Visita Pariente

Sitting on my bed reminsicing about the 'tropical' christmas back home, I can not help but smile at how people spend their holidays so differently.


Many of my friends (especially tagalog ones) spend it with noche buena, simbang gabi, decorations and whatever makes them look busy. I like that proverbial saying, "you buy things you don't need, with money you don't have, to impress people you don't like" The holidays have become so commercialized that it has lost the essence of the meaning of the season.


I am not one to do any of those traditions mentioned because for me, Christmas day is the event and anything before that were just normal days. Sure, we had decorations and food fare, but my mom didn't stress herself out if she didn't feel like. And for us, it was really no big deal.

Christmas day in Cebu was dressing up to visit all my relatives. Something like visita iglesia, only this was 'visita pariente'. Normally, my cousins and I would all ride a combi, then start with relatives nearest the compound. All of us knew what our gifts were, we just didn't know the value. Not one to stress out, all my aunts and uncles have imparted on themselves to give us cash gifts. Even as we grew older and got married, most of my relatives still gave cash gifts. That way, we could buy ourselves with what we needed or wanted. Unless you made your material request known to a relative who can afford, then that's a different story.


By noon, we would converge in my grandma's house for the family gathering. As we were already stuffed from eating whatever was offered us during our visits, we would just then count our stash. Planning what to do with our collections was fun. And if that was not enough, our grandparents would add to our stash only if we did a presentation, which we readily obliged. Usually our plays had plots with gangsters kidnaping a rich guy and a flirty lady'. Then, they would be rescued by good guys. Eventually, a gun fight would ensue ending in death for all the actors in the play..And I mean everyone. I guess we all agreed that nobody was to be a hero of some sort, since we all wanted to be heroes. So to even it out, we all died in the play.


We probably did a thousand plays in our family gatherings. Although different settings and scenarios, we always had the same plot. I always got the role of flirty lady...ALWAYS!..And my other cousins always had the same roles...ALWAYS ! I guess it was the dialogue that made it more interesting. We had a knack of making dialogues seem crazy.

Lolo Banong was an uncle who was considered the 'Santa Claus' of the compound. He was a huge stocky man with a heart of gold. I got my namesake from him and even when I was growing up, I always felt as the favored 'niece'. I always had the higher stash than the rest of my cousins when it came to him.

Every christmas morning, Lolo Banong would gather the less priviledged around the neighborhood and have them line up on his driveway. Children in tattered clothes, snot dripping from their noses and some smelling of dried fish would eagerly come. Even mothers carrying small babbies would join the group. Then Lolo Banong would give each one a coin and see the smile on their faces. I remember him giving out 25 centavos , but then it became more as inflation crept in. Before he died, more than twenty years ago, he was already giving those huge silver peso coins.

Fast forward several years later, old traditions are replaced by our very own. Relatives have relocated, some got married and spend the holidays with their own respective families. But thanks to technology, the closeness of a family can still be felt even with thousands of miles apart. With webcams, cell phones and even iphones/blackberries, we can witness the happy smiles from families opening balikbayan boxes filled with gifts, to toasting our glasses and sharing our holiday recipes. As we always say, "I'm just a phone call away!"

Usually, preparations like card giving or gift shopping would be done when the 'ber' months come into place. By the time December steps in, I'm usually done. I have taken the stance which my mother took of not stressing myself. That's because I want to enjoy the Holiday and not be bothered by too many things. Except for my grandchildren who I dote with buying gifts, my niece and nephews get the old tradition of cash gifts.

Not one to dress with holiday trimmings, the only thing I stress myself is the menu I cook. Thats the enjoyment that I don't want to miss. Preparation is key to having fun. And by the time guests arrive, all I do is take out food from the oven and the fridge, lay them out on the buffet and its set. In America, everyone helps himself with fancy paper plates to replace those chinas and plastic wine glasses in lieu of glass goblets.

This christmas, we let my grandchildren do the broadway "Annie" before giving them their presents. But the video I took was that of my daughter in law and my son coaching my grandchildren. The sight of my son pirouetting with arms doing a MacDonald and my daughter in law's facial expression con gusto was really comical.

Christmas is really a time for children. In a few years, my grandchildren will be one of those that will recieve cash instead of something material. In this day and age, you can never be too sure what they really want. Technology has to blame for that. PS3's, wii's, laptops, latest gadget cellphones or whatever is the 'in' thing is better than a scarf, perfume or a dress.

Come to think of it, I wonder what Jesus got on his 10th birthday?

Lenguas de Pilipit

One of the first things we learn as children is to speak the language of our birth. For me, it was the visayan language with its melodious intonations but spoken with a hard tongue. Then our parents with their western mentality starts speaking to us in a foreign language known as “English” and we were stuck for life.


