Eating My Way Around the World

More Fun in the Philippines

2012-01-10T08:23:00.003+08:00

As we welcomed 2012, Filipinos embraced a new tagline. The Department of Tourism's "More Fun in the Philippines" has hit the top trends for Twitter and took Facebook by storm.

Blessed to gallivant this country as food and writer for magazines for the past thirteen years, I've had my share of more fun moments in the Philippines. Here are two quick studies.

While we have amazing beaches, mountains, volcanoes, and wildlife, what sets the Philippines apart are its people. Warm, friendly, and extremely hospitable Filipinos bring the fun factor to the next level.

cheers,

Maida

Nothing Short of A Christmas Miracle

2011-12-29T23:51:00.000+08:00

Exactly twenty-eight days ago, I posted a plea to help me put together a library in an underprivileged school. It was my Christmas wish this year to help the poor children in this school to have what this book lover, author and writer enjoys most---a lovely library filled with books.

I stated my desire, and the universe gladly conspired to help me. In less than 24 hours, I received several email messages and wall posts on Facebook of friends and acquaintances wanting to help. Julie, my bus-mate in Grade School and classmate for many years in high school, immediately contacted me to help. What truly shocked me was a donation from someone who had merely attended my talk on Filipino Cuisine in the National Museum of Singapore in 2009. His name is Carlos, a Filipino-American who followed my blog. He was touched by my little Christmas project. He immediately wired US$500 for anything we needed to purchase for the library. I was astounded.

The Library Project had taken a life of its own. Former colleagues at Ace Saatchi & Saatchi Advertising generously gave: Anna sent a financial donation, as well as my former boss, Carol, sent her daughters slightly used books. My dear friend, Lory, shared my post on her Facebook wall. In turn, she got a donation of Encyclopedias and reference books from Boboy and Elizabeth Garrovillo. Lory also generously acted as a drop off point for books. My dear friend in high school at the Assumption, Ava, donated books, puzzles, and even toys for the library. Former choir mate and co-pilgrim, Mai, instantly hollered from Singapore, “Count me in!” Weeks before coming home for her annual holiday visit to Manila, she immediately blocked off December 29 to help in the library build. Rodney from Accupoint systems sent boxes of binders and many office tables. Abby immediately committed to provide educational posters, and a helping hand for the library build. Rochelle, a classmate in grade school, bought children’s books. Publishing house, Adarna Books, kindly donated 20 books. I even received messages from friend’s of my sister in the US and a friend’s friend in Iloilo promising to ship boxes of books. Librarians at the Ateneo offering to help their expertise to make this library sustaining.

Here I am receiving the donation of Filipino publisher, Adarna Books

My heart was deeply touched by the kindness and generosity of people. I was amazed.

It was no longer my little Christmas project. It was now a whole community chiming in to make it happen. My friend, Manny helped me survey department stores and hardwares of Cubao, looking for kiddie chairs and tables. Lory and her helper Pearl and driver Ray, all helped collect books. The Sisters of the Religious of the Cenacle were not only praying for the success of the project, they too lent a hand. They kindly helped me receive donations. Sr Yna joined me in an afternoon shopping for kiddie mats, maps, and reading books. My dear Sr. Bubbles took time from her busy schedule to go book shopping with me. While I know what travel and food books I like to read, I had no idea what were appropriate reading, math, science, and even the right Filipino bible to buy. Sr Bubbles took the task to heart, carefully selecting the books to purchase.

Sr. Bubbles, Mai, Sr Mel and I preparing the day before the Library Build

The day before the designated library build, Mai arrived with two laptop donations. She could no longer join the build due to a pressing family commitment the next day, but she came to help. Mai genuinely wanted to help. It didn’t matter if it meant paying a P600 taxi ride each way to see me. Along with Sr Mel of the Cenacle, they made neat piles of the donations. Together, all three of us devised a game plan for the next day. With piles and piles of books, binders, desks, chairs, and wall stickers, I was overwhelmed by the task ahead. Mai and Sr. Mel coached me for the next day.
Thanks too to my parents for sharing their driver to help me purchase the kiddie chairs and tables. It took a visit to six hardware stores to get the right chairs for this library.


Some of the donations neatly organized by Mai and Sr Mel

On the day of the build, today at 6:30am, my cousin Dino, his friend Felicia and my friend, Abby, and I all headed to Pandi, Bulacan. The teachers and parents of the school helped clear the room. Then we moved the bookshelves. In a few minutes, my friend Julie and Chua clan arrived. Like the Three Kings, they arrived bearing gifts. Julie told me she was coming with five children and seven adults. But the sight of a line of men, women and children all holding boxes of books, toys, and school supplies was phenomenal.

We three kings: Melchor

Baltazar

and Gaspar, Chua edition...

Dino and I explained the school and this little project.Then, we all got to work. Kids put together the floor mats. Little hands arranged books into shelves. Along with their parents, they started applying wall stickers. The men did the tough work of assembling the Do-It-Yourself office furniture. Despite the difficulty of putting it together, the guys never complained. They laughed and remained patient till the end.

Play and help, at the same time!

Audrey at work


Smiles all around

Super-meticulous Chua girls stacking storybooks

A few minutes ago, we were all strangers. But instantly, that changed. We were all friends laughing and working together. Audrey and Abby laughed as they posted up posters. The glue tack made little Audrey giggle. Her dad told me, “You know she was so excited. Before she went to sleep, she said, ‘Daddy, we will make a library tomorrow!’ The best part was we were all having fun!


Wall sticker fun with Abby

Belle helping her dad and the guys piece together this office table

Instant Reunion with my classmate, Julie

Love is in the details...

Dino was perplexed. “I thought we were just bringing the donations!” The parents of the students told him, “Sir, it is embarrassing that they donated already and they are even fixing the library.” Overwhelmed by the transformation happening before his very eyes, Dino was astounded. So were the teachers and parents present.

I coerced Dino to take a stab at stickering

Everybody reads!

Notice the shelf behind our two young volunteers:from no encyclopedia to more than 4 sets of Encyclopedias donated!

I looked around me. It made me smile. How could I not smile? It was truly a happy place. The chairs were bright yellow and green. The walls had adorable dogs, balloons, and pastel colors.

I also had stickers made with my chosen quotes on reading. My favorite is the one from Dr Seuss. It is a testimony to my life as a reader and a travel writer.

“The more that you read, the more things you will know.

The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”

Oh the places you go... Indeed, Dr. Seuss!


The tireless guys demonstrate COOPERATION to complete these tables!

Men at Work

By half-past noon, the last drawer was done. The last sticker was applied. We all gathered together for a group photo. We were all sweaty but happy with the results of our hard work.

The super helpful Chua Clan with the new library

All together now...volunteers, students, teachers, parents

Just like a hurricane, the Chua clan quickly boarded their caravan of vehicles and disappeared. But definitely it was the opposite of a path of destruction. Before I could process what just happened. Three students of the GK Caring Jesus school entered the library.

The first students to check out the library

They were drawn to the storybooks. Anselma, John Castle, and Rona all grabbed books. Then, they read aloud. Lost in the world of words, they were happily entertained. I was close to tears.

heart-melting moment: Anselma, John Castle, and Rona enjoying the library

They played with the wooden blocks (made by disabled craftsmen from Tahanan Walang Hagdanan /House with No Stairs). I challenged them to read the words I put together using the blocks. They aced my pop quiz. Then, they started forming their own names with the blocks.

R-O-N-A... spells RONA

The students, the teachers, and parents are all so grateful for this new haven of books. Dino was speechless and in awe. He thought I had cleverly staged this Maida’s Touch production. Not at all. I too, am humbled. I cannot take credit for this. It has taken a village to create this library. Angels appeared along the way, from old childhood friends, people who read my blog, and trusted loyal friends. I cannot explain it other than it being a nothing less than a miracle. As I learned from a priest’s homily this Advent Season, “It is faith that allows us to believe that something great is coming. It is faith and God's grace that allows a string of yeses to happen, resulting in miracles.”

Dino and I, witnessing the miracle happen before our very eyes... (Dino's sticker masterpiece is the dog above).

It was my crazy YES to the stirrings within me to embark on this library project. I had no idea if any one would volunteer to help or donate. But it was the series of yeses that made this miracle to happen. While I may no longer believe in Santa, I still believe in the kindness of people. I believe in the goodness of people. I still believe in miracles. One just happened to me today.

Merry Christmas, to you all. Thank you for your kindness, generosity, and share in making this world a better place. A blessed and miracle-filled 2012 to y'all!

A Booklover’s Plea: Can you help me put together a library this Christmas?

