naki's nanay

To Pepz, The Coolest Dad in the World (or as I Say the Kool-itest Ever)

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 00:48:00 +0000

I wrote this way back in 2008 and while some things may have changed, the sentiment remains the same....

THE other day, I woke up to the sound of my cell phone. It was my dad.
(My parents recently moved to Bataan -- Puerto Rivas, a small fishing
community, to be exact -- to serve as a pastor to a small Methodist
church there. (They've moved back to Quezon City and are busier than ever administering to a larger flock.)

"We watched the sun rise as the fishermen came from the sea," he
texted. "We bought shrimps and are having them for breakfast."

That's my dad, always finding something new to discover, always eager to
learn. It can get dizzying at times, but I must confess I've learned a
lot in the process.

He's collected and done creative (posters and murals) things with matches, dabbled in the kitchen and produced delectable delights like adobong puso ng manok,
siopao (that we had to eat for a month because he got so enthusiastic
he whipped up a whole month's supply), he's succumbed to the lure of
Shopping TV and bought one of those chopping things to supply us with
chopped veggies and fruits galore, he's done the carpentry stuff and
fixed a few leaking pipes as well. But beyond the usual household
things, my father is relentless in his quest to learn new things.

Let's see, there was a time when he trained in Acupuncture and
Acupressure and I ended up with needles in my arms and hands to ward
off fever. Don't worry, I got my own back by sticking needles in
between his eyebrows and forehead. (They were used to cure a fever.)
From that experience, I learned to rely on massage and pressure,
instead of medicine, whenever I feel a headache or fever coming.

From my dad, a staunch environmentalist, I learned to value the seeds
that come from the fruits that we eat. I don't throw the seeds, instead I've
learned to put them away so that we can plant them in the future. My
father is so infectious, that he has gotten my son to do the same
thing only worse. Naki now refuses to throw anything away and instead
lectures me by shouting, "Recyle, Nay!" whenever I'm headed towards
the garbage can.

At times, I think I'm the laid back type because my dad is so active,
so full of ideas that I get tired just looking at him pounding away on
his computer churning out books, sermons, songs, poems, recipes,
prayers and more. By the way, along with my mom, they have a column,
Bahay Kubo, every Sunday (morning edition, Una Sa Balita) in Abante. Right smack in
the political section, they're a breath of fresh air discussing seeds,
the pleasures of planting and other environmental concerns.

But perhaps one of the most important things I've learned from my dad is to never
let problems affect my life. From him, I've learned to try and look
for the things you can get from the hurting process and use them
positively. From him, too, I've learned to rely on prayers and depend
on love to see me through. Most of all, from him, I've learned that it
matters not if you are rich, as long as you have integrity and do what
is right. The Lord will take care of the rest. Amen to that.

Happy Father's Day, Pepz!!

Blondie

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 04:04:00 +0000

Ever since he was a little boy, my son has been my No. 1 “hair” critic. He tells it like it is and has never pulled back his punches. He has raged, he has ranted but he has never raved about it. More often, he’s been horrified or amused. When I cut my hair when he was four, he would cry every time he so much as caught a glimpse of my short ‘do. Another occasion, he refused to talk to me for a week, except to say, “ang pangit!” and then point at my latest hair style. His reactions have been so tragic and funny, I’ve actually chronicled some of them. (http://nanayninaki.blogspot.com/2011/04/hairy-discussion.html).

Recently, after moaning endlessly about my increasing number of white hair I just couldn’t hide them any longer, i decided to do something about it. I went to the parlor near our house and picked a nice dark brown color and agreed to some highlights as the parlorista said, it would help camouflage the whites. Call me naive or stupid, but I mistakenly said yes. The effects were, even to my standards, quite disastrous. To put it nicely, instead of a deep chestnut brown, my hair was so light, i didn’t need to buy a gift for the golden wedding anniversary we were attending the following day. I could, in fact, be the gift! Neither was my sister kind in her assessment. She said bluntly, “parang cross ka between Aegis and laos na Japayuki." (My apologies to both)

And so it came to pass that when we got home, my son looked up from his computer, smirked and then chortled uncontrollably. Thankfully, that was it and no other verbal reactions came forth. “Nag-mature na ata,” I thought to myself. My sister and I then tried to undo the damage by buying a much darker color and applying another round of chemicals on my hair and then, prayed for the best. No such luck. When I woke up, my hair was still as bright as sunshine. When my son woke up, he had another round of hysterics when he saw my new ‘do and said, “Well it was much better than last night.” And I thought that that was the last of it.

Boy, was I wrong.

A week after that hair color disaster, we had dinner out and the truth was revealed. I caught a glimpse of my reflection bouncing back from a store.

“Ang blondie!” I groaned in dismay.

My son, the one I had just treated to dinner twice that day, shook his head, and said, “and I thought you'd never top the melon head'. (the short hair I had that he said made me look like a melon.)

He then followed it up with, “Why on earth would you want to color your hair?”

In my defense, I said, “Ang dami ko na kayang white hair!”

“’Nay,” he said, “Weren’t you the one who told me that white hair’s a sign of maturity? Well, it's about time you acquired some."

Maybe I should just get one of those blue or pink wigs in Divisoria….

Ninong Mete?

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 23:08:00 +0000

Wakes and funerals are solemn occasions that make us pause to give
respect to those who have gone on ahead of us. But what if it turns
out to be the opposite?
With All Saints Day coming up, I'm sure that most of us are preparing
to honor the dead. Here are a few snippets that really happened and
how they so reflect the humor that can seep into the solemnest of
occasions and make them so vividly Pinoy.
When My Lola Esyang (my dad's lola) died, we all trooped to Paniqui,
Tarlac for the funeral. I was a second year high school student then
and was quite transfixed by the events -- the crying, the rituals, the
beliefs, the stories. Still, I couldn't help feeling a little stifled
by it all until the funeral itself. My Lola Juanita (my lolo's eldest
sister) was quite bereft with grief and for the past days could do
nothing but cry. The funeral itself was no exception -- oh how she
cried, oh how loudly she wailed! When we got to the cemetery, her
tears grew even louder and she began to shout in earnest, "Inda, tuki
nyo ko, tuki nyo ko! (Mother, take me with you, take me with you!),"
growing more frenetic by the minute. My Lola Maria, who was standing
behind her and trying to hold her back, was making soothing noises to
calm her down. Still Lola Juanita continued to wail, until finally my
Lola Maria could no longer contain herself and pushed her slightly
toward the grave, "O tuki na ka! (Go with her then!)" Finally, we had
some peace and quiet.
I'm sure you're well aware of the Pinoy's tendency to cry in front
of the coffin, right? Well, Ned's lola and her siblings were simply
unconsolable at his lolo's wake and stood there in front of the coffin
weeping and wailing at their loss. Nothing it seemed could stop their
tears until another sooo Pinoy tradition did. "O, picture!" someone
shouted. Guess what the three did? Stood up straight, stopped crying
before saying, "Teka! Teka!," fixed their hair and their faces and
smiled for posterity...
And finally, another of Ned's lolos could be heard crying as he
arrived for the wake. From the kanto to the entrance of the church,
how loudly he sobbed. As he slowly made his way to where the coffin
was he continued crying non-stop until he reached it, stopped
abruptly, turned his head then asked, "Nino'ng mete? (who died?)"
Classic Pinoy.