In school, English was the spoken language, but at home, it would be visayan for the benefit of the maids. Until the maids learned how to speak broken English, then our pronounciation got screwed up. We were also exposed to Spanish speaking relatives, and eventually learned some words ourselves. My grandfather being a pure Spaniard (kuno), would sometimes speak with the other elders in Spanish so we, as children wouldn’t understand, but eventually we did. As we became parents ourselves, we would speak Spanish if we didn’t want the children to know what we were talking about. That’s when spelling the words weren’t as effective anymore and the children learned how to read.


Moreover, when I got married to an FBI (foreign born illonggo), I was exposed to Illonggos. They had a more melodious intonation and sometimes, when the men spoke, you’d think they were flirting or gay. Recently, my daughter and her husband relocated in Bacolod and so did my sons. So now we all speak a mixture of English, visayan and Illonggo.


Although we lived in Manila when I was young, and pilipino was a must in our school curriculum, I never really got the hang of speaking tagalog. In Cebu during my married life, all my best friends were tagalogs, but I can assure you that when I spoke tagalog, it sounded Chinese.


Lately, I have been learning how to speak Korean since I got hooked up in a soap opera a few months ago. Before I go to bed, I surf the channels for a nice show and what struck me was this Korean show. It had a present day setting and had subtitles for me to read. My initial reaction from watching the first episode was very perplexing. A couple was having a verbal fight but their actions and faces were contrary to what I was reading. The woman was insulting yet smiling but not in a sarcastic way. In another scene a man in black suit was carrying ,piggy back style, a woman who was in a gown and high heels. You would think this would happen in the countryside, but the setting was in the city of Seoul, Korea. But what intrigued me most was the way Koreans prepared food. So many side dishes in small platitos. Very feastlike.


Another language that we are familiar with and speak a few words of is Chinese. Mandarin or fookien, it doesn’t matter since most of the words learned were from high school days--these were mostly curses and numbers.


If you think my tagalog sounds like Chinese, wait till you hear the Chinese talk american. I once stayed with a Chinese family here in america and they were so nice and fun to be with. One day my friend (let’s call her Joan) was visiting her 80 year old mother. The old woman was complaining about her eyesight but she was speaking in Chinese. Joan, sensing that speaking a foreign dialect in front of a guest was rude , commented to her mother in English, “but mama, your eyeglasses are as big as vernacular.”


Then I asked her, “what do you mean, Joan?”
“you know the one that looked like a telescope.” she said.
“Oh, you mean binoculars." I interjected then corrected her " Just to let you know, Joan, that binocular and vernacular are two different words.”
Then we both started laughing while she continued repeating her mistake.


At one time, Joan’s brother (let’s call him Ben) and Mike went to a book store. Ben proceeded to ask for help. “Do you hab koots”, he said in his very bisaya tone.
“I’m sorry sir, you’re in the wrong store. We don’t sell coats here.” noted the sales lady.
“No, no..ets a book wid mini see-ings.” The sales girl squinted and looked at Ben analyzing what he just said. Then as if she realized what was said exclaimed, “Ohhhhh! You mean QUOTES! Right at the back of the store beside the philosophy books.” she commented. With that, she pivoted leading him towards the rear side of the store..
Then as if whispering to Mike, Ben commented,”Bida, ining glis na to, di pa siya kasabot. BUGO gyud!”
(My goodness, that was already spoken in English yet she didn’t understand. How stupid)

I remember my mother relating to us an experience she had while travelling Europe. She and my aunt went into a restaurant and when they looked at the menu, they didn't understand any of the food offered as it was written in the native tongue (I forget what country it was). And the waiters didn't even speak a word of english. So when my mother would point something out in the menu, the waiter would act it out. If it was chicken, he would fold his elbows and flap it accompanied by a sound, "cluck, cluck, cluck". Then if it was beef, the waiter would go "moo,moo!" and for the pig, he would snort. That was how they understood each other.

Even babies as young as a year old or less learn to communicate in their own language.
"Milk" could mean having your fingers open and closing rapidly. Or when my eight month old is done with his dinner, he would brush his hands to and fro as if saying "all done!" Or when he is hungry, he would point to his mouth.

It doesn't really matter what language you speak. All that matters is for your message to be relayed and understood. Oh well!

Monkey See, Monkey Do

In our family parties in America, there is a standing commandment, “Thou shalt not talk about politics or religion.” That's because most of us are highly opinionated and hate to lose an argument, regardless! Ha!ha!ha!

At a recent Republican presidential debate, the candidates were asked about a ‘what would Jesus do?” question. Most of the candidates felt uneasy with their replies, except for PC Gov.Mike Huckabee who said, “Jesus would be too smart to join politics!” Well said!

Religion and politics are the two most controversial issues we face today. Certain oxymoronic circumstances might be considered legal, but not necessarily moral. “It’s your word against mine,” is often used as the basis of many an evidence. But then the question of character is tested for authenticity. The moral fiber of american politics is important in keeping office...until one gets caught and then one's career is over.