2011-12-01T19:24:00.001+08:00

Last June, my grandmother passed away. She was 105. As I stood close to her casket at the wake, I started talking to my cousin, Dino. I don’t really think we’ve had more a minute-long conversation with each other. But I wanted to know more about the Caring Jesus Gawad Kalinga School he had put up with his father. The elementary school is named after my grandmother Caring and my grandfather Jesus. It is an apt tribute as my grandmother was an educator. Together, my grandparents instilled in their children the importance of a good education. They made sure they provided the best for their six children, all successfully finished graduate studies abroad. My father and my mom in turn passed on that legacy sending their children to the best schools in the world.

You don’t really know what people secretly do. I had no idea this tattooed cousin of mine was regularly visiting my grandmother every week. While she lay in bed, he would talk to her about his dreams for the school. The school started in 2008 as a free school for the poorest of the poor, in the Gawad Kalinga Community in Pandi, Bulacan. With no experience in running a school, he persevered. Each year, he added one grade level. This year he reached fourth grade, with now 56 students in total for the entire school. Dino’s wish was for my grandmother to have been alive for the first batch of students to graduate grade 6 in 2014. “What do you need for the school?,” I asked him. He smiled shyly and didn’t answer. “Do you have a library?,” he shook his head. He was too shy to ask. I promised I would help him by Christmas time to put together a library for the students.

As my deadlines and commitments piled one on top of the other, I had not yet worked on the library I promised. With Christmas fast approaching, I contacted him again. This afternoon I visited the Caring Jesus School with Dino. It didn’t matter how different our backgrounds were, or how we stood on different sides of the political fence growing up. It didn’t matter that we’ve only uttered a few words to each other all our lives. We both believed in this cause, and we both wanted to help. This afternoon, I was on an instant road trip with a cousin I barely knew. For the first time, we got to know each other, simply as two human beings wanting to make this world a better place somehow. We discovered we had much in common, and even enjoyed eachother's company.

The teachers of Caring Jesus GK school warmly welcoming me

Teacher Liza and her Grade 2 classroom

After some hurdles, the Caring Jesus GK Foundation was able to complete the school building this year. It is a cemented structure that can ably house six grade levels. The classrooms are clean but bare. But what needed the most help was the library. It is currently a stockroom, housing the cooking implements, plates and bowls used for the daily feeding program. The only thing the students pay for is P15 (less than US$ 0.35) for a nutritious lunch meal daily, with the school subsidizing those who can’t afford this amount.

My cousin Dino Pineda and the hardworking teachers

“What do you think, Maida?,” my cousin asked. I have a soft spot for books. My parents did not spoil us with expensive toys or clothes, but they allowed us to buy books we wanted to read. I grew up pouring over the books in our family’s makeshift library. I frequently opened the encyclopedia, often choosing the letter D to see the different breeds of dogs. Other times, I would read stories from different countries. It let me travel in my head to places like Russia and Spain. I often pretended to be sick to skip piano lessons in order to pour through my mom’s cookbooks and stack of Gourmet magazines.


This is what the library looks like now... not a single book in sight


This library needs books to feed their minds...


These chairs and tables currently used for the feeding program will hopefully be replaced by reading-friendly kiddie chairs and tables!

So my dear friends, I ask for your help. I have been so blessed this year to have more than enough. I have been filled with love, caring family and friends, good health, lots of travel, fulfillment and joy. I’ve had enough food for all my three meals, snacks, and desserts everyday. I’ve been fortunate enough to have access to entertaining and informative books to feed my curious mind. Will you please help me put together this library? I am accepting donations in cash and in kind for books geared towards elementary school children. I would like to provide books in English and Tagalog. They have very limited teaching aids. If you have posters of the Human Body, Maps, and other educational materials you wish to share, that would be ideal. But what is a library without tables and chairs to sit and read. We need that, too. And, yes, we need bookshelves to display our books. If you want to help make this happen, please email me at maida@maidastouch.com I would appreciate donations made by December 21. (It doesn't matter where you are, I'm sure we can find a way to make it happen).

On January 7th, my late grandmother would have been turning 106. What a birthday gift it is if we can continue her legacy of feeding hungry minds!

Many thanks and have a Christmas filled with gratitude and generous hearts.

Lots of love,

Maida

Why Should I be the Ultimate Sooo Pinoy Blogger?

2011-11-21T23:51:00.001+08:00

Long before blogging and budget airline were in vogue, I had already began my food trip around the Philippines. My delicious journey eating my way around the archipelago officially began in 1998, when I was hired as one of Lakbay TV’s first writers. My very first assignment was Laguna. There I was under an umbrella, capturing the story of how Lambanog was made. The next day, I was intrigued by Uraro cookies made from arrowroot flour, shaped into lovely floral designs, using antique moulds. Fascinating! I was hooked by the creativity and genius of small home-based food businesses. But it was not foreign to me. I too grew up in close proximity to a mother, who made and sold the best Pinoy-style Siopao and Cuapao, for Chocfull of Nuts. At age 5, my little hands learned my mom’s kitchen secrets in cooking and baking. Food ran through our veins, our conversations, and our thoughts.

Eating my way around the Philippines became my enjoyable job since 1998, shifting my focus from TV to contributing to food and travel magazines. I hopped from one kitchen to another meeting fascinating people who make Filipino food: Aling Candelaria who makes noodles in Lucban, to Sosing in the heart of Manila famous for her Bulalo, to the railways of Angeles for a taste of Aling Lucing’s Sisig, and even gate-crashing a traditional tribal wedding in Sagada witnessing a feast for an entire barrio. The memories are numerous. My only regret is that I did not have a digital camera to capture these delicious memories. And yes, in 1998, I have not yet discovered the joy of blogging.

sagada tribal wedding feast-- rice for a barrio

The author eating the original sisig at Aling Lucing's in Angeles, Pampanga

Bicol's halo-halo with cheese

After eating my way around the Philippines, I got my MA in Gastronomy (yes, there’s such a degree). Add that to my varied experiences with food: cooking, baking, selling, styling for TV and magazines, advertising food, writing, and eating lots of it, I am now more credible than ever to talk about food. My hunger for food and travel brought me to work in Australia, Singapore, and Hong Kong. You can take a Pinoy out of the Philippines, but you can’t take the Filipino out of the Pinoy. Pinoy and proud, my love for Filipino food did not wane. My dissertation was on Lutong Bahay among Filipino brides married to Australian men. I gave talks on Filipino cuisine at the National Museum of Singapore. On weekends, I feasted on Crispy Pata and Kare-Kare along with Filipino homesick for these.

Yes, I still write about Filipino food for magazines. But if there is one reason I should be the Ulimate Sooo Pinoy Blogger, it would be great to be reunited with these men and women who kindly opened their doors and hearts to me many years ago. After hours of talking about food, they treated me like a long lost relative and sending me off with a bag of goodies as pabaon. This time I have a digital camera and yes, a blog to capture the delicious memories.

Just BE

2011-11-02T19:22:00.000+08:00

I just returned from Cebu. What began as an adventure with my sister to Bantayan Island ended in a chic resort called BE. While I could not complain about Bantayan's beaches, I was underwhelmed by the facilities. Upon my sister's friend's suggestion and some research, we decided to cut our adventure in the northern tip of Cebu short (even if it took an effort to get to) and stay in BE Resort in Mactan.

Stepping into the lobby, I was overjoyed. Forget the free wifi in the public areas, there it was: a pair of Chiquita bamboo chairs by Kenneth Cobonpue. These wooden bamboo stools look uncomfortable. But go ahead, sit on it. Isn't that amazing? Its a bamboo chair that's kind to your bum. It is the genius of Kenneth Cobonpue, now a world famous Filipino designer from Cebu Brad Pitt loves. Brad was so impressed with his work, Kenneth's pieces were used in Ocean's 13 movie set, as well as Brad-Angelina home. Of course, more than meriting Pitt and Jolie's approval, this furniture designer has the nod of royalty as well the bigwigs in the furniture industry.

The Adorable Chiquita Chair

Across the Front Desk, there hangs a red Dragnet chair. The guests can't resist sitting on it, and swinging on this sturdy dangling rope-designed chair. I watched a dad and his daughter spending a long time swinging on this chair. It is almost always occupied. But when I got a chance, I could see why. It was comfortable, fun, and gorgeous. I want one! I want one! My mind started plotting on how I could get one.

Cocooned in the Dragnet Chair

Then close to the entrance, there was a pair of green rattan chairs. While they looked extremely delicate and fragile, the rattan vines are very sturdy. Go ahead, lean back. You can even rock back and forth. The name is aptly called Yoda, which only a genius furniture designer can create. I had been a fan of Kenneth Cobonpue and his creativity for years.


young tourist chilling on the Yoda Chair

Proudly Philippine Made...

But on this occasion, I was more impressed by the genius of the owner of BE hotel. By putting the furniture pieces of Kenneth Cobonpue on display in his modern hotel's lobby, he exposed tourists to our excellent craftsmanship and artistry. It was so enriching to see Korean tourists asking where to buy them, or young guests rushing to get the coveted Cobonpue seats in the Cafe.