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 23:43:00 +0000

IRED after a day's work, I lay on the bed watching Linkin' Park in concert on MTV. Not exactly relaxing fare, I know, but the group's metal-rap music soothes me. All that head bangin', finger snappin' and foot thumpin' .... just perfect!

In the middle of my watching the music channel, my son barges in to get something, only to come to a screeching halt when he spies what I'm watching.

"Linkin' Park???!!!" he said incredulously as he looked at the screen before training his eyes on me.

"Yes," I answered tentatively, wondering what the fuss was all about.

"Linkin Park," he declared, still with that incredulous look, "You???!!"

"What's wrong with them?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said. "But you!" he pointed out, "Classics....."

So this is what I get for playing Beethoven, Mozart and the rest of the classics gang all throughout my pregnancy!

Seriously now, my girl friends and I were discussing the weird way women behave when they are pregnant and ended up laughing like crazy.

Take for example--my cousin. She would walk around the market everyday because she suddenly developed a taste for the smell of fish. She would shudder, on the other hand, whenever her hubby was around because she hated

his smell. A friend would regularly order pansit but would watch the cook like a hawk to make sure that he only put in one small piece of liver. If he as so much as put in another piece, she would get angry and refuse to eat. Another cousin, developed a taste for Choc-nut and refused any other form of sweets and would throw a tantrum if she ran out of it.

I know I drove my mom and Ned bonkers with my request for Corn and Crab Soup. "

Yung Royco ha," I specified, not knowing it was not out in the market anymore. My mom must have bought four different brands. When I tasted each one of them, I ended up in tears because it wasn't Royco.

Being pregnant can produce some really funny situations but being a mother can get you into some more. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, this issue is specially for you.

By the way, Naki loves crab and corn soup.

Ps and Qs [The Art of Being Polite]

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 08:34:00 +0000

"Thank you."
I swung my head around to check if I'd heard right. Was that my son? Was that actually my son
bidding the waitress thank you? The waitress came to our table with a vanilla shake and gave it to my son.
And i heard it again, "thank you," he said, and with a smile. I nearly fainted.
Years of nagging him again and again to never forget his pleases and thank yous had finally worked.
It had become automatic to him. So, why am I so overjoyed?
Here's the column I wrote eons ago that would best illustrate why......
*********

DON'T you just hate it when people forget to say thank you?
I mean, it's such a simple thing to do. You see someone drop an
object and you point it out to them. They pick it up and that's it.
Not a wave, not a thank you, not even an acknowledgement.
It's sad, right?
We were at a party recently when my sister-in-law was tasked to give
out printed copies of the order of events. She went from table to
table distributing the sheets of paper, smiling all the while. When
she came back to our table, her smile had faded and she seemed upset.
"Wala man lang nag thank you sa akin," she said, quite puzzled. "Can
you imagine that?" she said. "Except for our relatives, " she pointed
out, "there's more than 12 tables here and not even one of them
thanked me."
I completely understood her. Thank you. Two words. Two such short but
meaningful words. It means you care. It means you appreciate others.
It means that you acknowledge the help and value of other people.
I go berserk whenever my son forgets to say those two words. Never
ever, I rage at him, forget your Ps & Qs (Please and Thank yous).
"Kahit wala ka nang matutunan sa akin," I lecture, "Basta lang wag
mong kakalimutan mag-please and thank you!"
Whether it's something big like a friend lending you money or a
security guard opening the door for you, don't forget to say thank you
with a smile. You'd be amazed on how two little words can spread a
whole world of cheer.

lola inda

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 23:05:00 +0000

s. Friendship. That's what we teasingly called my Lola Maria when the ICU waiting room at the Manila Doctors Hospital overflowed with her guests.
    Two weeks ago we rushed her to the hospital because she couldn't breathe. The culprit? Hika. She developed asthma this year, the year she turned 90 and boy did she complain about it. "Kung kelan matanda na ako," she grumbled.
    Not a big fan of hospitals, my lola (or Inda as we call her) wanted to go home right away. Unfortunately, her heart was not up to it yet, taxed heavily by the asthma. The visit to the ER resulted in a prolonged stay in the ICU.
    The unspoken fear of everyone who visited her was that she could so easily slip away from us. One doctor was so surprised when he learned she was 90. He told her that she should be happy 'coz she was evidently way past the limit. Not to us who love and treasure her. You see, my lola can get very makulit but that's all part of her very cute package. She's one strong woman and boy, is she still sharp. As my auntie says, Inda remembers everyone who owes her something and she specially remembers when it is she who owes somebody something even if it's only a bottle of Royal Tru Orange.
    To go back to that Ms. Friendship thing, everyone but everyone who learned she was sick rushed to the hospital. Maybe it's because of her old age that everyone was overly concerned or maybe it's just because she's genuinely loved.
    Children, grandchildren,great-grandchildren, pamangkins, neighbors, her boarders -- we all came flocking to talk to her, to give her comfort, to offer prayers and mostly to exchange stories about her. I think it was we who gave each other more comfort though, Inda was more concerned about throwing off all the tubes they had inserted in her body. And oh, how upset she was at not being able to go to the toilet on her own!
    Strong, determined -- that's the Inda I've always known. She who has raised four kids and taken in many more. She who has lived through and gave birth during a World War. She who fought valiantly so that her husband would accept the Lord and her religion. She's not one to give up without a fight and I know this is one that she won't lose. We've promised her everything -- her favorite food, her favorite flowers and told her we intend to throw a big party for her. "Jollibee, Inda," we teased, "para may mascot at baka isama pati si Aga Muhlach."
    Well, the doctors said today that she's moving out of the ICU to a private room. Prayers are most welcome.

Addicted to [Chinese] Movies

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 01:18:00 +0000

After watching two movies at the ongoing French Film Festival in UP Diliman's Film Center
(http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=592967429), I suddenly remembered the days when Sky Cable was not too greedy and the Chinese Channel was included in their regular package and I was hooked on nothing but Chinese movies.....