A few months ago, New Jersey Governor McGreevy resigned after he declared himself gay. It was either that or face a billion lawsuit of harrasment from his paramour. Senator Larry Craig of Idaho recently resigned after he was booked on misdemeanor charges (like soliciting sex) in an airport restroom. The Clinton-Lewinsky case was such a huge scandal many years ago. Don’t they ever learn that men think with their balls? When it’s loaded, it just has to be relieved, otherwise, the balance between the brains and balls would be like a pendulum hitting one on the other.

On the other hand, some preachers, priests and religious leaders, are often caught with their ‘pants down’, to the dismay of their flock. However, forgiveness by the flock is often crucial. After all, didn’t the bible say to forgive seventy times seven? So hey! They still have 489 chances to go.

The 300 years rule by the Spaniards in the Philippines is significant in molding the moral fiber of the Filipinos. Its early colonization brought with them the culture and practice which easily assimilated into the system. Hearing about the good fortune in the East, many Spaniards traveled thousands of miles to seek their own fortunes at the expense of the island inhabitants. Moreover, because of its geographical location, the Philippines was considered an Alcatraz, where thieves, corrupt officials, murderers and other criminals from Spain were ostracized to serve their sentences in the Philippines.

The first mention of the Philippines to the U.S. was in 1786 when the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia was urging Spain to grant American trading privilege in Manila. Burdilla, the first american businessman to trade in the Philippines, kept a diary about his travels. In his observation he wrote,”There exists among them a want of moral discrimination. This is no country for an honest man.”

Spanish rule in the Philippines was heirarchical, discriminatory and corrupt.

Only Spaniards were allowed to govern and rule . Discriminatory in the sense that the inhabitants were called ’indios’. Spaniards born outside of the archipelago but had tainted indio blood were called peninsulares. Spaniards born in the Philippines were called insulares. Mestizos were considered a mixture of indio and Spanish or with any other race including the Chinese.

Most indios were prevented from learning anything except to be servile of the Spaniards. During the 18th century, the moneyed indios paved their way to gain education and status in a hispanic dominated culture. They were called the “Illustradores”. I would presume that the term "it's not what you know, but also who you know" became prevalent in this corrupted culture. The indios/illustradores paved their way to be recognized as equals by greasing the pockets of any Spaniard in command.

It was the Ilustradores who coined the term ‘Filipinos’. Among them was Jose Rizal, and my very own maternal great grandfather whose name is honored by a street in Cebu famous historically as D. Jakosalem

When many a Filipino could no longer stand the atrocities committed to them by the Spaniards, several underground movements flourished. Aguinaldo’s group was one of those that succeeded in creating loud noises against Spain. Eventually he was exiled to Hongkong after the Spaniards paid him P400,000.00 (a hefty amount) to keep his mouth shut. No wonder every politician has his price.

Sources say, Aguinaldo kept the principal intact while spending the interest on his troops and staff. He waited for the right time to buy arms and consequently plan the overthrow of the Spanish rule. Consequently he found an arms dealer in the U.S.,who swindled him of more than a hundred thousand dollars worth of arms and ammunition. But his luck didn’t turn out for the worst. When the Spanish war ended, the Americans bought the Philippines for 2 million dollars. (another money exchange for land which wasn’t theirs in the first place)

The moral fiber of the Filipinos were unraveled during the Japanese Occupation when they had to cheat and rob in order to survive. In 1947 an inquiry by the U.S. government was made regarding a $300 million worth of assets given to the Philippine government in terms of military surplus vehicles, machinery, garments and other items which were stolen. A senator during that time (Jose Avelino) amassed about 300 thousand dollars from selling the loot to Chinese fences. In other cases, crop loans worth millions of pesos went into the pockets of landowners and officials. The New York times who did investigation on this found “no tenants and no crops, and the money could not be recovered.”

So what else is new in the Philippines? With 300 years of ironic religion by Spain and 50 years of Hollywood by America, the Filipino people indeed live a messed up life of principles. A land inherited through blood and violence , then professing Christian love and sacrifice, cannot be legal to the people it once belonged to. But who are the original owners or where are their descendants? Lost in the graves along with Lapu-lapu.

But inspite of all these adversities happening, I am still hoping for a miracle. After all, we can only hope for the best and prepare for the worst. As a cebuano and having the blood of Lapu-lapu, a silent passion is burning within me, waiting, analyzing, strategizing for that moment when I can make a significance. Not necessarily in a huge magnanimous way, nor a political way, (God forbid,but I don't like politics), but in my own humble way. Where my only witness is my God that would say, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"

Just recently, a clown was given a ‘time-out’ by its peers and placed in a cage indefinitely. A midget was seen unlocking the door of the cage, freeing the smiling clown out of his cage. We can only assume that something was traded for the clown's release. This is a scenario quite obvious in a circus. Actually, this is Philippine politics 2007.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

by Edmund Burke (Irish Political Philosopher)

My CEOis a Three Year old

Coming to America was really my idea. Mike,my husband never wanted to live anywhere outside the Philippines .But after our silver wedding anniversary, several years ago, Mike decided to relinquish his role for my desires.