The coveted dining couch by Kenneth


Cool Cabanas

Filipinos often complain about how the government fails in promoting our tourism or our country. Kudos to the owner of BE Resorts. He reminded me that to see change, you have to BE the change you want to be. I heard this is his first foray in the hospitality industry. Judging on his creative spirit and the efficiency of the front desk staff, I'm certain Be Resorts will definitely succeed beyond Cebu.

Cheers to BE!

Indochina Rewind

2011-08-20T15:18:00.067+08:00

I'm really sorry for not posting my last travels. Real life and deadlines got in the way of blogging. In the past three months, I've traveled to Bangkok, Laos, Vietnam, Hong Kong, and Singapore. I will start uploading photos and entries. I'm starting off with my two-week trip to Indochina at the end of May to Early June:

7 JUNE 2011-Phew, what a rush the past two weeks have been! I have indulged in the decadence of the Four Seasons Bangkok, a favorite of the wealthy Thai and expat families for Sunday brunch.

I took an 11-hour land trip from Bangkok to Pakse, Laos. The drive took three or four times to top up the petrol tank and numerous stops for potty breaks for me and two other journalists.

An enterprising child selling at the Thai-Laos Border

She sold this sour fruit.. is similar to the Philippine Kamias, with a chili sugar dipping sauce

our dinner after 11 hours together... by the Mekong River

At the Mekong Tourism Forum, I marveled the grandeur of the Mekong River. I crossed over to the quiet fishing town of Dong Daeng Island, then headed to the Vat Phu, Khmer ruins dating even earlier than Angkor Wat.

Vat Phu, older than Angkor Wat Temples

Look an instant picture frame!

I met fascinating people passionate about travel around the Mekong and a fellow foodie Bobby Chinn.

Look who's cooking my dinner...

Me and Bobby Chinn

Interesting scene near Pakse Market, feels like a blast from the past

Market Grilled Lunch

Chili anyone?

Baguettes---


We couldn't get the name... but it is a fruit similar to coconut..

I push my adrenaline and my physical strength to the limit by taking on the Tree Top Adventure in Paksong, Laos, where I screamed my head off in 8 ziplines, traversed Canopy walks, and abseiled a couple of towering trees. No one mentioned there would be a 10 kilometer trek on muddy slippery terrain or it would require negotiating a steep via Ferrata, some 300 meters above ground, looking down at the waterwalls. But hey, I survived with jello legs for the rest of the day, and sore muscles for the next three days.


That's me with my brake contraption aka a twig... before the trek and 8 ziplines-- still smiling here!

Aaaaaa.... Zip line number 8!

I chilled out at Inthira Hotel , a lovely boutique hotel in Champasak with the cutest baby Mia, daughter of the hotel’s managing director, Frenchman Alex and his Australian wife Jayd. Mia cooed and giggled as the staff taught me to make traditional Laos dishes (I will post these videos soon). I ease my weary body with a massage at Champasak Spa, ran by a French lady to help local women earn a living.

Little Mia in the mortar and pestle

From Laos, I flew to Ho Chi Minh City. Being in rural Laos for several days, I welcomed returning to the madness of HCMC. Staying with my aunt, everything felt familiar again, even bravely crossing the streets with the wild motorcycle drivers. I then got pampered in the Six Senses, Con Dao.

Lovely Six Senses Resort in Con Dao

I ended my trip with a road trip to Vung Tao with my aunt and her girlfriends.

Lovely seaside town of Vung Tau

Despite all the wows… surprisingly, it was one simple morning in Laos that made a dent to this food and travel writer. I sum it up in the journal entry below....

MORNING GLORY

CHAMPASAK, LAOS- You see them in guidebooks, the classic image of monks in saffron robes walking in single file with their begging bowls. It is 6 am, an hour before leaving for Pakse. The street is empty. But I am not alone. Two women stand outside their homes, just across the Inthira Hotel. They have baskets of sticky rice ready for the monks. While waiting one rolled three clumps of rice into balls and placed them on the small wooden altar in front of their home.

They waited in anticipation, ready for their daily act of generosity. I was told there are temples along this road in Champasak, with about ten monks in each one.

Then they came a line of six monks, just like the Von Trapp family. As if it were carefully choreographed, with the order of the tallest to the shortest monk (perhaps only four or five years old), they all walked gracefully in their robes. No smiles, no conversation. The last one skipped and hopped in a playful pace. But what struck me the most was their trust. Everyday, they faithfully believe they would be provided for with food from generous strangers.

It takes deep faith to know God (or the universe, if you wish) would provide abundantly for your needs. But there too is a lesson to be learned from the women. They waited in anticipation of the monks each day. Every day was a chance to flex their giving muscle more. They do have a choice. At 6am, I can think of many things I would rather be doing. They can be sleeping or getting a headstart on their daily tasks of cooking, washing the laundry, or earning a living. Instead, they choose to give.

We may be busy improving our running speed, our downward facing dog, or our forehand every morning. But perhaps, the real exercise worth doing daily requires us to flex our giving and receiving muscles.

10:20am. Written 6.02.20. Copyright2011. Maida Pineda

FoodforThought

2011-07-29T23:23:00.001+08:00

There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world-Robert Louis Stevenson.

Isla Culion's Finds

2011-05-14T23:30:00.006+08:00

One of the joys of travel is not knowing what you would find. Last week I was in Isla Culion, an island in Palawan, Philippines, the gorgeous finds were plenty.

Soaking Up the Islands

Soulful Serenity

A Hope-filled Sunrise

Prayerful Sanctuary

Smiling Happy People

Come and Play, where the air is clean....

A resilient community centered in faith

Islands waiting to be explored

Funky Trees


A special nut called the Casuy

Many Hallmark moments

A tunning sunset to send us off

One memorable moment was meeting Larry Sinamay and Jorky Calix, from the Tagbanua tribe (one of the oldest tribes in the Philippines). They have mastered using all four hands playing one guitar to create one unified tune. Larry says he is a fisherman and a self-taught guitar player. Before acquiring a guitar he made an improvised version strumming on the string use for fish nets. Listen to their talent....

Sagada's Silence

2011-04-20T15:14:00.001+08:00

Unlike its Asian neighbors, Holy Week is observed in the Philippines. During this time, Manila becomes a ghost town. With most offices and commercial establishments closed on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, many opt to hit the provinces for a four-day holiday. All the streets are empty. For once, gone are the traffic and parking woes.

While I am opting to stay in town for some silent reflection, I'll shine the spotlight on Sagada. A few days ago, my yoga teachers told me of their upcoming trip to Sagada for the four-day holiday. As we talked, it brought back memories of my trip four years ago. So while I may have not been good in looking like a Japanese ham roll to my instructors, I know they will appreciate this little blog to send them off on their trip:

SAGADA April 2007:

After a long bus ride, then a bumpy and dizzying jeepney ride on rough roads, my friend Teenette and I were rewarded with Sagada's charming silence.


The View from my window at St. Joseph's Guest House

For many Sagada regulars, St. Jo's is the place to stay. It is a basic very affordable accommodation with a bed and a shared bathroom. I was pleased with the view from my room. But at 3am, the old couple staying in the next room were wide awake. There are no secrets with these thin wooden walls separating us. I could hear the intimate details of their conversation and know how many times they flush the loo.

The top two attractions in this chill destination are the caves and hanging coffins. Sumaging Cave is the most accessible, and a joy with the ornate stalactite and stalagmite formations.

Entering Sumaging Cave, with my new found friends

Close to the Cave's Entrance

Cool pools of water inside the cave


What do you see?


Dirty and slimy with bat poop, but still worth the photo

Hanging Caves, a burial site for the ancient people of Sagada

The best prize after a long grueling crawl and walk through Sumaging Cave is a stop at Yoghurt Time for their freshly made thick yogurt, topped with granola.

Spend the rest of your days in Sagada, sipping strong coffee or just breathing in the fresh air.

Soak up the stillness and the solitude of Sagada. Somehow, up in this mountain town there is a refreshing clarity and peace easy to access..

Celebrating the Golden Delicious Moments of Food & Travel

2011-04-20T14:14:00.002+08:00

It has been almost thirteen years since I started my career as a food and travel writer. There were still no blogs or digital cameras at the time. I was still shooting in film and slides. I don't think I even had a mobile phone then.

Maida in Balai in Laiya, Batangas, Philippines (2000)

While some of my photos, slides and negatives were washed away by Typhoon Ondoy in September 2009, returning home to Manila I managed to unearth many of albums. The past thirteen years have indeed been so rich in experience and memories. I figured it would be great to share these Maida's Touch, golden delicious moments of food and travel with you in the blog and Twitter. Look back and Enjoy!

MaidaPineda Copyright2011.No portion of this blog and the photos may be used without permission of the author.

