servando’s using my signature but what were these? Archie comics, Mills and Boon books, Tiger Beat, etc. Nothing extravagant. So okay, maybe I was spoiled but I wasn’t a brat (I hope). I recall when I was in college, at La Moda. Mama picked me up from the parlor which sold blouses and other items. She told me to choose a blouse and I chose one. She said, “Get two more.” I said no, one was enough. The proprietor, Amy, was shocked. She said, your mom’s telling you to get more and you demur? I guess the fact that she was so generous cultivated in me the attitude of not abusing that generosity. I don’t really know. But I really loved Mama and miss her a whole lot.

PEP Plans

Over two years ago, Pacific Education Plans suddenly announced it was going to renege on its obligations to assume the tuitions of its planholders contracted on an open basis. Those plan holders had paid a fixed amount on the promise of PEP that it would assume the education of the beneficiaries regardless of amount at a designated future period based on the plan bought. PEP justified this move to renege saying it was insolvent, had miscalculated, and was sorry. The planholders were angry. A number of beneficiaries supposedly stopped schooling or transferred to a lower-tuition schools.

Now, one might commiserate with PEP if it were truly insolvent except that in the first place, it had made a promise, hundreds of thousands of promises, in fact. And it just chose to break these promises. Second, a plan holder argued, in cases where a plan holder was unable to pay premiums, was he able to get away with them? No, the plan was immediately voided after a certain period. So why should PEP get away with this move? Besides, PEP’s major owners had other holdings: banks, real estate development properties, insurance, etc. Couldn’t it borrow from these institutions so it could meet its obligations? No way it would, it seemed. Months later, the news had it that the owners of PEP had bought Mapua. Now where did that money come from? And children of plan holders could enroll there for free, I think? But pray tell, how many of them were inclined to do so? Silly offer.