"THERE'S something wrong with this picture, 'Nay," my son, Naki, pointed
out as Ned and I were watching Charlie's Angels on HBO one Saturday
night.
"Huh?" I asked puzzled. "What?"
Smiling very broadly, Naki said, "You're not watching Chinese movies!"
Guilty.
For the past few months I've been obsessed with Star Movies Mandarin.
From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep, I'm tuned in to the
Chinese channel. No, I don't speak Chinese nor do I understand it but
I can read subtitles and am discovering a new world of movies aside
from Hollywood and the local scene.
As a certified TV addict, I was getting tired of the same old movie
fare on the English channels and chanced upon Love On A Diet starring
Andy Lau and Sammy (forgot her last name). Love, in any language, is
still love and very entertaining to watch. So, I sat there entranced
for the next two and a half hours as I watched the two Hong Kong
superstars playing two very healthy (as in fat) individuals trying to
lose weight and in the process falling in love with each other.
I was hooked. Day in and day out, I'd tune in to watch more movies
and discovered other action (and triad) genres and more. Already a fan
of Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat and Jet Li, I'm now a devotee of Ekin
Cheng. Not to forget Andy Lau, Jordan Chan, Edison Chen, Daniel
Wu.....and the list goes on and on. I've gotten hooked so badly that I
even watch "Movies in the Making" without English subtitles and
watched an entire Andy Lau concert (no, he didn't sing a single
English song).
The thing is, while my husband nearly dies laughing whenever he sees
me glued to my Chinese movies, I have found an ally in my son. A fan
of AXN and Japanese anime, he's bent on studying the language so that
he doesn't have to read the subtitles anymore. He also happily told me
the other day about a comedy he watched, Happy Ghosts. Yup, on the
Chinese channel.
Poor Ned! With only two television sets in the house, he has to wait
for Naki and I to start snoring before he can tune into BBC and the
rest of the news.
Well, the other night, Ned woke up to me still watching TV. "Ano'ng
pinapanood mo?
"Ha?" I answered,"Hindi Chinese," I added defensively.
"E ano?," he asked sleepily.
"French."

mula ulo hanggang paa

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 23:37:00 +0000

ANY years ago -- in the mid seventies during Martial Law -- my daddy came out with a booklet entitled, Mula Ulo Hanggang Paa. It was a workbook that asked the reader to fill in the products that he used, from the tip of his head to the bottom of his feet (from shampoo to tsinelas). As you filled the blanks in, you would realize then that majority, if not all , the products that you used in and on your body were all made elsewhere but the Philippines.
    It was my dad's way of reminding us, Pinoys to be more patriotic and not forget our own products. As June 12 rolls in, let us find ways to show our love for our country.
    1. Eat nothing but Pinoy flavors -- tapsilog, longsilog or sinangag and tuyo for breakfast. Suman and kakanin or halu-halo for merienda. Inihaw, tinola, sinigang and other Pinoy favorites for lunch and dinner. Need something to drink? Buko juice, sago't gulaman, ginumis.....
    2. Listen to Pinoy music day and night -- from kundiman to pop -- the whole day.
    3. Buy a flag and decorate it proudly -- in front of your residence, in your car. Wear the colors of the flag -- blue, red, yellow and white.
    4. Buy Pinoy books -- As you buy your favorite Pinoy authors, squeeze in those cute children's books from Adarna, Anvil, Lampara and the likes for your kids (if you don't have children, get them for your inaanaks, nephews and nieces). My son, Naki began following the stories from Dragon Pula, Munting Patak Ulan and Unggoy at ang Matsing as early as he could see. Adarna also has a great line of heroes -- men and women, young and old.
    5. Chuck those imported bags even for a while and bring out those baskets and bayong. My gosh, the whole world is crazy about our native bags, why shouldn't we be of our own? Besides, our products are environment-friendly as well as handy and fashionable.
    6. Watch Pinoy movies and help revive the ailing film industry. The Manila Film Festival is a great way to start making your way back into our film culture. Want comedy? Try Super B. Want to cry buckets of tears? Magkapatid starring Sharon Cuneta and Judy Ann Santos.
    7. Instead of just visiting museums (which is a very good idea), take time to walk around the streets of Old Manila, any of our old churches, town plazas or even schools like UST, Lyceum and the like......
    Finally, give your fathers a great big hug and a loud smack on the cheek (Father's Day is in June, too) and ask him how life was in the good old days or during the Martial Law years or Edsa 1. A great way to learn about our history.....

one is enough

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Fri, 06 May 2011 15:29:00 +0000

As the mother of one, I get a lot of unsolicited "friendly" advice to have more
kids. "Kahit isa na lang", I am told followed by a 1. pitying smile 2. an added comment like, "sayang naman", and, 3. ang tipid 'nyo naman.

My usual reaction is to smile back.
My practical reaction is to answer, "mahal masyado ang bilihin para magpalaki pa ng isa...."
My most violent reaction is, "ayoko na, no!"

Of course, the violent reaction is only when I get an overdose of my
smart alecky son. Why do I need another child when I have four rolled
into one? See, there's a little of Calvin, Dennis, Garfield and Jughead
in Naki. No, my son's not Sybil but the way he devours his comic
books, it's like he's been possessed by all four.

Naki/Dennis (the Menace by Hank Ketcham) likes to play outside with his wagon and scooter and gets into fun-loving scrapes. Though he has no Mr. Wilson to challenge, he
does get plenty of hollers his way because of his profound love for clutter and disarray, in short "makalat siya". He's also had his share of time standing in the corner.

Naki/Garfield (by Jim Davis) is the lasagna-loving, milk-drinking, always hungry
individual. He's the one who informed me quite matter-of-factly that he is "all about food". When a lightning storm hit Quezon City the other day, all of us scrambled to turn the electric appliances off and pull the plugs out of their sockets. My son? He ran screaming with his plate, shouting, "Protect the food!"

Naki/Jughead (of Archie) is the slouch who loves hamburgers and will have nothing
to do with girls. The other day, I asked my son over a hot burger who his partner in their special number in school was. He didn't answer. I had to spend precious time convincing him that I was in no way going to tease him, that I merely wanted to know because I didn't know who she was. "Patricia", he finally said under his breath, after I threatened to cut off his TV viewing time. "Eh sinong girlfriend mo??!!" I quickly followed up.
( Hey, I couldn't help myself. It just came out naturally. Sayang naman kasi ang opportunity.) Of course, he clamped up and threw me a very violent, "I hate girls!" (including my mother) look.

Now, Naki/Calvin (and Hobbes by Bill Watterson). I am quite convinced that Naki is Calvin. He may not drag a Hobbes all over the place but he has a whole cabinet of
stuffed toys to choose from. He loves dinosaurs, he loves to experiment, he's afraid of the dark, he sees monsters in shadows and he's a smart aleck. You'll never win an argument 'coz he has an answer for everything.

Example: After an hour in the bathroom, we discovered that he still
had not wet his hair. "Ba't di ka pa nag-shampoo," I screamed. "Tuyong-tuyo pa
ang buhok mo!" Without blinking, he looked up at the light bulb and remarked, "Hmmm..the light must have dried it."
Grrrrrr.

Oh yeah, Naki/Calvin has great vocabulary. While cleaning his ear,
Naki protested sleepily, saying that his Tatay was pulverizing his ear.
"Pulverizing??!!" I bet you don't even know what that means," I teased.
About to close his eyes, Naki opened them wide and mouthed, "Powdered, 'Nay."

Now, you tell me -- do I really need another child?

- - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -
Update:
Written when Naki was still in grade school, things haven't really changed. My son
is still a melange of four of his favorite cartoon characters and yes, I would rather borrow than have another one. One is surely enough :)

of weddings and baby-sitting cousins

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 05 May 2011 01:03:00 +0000

"HE'S just a baby," I muttered to my husband, Ned, as we zoomed in on my

cousin Pocholo who was standing in front of the church altar waiting

for his bride, Suzette.

Well, that "baby" is in his early twenties and certainly old enough

to get married. But you know how Ates (older cousins) can get about

their younger cousins, specially the ones they looked after as babies.