Comfort Food Away from Home

2011-04-15T17:32:00.002+08:00

Since I am back in Manila, I can easily have access to my favorite Filipino dishes Kare-kare, Adobo, Pork Barbecue, and Lumpia every single day if I want to. Living away from home for the past four years, I romanticized eating these dishes. For this OFW (Overseas Filipino Worker), no bowl of Laksa or Hainanese Chicken Rice satisfied as much as mom’s home cooked Chicken Adobo, rice, and itlog na maalat (Salted Duck’s Egg).

Two days ago, I found myself in a small Thai Bazaar at Ritz Towers. There were only about seven food, clothing, and jewelry vendors in a small function room of the Makati Condominium. It was past 1pm when my mom and I arrived at the venue. We were both starving and all shaken up by the bumpy ride from Quezon City to Makati via UP Manila. As expected there was Phad Thai, Tom Yum Goong, and spring rolls for sale. But what looked most appetizing was the Ho Mok Pla, a most delicate fish curry, cabbage, all steamed in a banana leaf. I firmly believe the flavors of banana leaves and coconut milk are ardent lovers. They bring out the best in each other. The steamed fish was delicate, complemented by the shredded cabbage base. It came alive with a bold spicy punch from the chili. I asked the lady who made this dish, where it was typically made. “Bangkok” she answered, explaining you can use chicken or pork instead of fish. She recommended eating with it steamed rice. But I craved for sticky rice, rolled into tight bite size balls as they do in Northern Thailand. A vendor next to her game me a bag of sticky rice to eat. It was delightful!

Ho Mok Pla

Another winning product from this bazaar was the Bagoong Rice Sushi. The Thai Fried rice with salted pork, chili, and strips of Green Mango is conveniently rolled into sushi.

Clever!

Thai Fried Rice Sushi

Later, I saw the vendors, the half dozen or so Thai homemakers, huddled together around a plastic table. They ate their beloved dishes with much gusto and banter as if they were in their own home country.

We had to return to UP Manila to pick up my father. On the way home to Quezon City, I quieted my hankering for Samosas by stopping by ASSAD Mini Mart in United Nations, Paco (yes, across the Unilever office). It is probably Manila’s compact version of Little India. I’ve stopped here several times before for this potato crusty dumpling. My mom tells me, on her way home from mass in the Senate along with an Indian priest, he asked to stop by ASSAD for his fix of authentic Indian food.

The grocery had the pungent aroma of spices. There were rows and rows of bottled curries and chutneys and stacks of Papadums, garlic naan and other Indian breads. But the busiest portion of the mini mart was the bakery section. Warm Samosas were for sale for P15, +P5 for Chole. Unfamiliar with Chole, I asked the petite Filipina behind the counter. It is a chick pea curry, she explained. Next to me was an Indian man, dressed in motorcycle gear. He was enjoying his snack of Samosa and drinking what appeared to be Lassi.

Samosa with Chole

My curious mother asked about the three layers of various sweets on display. The accommodating sales lady boxed a sample of a few pieces for P165. I then remembered a round dessert in syrup. “Gulabjamun?” she said showing me a huge vat of these balls floating like bobbing apples in light golden syrup. After two weeks of meditation classes, our little ‘enlightened’ tribe had a vegetarian feast ending with this sweet treat. An Indian man asked for six pieces. I followed suit. It tastes just like doughnut holes swimming in sugar syrup. It is actually milk solids and flour rolled together then fried, served in a sugar syrup flavored with cardamom seeds and rose water or saffron.

Gulab Jamun

Samosas, the Ho Mok Pla, sticky rice, and Gulabjamun all brought back happy memories of my stint in Singapore and Thailand. My mom politely sampled these too, but they did not excite her. My dad found them either too sweet or too spicy. My sister took one bite of the Indian sweets and quickly commented, “I’m not in the mood for exotic tonight.”

The meaning of food is so personal and so individual. For some it can evoke many fond memories. But without the memories, food becomes simply judged by its flavor, calories, and nutrition.

Copyright Maida Pineda 2011. No part of this blog or the photos may be used without permission of the author.

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Food for thought

2011-03-25T10:36:00.001+08:00

There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world-Robert Louis Stevenson.

Food for thought

2011-03-15T09:36:00.001+08:00

Seek not outside yourself, heaven is within. -Mary Lou Cook.

Food for thought

2011-03-15T09:26:00.001+08:00

If we go down into ourselves we find that we possess exactly what we desire.- Simone Weil.

Food for thought

2011-03-15T09:24:00.001+08:00

Fear less, hope more, eat less, chew more, whine less, breathe more, talk less, say more, hate less, love more, and good things will be yours.- Swedish Proverb.

Food for thought

2011-03-12T10:26:00.001+08:00

We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later. -Mary Antin. Be patient with our process of becoming.

Food for thought

2011-03-11T08:55:00.001+08:00

Until you make peace with who u are, you'll never be content with what u have.-Doris Mortman. God meets us where we are at. We must do the same for ourselves.

Food for thought

2011-03-10T10:56:00.001+08:00

The way to choose happiness is to follow what is right and real and the truth for you. You can never be happy living someone else's dream. Live your own.-Oprah

Food for thought

2011-03-09T09:49:00.001+08:00

"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I hope I will not have a single bit of talent left & can say- I used everything You gave me." ~Erma Bombeck

Food for thought

2011-03-08T10:12:00.005+08:00

Everything in life we really accept undergoes a change- Katherine Mansfield

Food for thought

2011-03-08T10:12:00.004+08:00

Even when the odds are stacked against you, have a crazy-big dream-- then proceed. -Sarah jessica Parker. Go forth, dream & live it.

Scenes from Saigon

2011-03-04T14:54:00.007+08:00

Four years ago, I had this great big plan to backpack alone through Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. But life had other plans for me taking me to Singapore, Hong Kong and many other places in between. So this year, when a budget airline went on sale with an irresistible price from Manila to Saigon, I grabbed the opportunity to fulfill this dream. I am not impulsive in purchasing clothes, jewelry or tech gadgets. But this was definitely an impulse buy. I’m happy to report that I never experienced buyer’s remorse at all for this purchase. So armed with a 11-kilo suitcase, I began my journey.

Lovely Vietnamese Ladies

Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon as most still prefer to call it was my first stop. An aunt working in HCMC for the past 7 years kindly hosted me in her home in District 3, right at the heart of the city. The day began with a bowl of Pho Bo for breakfast with my aunt. I had eaten this steaming bowl of beef noodles garnished with basil, fresh bean sprouts, and chili for lunch or dinner, but never for breakfast.

Despite only a few hours of sleep, I was armed and ready to battle the streets of Saigon on my own. But first, I had to exchange my US dollars into Vietnamese Dong.

An instant millionaire!

While the US dollars are readily accepted in most shops, it is still best to carry the local currency for better bargaining power. My US $100 instantly made me millionaire. (Well 2,079,000.00 VND to be exact!) The thrill of being a millionaire in this currency was short-lived. I immediately became confused with the many zeros and the many different colored bills. I didn’t even receive a single coin during my stay there.

I headed straight to Ben Thanh Market, one of the oldest surviving structures of Saigon. It is a must stop for tourists buying souvenirs, local handicrafts, áo dài, and local cuisine. The piles of spices, fruits, and plethora of coffee thrilled this foodie. Any lady can’t have enough bags, clothes or jewelry. This market offered heaps of these, too. Lacquer decorative items are in abundance, dating back to a long tradition since 3rd or 4th BC in Vietnam. But mustering my self-control, I resisted buying anything knowing I would have to carry my purchases with me to the next two cities.


Vietnam's extensive selection of coffee beans

Pho and cheap eats in the market


Fruits

Goi Cuon

I lost my way, but found solace in seeing my first book “Do’s and Don’ts in the Philippines” sold in this bookstore.

I continued my tour of Saigon on foot. I walked marveling at the street food sold around the city. Vietnamese office workers clustered together in tiny plastic stools, eating Pho and other local dishes right on the sidewalk. I was baffled why the stools were pint sized. But my thoughts were quickly swept away by the multitude of motorcycles zooming away.

The King of the road

Ho Chi Minh Musuem-lovely architecture

Street side small stools in abundance

For lunch, I was in the company of a plethora of tourists at Nha Hang Ngon, where the menu boasts of many pages of Vietamese food. My choice was Nem Nuong Cuon Banh Trang, (Grilled Minced Pork Meatballs served with Rice Vermicelli, Rice Papers, and Vegetables). For all the walking, dodging mad motorcycles, and finding my way around the city, I deserved a caffeinated treat, cà phê sữa đá (iced coffee). There’s nothing like bold Vietnamese coffee, sweet milk and lots of ice to wake up your senses.


Nem Nuong Cuon Banh Trang

Revitalized, I continued my walking tour admiring Notre Dame Cathedral, The Post Office, and a tour of the Reunification Palace.