The opportunity came when I had befriended an American businessman who was part of the team of Americans coming to our country for mission trips. Every year, we held medical missions in Boracay , Baguio, Dumaguete, Leyte and other remote areas that needed medical care. We also did much evangelizing . It was during these times that Richard F. became close to me and offered me a job to work in one of his business interests in the Midwest.

The decision to try another scenery came when the furniture industry, where we belonged for a couple of years started to get shaky. This was after the 911 incident, when many buyers were on the sidelines and the manufacturers where hit with high overhead rates and dwindling export sales.

So, there I was in Ohio, having a desk job complete with my own computer and phone, rubbing shoulders with management. When many executives had initials after their last names like CEO. AVP or DIR, my title was FOD (friend of director). I was really in the grind, waking up at 5 in the morning to prepare myself, then carpool at 6 a.m. to be at the office by 7. The hour ride to the office was a scenery of miles and miles of cornfields, cows, silos and small towns. By 3 pm, we would leave back for home, prepare dinner, do chores then early to bed for that familiar mundane cycle to commence the next day.

The job offered to me was ideal for a contemplative transition after the roller coaster experiences of the export business in Cebu. It entailed a routine, with minimal stress and an easy workload, which offered a sense of relief. But after awhile, I sensed a non-challenging life which needed to be revitalized. As I say, it’s either my attitude or I’m in the wrong job. I chose the latter.

We decided to move to the “big apple” since my son and his family would be migrating in a couple of months.

Getting a job in the big apple is so much easier than finding one in the Midwest, so much so that after 5 weeks of tedious search and constant kneeling to my God, my ordeal was over and my prayer was answered.

My job would take me only 15 minutes walk max from where I live. So sparing the cost in commuting and the much needed exercise was a plus factor in choosing this over the others. Moreover, my job gives me rent free accommodations , tax free payments and stress free environments. The ideal job that not so many are cut to be but has tremendous advantages and influence you can imagine

My boss is short, blonde and the best looking guy I ever saw for his age. He does have a temper and screams to the highest of decibels when he gets impatient. And even if he gives me shit, I clean up after him. But I don’t mind because he allows me to give him secret kisses and I melt when he looks at me with his deep blue eyes. We go for short walks and hold hands at the park. We have lunch breaks and snacks together. And best of all, no intrigues and gossips mill around with this kind of displayed affection. After all, my boss is 20 months old and I’m his nanny.

Nannies or ‘yayas’ as called in the Philippines carries with it a stigma because they are considered uneducated and poor. But not so in America where there is dignity in labor.

When my agency called me and offered me a job as a nanny, I hesitated at first, but then I decided to take the challenge. I have heard rumors of being nannies to stars, millionaires and diplomats in the big apple, and they were having fun. So I wanted to have some fun, too. And to this day, on my second year as a nanny I have never regretted it a bit. Although I started as a nanny, today, I am considered an adopted part of the family.

This is one job that I know will have to cease when the kids get older. Yet deep in my heart this is the one that had the deepest relational experience of all. Because for me, all the other jobs I had are no different than what I have now. Yet this one has given me more insight and inspiration.

My very first book “My CEO is a three year old”, is a job memoir that relates to experiences from my previous jobs with what I have now. I am editing it at the moment and hope to have it publish soon.

Anyway, let me end with the reply to a question given to our own Philippine candidate Ms. Precious Lara Quigman that won her the Miss International title in 2005.

Q: What do you say to the people of the world who have typecasted Filipinos as nannies?

Lara: “I take no offence on being typecasted as a nanny. But I do take offence that the educated people of the world have somehow denigrated the true sense and meaning of what a nanny is. Let me tell you what she is. She is someone who gives more than she takes. She is someone you trust to look after the very people most precious to you --your child, the elderly, yourself. She is the one who has made a living out of caring and loving other people.So to those who have typecasted us as nannies, thank you. It is a testament to the loving and caring culture of the Filipino people.. And for that, I am forever proud and grateful of my roots and culture.

Religious or Spritual? What do you think?

Having a symposium is one way to disseminate information. Thus the 11th annual memorial lecture in honor of Rafael Salas held at the United Nations las Nov. 20 was just that.



Honorable Gertrude Mongella, president of the Pan African Parliament was guest speaker and touched on reproductive health issues of the African nation. She mentioned that her country has the highest population in the world with a ratio of 300 people for every square kilometer and that only one out of 22 born children will live to see daylight. Her appeal to the global community present at that symposium that night was indeed a revelation.



