Kuya Mike and pasta

29 06 2013

THE DIFFERENCE in time zones is the loophole of lapses in thoughtfulness.  Clearly, I mean this about friends who have oceans between them – blame it on the time zone, so to speak.  If this post had made it to the third week of May or at most the one after that, then I would claim my opening sentence to be nothing but absolute truth.  Or, at least my scapegoat.  But this post obviously is more of the really belated kind.  No loophole could justify the delay.

Well, I guess there’s one – I actually know when his birthday is, independent of any post on his facebook wall, and I always remember to greet him.  But then again, it is indeed way too late.

So let this be just one of those posts about my few but well thought out friendships.  It’s coming at a time when the cinemas are rumbling with the 40–minute pivotal action sequence in one of the more definitive superhero movies of our time.  So clearly, this post that talks about one of the superheroes in my life, is quite appropriate.

I’ve never really seen any of the cinematic installments but from what I’ve read about Tony Stark, it’s Kuya Mike who embodies him the most among my friends.  We came to Singapore together, had our first day at our new jobs together, and have since been waging our battles together.

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Kuya Mike a.k.a. Iron Man clearly drives for Scuderia Ferrari!

It’s amazing the clarity that comes with being down on your luck or just unexplainably sad.  You realize who your real friends are.  And you resolve to do your best to keep them.

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Linguine ai Frutti di Mare al Cartoccio (Linguine with Seafood “in the bag”). This has turned out to be Iron Man’s favorite pasta dish!

 

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I saw this pile first thing one morning and I knew that Iron Man was back for his hectic, full-packed two-week break from his assignment on the isle of Sicily. I said in jest that his “pasalubong” for me has had a consistent theme – an “I heart (place)” item and a… notebook! The one the chocolates are on came from his layover in Amsterdam.

I’m quite thankful to be really close friends with Kuya Mike.  That is, Iron Man.  Over a week ago, he took a Royal Dutch Airlines flight back to Italia.  I’m quite happy that he has this chance to enjoy God’s creation in a totally different place.  He deserves every good opportunity that comes his way.

And my special, limited edition airport send–off service.  Hahaha!

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Every airport send-off starts with a snapshot of the control tower as our taxi approaches. My trusty Canon IXUS 860IS really does have great stabilizer.

 

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We’ve arrived! It has to be said that Iron Man may seem to be the conscientious traveler. But he actually travels quite light, packing everything efficiently. If I were to go to Italia, I’d probably lug around twice as much. Haha!

 

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While Iron Man fusses over his stuff for one final accounting before checking in, my attention was demanded by this dynamic work of art. I didn’t bother to check its name out just yet. All I could make of them at the time was that they seemed to be golden droplets of rain making beautiful patterns suspended in the sky.

 

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Here are those golden rain drops, suspended on parallel planes. Observing my being mesmerized, Iron Man quipped, “Boss, ngayon mo lang nakita yan?” (Boss, you’re just noticing that now?)

 

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Iron Man took the Royal Dutch Airlines.

 

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Trust Audemars to give accurate time check. Iron Man’s flight leaves past midnight.

 

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The blogger and the superhero. That’s Iron Man at the check-in counter.

 

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Something in common with Iron Man: We travel in shorts!

 

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I asked him to post for a photo in front of numbers “3” and “4”, two of my favorites.

 

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Like with most of those I had sent off at the airport, the first post-check-in activity involves… F–O–O–D.

 

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I realize that I have been in Singapore for two years, yet I haven’t been to Aston’s. This dinner with Iron Man was only my second time at the place – in the space of two days! It felt like a revenge for missing out. Both were such treats.

 

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I loved this chalk work on the board that I asked permission to photograph it. (Lest the store manager screams, “No photo please!”)

 

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It was departure time so Iron Man was fielding text messages that were coming in a-plenty.

 

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Between Iron Man and me, the count was two wristwatches and three phones. If it were one of those days I fancy to strap on two watches, then it would’ve been three even.

 

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Tag Heuer and Technomarine – live together in perfect harmony… Channeling Stevie and Paulie. Hahaha!

 

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The food has landed!

 

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The same thing in the space of two days – the Prime Ribeye Extra Cut, with sides of french fries and steamed vegetables. I would’ve wanted the Macaroni & Cheese but given the lateness of the hour, they had run out.