The Post office

Inside the Post office


Reunification Palace


Inside the Palace, gorgeous lacquer paintings

But doing this all by foot, under Saigon’s hot sunny skies wore me out. Ready to call it a day, I was ready to climb into a cyclo to get me back to my aunt's place. But the persistent cyclo driver had other plans. He convinced me to see the Emperor of Jade Pagoda. I hesitantly let him show me his town. I feared for my safety he recklessly pedaled amidst a sea of motorcycles. “If you can’t beat them, join them, I thought.” But I didn’t realize being in the midst of the mad road warriors was worse.

Most unflattering photo in a Cyclo

Motorcycle Madness

Emperor of Jade Pagoda

Shocking Pink Catholic Church, a discovery on our long walk


masks: a fashion statement or an essential accessory?

Vinh Nghiem Pagoda

the 7-story, 40m-high tower

Luckily, I met a fellow solo traveler, Rainier, backpacking from Switzerland. Together, we continued my walking tour, making our way to two more Pagodas in Saigon.

In the evening, my aunt asked if was keen to try a local restaurant serving only one dish. “Yes!” She brought me to Cha Ca La Vong , a traditional Hanoi dish, a fitting prelude to my next destination, Hanoi. The turmeric catfish dish is cooked in a skillet in front of you, adding the dill and scallion. In a bowl, assemble the fish, mint leaves, noodles, fish sauce and peanuts and eat!

This simple and satisfying fish dish successfully managed to whet my appetite for delicious adventures for the next day.

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All text and photos by Maida Pineda. Copyright2011.No portion of this blog may be reproduced without permission of the author.

Hong Kong Memories

2011-02-02T00:36:00.005+08:00

The most exhilarating facet of life is not knowing where the journey will take you. For this food and travel writer, I found myself relocating to Hong Kong last year for work. Moving from Singapore, a dominantly Chinese population, I guess I did not expect much difference. Surely, I expected a more vibrant scene in this bigger city with double the population of the Lion City. Someone commented “Hong Kong is like Singapore on steroids.” It is an apt description. But Hong Kong is not just bigger, busier and brighter. It has its own unique character.

Flying in from the squeaky clean streets of Singapore, I moved into a shoebox studio located in a street known in Hong Kong for traditional Chinese medicine, sharks fin, and other herbal remedies. That was just the beginning of my adventure. The pace in Hong Kong is much faster too, like a treadmill running on full speed.

As I got acquainted with the city, I reveled in the plethora of scents, sights, and tastes it offered. Despite many trips to Hong Kong in the past, working and living here offers a totally different perspective. I managed to sneak in a few excursions and explorations in spite of the grueling demands of work. And before finally leaving, I shifted to tourist mode wide-eyed at the tall buildings, secret parks, monasteries, and hidden attractions. It helped to have a partner-in-crime to explore Hong Kong with Michael, my Polish neighbor, who arrived in the city a few days after I had.

Making sense of my stint in Hong Kong resulted in a video capturing my memories. Even the songs were carefully selected to capture the mood and the reflections of my journey. They were the theme songs of this phase in my life.

To sum up my experience in Hong Kong, I’d have to borrow words from American photographer Henry Callahan. He wisely sums up my sentiment after this chapter in my life, “Experience is the best teacher of all. And for that, there are no guarantees that one will become an artist. Only the journey matters.”

Thanks for the Precious Moments

2011-01-09T11:37:00.059+08:00

January 4th- MANILA
As many people are going back to work today, I sit in the most soothing garden I know in Manila. At the Cenacle retreat house, I sit and space out watching the butterflies flap their delicate wings. I listen to the birds, out chirp each other. I feel the warmth of the sun on my back. Above me is the bluest sky littered with white soft, fluffy, cotton candy clouds. I am home. It is a silence I have been craving for a long time.

There is life all around me. My soul too is alive.

After being in the frenzy of Hong Kong, I got off the treadmill of the busy cosmopolitan city on December 24th. I landed in Manila and plunged straight into the holiday festivities. Two days ago, I still felt immersed in the merry making cloud. It was like a lasting a hangover with the non-stop deluge of activities with my family and friends. It is what a priest describes as “wasting time with your loved ones.”

My "Always Jolly" Nephew Alex and I on the way to the beach

Play time!

Santa's Little Elf

Precious Little Precious Moment Baby!

Lost in the giggles, adorable antics, and innocence of my ten-month-old nephew visiting from the US, time went by in a flash. As I dove into a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with my friend Isabel on January 2nd, she described the holidays in the Philippines, “It is like taking marijuana. You arrive before Christmas and leave on January 2nd wondering where all the time went.” With no experience in this department, I'll take her word for it.

Instead of flying out to Hong Kong in my ‘drugged’ holiday state, I rescheduled to leave a whole week later. I pondered many things including a question a wise spiritual friend asked at a dinner party on New Year’s Day , “A new decade has just ended and a new one is beginning. What are the milestones of the past decade for you?” On New Year’s Day in the midst of my happy and gay friends, I conveniently ducked her question saying it was cheesy. But deep down it was something I had been pondering for many days now. What is meaningful to me? What has 2010 been for me?

Initially, the flood of memories surging back to me was my accomplishments in the past year. There was the joy of Six Degrees being the first book sold in all Starbucks stores in Singapore (Thanks, Starbucks for supporting your daily Cappuccino writer patron). I smiled back remembering how the Charice article I wrote made it to the cover of Reader’s Digest Asia, hitting the Philippine entertainment news. I marveled at the half-page feature on me in the Philippine Star and the lengthy TV interview on ANC, plus the book launch in the Manila. Happy thoughts fill me looking at photos of trips to Northern Thailand and Redang, Malaysia.

Despite the holiday frenzy, one profound realization came to me at 11pm, as I was on babysitting duty watching my little nephew Alex sleep, while his parents were in a party. I discovered that gazing at a baby sleep in his crib is a meditation. His little butt sticking out, his gentle body relaxed, as he breathes in and out. A peaceful energy oozes out from this tiny human being. Without uttering a word, Alex reminded me what mattered in life. It is not the accomplishments, the salary, or the position you have at work. They are not yours to keep. Rather, it is the precious moments that matter in life.

While I may have met and interviewed big shots like Mitch Albom , author of Tuesday with Morrie; chef celebrities Ferran Adria and Thomas Keller, singers Charice and Corinne Bailey Rae, philanthropists John Wood and Barton Brooks. It is not the big grand gestures that matter but the little ones. It is a friend in Singapore insisting that we Skype at 8am (despite his bad hangover) because he is worried I haven’t been answering my emails for weeks in Hong Kong. It is a Sunday night conversation with a guy, punctuated by many gaps of silence, as he gingerly opens up about how difficult 2010 has been for him. It is receiving an email from an American I met in the Orient Express two years ago. She reconnects telling me how her life has been since recovering from a lost love. She kept up with me on the blog, and kindly opens the door in her home should I choose to visit Oregon. It is the letters from readers who took time to send me an email saying how much they enjoyed the book. It is seeing my mom and dad seated next to each other on the ledge looking out to the beach, giggling like young lovers. It is seeing a dear friend stand with her dignity intact, her spirit no longer crushed. She now manages a genuine smile, a year after discovering her husband’s unfaithfulness. It is witnessing a loved one’s resilience. She can once again laugh and be strong, now recovered from the loss of loved one almost a year later. It is laughing uncontrollably at midnight while a friend, reminisces how her late mother lovingly offered her half-slip to keep her warm in their last holiday together in California. It is meeting up for coffee with a friend. Despite losing his job, he is genuinely filled with joy for my new career opportunity in another country. It is a friend promising to pray with me for the health of my loved ones. It is hearing a dear friend who has spiritually journeyed with me for the past twelve years, burst into contagious laughter at my spontaneous irreverent comments. It is surprising a friend on a Saturday morning that I’ve landed in Manila, coaxing him away from his high-pressure job, for a simple meal overlooking Manila Bay. It is seeing the fireworks in Disneyland reflected in my sister’s eyes, reminding her to once again believe in the magic of life.

It is the Chinese shopkeepers where I buy fruits or stationary attempting to converse with warmth, despite the language barrier. It is a sibling flying in to meet you in the airport, at a yet another city, to help you once again relocate and start anew. It is receiving your dad’s compliments on how you perfectly cooked the Sea Bass, as you pass him the dish for his second serving. It is the twinkle on my brother's eye when he saw the wedding cake I made for him and his bride. It is enjoying the ferry on Hong Kong’s harbor, thanks to a youthful friend who has endeared himself as a little brother to me. Friends from afar who thoughtfully offered their friends to connect with as I move to a new city. Acquaintances with wide open arms, caring to make my load lighter in a trying situations.

My little nephew and godson Alex looks just like a Precious Moment character. His hair is wispy and long, uncut until he reaches his first birthday next month. His puffy cheeks are rosy. His eyes are wide-eyed, and filled with innocence. He is a peaceful angel that brought the meaning of Christmas into our family’s home this year. His adorable looks and positive presence reminded me that life is about precious moments. In 2010, I took many photos of the food before I eat them. In 2011, I resolve to be more mindful of taking more photos of precious moments in my heart.