One statement that struck home was her mentioning of " religion which discriminates women in her country and should be re-examined." I couldn't agree more with her. Such subject is the issue of many women as well.



Haven't you notice that women's adversities always have MEN. Menopause, Menstruation, Mental etc..



It never ceases to upset me when verses taken from the bible are taken out of context to fit the male species' interpretation. This is what I'm talking about.



1. Submission
Ephisians 5:22..25 (Wives submit yourself unto your husbands, as unto the Lord...Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church and gave himself for it)


When a man uses this verse as a tool to express his authority over a woman, there is only one conclusion. The husband has a symptom of pigititis also known as "pigheadedness". Many husbands believe that this verse puts them in charge no matter what conflict or disagreement arises. This is not the point because the verse before tht (21) states that submission is enjoined by all believers in fear of God. A wife's submission to her husband is to be "as unto the Lord" She has only one Lord, (Christ) but her devotion to her husband is to be of the same quality as her devotion to God. Similarly, a husband shows love for his wife by following Christ example of humility and self sacrifice (which is also a form of submission). No where in these passages says that the husbands are to excercise power or authority over his wife.



2, HEAD OF THE FAMILY
1Cor 11:3 ( But I would have you know that the head of every man is Christ and the head of every woman is man, and the head of Christ is God." Eph. 23 (for the husband is the head of the wife)



Again, this does not mean control or subordination or even heirarchical. When the bible was translated from the original Greek form, many words can get mixed up. The greek word "andrasin" for example can mean man or husband, depending on how it is used in the context. The word 'head' has been explained in a number of different ways variously as supreme ruler, governor, boss, derivation or source. Therefore, this verse simply means that the husband is not commanded to be head but is described in metaphorical terms as the head of the wife. Since the context is the parallel of not the glorious ruling of Christ, but has self giving sacrifice, it is likely that this is the most sensible reading.



The derivative source could also mean that women originated from man by its historical beginnings that women came out of man's rib (Adam in Genesis).



Given that our filipino culture is heirarchical, many men pressume that they are "boss". It can be terrifying to women that Christianity advocates them as seconday to men's supremacy. Not the point here. The bible also states that we are co-heirs to God's inheritance.


When two people enter marriage, they bring with them various gifts and abilities so that each partner will seek to develop the gifts of the other, rather than fitting into mythically predetermined roles. There is no biblical mandate for husbands going out to earn their daily bread and women staying home to bake it. Paul never specified any cultural action or practical application from this passage. But when a man loves his wife (Eph 5:25) he is fulfilling his role.


3 BIBLE IS LAW BECAUSE IT IS GOD'S WORD


I am an absolutist in terms of God's Word. 2Timothy3:16 says that "all scripture is given by inspiration of God and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." But I am a relativist when it comes to the level of belief that a believer or a non-believer has in terms of his faith.



If one is a spiritual midget, then the letter of the law is the basis of one's belief. But that is not what the truth portrays. We do not follow the letter of the law, but by the Spirit of the law. We go beyond what the scripture says, beyond its black and white letters. Just as the final verse of that chapter says 2Tim4:22 "the Lord Jesus Christ be with thy Spirit"



Ken Wilbur's book "the integral vision" explains in chapter 5 the aspect of being spiritual but not religious. When you first read his notes, you can easily conclude that he is a weird man. But sometimes weird men makes sense in our mess up worlds. Just as there are spiritual midgets, there are also spiritual giants in the Christian world. Wilber explains his findings/researches scientifially in layman's terms and it is up to us to find what level of spirituality we have attained.


Many researchers define spiritual intelligence accordingly. The most simplified one is based on Paul Tilich's definition that "spiritual" refers to that which indicats a person's ultimate concern. And he goes on to show the levels and stages. Just like Maslow's Needs Heirarchy, there is a graph to knowing your own level of spirituality. However, this does not mean that the level described will determine the specific content of one's ultimate concern, but simply explain the degree of development, complexity and consciousness that goes into one's ultimate concern, whatever the level may be.


Summing the whole issue on men being head (boss juno), submitting (under kuno), and it's all found in the bible (Law kuno), everyone who takes their spirituality seriously should consider the outcome which one desires.


I definitely confirm with Dr. Mongella's observation that religion is discriminatory to women when seen at the least level of understanding. Education in every aspect, whether for health, values and other pertinent issues should take priority in the list of programs,not only in Africa but in many parts of the world. Religion takes a major role in this quest because these are the origins of many wars since time immemorial.


To quote Wilber: The press (media) seems to recognize only two types of religion: fundamentalist nutcases and New Age nutcases. Both, of course, are pre-rational, with the fundamentalist believing in amber dogma and myth, the new agers believing in magenta magic. Any transrational orientation, such as transpersonal psychology is lumped in with the New Age nutcases. But heck, the only two people that the press knows who are "spiritual" are George W. Bush and Osama Bin Laden. And the press can't figure out who is the more dangerous.