 

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This is exactly how I want my meat – medium rare.

 

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See, nothing left. Hahaha!

 

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Dinner’s done! It’s time to head to the departure area.

 

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Iron Man was a walking advertisement for UNIQLO. And North Face.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





Farewell, Mommy

11 06 2013

SO THIS must be how it feels to break.  For the heart to break.  For the spirit to break.

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My maternal grandmother “Mommy”, ANGELINA AQUINO HERNANDEZ, 03 September 1921 – 28 May 2013

MOMMY, MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER, a constant fixture in my growing up years, had finally left this world on the 28th of May 2013, at exactly 6:35 AM.  At about the same time, I was leaving my office desk, frantically and repeatedly pushing the lift button as I couldn’t wait to dart through the turnstile downstairs to catch my flight back to the Philippines.  The day before, the 27th, Mommy was rushed back to the hospital after having been cleared from a bout with pneumonia a couple of weeks earlier.

When I heard the news, I dropped what I was doing and had to make a call.

 

“Mommy?  You’re in the hospital again daw po?”

 Oo.  Balik na naman ako dito.”  (Yes.  I’m back here again.)

 Pagaling po kayo haDadalawin ko po kayo!   (Please get well.  I’ll visit you.)

 How could that be?  Eh di ba nasa Singapore ka?  (How could that be?  You’re in Singapore, right?)

 “Kumukuha na po ako ng ticket.  The earliest flight available, I will get.  Hintayin nyo ako ha.”  (I’m getting a ticket now.  The earliest flight available, I will get.  Please wait for me.)

 “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too.”

 

It felt like neither of us wanted to end the conversation.  We just kept saying “I love you” to each other.  It didn’t feel like a portent of what was to happen within the next 12 hours.  It was just that we had always been comfortable to say those words to each other – meaning it every single time.

By the time I arrived, Mommy was already at the morgue.  Nobody knew how to tell it to me so they just blurted it out in the middle of me talking about all that I had to do to make it on a plane back home.

Wag ka mabibigla.  Wala na si Mommy.”  (Don’t be surprised.  Mommy’s gone.)

I couldn’t speak.  But in my head and in my heart, everything just felt crashing down.

During her final moments, they told me that they had to tell her to not wait for me anymore.  Knowing of the pain and the difficulty she must have been going through at the time, I fully understand that she was assured that she could go and leave us and that we would all be fine – I for one could only be a better version of me because she was in my life.

It’s been days and I still couldn’t get over the pain.  I still cry.  I feel no shame in missing Mommy.  I’m thankful for all our conversations, for all the times she held my hands.  We laughed a lot together.  She would always kiss me and embrace me really tight.

I‘ve been made to sing in public so many many times ever since I was a kid.  But the one I now cherish the most is singing an a capella solo of “Tanging Yaman” (Only Treasure), standing right in front of her casket during the Funeral Mass.  That had always been our setup – I would be singing in front of her and then she would applaud enthusiastically.  Mommy loved my singing very much.  I’m glad I had the chance to do it one last time in this life.

I closed my eulogy at her interment by saying that when my own time to die comes, I will will myself to consciously speak to her and tell her just how excited I will be at that moment because it will mean that I will finally see her again.  And I expect her to be there to welcome me.

Like I always said – and still say to this day – “I love you, Mommy.”  To that I now add, “And I miss you very much.  I know you left with a full knowledge of just how much you were loved and cared for.”

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For Mommy, it had to be all–white.

 

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During the wake, I would just sit in front of the coffin, hold on to it, and just “talk” to Mommy.

 

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Writing myexact thoughts down. The hospital bracelet came from a 2010 hospitalization. I have this is my wallet. It’s with me all the time.

 

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I threw this in my luggage as I intended to wear this on my first night visiting her at the hospital. I didn’t know I would wear it to the wake.

 

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The entrance to Mommy’s final resting place here on earth.

 

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The sky was so clear the day we bid her a fond farewell that I know she was being given a warm welcome in heaven.

 

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We sent her off with the release of doves and white balloons.

 

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…And one final flying kiss from me. “I love you, Mommy.”