To all the people who have kindly taken time to entrust me with the most intimate stirrings of their heart, who have made me laugh, giggle or simply soak up the sun, Thank You! Thank you for filling my life with precious moments. I wish for your 2011 be abundantly blessed with awe, joy, and gratitude for these details that matter.

Posted.1.09.2011.11.09am

Thomas Keller and The French Laundry in my life

2010-12-12T14:56:00.000+08:00

Eleven years ago, my writing career was still in its early days. I had written for a travel channel on cable, finished a book, and a few published clips. I was young and naïve. I met Thomas Keller, in a food writers conference at the prestigious CIA(Culinary Institute of America) in Napa. He spoke before about a hundred food writers about his newly released booked “The French Laundry.” We sat in awe. Before us was a man with extraordinary culinary brilliance. He was humble and unassuming. But his name precedes him. It was impossible to get a reservation in his restaurant, The French Laundry, unless you plan two months ahead of time.

With my meager income as a writer, I distinctly remember hesitating for a second to buy his book. But it was gorgeous coffee table book, I could pour through page after page. His book was celebration of his passion for excellence in the kitchen and in the entire dining experience. I parted with my $50 for a chance to be in the company of Thomas Keller, for a few seconds, while he signed my book.

Many years have passed since that day. I wrote hundreds of articles. I lived in the Philippines, Australia, Singapore and now Hong Kong.

Last year, I wrote my second book. On the day I received a copy of my second book, a devastating flood hit Manila and most of Luzon, in my home country, the Philippines. My family home was not spared. My sister and my mom were the only ones at home at the time, with my father stranded in the hospital with my brother. My sister called me in Singapore at around three in the afternoon. Her voice was visibly frightened. She was asking for prayers. The flood had entered our home and kept rising. My father has built our house a few feet higher than our neighbors. He had experienced a flood before, and had the gumption to protect his family. His ingenuity worked. The elevation spared us from many floods in the past, but not this one.

A rubber boat transported our elderly neighbor out of their bungalow, with an ambulance standing by a few streets away. The dogs had to be brought up to the second floor. Luckily, aside from some minor cuts and frayed nerves, no one was badly hurt in our household. My family and house survived the storm and flood. But many other Filipinos were not so lucky losing all their personal belongings and loved ones. One year after the fateful, Ondoy, things are still in boxes. The carpenters have not finished the long list of renovations and repaired left by the devastation. My sister lost her car. And my father’s car remains damaged.

My workshop was on the first floor of our home. It was a cozy guest room I converted into a sanctuary to write, to paint, to create, and to dream. It housed my favorite things, among them my prized signed cookbooks. On the lowest level of the bookshelf were the biggest and heaviest coffee table books. My all time favorite was The French Laundry by Thomas Keller. The very first expensive cookbook I bought. The book was lovely, but it also brought back memories of being that young food writer.

When I returned home from Singapore from the holidays, my parents showed me what was left of my workshop. They did not have the heart to throw anything away, knowing each thing there meant something to me. The photo albums were now empty, with the faces and images washed away by the water. My black and white portfolio of photos I shot and printed for many hours during my senior year in college were soaked. The books were soaked, and now moldy. I held them in my hands, and cried. The cookbooks are gone. The photos are gone. It felt like a huge chunk of my life had been deleted. It was as if I had been struck by amnesia.

Some of the damaged cookbooks I had to throw away

Moldly and all glued together

But these were just things. Many Filipinos lost everything, even their loved ones. Losing my photos and books was nothing to the ordeal they had been through. I sensibly knew, it was not apt to publicly lament my loss.

I now live in Hong Kong, immersed in the vibrant food and wine scene here. My calendar is filled with wine tasting and appointments. But it was an appointment last Monday at 4 to 5pm that meant the most. Thomas Keller was in town for a few days to bring The French Laundry experience to Hong Kong.

Thomas Keller and I in Hong Kong

He greeted me with a warm smile and firm handshake. I told him we had met many years ago. Who would have thought I would meet this man again? The interview was easy. His answers flowed so easily from questions. His words were nuggets of wisdom any serious cook should take to heart. To Keller, creating the best food experience is an art form from sourcing the best ingredients, to cooking it, and ultimately serving it in the best way.

At the end of the interview, he handed me a book. He signed it with many swift, yet graceful strokes. On the page, he left a stunning autograph reminding me it is all about finesse. It is an artwork. I tease him that his autograph much better than the way he signed my book many years ago. He laughs and explains that eleven years has made him much better.

The artistry even in his autograph

My heart leapt that day. Who would have thought I meet Thomas Keller again? Even better, I would get a copy of a signed copy of his book again. But it was good reminder of where I am.

The book now sits on a prime spot in my tiny shoebox studio flat in HK. It is the first thing I see when I wake up. Safe from the floods, it rests on a shelf high up from the floor and five flights below the ground. It is a beautiful reminder that God abundantly provides, and in trusting in His ways. Just when you least expect, He thoughtfully throws a sweet surprise leave you in awe.

When I bid him goodbye, I told Thomas, I hope it won't take another eleven years until I meet him again. I know with certainty, it won't.

Copyright Maida Pineda 2010. 12.12.2010.2:55pm

HONORING TIMES & SEASONS

2010-09-16T17:33:00.002+08:00

SINGAPORE-Two months ago, I was in a quandary. Luckily, my best friend based in Manila was in town en route to a holiday in Phuket. As we ate barbecued stingray and xiao long baos for dinner and extended the conversation chomping on Garrett’s Caramel popcorn outside Universal studios, she left me with a nugget of wisdom to chew on. Oddly, this wisdom came from my own book, Six Degrees of Expatriation.

“Remember that chapter with the French guy. He just ate enough, not till he was full,” my friend Rissa reminded me. In the book I captured my French friend Guillaume’s words: “ The French say you have to leave the table still a little hungry. If you eat too much, it is not good.”

Rissa has been following this Parisian’s wisdom in her eating habits. She feels light and healthier. But these words were exactly what I needed to do with my life. I could no longer ignore my restlessness. I sensed it was time to leave Singapore. It is wise to leave when you still crave to have a tiny bite more. Don’t leave when you are miserable and raring to go. Until this afternoon, I longed to bite a bit more of Tiong Bahru's fascinating hawker center. The uncle told me how the 50 year old tradition of Tiong Bahru Paos were all hand made. But what I loved was the smokey flavor of the chariew (barbecued pork) filling. So good, I ate a pao every day (often more) for the past six or seven days. (Is that an addiction?)

My dear friends, it is time for me to go. A less than 24-hour trip to interview a lady in Hong Kong surprised me with a job offer to be editor for an Asian food and wine website. On Friday, I will be leaving Singapore. Judging from the number of boxes I had to sort and pack (don’t even ask how many), it is hard to believe I moved here with only a 20-kg suitcase.

Three years later, I leave richer with so much experience. Everywhere I turn, there are memories. Strangers are now friends. The Starbucks baristas know me by name, and I know them, too. I said my goodbyes to my friends, to the choir, and even to my favorite dishes. I got choked up in the bus three nights ago. I realized that soon I won’t be able to run anymore to my dear photographer friend in Ann Siang for advice or just vent freelance woes. I met up with two friends to eat stingray and wash it down with ice-cold beer in a hawker centre. Over the long weekend, I had an extra long coffee at Cedele as we had many times in the past. For hours, we talked about family, friends, and faith. I sang one last time with the first choir I ever sang with, FX choir. And one last time, we all happily feasted on Crispy Pata, Chicharon Bulaklak, and Sinigang, Filipino dishes transporting us back home. I returned to my favorite weekend haunt, away from the maddening crowd. I visited my sanctuary once more. In this sacred place, I cried, gave thanks, or just sat quietly. Tomorrow night, I will stroll one last time by the most magical part of Singapore. It is the Singapore River, the heart of the city. I ran here several times to sort out my thoughts. Other times, I shared it with a fellow writer, talking about past lives, lost loves, and laughter. Somehow, the river always dazzled me in the evening.

As I looked at the photos in my laptop, I am in awe. Thank you, Singapore. Look how far we’ve gone on this delicious journey.


MY FIRST DAY IN SINGAPORE: On the day I arrived, I 'gate crashed' a Hungry Ghost feast at an HDB deck in Jurong West


My first visit to a Chinese Wedding Store


My first taste of Kaya Toast and learning the lingo; Kopi-O, Kopi-C... ping

amused at my first encounter with snow skin mooncakes. Pastel colored erasers or edible desserts?


The Singapore River's festive glow

The famous Tulang from Golden Mile, I sprained my ankle for...