"Remember how bloated Pocholo's tummy was when we kept giving him his

bottle?" my cousin Ann and I giggled to each other during the

ceremony.

Flashback:

Pocholo's parents -- Uncle Rhollie and Auntie Baby had gone out to a party that

night and we were tasked to look after their chubby baby boy. Now,

Pocholo was a very sweet baby -- super quiet, certainly not one to

cry his lungs out -- but something must have upset him that night and

triggered a crying bout. Cool as a cucumber, Ann and I gave him his

bottle of milk. He drank and finished it all up. Great! For the next

twenty minutes or so he was content and closed his eyes. Tiptoeing out of the room, Ann

and I screeched to a halt when Pocholo let out a wail.

"What do we do?" we looked at each other anxiously.

"How about another bottle?" I suggested. "Water naman." We did exactly that and

our baby cousin stopped crying. That was the scenario for the next

number of hours: cry, bottle, sleep, cry, bottle, sleep, cry........until our aunt and uncle came home to find their little bundle of joy

sleeping soundly. Ann and I heaved a sigh of relief and hurriedly

prepared to go to bed.

We'd just reached the door when we heard our Auntie Baby shout,

"Bat ang laki

ng tyan ni Pocholo!"

You can be sure we never gave him another bottle of water that night, or any other night of his baby years.

I wonder though if he'll let us take care of his baby this time

around.....

Weddings are a great way to reminisce and I think I'll be doing a lot

of that as my younger cousins (I'm old! I'm old! I'm really old!)

start trekking down the aisle one by one.

* * * * * *

Pocholo is now in his 30s and has two beautiful not-so-baby-anymore boys. And though we haven't stayed long enough to baby-sit, he lets us have unlimited access to them. May takot pa rin sa mga Ate.

And, oh, it's not my cousins who are getting married this time around but our pamangkins (Lara & Jon; Benin & Cha). No wonder my white hair won't stay hidden anymore.

up, up and away (the soaring prices of everything)

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Wed, 04 May 2011 00:33:00 +0000

It's getting boring to whine about the rising cost of anything and everything but it seems that looking back at what I wrote during the remaining days of Erap's presidency that the situation was the same....

What's my money worth these days?

Judging from the way the price of gasoline is rising daily, may I say, nothing?

It just hit me, while dining at the food court of Rustan's Cubao, that I can't indulge in my favorite pica-picas and meriendas as much as I did before. Why? Well, because they cost double than before! I can't eat as much as I want 'coz it costs too much. That's aside from the fact that I really need to lose weight. Now, that's another problem....

To get back to the subject -- when I joined the work force, my officemates and I loved to go to SM and eat dimsum at Hen Lin. Siomai cost a mere P11 for four pieces. The siomais were big and eaten with toyo, calamansi and hot chili and we'd be able to demolish at least three orders each. After a couple of years, the siomai went up to P14, then 16. Now, it costs P22 for four smaller siomais! Needless to say that I now limit myself to one order at a time. (Hen Lin siomais are now near P40 per order)

The same thing goes for Kowloon siopao. I simply love those pork and chicken paos which my husband says only cost P7 when he was nagbibinata. That wasn't so far back -- it was in the late '70s. Well, it's now Year 2000 and the paos at Kowloon now go for P24. (Again, it's 2011 and siopao from Kowloon costs much more than that).

A conversation during lunch with my stuffed staff proved to be a trip down memory lane as we all compared the prices of candy and other foods when we were young and small. Three of us are of roughly the same age -- early and mid-30s -- and we remembered when Tarzan bubblegum was still big and went for 5 centavos a piece. Texas -- those cute pink square bubblegum wrapped in pink and blue paper -- was dalawa singko. Sarsi, Santa and RC Cola cost 15 centavos each while pan de sal was 10 centavos each -- big, soft and piping hot pa. Other bread favorites -- pan de coco, pan de monggo, pan de lemon and those oval shaped bread with sweet red stuff in the middle would go for 15 centavos each. Lugao with egg or isaw was 50 centavos a balot -- di pa uso ang hepa at gastritis noon.

Chichiria -- Clover Chips, Cheez Curls, Chippy and Pretzel ranged from 30 to 50 centavos. Sampaloc balls -- the big ones coated with sugar were singko isa while bubblegum balls were lima singko. No wonder I felt rich whenever my lola would give me 50 centavos. Now, my son complains if his lola limits his spending to P50. I mean, that can't even buy him a Kiddie Meal, right?

Now, with the way the prices are zooming up and the peso is shrinking, I figure I should eat as much as I can because I'm pretty sure that there will come a time when, like the singko, the P100 bill will only be able to buy a piece of candy...

how do you solve a problem like soaring gas prices?

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Mon, 02 May 2011 02:27:00 +0000

Don't blink! Don't you even dare shut your eyes for one millisecond 'coz if you do, oil and gas prices may just start zooming up again.

I don't drive, so I shouldn't exactly care, right? But, I do, 'coz it only means that the price of LPG (liquefied petroleum gas) is sure to go up, too. And as the one in charge of scheduling and paying the household bills, you can bet that I spend endless moments thinking of how I can stretch the (un)mighty peso.

Monitoring the price of the LPG was a former office-mate's and my way of torturing ourselves. The last time we exchanged notes, I'd informed her that LPG cost P250 a tank, she laughed and thought I was joking. I wasn't. It cost even more at P265.- We both wanted to cry but realized how futile it would be. Fast forward to now, ordering a tank of LPG begins at P650 up depending on the mood of the market. Aaargh! So what to do in times like these? Think up of other ways to cook without using gas!

Uling? Too messy and the smoke is not too environment and person friendly (meaning, watery eyes and smelly clothes). Sunlight? Just not possible if you intend to eat three meals a day.Kahoy? Not too many trees in Metro Manila to chop down and there's the environment factor again. Electricity? No way, beats the whole "pagtitipid" issue -- note how electric bills can skyrocket!

Maybe I should just change the way we cook food. Hmmm. Let's see...

Eat raw -- It could work but I can only take too much sushi and unfortunately, and while I may love salad, not all vegetables can be eaten raw.

Think vinegar! - Drown evertyhing with vinegar as in kilaw - The problem? I'm acidic.

Canned and Processed Food - While I may love canned tuna, sardines, sausages and corned beef once in a while I do not want to eat them everyday for the rest of my life. Then there's the high salt content and hypertension factors.

Fastfood/Take-out/Delivery - Yes! This I definitely will propose. Pixie's, San Pedro, Mang Inasal Andok's, Ninang's, Max, Barrio Fiesta....Except it'll probably mean that we'll only eat seven days out of 31, one week out of four sa sobrang mahal.

Gosh so many solutions.......

Maybe we should just start fasting and eat once a day -- that way I can get thin really fast.

That is.....if we live another day.
---------------------------
Update: We ran out of LPG yesterday. We were in for another shock, it's now a whopping P710.- :(

have gas, will travel

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 23:06:00 +0000

"Di ba kayo napapagod sa kakaalis!" an obviously exasperated Margie, a good friend of mine once interrupted me in mid-story about our trip from Morong, Rizal to Los Baños, Laguna.