 

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





Comfort notes

19 05 2013

OFTEN HERE in Singapore, I don’t need to move away from my desk to survive a hectic workday.  I can successfully keep the insatiable, unceasing hunger pangs at bay with munchies I pop in my mouth from time to time.  You probably think that I could very well have made a pantry of one of the three drawers on my MPD (mobile personal drawer).  To a certain extent, I did.  But I actually survive more through the “love and care for me that is in other people.”

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One morning, I found this paper rose on my desk. I still don’t know who made it for me. Ok, cue the song… “Paper roses / paper roses / …” HAHA!

If only my cubicle walls could talk, I would be regaled with anecdotes of food and notes left on my desk by some of the most generous and it has to be said – lovable – people I’ve ever come across here.  The surprises would come in the morning, perfect for starting one’s day, and any other time in between.  Regardless, they’re perfect for adding a spring – no, make that chutzpah – to one’s step in yet another long day in the office.

The food may have long disappeared – believe me, they’ve had (haha!) – but I have the accompanying notes to go back to and read.  They’re like a warm blanket I can pull up to my chin when the cool breeze blows through my windows at night.

And even in the perennial tropic that is the Singaporean warm weather, there really are times when the cool wind blows.

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I receive a lot of these from my Malaysian friends. But this one, its Chinese name translated to “Black Sugar Biscuit” has got to be one of the ultimate best!

 

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I asked someone to translate for me what these lovely delicious balls of gooey goodness are called. “Black Sugar Biscuits,” he said.

 

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Malaysian treats don’t have to exclusively come from Malaysians. I have a Singaporean friend who always remembers me too!

 

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These biscuits had a (purple) yam filling. Quite scrumptious too! I liked it.

 

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These treats are paper-thin wafers or crepes called “Love Letters,” made by hand by a colleague’s aunt. Each bears a very intricate pattern. They are so delicious.

 

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These two boxes came all the way from Shanghai in China, from a beloved colleague I respectfully call “Ms. Lynda.”

 

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One box contained these sesame seed finger biscuits that had the feel and taste of biscotti. Perfect with tea or coffee.

 

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More cookies in the other box.

 

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This is one amazing sandwich made by Betchie (or by her “Staff”). To this slice I sing, “Sana maulit muli…” Hahaha!

 

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A variety of teas from Rhonee

 

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My current “half-and-half” fixation, introduced to me by Cecille – Cadbury Brunch Bars! Every bar is half guilt, half “good-for-you” goodness.

 

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Two muffins from Ms. Sharon

 

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Chocolates galore! Godiva, no less. And there are so many others. Like that pack on the left. I’m not crazy about chocolates. But it’s nice to be thought of from time to time.

 

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Two of the most heartwarming notes I’ve ever received came from my Bez’s (Glenda) two daughters, Kyla and Keisha!

 

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The letter from Keisha opens up, literally, and actually has a story to it.

 

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This one is from Kyla.

 

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A collage of more recent notes that have been taking up real estate on my wall.

 

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This came posted on a couple of morning treats from Ms. Madeline.

 

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It’s soya!

 

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Saw this on my notebook at the end of a workday.

 

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Thanks again, Ms. Madeline!

 

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Blast from the past – Some really memorable notes.

 

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A lovely note from Trisha. Beside it is a card from Melissa and Sam.

 

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Only a true kolehiyala has monogrammed stationery. Hahaha!

 

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From Dearest Daphne Tatiana!

 

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Of course there is a note from Batman!

 

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A farewell note from my Chinese best friend, Bin!

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Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





The Summit rises

14 05 2013

I LOVE surrounding myself with people who are far smarter than I am – or ever could be.  That way, if I’m very lucky, one could be a teacher to me.

I love the company of my female friends because while I may be so close to a female first cousin, I still technically do not have a sister.

I love that no matter how much you feel like you already have all the people you need in your life, there will always be room for someone new.  And how you meet this someone new could be the stuff of stories worth looking back to.

I love that even with all the oceans and seas geography puts between people, there is always a way to get in touch.  And keep in touch.

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One of the definitive farewell dinners I had before leaving for Singapore was of course with the Summit. This was at The Podium, June 2011.

 

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She handled the extensive buffet spread in style.