Falling in love with the museums... In this case going Greek in the National Museum


Trips near and far: visiting wats in Bangkok


Quick getaways to nearby Batam, Indonesia


Homecomings to the Philippines and her gorgeous sunsets (take in Guimaras)

Macau


Eating my way from Bangkok to Singapore, starting with High tea at the Author's lounge in the Oriental Bangkok then the legendary Orient Express

The Katong Laksa Wars: soup so good vendors argue who is the best

Must see :the zoo

Odd finds like a Frog Farm

A bottle tree park


DIVERSE CUISINES: Here I am giving a Talk on Filipino Cuisine at the SINGAPORE National Museum

Kuehs at Hari Raya

My book launch at Borders


Trailblazing: My book the first ever book sold in Starbucks Singapore, and such lovely baristas

Starstruck with famous chef Ferran Adria


Singapore's magical evening ambiance

Singapore, what a delicious spread you have set before me! Thank you...Taking the cue from my wise French friend, it is time to leave the table. Thanks to the dear friends I have made in Singapore, and every one I met along the way.

Cheers, Singapore! Thanks for the memories....

September15.2010.copyright.2010.themaidastouch.blogspot.com

A NEW SPIN ON MOONCAKES

2010-09-02T15:06:00.002+08:00

Singapore’s Spin on Mooncakes

September 2- Three years ago, I arrived in Singapore. Everything was fresh and new: the lingering scent of durians, the inescapable humidity and pastel-colored mooncakes. I’ve seen and tasted mooncakes before. They were baked pastry filled with a dense lotus paste filling and a duck’s egg yolk. Often, they were four fist-sized pieces packed in tin cans. Using a mold, each mooncake has the bakery’s logo.

Traditional mooncake photo courtesy of Goodwood Park Hotel

While many Chinese societies exchange mooncakes, trust Singapore to turn it a notch higher into a posh gift. Each year, chefs feverishly try to outdo each other in innovating the mooncake. Capitalizing on the season where business associates, friends, and relatives, exchange this sweet dessert, each bakery strives hard to be the preferred mooncake supplier for this popular corporate gift.

Most of the innovation is done with snowskin mooncakes. Instead of using the baked pastry crust, they use glutinous rice to create a skin similar to Japanese mochi balls. This delicate mooncake needs to be refrigerated, as it will be too soft in this tropical climate. They add pastel colors in pinks, greens, yellows, purples, and pinks. These mooncakes almost look too cute to eat.

The fruity flavors of Goodwood Park Hotel (photo courtesy of Goodwood Park Hotel)

Rounding up the innovative mooncakes this year, I found fantastic sources for Snowskin Mooncakes. Goodwood Park went all out this year offering 12 different mooncakes. To celebrate the hotel’s 110th anniversary, they created a 12-cm Almond Beancurd with Longan giant snowskin mooncake. Packed in a fancy gold silk drawstring pouch, this mooncake makes a great gift for only $11. I love how it mimics the almond jelly dessert. This mooncake is light and refreshing, making it a perfect dessert after a heavy feast.

Refreshing and Light Almond beancurd with Longan Giant Mooncake from Goodwood Park Hotel

Taking the fruity path to hilt, Goodwood also introduces the Apple Caramel Snowskin mooncake this year. A good gift would be the four-piece box ($42) with all four fruity flavors: Mango with Pomelo in Snowskin, D24 Durian Paste, and Cempedak Paste along with the Apple Caramel variety. As they must be served frozen, Goodwood packs them nicely in a yellow thermal bag to keep it cool. The Mango with Pomelo is the best. Again, it takes inspiration from the Mango Pomelo dessert served in Chinese restaurants. It is like a mango sorbet with bits of pomelo pulp. The mango’s sweetness is perfectly paired with the slightly sour pomelo bits. For the lover of exotic fruit, the Durian and Cempadak will be best. Its powerful flavors though limit your consumption to one or two bites.

Cute pastel mooncakes from Goodwood Hotel shot on my iphone

A huge surprise for me was finding great mooncake offerings from an Italian Pasticceria-Confitteria. COVA created a Torta de Luna (Cakes of the Moon) collection for its Singapore clients. This year, they added the Mocha Snowskin and the Sweet Potato Mooncake to its offerings. Sampling a box of four with these two, plus the Rose and Vanila snowskin and Chocolate and Peanut and Chocolate Mooncake. I opened the box of four mooncakes ($38.50) for my friends to sample. One by one we cut slivers of the mooncake. The Peanut and chocolate was the instant favorite. Made with a rich chocolate sponge cake layer, with chocolate feuillentine (chocolate cream mixed with cereal) and peanut butter cream. It was divine! I almost regretted sharing this mooncake with my friends. Ranking second was the Mocha Mooncake. It was made with all things Italians loved: freshly ground coffee bits, mascarpone cheese, Kahlua and Amaretto liqueur. After sampling these two decadent mooncakes, the Sweet Potato and Rose and Vanilla flavors failed to capture our heart the same way.

COVA, Mooncakes go Italian! (photo courtesy of COVA)

So, if you’re participating in Mooncake diplomacy this year, go innovative. Try something fruity or oozing with chocolate. After all, this holiday happens, only once in a blue moon! Hurry, these are available only until the mooncake festival on September 22.

GOODWOOD PARK HOTEL
22 Scotts Road
(65)67377411

COVA Pasticceria – Confetteria Singapore
290 Orchard Road, #01-20A Paragon, Singapore 238859
(65) 6733 0777

CopyrightMaidaPineda.September2,2010. www.themaidastouch.blogspot.com

WATOTO CHOIR: SINGING SONGS OF HOPE

2010-08-07T15:13:00.003+08:00

Last night, I slept on a cushy pillow of hope. My heart was overflowing with an overpowering emotion. I watched the Watoto Concert of Hope at the Esplanade Concert Hall. The performers were 22 children from Uganda. All of them had lost one or both of their parents to HIV/AIDS, poverty or war. They burst into the stage with such a positive presence in their vibrant green, purple, and yellow printed African frocks. The little girls all had their hair in braids, with a hair band accent. But, what pierced my heart were their great big smiles.

Tbe Watoto Choir after the concert

They started with an upbeat praise song, Paki Rwoth:

In my despair,

You turned to me

You put a song in my heart

Now I sing.

Lord as I live

May people See

Your love and Grace

Flowing through me.”

Their perky dance steps and their pure angelic voices made a joyous energy real in the concert hall. It was infectious. It was an amazing deep faith in God.

The youngest in the group, an eight year old boy

Interspersed between the songs were the stories of these orphans. Roland, a ten-year-old boy who lost both parents shared his story. After both his parents died, his grandmother took care of him and his four siblings. Their neighbors paid them to dig and fetch firewood to survive. One day a social worker told them about Watoto. He said, “I am so happy. I have lots to eat. I now have a bed.”

I sat there chewing on this thought, “A bed… all he wanted was a bed.” He feels to blessed to have a bed. The tears rolled down my cheeks. The next song, “Not Forgotten,” summed it up.

The lyrics go:

“I am not forgotten

I am not forgotten

God knows my name.

He knows my name.

Light over darkness

Strength over weakness

Joy over sadness

He knows my name

Father to the Fatherless

Friend to the friendless

Hope for the Hopeless

He knows my name

I will praise you

I will praise you,

For I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I am Not forgotten,

Never Forsaken.”

The stigma associated with HIV Aids has left many orphans alienated and abandoned in their villages. Their pain is just immense, as articulated by a Cambodian little boy, left to fend for himself.

You've touched in me in such a deep way.

The tears did not stop flowing. But I was not alone. Next to me, a lady was digging into her bag for tissues. She too was crying. The lady in front of me was crying too. It was impossible not to be overwhelmed. According to the slides by World Vision, one person dies of AIDS every 14 seconds. There are 11.6 Million orphaned by AIDS in Sub-Saharan Africa.

As much as the show spoke of the plight of these children, the choir also celebrated their culture. They played African drums. In their villages, drums were used for meetings and celebrations. Most, importantly, there was always dancing. They showed beautiful photos of Uganda and their top exports, pineapples and bananas.

Thanks for infecting me with your joy and hope

The children sang a Mandarin song with Stefanie Sun. The lady sitting next to me said their Mandarin accent was flawless. I later learned these kids studied this Chinese song for two months. The children even got the audience to dance and sing with them. In my three years in Singapore, this is the most animated audience I had ever seen. At the end of the show, the concertgoers had an opportunity to buy crafts made by 2,000 Uganda mothers with HIV. The Watoto choir cd’s were available, too.

The children met the audience, kindly posing for photos. They smiled at me. I congratulated them for singing and dancing so well. But deep down, I was applauding their resilience. I hugged them in gratitude. They had generously blessed me with their performance. These angels sang of God’s goodness, of their resilient spirits, and the message of hope.

This meaningful concert left me thinking about my own life. I was born lucky. These kids have been through so much, yet they remain hopeful and happy. The challenge I ask myself now is how I can live responsibly. How can I help these children?