Yehey! I am once again invited to a symposium at the United Nations in honor of Rafael Salas.

My mother’s youngest sister, Carmelita is married to Rafael Montinola Salas. He was the Executive Secretary of the Philippines during the Marcos regime. When Tito Paeng, as we fondly call him, knew that Marcos was going to declare Martial Law, he fled the country along with his new bride, Tita Carmen.

Because Tito Paeng was brilliant and very knowledgeable, he was able to organize the U.N Fund for Population. This entity aids to promote the rights of every woman, man and child to enjoy a life of health and equal opportunity. He was the pioneer and first Executive Director for UNFPA.

Every year, at the U.N., Tito Paeng is honored as the brainchild of such a dream and it has been a great help indeed to millions all over the world.

Learning that we had recently moved to New Jersey, Tita Carmen did not hesitate to send us an invitation to grace such an event.

Taking half a day off from work, I immediately hurried home for a change of clothes. Donning a black pair of pants with matching top and gold belt for accent, with boots for that New Yorker look, I scurried to the train station just in time to catch the 3 o’clock transit for an hour’s train ride to new York city.

Arriving New York Penn Station at the onslaught of rush hour is not a fun sight. Literally! People were on a stampede rushing to catch their trains. You would think you were in a football game tackling your way through the meter dash. By the time we got out of the Penn, it was starting to rain.

We had decided to take the bus earlier, but with the traffic caused by the rain, we would surely be late. So hailing a cab (a first time for me in New York) was our best bet in reaching the U.N.

After the security checks, bags open and hands capping on the sides, we were hailed to proceed to such and such corridor where the reception committee for the event was situated. The reception committee took our invitations and exchanged it for badges that would grant entrance to the affair. Since there was already a group that converged when we arrived at the desk, an escort brought us all together to a set of elevators that would lead us to the main hall.

The familiar hall, which I only see on t.v. was now a reality. Where once I would see heads of nations debate on global matters, negotiating on the affairs and futures of countries, I am now witness to such a place of action. Our escort informed us that we could sit anywhere we like except the oval center table which was reserved for the heads of states or the ambassadors. Above the center table and on stage sat the guest of honor, guest speaker and the present UNFPA director, together with my Tita Carmen.

The guest speaker, whose name now slips my mind, is a writer for the New York times and travels extensively all over the world. He spoke about the plight of women in terms of human trafficking and the increase in their health issues. Moreover, he talked about the rise of homeless children due to the effects of the wars . Over all, it was an experience.

Right after the symposium, we were directed to another Hall where they served cocktails and a time to mingle with the dignitaries. My escort husband left my side after doing his obligation of handing me my drink and in due time was off engaging in conversation.

As often, my interest would lead me to the buffet table located near the end of the room. Actually, what magnetized me was the floor to ceiling glass overlooking the river. The lights on the buildings against a lighted bridge just looked overwhelmingly beautiful.

I was enjoying alone with myself when I overheard a man beside me engaging in conversation to a lady from Africa. She was garbed in a printed mumu with matching print wrapped around her head. He casually asked her, “what do you think of the plight of women in the Sudanese area?.”
I almost got panicky and said to myself, ”boy if someone ever converses with me, “I KNOW NOTHING, KID” but then again, I do know something. I surfed through my mind and recalled ,Eve Ensler’s play “Vagina Monologue”. Thank God they presented that ages ago in Cebu and Fabregas was my favorite actress then. So, my confidence came back…just in case…

However, no one had any courage to talk shop with me. At that point, my drink was down to 2 drops and no husband in sight. So I donned my 4 ounce of wine courage and headed to the bar.
One fellow, in his thirties, was looking at me hold my wine glass to the bartender. He gave me a wink as the bartender replaced my wineglass for a new one. Suddenly, I felt like a girl out from high school but then again thought to myself, “is this how you get picked up? Do I look like a Mrs.Robinson? The guy is old enough to be my son!….but then again, does he know I’m 50? Hmmmm?’

Smiling with a full glass out of that scenario, I immediately looked for my husband. Seeing him standing beside the buffet table, He was stretching his neck out as if looking for someone. Sooner than he could say anything, I asked him, “do you think I look 50?”
“why?” he asked.
“just tell me.” I quipped.
“No! you look 30ish.” he said. This man is indeed my husband.
“well! Someone just hit on me! “

The best part for me was waiters handing out hors’d’ oeuvres. I stationed myself conspicuously enough that when the servers and waiters would come out with sets of fresh hors’d’oeuvres, I was waiting. There was baby lamb chops with mint sauce. Soft and juicy. Then a single potato chip with a dolop of dill dip, crab cakes, spring rolls, brushectta on toast, satay on ornamental sticks with peanut sauce, strip of steak on pix, puff pastry tart, dips on artichoke leaf, and some other canapés.