Last year, one of my closest friends left the Philippines as one of the principal scholars of the Fulbright Classic Program.  She was one of only three PhD students in a fellowship of nine – how so Lord of the Rings! – and was the only one in Communication.  Specifically, she is taking up her PhD in Rhetorics, Communication and Information Design.

She told me that she is working on “a research that will focus on web video, the politics of the everyday, and the cultural identities we embed, create, and recreate as our mundane interactions become more and more mediated.  This is true especially among diasporic Filipinos.”  Her fascination has always been with the web and visual communication.  And she wants “to be able to author studies that will be of use to societies, especially among Filipinos.”  I remember these to be her words.  I recall these now and I feel that I’m at the mercy of Meclizine HCl.  I get nauseous just attempting to fathom her depth.

But before I could even launch into a dizzying spin, I get reminded that this is the same person who, at one point in the past, orchestrated a shopping day for us by first presenting me with a formal, well-written “project proposal” – the kind that gets presented to venture capitalists.  Depth, a sense of humor, and yes, biting sarcasm are a lethal combination.

I look forward to the right time when we’d share a lazy day in the sun, shop ‘til we drop, have coffee, and trade stories.  Nothing does beat surrounding myself with people smarter than I am.  I’ve found one teacher.  And what’s actually better – I’ve found in this teacher yet another real friend who has my welfare at heart.

Today, the 14th of May is her birthday.  Happy birthday, Data!  I can’t wait to call you Data, MA, PhD!

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Data, my friend who I fondly call as “The Summit”, recently participated in the Twin Cities Fulbright Enrichment Seminar. (Photos are hers unless otherwise stated.)

 

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The Twin Cities Fulbright Enrichment Seminar is a melding of cultures and the brightest minds of today. Who says that intellect is not akin to having fun? Here are Data and her fellow participants in a seeming “telenovela” pose. I see the Patriarch of a rich clan caught in the midst of his three warring daughters. Haha!

 

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This photo brings South East Asia and Central America in one frame.

 

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Group Dynamics is one reason to engage in a lively discussion. Or argument. Haha! From left to right: The Philippines, Spain, Germany, and Indonesia. This photo is owned by Patrick Muhire of the Twin Cities Fulbright Enrichment Seminar Group.

 

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Data in another group photo. Again, Data… HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It’s such a vicarious thrill to see you living your dreams. And not stopping to learn more in this world. I already feel smarter just by my association with you. Take care!

 

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





The Great Gatsby

13 05 2013
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My copy of the American classic The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This is a 1953 re-print of the 1925 original. Cover art is by the great Paul Bacon.

BY THE end of the first three paragraphs of The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third novel, I knew I would not be able to put it down anymore until I hit the end.

Anybody who has ever asked me about my writing would know that I would always struggle with the opening paragraph.  To me it’s the most important part of any written work.  When I get past it, everything else just flows.  And this is why I love The Great Gatsby, the novel.  The opening paragraph can hold you captive – up until you read about “a sense of the fundamental decencies” by the time you reach the bottom of page one.

I own the 181–page, 1953 re–print of the 1925 classic.  The cover art is not the original Francis Cugat but is Paul Bacon, regarded as one of the most prolific book jacket artists of all–time.  The unforgettable cover art for CATCH–22 and One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest were also by him.

Back to the prose.  I will forever hold The Great Gatsby – often called the best American fiction ever written – in the highest regard not for the story it tells, but for how this story was written.  F. Scott Fitzgerald’s writing is stylish, elegant and sparse yet enough to bring into existence characters with varying shades of hue and perceptible depth.  This quality in his writing may have prompted Baz Luhrmann to render his celluloid interpretation of this beloved classic in 3D.

I won’t say that The Great Gatsby is the best written work of fiction.  But for how it was written, I have only one word in mind.  Perfect.

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My copy sits perfectly with my wristwatch magazines and notebooks.

 

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This copy was published by Charles Scribner’s Sons/New York, the original publisher of the 1925 first edition.

 

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Copyright Page. Cover art is by Paul Bacon.

Now, how does the movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, Jason Clarke, Isla Fisher, and Carey Mulligan measure up?  We’ll see.  I’m re-reading the book before I hit the cinemas.