Actually, nothing makes my husband and I happier than jumping into our trusted Chug-a-Bug on weekends and heading off to somewhere.Yes despite the hot summer heat and the fact that we don't have airconditioning. It's my husband's way of unwinding after a whole week of being stuck behind a desk. And I wasn't born with a nunal on my left foot for nothing.

Travel broadens the mind, I've always believed. It is also a good way to test your relationship. If you're still talking to each other after you've traveled together then you're made for life. That is until you find too late that your partner forgot to put your bag of underwear and toiletries in the car. (Solution? Share a toothbrush and borrow his or your son's briefs).

As someone who has travelled with family, friends, colleagues, husband and child, I think myself sufficiently endowed with enough wisdom to offer advice for those who want to set out on a holiday and survive to tell the tale (and show off the photos). Check them out ....

- Explore your surroundings and eat local food. Don't do like the Americans and look for the nearest Mc Donald's (or in our case, Jollibee). Ask around what the local specialty is and try it. If possible, head to the palengke and the most crowded pwesto to find out what all the fuss is about.

- Get off the beaten path. Why take the highway when you can take the side roads and enjoy the scenery. Sure there'll be the usual traffic, the exasperating tricyles zooming in and out, the jeepneys stopping at the most opportune moments but it's worth it to catch the local flavor.

- Don’t buy everything in sight. Staying in budget is the operative word. (Yeah, right)

- Lacking in budget? Don't let it stop you. Take day trips or look for a friend or family to stay with. Don't let the lack of a car stop you. Public transportation is a good and cheaper way to travel, too. Bring baon so you won't have to spend on every meal.

- Go to market. It's the best way to find the freshest food and discover the heart of a barrio or town.

- Go walking and interact with the locals. Not everybody can afford to go on tours so do the next best thing: check out the churches and old houses and explore them on your own. Talk to the locals to get 1. tips on the places to explore 2. get an overview of their town 3. suggestions about what to take home as pasalubong or where to eat. 4. Be courageous and get the history straight from the locals.

See it's not that hard to get the best out of travel..

of photos and wedding receptions...

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 23:30:00 +0000

Since Britain's Prince William and his long-time sweetheart, Kate Middleton did not invite me to their wedding, I'll reminisce instead on why I love attending wedding and baptismal receptions..

You know those pesky photographers in restaurants who sneak in during receptions? They walk in, start snapping away at the guests and then line up the photos outside and charge you an obscene amount to get a copy. Well, most people don't like being put in a position of having to pay for something they didn't order.

I'm guilty of the opposite for a very vain reason. You see, I'm not at all photogenic. Most of my photos show me at my unflattering best (which doesn't mean I'm a beauty in real life but photos do seem to make me look my very worst) and the ones that present me in a different light, I treasure.

The thing is, whenever I feel a camera trained on me, I freeze. Oh I try to smile my very best or appear nonchalant but the effect? Like a cat being run over by a truck.

Recently, I've been extra delighted at the number of "nice" photos I've had. Three occasions produced rather nice results. The first one, during a wedding reception at the Jade Valley was cute. And even though my son nearly died laughing at the picture of my face inside a wine glass with fruits all over, I still bought it for P50. (Remember this was years ago and that was expensive at that time).

Next stop, the wedding of a cousin at the Aberdeen Court. I kept my eyes trained on the food while looking out for the photographer. "Wala yata," I mumbled to my husband as I attacked another chicken wing. Luckily for me, by the time the photographer happened by I had already emptied my plate. Then came the moment of truth -- another cute photo in a wine glass, without the fruits, this time. "Wag mo na kunin," my husband said, "pareho din yan nung isa." I nodded in agreement but paid the man anyway. Hey, I'm not one to let a good photo out of my sight.

Finally, a baptism at Max's in Makati.Again, a photographer trained his camera on the guests. Again, I tried to look my nonchalant best while struggling to smile. Lunch over, Ned and I prepared to leave with nary a camera-bug coming to show us our photos. Trying not to look too dejected, I went to the ladies room to freshen up. When I came out, I strained my neck looking out for the last time for the photographer. No such luck. When we got to the car, I couldn't help myself and told Ned, "Di tayo inalok ng photos natin 'no?"

Smiling, he handed over a brown envelope. Bingo! Another wine-glass smiling me.

Si William at Kate ba may ganyan?

Bagoong at apple -- the perfect combination

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 23:19:00 +0000

BAGOONG with apples.

People look at me kind of weird when I say that I love to dip apple in
bagoong. A big yuck, followed by the sticking out of the tongue is the
usual reaction I get. I dare you to try it, it's simply perfect!
Delicious ika nga.

Actually, I wasn't the one who discovered the goodness of bagoong matched
with apples. Cobbie, an American friend who grew up here, urged my
sister and I to try it after we discovered a bottle of bagoong at the
apartment of a Filipino couple we were staying in in Paris. He told us that
whenever he and his ate felt homesick for the Philippines, they would
sneak out to eat apples with bagoong. Parang mangga at bagoong lang, he said.
I was converted.

Living abroad can really stretch your tongue's imagination. Until
now, i prefer my kare-kare with Baguio beans (instead of sitaw) and
repolyo (to replace puso ng saging). I also learned to tolerate
sinigang with the same two ingredients, though I can't say I liked
that combination as much as I did my kare-kare. Over all, it was our way of adjusting to the environment we were in and enjoy homegrown fare at the same time. You learn
to live with it and learn to love it.

And the bagoong phase? Did I ever outgrow it? Naaah, I extended it to
eating bagoong (alamang or isda) with peaches, pineapples and bananas.

How about you? What unholy combinations have you tried with your
favorite fruit?

bawal ang pork, bawal ang beef, bawal na ang lahat!

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 01:05:00 +0000

IT'S no picnic to go food shopping for our family. Just think of what I
have to consider when I buy the things that will grace our dining
table: hypertension, gout, rheumatism, goiter, allergic rhinitis,
heart murmur, low blood, cancer. Kind of hard to ponder, huh? But we
survive.

Armed with my list of things to buy, I then double check it with the
lists from our doctors. Again, I say, no mean feat. But we survive.

Meat. With hypertension running in both our families, I've eliminated all
processed foods (except for the occasional hotdogs for the babies in
our family, yes, that includes me). I also stick to lean ground pork,
pork cutlets sans fat and pork shoulder. Beef, I've struck off the
list eversince I felt a tightening in the chest (and in the belt)
everytime I ate it.

Fish used to be easy to buy. I'd point to everything that met my
budget and that was that. Until, my dad gave me a list from his
doctor. Those who have gout should not eat salmon, sardines, mackarel.
To make it easier for me, he said, fish that don't have scales -- no go.

Now we come to everybody's favorite. Chicken and egg. For the
hypertensives, no skin, no wings, no yolks. For those with rhinitis,
no chicken, no eggs. You should have seen the baleful looks I got from
my son. If looks could kill.....

Vegetables. Again the same rule applied. Buy anything and everything.
Until I got another list. No legumes, no asparagus, no mushrooms, no
cauliflowers, no spinach. Well, at least my son rejoiced.