The evening went on beautifull, until finally, I was able to get hold of my auntie. She was tired but happy after meeting all the dignitaries. While we were together, she never failed to introduce us to whoever came near her. To me, Tita Carmen is the epitome of finesse and dignified grace. She had her own entourage of photographers and assistants . After all not only is she the wife of Tito Paeng, she is presently also the ambassador of the Philppines to the Czech Republic in Prague. After several pictures and last minute hook-ups, we had to bid each other good bye.

Stepping outside of the U.N. bulding, the rains kept pouring. Mike and I were debating either to take a cab or walk several blocks to the Penn station. As I was light headed (almost drunk really, from all that wine and hors’d’oeuvres) I wanted to walk.

It was a great 30 minute walk for me,with rain on my face and holding hands with my love one. But not so much for Mike. Since he was wearing his $150 dollar shoe, he kept on swearing and looking down, afraid of stepping on a puddle lest he ruin his shoes. Kinda reminds me of a sanitized aunt who goes to a Sinulog procession. She is often seen head down, not so much in reverence of the patron saint, but is afraid to step on spit with her shoes.

By the time we arrived Penn Station, I was sober and happy, Mike’s shoes were wet and he was miserable. However, on the train back to New Jersey, we both agreed that we had a great time and look forward to the next invite.

Thanks ,Tita Carms. See you in a couple of days!

Haberday!

Three of my dearest relatives (Uncle Clyde, Tita Lorna and Menchu) are celebrating their natal day this month. Being Filipinos but having been here more than 20 years, I am wondering if they still stick to the tradition of making noodles as part of their birthday meals. This tradition was taken from the Chinese to indicate long life!

During my elementary years in St.Theresa‘s Cebu, when a classmate had a birthday, she would distribute lolly pops, chocolates or candies . Everyone had to be good to the birthday girl,even for just a day. You’d never know she might include you for that intimate “blow-out” of preferred friends.

When my kids had their birthdays, I had to prepare their “birthday” basics, which was always a combination of barbercue, spaghetti, ice cream and cake. Often, I would ask my children to invite only their favorite friends over for merienda. But then, I would prepare much more than the number of servings requested. It’s because in the Philippines, when you invite one child, you’d expect the whole entourage of mothers, yayas, other family members including the extended ones would come. After all, it is our custom to be polite and welcome the uninvited, and expect they don’t each as much.

As my children grew older, they were given the choice of a party or some equivalent preferred gift . If we were in no position to afford a birthday, the family would just have an intimate dinner at a restaurant.


One time, my son Isaiah was going to have his 7th birthday and he had wanted to have a party in school. I can still remember ourconversation.


“mommy, I like you’re spaghetti with the fresh vegetables in the sauce but can I have the real spaghetti, please?" he inquired.


"Sai,what do you mean by real spaghetti?" I asked


" you know, the one with the red sauce and only hotdog and it’s sweet.”


His concept of the real spaghetti was the McDonald or Jollibee type, but mine was the gourmet of roasted veggies with home made tomato sauce, and he called his kind “the real spaghetti”. If my friend Iliana the Italian heard of this, she would be flabbergasted and insulted.

Nowadays, I have replaced the noodles for pasta as a birthday dish. Sometimes the thin spaghetti, linguini or fetucini replaces the pansits. Or if I will be too busy to cook, I make a quick lasagna dish. With the availability of ingredients at the grocery, I can make lassagna in less than half the time I normally make with my usual recipe. All I need are 4 ingredients.


½ lb. Ground beef
1 bottle spaghetti sauce (Cecco brand is good. Check what kind you like. Some are spicier than the others)
2 packs of shredded mozarella (see! They come in already shredded. the 227 g per pack)
1 pack oven-ready lasagna noodles (there is such a thing..you don’t have to soak them in water)



Directions:

1. Brown beef. (no oil, it will just sweat itself)

2. Discard the juice.( I always thought that the juice gives it flavor, but found out the juice causes the dish to water and besides, I don’t like the rancid smell that it creates)

3. Pour the spaghetti sauce into meat. Mix well. Cook for 15 minutes then turn off heat.

4. Assembling: pour little sauce on bottom of glass dish.
Place lasagna noodles over sauce. Make sure that noodles don’t touch the sides of the glass dish. Then pour in 1/3 of sauce. Sprinkle generously the mozarella cheese on top of sauce. Then repeat the process until the final step is having the cheese on top. Cover with aluminum foil. Bake for 30 minutes, then take off the foil. bake for another 15 to have that golden look.

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My daughter is going to culinary school next year. What I have failed to continue doing, she will now accomplish. I am proud of her and will support her in her endeavor.


My cousin Fran is a very talented and good pastry chef. It is because of her that I attend the fancy food shows in San Francisco, Chicago and New York. She has been doing designer cakes for several years and used to sell gourmet chocolates. When I asked her what is the number one tool that a cook should have in the kitchen, she said, "A fire extinguisher?"