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About 10% of what’s on queue for my reading. Hahaha! That’s Carey Mulligan, who plays the role of Daisy Buchanan in Baz Luhrmann’s celluloid interpretation of The Great Gatsby.

 

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Carey and Eric with Jay

 

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





Happy birthday, Trisha!

12 05 2013

SOME OF the best people I’ve ever met in my life I met and became friends with in the States 10 years ago.  Thanks to all that technology affords us now, meeting in person seems to have become not a necessity anymore.  Well, until you find out that you would be spending some “real” face time and you realize that nothing beats seeing these great friends once again.  What did that song say?  Oh, “ain’t nothin’ like the real thing.”

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eNTeNG and his good good friend Mama Trisha, Singapore, 2013

I was in the States to work on a project.  And as with most projects in my line of work, it was highly matrixed, highly collaborative, and highly integrative.  That’s where I first met Trisha in person.  I emphasize “in person” because prior that, I have known her by her name – one which has long been synonymous with leadership in her team.

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I accompanied Trisha to get a new compact digital camera. She lost the one she brought with her.

 

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There’s no doubt where I later brought Trisha for our version of a “walking” tour of the city. I told her that my version has only my favorite places. Hahaha! Side note, don’t you just love that sculpture of a candy wrapped in the colors of the Singaporean flag? (Actually, the Singapore flag!)

 

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On the day of the team lunch in honor of Trisha, I chose to wear my shirt that has the colors of the American flag. Also in the photo is Kuya Mike.

Like Alka-seltzer you dissolve in water to give an effervescent solution, Trisha is the kind of colleague who can neutralize highly stressful personalities and situations with her bubbly personality and her witticisms.  And meeting her once again – in of all places, the Lion City – just proved a couple of points.  The years have been kind to her.  And she has lost none of her charms – the very same things that led me and my Filipino colleagues to lovingly refer to her as “Mama Trisha.”  (Fortunately for us, Trisha was one of two “Mamas” we found in California.)

And true to her natural nourishing nature, she is quite the home cook and baker.  Her banana nut bread was the stuff my Folsom years were made of.  I would slather lots of butter on slices she would send my way.  The notes that would accompany the food she shared are still with me.  I would read them when I need reminding of good times.

Thursday, the 9th of May, was her birthday.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TRISHA!

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As you may well know, it’s been my tradition to send my friends off at the airport. Trisha’s flight out was quite early. But as promised, I was at the lobby of the hotel by 4:00 AM.

 

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Trisha at Changi Airport. I hope to see you again soon!

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





#18 Risa Hontiveros

8 05 2013
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That’s me and Ms. Risa Hontiveros, candidate for Philippine Senate in Monday’s national elections. This was taken at the NAIA, on the day of my departure for Singapore in 2011. Ms. Hontiveros was on her way to the States for a speaking engagement, if I remember it correctly. We shared the waiting area and a hearty conversation. She was so nice!

THOUGH THEY do have it on recorded history, the United States doesn’t have a monopoly on the inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Nor do they have exclusive rights on how these rights are secured – the governments instituted among men derive their “just powers from the consent of the governed.”  This is why we have elections.

In a world that has long stood as witness to people’s rights being trampled upon, I’m quite proud of those moments – yes, they may be far between – when my country has breathed life to a democracy that is alive, well and kicking.  The 2010 elections was the last testament to this.

On Monday, my countrymen will again go to the polls to elect leaders to national posts.  Politics has always been a topic for healthy discussion at home.  We’ve never been a “more divided” household than in the 2010 elections – though everybody’s opinions were heard and respected – but this year, we’ve come to agree on one name.  (“Agree” is the operative word.  And it is relative.)

Risa Hontiveros deserves to be in the Philippine Senate.  She is principled and independent with her thoughts, her words buoyed by the characteristic gentleness and affectedly modest demeanor of a true Ilongga.  But to me she is more.  She is Roosevelt’s words incarnate – she speaks softly but she carries a big stick.  Oh, make that her magic purplealampay” (scarf).

The power of the people is on the ballots.  May the force be with her on Election Day.

Risa Hontiveros is #18 on the ballot.  Let’s take her all the way to the Magic 12.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





Mommy

5 05 2013
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“I ❤ MY MOM”… I wear this for my Mama, Mommy, and Lola, the Women in my life.