Dairy Products and Oil. Our pediatrician said low-fat milk, and
that's what my son's been drinking eversince. As for cooking oil, I
bite my lip everytime I get a bottle from the shelves but if it's good
health you have in mind, then stick to olive oil and maybe sunflower
for frying (if you have to, that is).

Finally, fruits. With all the experts hailing fruits as wonderful for
the health, I figured it was safe for me to buy plenty. Well, it
doesn't seem to work that way, either. Mangoes a no-no for those with
allergies. Strawberries and anything with seeds are not for those who
have gout. Buco flesh and avocado are not too good for those who love
them but have hypertension.

Aaargh! Sometimes, I just want to follow my lola's advice. "Bahala
na!" she said and would eat pork taba. She lived up to 93 years and
she was hypertensive! But, still I trudge on to the grocery with my
list and hopefully, make the right decisions....

***********
Update:
This was written before I discovered I also had hypertension. And my doctor's No. 1 advice -- nothing fried and only good cholesterol (fish and vegetables, preferably steamed). Eeewww! And now with my sister around, pork is virtually non-existent in the ref as she's anti-pig. Waaaah!

fashion critic

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 02:11:00 +0000

AS THE only girl in our family unit, I like to seek the opinion of my
two "boys" when looking for something new to buy or wear.
My husband Ned's answer is always positive whenever I try on
something. I never ever look bad. A dress or a pair of shoes is always
perfect for me and anything I show to him is always met with exclamation
marks. "Bagay!" or "Ang ganda!" and the usual, "Wow, 'Nay, sexy!" he'll holler before letting
out an appreciative whistle.
My son, Naki, on the other hand, is a little bit more believable. You see, he doesn't mince his words and really tells it as it is.
Last weekend, we went to a tiannge and I spotted a black and white
geometric long-sleeved dress that I loved on sight.
As usual, I consulted my two critics.
"Ganda!" said Ned, as expected.
"It looks nice," said Naki.
"Reaaally?" I asked Naki again as the sales lady oohed and aahed over
me wearing the dress.
"Yeah," said my little boy, before adding, "except that it makes you
look big here...." pointing to my tummy area.
That was it. Off came the dress while a flustered saleslady asked
what my son had said. After repeating what Naki told me, she could
hardly stop herself from laughing and instead let out a small grin.
"Pwede naman lagyan ng belt, ma'am," she countered.
Salamat, I muttered, and thanked the heavens for my son who could be
counted upon to tell the truth, however much it hurts.
Finally, after a couple more rounds and a little more shopping, we
headed for the car.
"What did you buy?" Ned asked me.
"A dress," I said proudly, holding up a beautiful floral pink shift
to show it to Ned and Naki.
"Wow!" said, I guess you should know by now who.
And my Number 1 critic? "Great," he responded as I beamed with delight.
"You'll look like a big flower garden!"
Next time, I think I'll go shopping alone......

Written december 3 , 2002

**********
Update: Shopping for clothes is best done alone, although when I need a little pick me up in the confidence department, I beg Ned to come along (may tiga-bitbit na, may tiga-bayad pa, hehe). And as for the "fashion critic"? Let's not go into that, katatapos lang ng holy week.. :)

love + travel = forever?

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 23:33:00 +0000

THEY say that the best way to find out if you and your partner can stand the test of time is to travel together. That way, you find out about each other's idiosyncrasies and can test your patience to the max.

Now whatever differences my husband and I may have (taste in music, hobbies, jobs, interests), we at least like to travel together (or at least stand each other to last the trip).

Much to our son's dismay, Ned and I can find any excuse under the sun to ride our trusted orange Chug-A-Bug or creamy Dolores (VW beetles) to attend a birthday party in Morong, Rizal, a reunion in Angeles or Guagua, Pampanga; a christening in Bataan and make a side trip to Subic, spend New Year's Eve in Los Banos, Easter in Sta. Rosa, a summer weekend in Tagaytay.

Just say the word and we're ready to pack -- clothes, books, magazines, tapes, firs-aid kit, junk food, juices and water.

"How long will you be away?" my dad has been known to ask me every time he spots our large heavy-duty blue sportsbag which can hold clothes for about a week.

"Overnight," I'll say without blinking, then add, "Buti na ang ready..." while my dad simply shakes his head in amusement. Buti na lang walang limit ang luggage sa kotse.

And while others are content with simply taking the expressway to get to their destinations fast, we prefer to take the loooong and winding road. That way, we are able to look at old houses and buildings, take the off-beaten track, check out if there's something to be discovered -- an antique shop, a small dining place, a bookstore, a museum mayhaps, a second-hand store, maybe even an old Beetle!)

Yup, travel is a sure way to test a relationship, and summer is the best time to do it. That is, if you don't kill each other first. Or your son does.

Lolo Inggo

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 00:06:00 +0000

My lolo died one April, a few days short of my grandparents" 50th wedding anniversary. It was so sudden it took us all by surprise. Though many years have passed, the pain of losing him still hurts...

I dreamt of my Lolo Inggo last night. In my dream, he was his robust old self and just rarin' to see his latest apo (supposedly my newborn daughter). I woke up very happy because that's the only way I get to see him now -- in my dreams.

Inggo was my first grandparent to pass away and it hit me really bad. He was the one closest to me in proximity (we were next-door neighbors) but he was the one farthest from me emotionally. A little on the strict side, he was not very showy in his affections. Still, I knew he loved me in his gruff kind of way.

When he died, I couldn't get over the fact that he was no longer there, that my lolo just ceased to exist. That he wouldn't be there waiting for me at the kanto or by his window when I came home late at night. That I would no longer hear the kalampag of the sandok as he fried rice for my Lola Maria. That he would no longer exchange giggles or tease her unmercifully. And belatedly, I realized I also never told him how much he meant to me.

Until that day, I just assumed that my grandparents would be there forever. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. When I anaylze things now, however, it seemed that my grandparents waited for major events -- graduation, wedding, the birthdays of their apo sa tuhod-- in my life and shared them with me before they left me. It was as if they were creating positive memories and I reveled in them and made sure they realized how I treasured their love and presence.

But no matter how fond the memories are, there will always be regrets -- that you cannot hold or touch or hug them ever again.

So while we go out and contemplate how Christ died for us, remember also our dear departed ones and don't forget the ones who are still alive and a part of your lives. Spare them a hug, shower them with kisses. Better still, tell them you love them a lot. Good memories start this way...

of childhood memories and kimchi

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 23:33:00 +0000

SOME of my fondest childhood memories were spent watching my Lola Maria make buro (fermented sauces).
I remember slumping on the table as she would take a clean and empty large bottle and alternately place bangus (which she had rolled into salt) and boiled rice in it. Fascinated, I would watch her patiently arranging the fish and rice. Back then I didn't like burong isda and would liken it to kaning baboy whenever she would saute it in garlic,
onion and plenty of tomatoes. Well, times change and now, I could just about kick myself for not asking her for the exact recipe.
While I hated burong isda then, I just loved taba ng talangka and the adventure it presented when my lola prepared it. My lola would choose those that were literally still alive and kicking and then place them in a pail. She would then take them out one by one to squeeze the fat out. Later, she'd add vinegar and cook it on low fire. You can be sure
that I'd have more than a plateful of rice come dinner time.
I think watching my lola make sauces was the start of my love affair with them. Nowadays I can't seem to eat fried anything without the requisite sauce.
And then there's kimchi. While many have raved about it to me, my parents included, I still can't find the guts to quite eat it yet. A Korean couple friend prepared some in our house the other week and it did look mighty delicious. Maybe one of these days, I will find the courage to eat it. Meantime, I'll just share with you courtesy of Choi Eun Young and her husband, Rev. Park Sun Ho how to make kimchi.