"Fran," I said, "It's a good set of knives!!" And with that, we both laughed.

Flay-vorful and Flay-sant

I am so excited. This is my very first blog...Hopefully I can now write my thoughts. I may falter in my words (being Bisdak and all, have my thoughts go wayward and write nonsense, but at least I tried.

A few years back, when visiting my brother in California, He gave me his calling card. I was caught by surprise at the bold letters CIA right below his name. I thought he was working for the bureau, only to find out that the fine prints beside the bold ones were written as 'Cebuano In America.'

Since cooking is my passion, I have thought of Cuisine-nera in America as a cute name. Then also, I can consider myself as a CIA, and the only bureau I can think of is the word: bureaung talangka...bureaung mangga..bureaung whatever....(from the tagalog rootname 'burro' meaning pickled)

Every other weekend, I go up to New York to visit my son and his family. On this particular weekend, Mike and I decided to have an early dinner before spending the night at my son's . Dinner was at 5 pm at the Bar Americain located between 6th and 7th avenue in Manhattan. And yes! this is the restaurant owned by Bobby Flay, a famous iron chef from the Food Network.

We entered through a revolving door right smack into a receptionist table with 2 LCD computers on each end. A bald guy in dark suit, probably in his mid thirties greeted us and asked for the names on the reservation. After confirming, the coat lady who was waiting on the side, took our coats and gave us identifying stubs.

Right behind the receptionists was a glass wall where several tables are visibly seen. At the far end was a drinking bar with 4 bar tenders criss crossing one another oblivious of the wall behind them which was filled with different liquors. We entered the area on the left side where a long bench type couch in padded black leather sat perpendicularly to the bar and had about 5 small rectangular tables with 5 corresponding individual seats . The maitre d' motioned us to the table nearest the bar. He pulled out the table so I could get on the couch. Once seated, the maitre d' pushed it back and allowed Mike to sit accross me. He then gave us two album like folders, one that contained the drink menu and the other, the food.

A minute later, a head table waiter appeared to take our orders. Since we were not ready, he inquired about our drinks. Not a moment passed by, and he suggested, "how about iced water, while you're looking in on the menu". After several nods, and several seconds later, he reappeared with water goblets. A few minutes later, he came back and got all our orders, and in less than 3 minutes he came back with our cocktails.

I cannot say how impressed we were with the attention we had that evening. Waiter no. 2 brought our appetizer of 6 pcs. oysters that lay on frozen ice in a white bowl transparently revealing reddish green leaves at the bottom. A tiny ceramic cylindrical cup with pesto sauce was placed at the center of the plate. Front Waiter no. 3 , presented us with our individual appetizer plates and oyster forks. Busboy no. 1 took away everything on the table when the appetizers were gone. Busboy number 2 came over and in 5 seconds flat was done with brushing off any remnants on the table.

Waiter number 4 came with our bread pcs on a wire basket, along with the bread knife and plates. Busboy no.3 came over to replenish the water in our goblets. I can assure you, everyone who came near our table was a totally different server.

The wine was so good, fruity and mild, and I was feeling light headed. Mike ordered a refill of the wine from our head waiter, who also brought our second appetizer of chips with bleu cheese dressing, simply fantastically crispy and creamy to the bite. Not long after, waiter number 5 came over with our entrees. They must have a system because Waiter number 5 came just out of the kitchen, walked straight to our table,placed my order of New York Strip Steak in front of me and Mike's lamb chops on his side.

The steak was perfectly seared, and the inside was perfectly pink. However, it was a little dry to my taste even with the mustard sauce that went with it. An outer layer of an onion was boiled til soft but not mushy. And I guess the inner portions of that onion was sauted with butter and placed right back inside the boiled onion skin. Simple presentation of steak and an onion on a round white plate.

Mike's order of lamb chops were cooked to pink perfection with an artistic flow of couscous, sauteed veggies and nuts. The presentation was enough to satisfy you, and the taste was as expected, juicy and soft to the bite.

When we were done, busboy number 3 took away our plates. Several minutes later our dessert of figs and cream cheese tart was placed by dessert waiter number 6 .

If I'm not mistaken this is what you call the assembly line of the restaurant industry where different servers and clean up crew had designated assignments. Excep for the receptionist, hostess and maitre d' who whore dark suits, every server wore white long sleeved shirt , black pants and black aprons reaching their ankles.


Since we made the reservation at the last minute, the receptionist was kind enough to give us the first hour when they open for dinner that night, but we needed to leave by 6:30 as it was already reserved for some guests. Oh well! it was just as good!


Over all the meal was good, and the service was great. Moreover, we had met new friends, the servers, the next seat diners, and best of all, Mike and I had great conversation by just being together.

For a probinsiyana like me to experience such a treat, it was indeed a wonderful experience.
Why? Because I have been romancing with food for several years now, and in America, this is just part of the journey.