I GREW up in a loving home, and it helped a lot that I had my maternal grandmother as a constant fixture in my formative years.

She has been there from when I was a 5-lb baby in the ICU, watching over me everyday after work.  She would always comment how happy she was that I made it past my 10th day and grew up to be this tall, when doctors had said I wouldn’t make it.

All my summers were spent with her as she would bring me along to all her vacations.  I would look forward to all those summers.

I love it that she used to tease me as her “second” favorite because frankly, she never made me feel next to anybody.  She applauds my talents and always genuinely wants me to sing for her.

At 87, when she went for hip replacement surgery after an accident, she asked me to be with her in the Operating Room.  I didn’t know a better place to be in to celebrate my birthday that year.

On my last visit home, she asked when I would come back.  She would joke that she might be gone and that I would be away when that happens.  She’s 91 now – pushing to 92 this year – and was admitted in the ER yesterday morning before being immediately transferred to the ICU.

I’ve been praying that she makes it.  I love her very very very much.

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Mommy’s hospital ID bracelet from three years ago. Yes, I keep stuff like this.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





An American breakfast in the Lion City

22 04 2013
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Good morning, Singapore!

I WOKE up to an overcast Sunday sky morning.  When clouds hover overhead this way, I long to be gastronomically comforted.  When this mood hits me, I prefer to have the flavors of the familiar for breakfast.  Being deeply committed to a romance with places I call home, I decided on old-fashioned freshly baked bagel with a good schmear of cream cheese.

For a year and a half in Folsom, California, this was exactly my breakfast.  Clearly, my choice of the first meal of the day today is in honor of the States, which in the past few days has shown the world stories of courage, heroism, and hope.

Here in Singapore, I get my bagel and cream cheese fix from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.  I would ask that the bagel be cut across, then thrown to the toaster to just brown ever so lightly.  Onto the fluffy, chewy center, I smear a generous amount of cream cheese, the more it slides down to the sides, the better.  While most approach it like they would a sandwich, I actually deal with each slice separately.  Unless I find myself within the walls of my office cubicle, I see no need to rush the pleasure.

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Breakfast is served! Old-fashioned sesame seed bagel and cream cheese, with hot chocolate topped with marshmallows.

 

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This is a surprisingly affordable plate! The bagel costs only S$ 3.50 and the cream cheese, S$ 0.80. The butter and the jam are complimentary!

 

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The perfect bagel has a shiny crusty exterior and dense chewy interior. I asked for it to be cut across then lightly toasted. Just how I would do it at the office cafereria in Folsom for a year and a half!

 

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I’m always all the more so excited the moment I peel off the top of the cream cheese mini-tub.

 

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I reckon that this small-ish tub is always never enough. Hahaha!

 

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Nothing like hot chocolate with marshmallows on a cold morning.

I take a bite through the crusty outside all the way to the dense, doughy interior, unperturbed by the cream cheese moustache that would form with each bite.  I lick this tasty smear around my lips, take a sip of my hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, look outside the window and see that the sun is slowly breaking free from the clouds.

Indeed, there is still more good in this world.

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I just love this photo of the Merlion from my archives. I took it during one of the many breakfasts I’ve had here.

 

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The Singapore skyline in the early morning.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved





For Boston

20 04 2013

THOUGH I’VE put a cap to my passion for distance running at 10 kilometers, my love for the sport and my appreciation for the men and women who are part of it extends far beyond the 42.195 kilometers set as the standard distance for the modern-day marathon.

When I don’t run, this love and appreciation take the incarnation of a spectator awash with vicarious thrill for his friends.  I would be there at the exact spot when the starting pistol is fired, and then I would be with the huddled masses – usually with a placard in hand – ready to scream my cheers at the finish line.

It has taken me the whole week to process what happened at the 2013 Boston Marathon.  And I am still in shock and disbelief.  My heart goes out to all whose lives were taken away or affected by this tragedy.

Boston, the Cradle of Liberty, and its people shall rise above the plume of smoke.

Standard_Chartered_2011_eNTeNG_Go_For_It_00

Nothing like this placard to show my support for my friends at the 2011 Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon.

Copyright © 2013 by eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™©.  All rights reserved