KIMCHI

Ingredients:

10 pieces (5 kg) of Chinese cabbage or Baguio pechay,

2 kg Salt,

100 ml of kimchi sauce (juj kal)

400 gm. ground dried red chili,

12 cloves of garlic,

3 onions,

medium ginger

2 cups of ground rice, cooked.

Cut the Chinese cabbage/Baguio pechay into 4 laterally (pahaba, then

into about 2 inches long. Sprinkle some salt on strips. Wash the cut
strips. Arrange strips into layers in a basin and sprinkle salt on
every layer. Keep for one hour or two.

Cut finely the onion, garlic,
ginger and ground cooked rice. Mix these thoroughly, use blender mixer
if available. Rinse the salt-soaked strips of Chinese cabbage/Baguio
pechay. Feel the texture if tender, not hard or soggy. Squeeze strips
and taste. If salty, do another rinse and squeeze. Spread strips and
sprinkle red chili. Add according to taste preference. If you like it
hotter, put more chili. The red color is natural. Add mixture of
onion, garlic, ginger and ground rice. Add kimchi sauce juj kal (patis
for Pinoy) to taste. Add 2 tbsp. Sugar.
Taste to suit your
preference. Put in bottle or plastic container.

You may keep in room
temperature for one day and refrigerate after that. Can keep for a
month or two but after a few days the Kimchi will be ready to eat.

graduation day

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 23:33:00 +0000

"Make a promise that you'll always be around for your children's graduation (and other special occasions)," the assistant director of Discovery Pre-school, where Naki went to, told us during their closing ceremonies way back when. (It seems the graduation ceremonies at the University of the Philippines last Sunday brought back a lot of memories.)

Judging from the numerous parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings and yayas that were present, she didn't have to do a lot of convincing.

I grew up in an environment like that. i didn't have to be the most intelligent, the most gifted, the most bemedalled student to merit my whole family's attendance.

There really is a different high in being able to share that special day with your loved ones -- a reassurance that you are indeed treasured. If only all families were like that. Alas, in this world of ours, not all our wishes and prayers can come true.

One of my closest friends used to tell me that she loved to come over to our house because she envied my family. She liked to be with us because she wanted to belong and she felt that she was most welcome in our home. And to think that she came from a family of 10.

My friend's the gutsy type -- cowboy na cowboy -- she's emotionally strong and you'd never believe she has problems 'coz she handles them so well. Though she has always regaled me with tales of her weird family, I always thought she go through unscathed, unaffected 'coz I'd always end up laughing at her stories. But, boy, was I wrong. I didn't know how hurt she felt inside.

Just before she left for the States and right after she passed the Medical Board exams, we got together to celebrate and ended up talking about heartaches -- hers.

The daughter of a Chinese immigrant and a Filipina, she had to battle against a lot of prejudice. "Babae ka lang," her parents would tell her, so she had to make her own way through college, unlike her lucky "sustentado" brothers. Whenever there were arguments, she couldn't voice out her opinions -- her brothers were always right. If she dared to insist her own way, she was branded, "magulo, mataray, unreasonable". Eventually she learned to make it on her own -- to accept critical, harsh words instead of praise. She learned to forgive her parents and carry on even though they invaded her privacy by opening her mail and listening in on her telephone conversations. Despite it all, she loved her parents and craved their approval.

Her mother, my friend told me, was such a miser that she never bought new clothes. If she was given a new dress, she would leave it in her cabinet to rot. She preferred to wear the same clothes since 19-kopong-kopong. She also hated to go out and would only do so if circumstances forced her to. Well, anyway to get back to the story, on her graduation day, my friend begged her parents to attend and even brought her mother a new dress.

During the ceremony, my friend nearly broke her neck, checking to see if her mother was there. Teary-eyed she went up the stage alone when her name was called. Diploma in hand, she turned and saw her mother there. Dressed in her old clothes, with a run in her stockings, her mother was nevertheless there. And that was enough for my friend.

--------------------------------
Written March 31, 1998

Lenten Recipes

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 08:49:00 +0000

Meatless and fish recipes -- perfect for this Holy Week -- and heart-friendly, too.

Naki's former Manang, Narda, tweaked this recipes to suit the needs of our mainly hypertensive family.

SQUASH SOUP

1/4 kalabasa (squash)

shrimps

red pepper

carrots

dahon ng sibuyas (shallots)

garlic

onion

2 cups water

1/2 cup milk

Boil kalabasa until tender then mash. Saute garlic, onion, shrimps until brown (or in the case of the shrimps, pink). Pour two cups water, the mashed squash; sliced very small shallots, diced carrots and red bell pepper. Let it boil before adding milk.

Mmmmmmmmm!

Now, you may also want to gry the fish recipes that are Narda's specialties that are not only delicious but also light on the budget.

SARDINAS NA TAMBAN

(TAMBAN SARDINES)

1 kilo tamban

4 sili (labuyo)

1/2 c pickle relish

carrots

salt

pepper

bayleaf

1 cup vinegar

1/2 cup soy sauce

1/2 cup oil

Clean fish. Combine vinegar, soy sauce, oil and add to fish. Cook in pressure cooker until even fishbones are tender. Add the rest of the ingredients and let simmer for another 30 minutes.

GULUNGGONG NA

LUMPIANG SHANGHAI

1/2 kilo galunggong

1 carrot

1 small turnip

2 onions

10 pieces lumpia wrapper

1 egg

1 cup oil

1 red bell pepper

Boil fish and then remove moves. Dice onion, turnip, red bell pepper and add to flaked fish. Season with salt (and pepper if desired). Wrap one spoon of mixture in lumpia wrapper. Dip in beaten egg and deep fry.

Indulge not! Remember it is Lent. Instead, contemplate with these heart-friendly fare.

Two for the Road

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 03:22:00 +0000

http://www.drivepast.com/poster.php?pid=611

http://shutupilovethat.onsugar.com/category/Audrey+Hepburn

I wrote this piece for a Valentine's Day issue but realized it's as relevant for the Holy Week. Kasi naman, as we all eventually realize, ang pag-ibig nga naman ay puno ng kalbaryo, it's how we deal with it and add God into the formula that makes love a winner...

2 for the Road trailer

Two for the Road by Henry Mancini

TWO for the Road.

I don't know what it is about that movie that hooks me so. No matter how many times I've watched it, I can't help but watch it over and over again.

Maybe it's because I adore Audrey Hepburn. Maybe it's because I'm a sucker for British accents and Albert Finney has a fine one. Or maybe it's the combination of cars, clothes and the movie's love theme.....I don't know what it is, I just know that I really, really love it.

So anyway, when I found out that it was showing Valentine's night, I made sure I was in front of the TV set. The Two for the Road magic worked, I was hooked again.

The story is simple. Boy meets girl. They fight, they argue. They fall in love.They fight, they argue. They fall even more in love. Basically, that's it. If you compare it with Audrey's other movies -- Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany, Charades, Sabrina -- it probably would suffer in comparison. Why? Because it presents love the way it really is, arguments, broken hearts, included.

There's no princess here, no fashion model, no rich girl. Just an ordinary girl and an architect who start out hitchhiking together and end up together for life. Of course, Two for the Road being a full-length movie,we are taken on a roller-coaster ride as we see various stages of their life criss-crossing throughout the film.

If I had my way, I would recommend that couples planning to marry watch Two for the Road. In the movie, Audrey and Albert start out as penniless singles, hitchhiking their way through Europe. In the midst of the film, we see them marry, have a kid, grow a bit more comfortable in life (as visualized in their clothes and cars). As they progress in life, their fights become vicious, hurtful and petty. Is the marriage then doomed? Not if you're determined to make a go out of love as we learn from Audrey and Albert.

Update:

Uy, two for the road, remarks Ned as he hears the song playing. Parang tayong 2. So maybe, that's why I like the movie? Infidelities aside, the love for cars, road trips, pamimikon and arguments does sound a lot like us. If only, I had her waistline and fashion sense. And only if Ned had Albert's accent. Or maybe I should settle for, if only we had their VW bus...

****************
fyi:

two for the road on wikepedia

pikon

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 01:27:00 +0000

As the Holy Week nears, I reached into the baul to bring out another column that seeks to promote peace and non-violence.....i think
++++++++++

   "Don't resort to violence," I always caution my son, Naki. "If somebody
teases you, fight back with words."
   "Ang pikon laging talo," I reminded him of the local saying.
The following day in school, somebody told him that he was vertically
challenged (please translate to kid speak as I may get heavily trounced by my eight-year-old son if I dare say the word and he reads this).
"So what did you do?" I asked.
"I told him that if I wanted his opinion then I would rattle his cage!" he answered proudly.
   "That's good", I told him. "Remember, avoid violence at all means. Ang pikon laging talo."
   "Sure," my son answered, his nose stuck in a book of quick retorts and smart- alecky answers (Garfield, in other words).
"By the way, 'Nay," he added. "If he comes at me again tomorrow, I'm going to tell him to, 'Impress me! Say something intelligent.'"
In my resolve to stir him to non-violent action, I have realized that I am developing a kid with a quick retort to everything (well, except for questions like, "have you done your home-work?" or "are you going to take a bath na? when a very innocent "ha?" becomes the standard reply).

One time, while we were tucking him in for the night, my husband hugged Naki and began showering him with kisses. He stroked Naki's hair, stared at him fondly and then pointed out to me that our son was beginning to look more and more like him every day.

   A not- so-sleepy boy bolted out of bed and then begged us, "Tell me I'm adopted!"

   Just the other day, my mom was telling me that I had forgotten to lock the door of her cabinet. "But I never even opened it," I protested. And so we sat there thinking how it could have happened, when a little voice piped in, "Well, it couldn't have been me. I'm not into picking locks." Picking locks he may not do but listening in on other people's conversation he has no qualms about. Little jugs have big ears, eh?

   And finally, I was happily recounting to my husband that during a reunion with some of my high school classmates, one of them had remarked that "pumayat daw ako."   "Was he serious?" my smart-alecky son remarked as I turned to see a chortling red-faced Naki.

"Am I talking to you?" I asked frostily, wishing very hard that I hadn't espoused the value of non-violence.
Ang pikon laging talo.

------
Written 10 years ago.
To those who smiled, chuckled, laughed, became hysterical at the phrase:   one of my high school classmates  remarked that "pumayat daw ako, "...mabilaukan sana kayo! :)

Cinder-Naki (if the shoe fits, get five pairs of it na!)

noreply@blogger.com (jay cunanan-canlas) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 01:01:00 +0000

First written when Naki was in grade school:

If I could have one wish at this very moment, I'd wish for the powers of Cinderella's fairy godmother. I want to have the ability to conjure shoes up from nowhere. Why, you may say, would I wish that above all other things?

Let me tell you why...

A month before school started, my husband and I bought our son, Naki two pairs of sneakers to use. "Wag na muna black shoes", I told Ned, para makatipid. I believed the ones we bought a year ago was still in good condition and as I made sure there was a lot of allowance for Naki's feet to grow in, I was confident enough that they would still fit him. I didn't account for one growing boy who seems to have taken his feet size from mmmmm....his nanay (he!he!he!).

Well, day one of the school-year began and guess who couldn't fit into his black shoes? "Can't you just wear your sneakers the whole year?" I asked Naki only to be met by big worried eyes that said it was imperative that they wear black shoes all the time.

Thus began our venture into the Shoe Capital of the Philippines -- to look for a pair that would fit our "Cinder"boy. Happily we found one that fit him at the right price. The story should end there, right? I mean, the next time he needed black shoes should really be before June next year di ba?

Wrong!

June had barely bid us farewell when I caught sight of his slightly new shiny black shoes. Oh they were still shiny alright -- on the top, that is. When I checked more closely, they were also split right into two at the bottom. Well, I guess that's what happens when a kid uses black formal shoes during PE.

That's it, I figured, I'd just have to buy a new and more expensive pair to make sure they last a long time (well, until the end of the school year). So off I ventured to SM, armed with my credit card, to select the sturdiest and most well-crafted pair of black shoes I could see. If the price was a little higher than his previous pair, I was reassured by the fact that this new pair would last.

Boy, was I in for a rude suprise.

Fine craftmanship and sturdiness had no defense against a third-grader who forgets to put his shoes into his bag after changing into sneakers for his PE class.

"You what???????????," I screamed when he came home with a woebegone look on his face.

I will spare you the gory details -- of the futile search, of the endless sermons and the sniffles and the tears -- and just sum it all up in three words -- NEW SHOES LOST. Those beautiful expensive shoes are kaput, gone forever, and I have no more strength to even think of how to replace them.

Where's Cinderella's fairy godmother when you need her?

* * *

2002 Update. My son has a new pair of black shoes. His tatay's!!! he he. And our problem is getting a good pair of sneakers.

2011 Update. Naki's in college and my husband and I lobbied hard for him to choose Diliman over the other school in Katipunan. One of our bribes? Tsinelas. We told him he could ditch the black shoes and sneakers for the comfy thonged slippers and no one would take him to task for it. I'd like to say we won that round.Goodbye to black shoes and sneakers. He, in fact, got so comfortable in his tsinelas that it became his standard foot accessories. Until one rainy day when he came home soaked and bearing a tsinelas in one hand. Turned out that there was a mini flash flood inside the campus that bore one of his tsinelas away. "Hinabol ko, 'Nay! But the water was too fast.."

Mayron kayang Tsinelas fairy godmother?