Hugs of hope

First, I would like to promote Concerts With a Cause (www.cause.sg), an initiative of Café Diplo featuring musicians passionate about humanitarian and environmental causes. One way to help is to create awareness and support more meaningful concerts like this one. Special thanks to World Vision, a Christian relief, development and advocacy agency dedicated to working with children, families and communities by tackling the causes of poverty. World Vision (www.worldvision.org.sg) has Hope Child Sponsorships for HIV-affected children.

copyrightMaidaPineda.sixdegreesofexpatriation.com and themaidastouch.blogspot.com. August7,2010.2pm.

Que Sera Sera- Whatever will be, will be

2010-07-30T01:04:00.017+08:00

Birthdays come only once a year. When I was a young girl, my dad would ask me at the end of the school day, “Did your classmates sing for you?” There were essentials to a birthday: cake my mom made (often times, Mocha Maida, her sweet tribute to me), spaghetti or noodles for long life, and hearing the happy birthday song at least once. I internalized the expectation for birthdays to be extra-special. But as an adult, days before my birthday I worry how to make it memorable. Would I have a party? Do I go off somewhere? When you live abroad, away from family and friends, an added pressure escalates of whom you celebrate it with.

This year, a few days leading up to my birthday, I started asking existential questions every expat asks when their friends start leaving. What am I doing here? You and your friends arrived about the same time. If they are leaving, does that mean it is time to go, too? It’s as if you have the same expiry date in one place. So you wonder, if your expiry date is coming up soon, too. My best friend in Singapore left me 11 months ago. He was my accomplice in staging a fun-filled birthday last year.

This year, the birthday blues were undeniable. I did not want to work days before my birthday. Finally, I confided to another crazy writer my feelings. She commiserated with me. She promised we would celebrate my birthday.

Like an efficient Advertising Account Executive, she ran some ideas by me:
Girls night out in Orchard Tower. Me: No! Too sleezy!
A good dimsum place in Aljunied Me: No! This part of town does not really exude happy memories for me. It’s also quite popular with prostitutes.
Is there a theme here? Despite being a tough client, she couldn’t please, Isabel was still game to celebrate with me. She even suggested meeting up the night before, to usher in my birthday together.

I suggested why not dinner in a restaurant I yet have to try in Clarke Quay. This writer and I have had many happy moments sitting by the River. We would have cheap dinner in Lau Pa Sat. Then, we would buy a tub of Panna Cotta for me, and Tiramisu for her from an Italian stall. We sit by the Singapore River, savoring the romance of the evening. With every spoonful, we swallow our fears and woes. We laugh. I then, jokingly tease her to call our chauffer to drive us home. We part. She heads to the bus stop. I head to the MRT station.

Singapore is a serious place. And, its seriousness was starting to eat me up. My zen guru describes me as someone joyfully “ever at play.” “That’s it,” I figured. I need playmates to celebrate this special day with. Thankfully, my dear friend, Shawn was in town. He was packing the last bits of his apartment to complete his move to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He was my willing brunch date. He thought we were merely meeting up before he left. He had no inkling it is my birthday today.

He suggested we go to Marina Bay Sands. He wanted to see the Sky Park. The rooftop connecting the three towers of the resort hotel was a definite conversation piece. It looked like a spaceship or a skateboard plopped over the buildings. Living in one place too long, we sometimes lose our sense of wonder. But since he no longer lives here. He had the awe and disposition of a tourist.

Marina Bay Sands is bright, sleek, and airy. A wire sculpture hangs on the towering ceiling in the lobby. Despite many attempts, photos don’t give it justice. Shawn arrived with an old camera in hand. He was shooting in film. I laughed telling him, “It has been years since I had used film.” A string quartet played J.S. Bach’s Cantata, Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring. All was good.

There is a $20 admission fee to the Sky Park. But we were aptly warned that it was drizzling. You can enter only once. But you can stay until 10pm. There were no restaurants open up on the 55th floor at this time. So the only option was to eat hotdogs up there.

We walked to the casino and saw the mall. A river runs through it. It reminded me of The Venetian in Macau. Instead of a gondola, there was a sampan floating on the shallow 2 ft-high man made river. But tourists seemed to enjoy the ride. All the restaurants were pricey. We opted for a simple breakfast of Quiche Lorraine at Coffee Bean Bistro instead.

Brunch at Marina bay sands with Sampan in the background

The sky park gave us a 360-degree view of Singapore. They had nifty audio guides telling you of the attractions below and nearby islands. We didn’t bother to use it, opting to goof around with our cameras instead. The attraction was the sky park itself, with an infinity pool for hotel guests. We jumped around. There was something about being up on the roof that made us happy and giddy. Perhaps, it was the elevation. I parted with Shawn at 1:30 to head to my interview with Corinne Bailey Rae. The famous singer was in town for a one-night concert in Singapore, part of the tour of her second album, “The Sea.”

"I'm on top of the world..."

Shawn's 'tourist' perspective gave me fresh eyes to see Singapore

Corinne was warm and accommodating. We talked as friends would. We giggled and laughed. She told me stories. I listened. But when my time was up, Corinne continued the conversation. She looked at my business card commenting on my name and my book. I realized I had a book in my bag I was supposed to post to a librarian. I grabbed it and gave it to her. She was grateful to have some reading material on her plane ride to Japan. Learning it was my birthday, the kind folks at Warner organized two tickets for me and a friend to enjoy the show.

Me and Corinne Bailey Rae, a multi-awarded singer, songwriter and guitarist

So my hazy plans for dinner with a handful of friends quickly fizzled out. Instead, I asked my accomplice, Isabel to join me to the concert. She gladly agreed. At this point, I was giddy with excitement from all the surprises coming my way. I threw all my planning and worrying out the window. I realized often times I try to control my life, or obsess about making birthdays special. Instead, someone up there had his own agenda. He had his little bag of tricks to make my birthday just perfect.

We sat on the fifth row from the stage. Corinne and her band were at an intimate distance. We were also positioned with the best view of the very intense and charming keyboardist- good eye candy for two single girls. Corinne sang a selection of songs from her two albums. When she sang “Put your records on” I closed my eyes, felt the words, and danced as she sang:

“Three little birds sat on my window, and they told me I don’t need to worry
summer came like cinnamon, so sweet….
Maybe sometimes
We’ve got it wrong, but it’s alright, the more things seem to change,
The more they stay the same.

Ooo, don’t you hesitate,
Girl put your records on.
Tell me your favorite son.
You go ahead and let your hair down.”

But it was her Encore song that clearly sealed the message of this birthday. She introduced it as a song originally recorded by Doris Day. Corinne and her band did their own soulful rendition of the song. It stirs you deeply.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

(a clip of Corinne Bailey Rae singing Que Sera Sera I found on You Tube, shot in a different concert. Taking photos and videos were not allowed at this concert in Singapore).

It then became clear. There is no need to fret or worry about many details of life: my career, where to live, having an amazing man to journey with in life, having cute adorable children… and the list goes on. You just have to show up for life and give it your best. Someone up there has it all figured out, giving you the best. Leave space in your life to let God surprise you. Trust and know that He will.

After the show, I finally had my noodles for long life at Barossa (also one of my favorite wine regions

in my past home in South Australia). We opted for Aglio Olio Bacon with zucchini. Generously seasoned with black pepper and slivers of red peppers, it blended well with the chunky pieces of bacon. The spaghetti was perfectly cooked al dente. The pizza with rocket, feta and eggplant was equally delicious. Between glasses of wine, Isabel and I both shared honest assessments of our lives here in Singapore. There were some tears. But by the time we tucked into the sticky date pudding, tears had been replaced with smiles. At this point, my friend Francis joined us for a couple bottles of Aussie beers. By 1am, the bars at the Esplanade closed and we took it as cue to head home.

Spaghetti Aglio Olio with my beloved Bacon

Pizza with rocket, feta and eggplant

sticky date pudding

One for the road with Francis and Isabel

I will never again worry about my birthdays becoming extra-special days. I didn’t expect front row seats, a lovely conversation with a world famous singer, goofing around 55 floors above the ground, delicious bacon pasta, and celebrating with such dear friends. But all these surprises abundantly fed my soul. And if my dad asks: did they sing happy birthday to you. I can proudly say one person did this year. Corinne Bailey Rae’s jovial manager sang Happy Birthday to me!

To all the friends and friends who wrote on my wall on Facebook and sent text messages, thanks for all the love.

Cbeers to Birthdays!

July 29, 2010.3:05pm.CopyrightMaidaPineda.themaidastouch.blogspot.com. No portion of this may be published or used without the permission of the writer.

Living in High Definition

2010-07-21T18:51:00.000+08:00

July 19- SINGAPORE

I spent the weekend in a zen retreat. My zen master was in town to give a Christian Zen retreat. There were many raised eyebrows from Catholics. Zen? Christian? How?

But to me, it is not an either or scenario. Zen is not a religion, rather a practice. I was introduced to Zen in December 2005. I was in tears and inconsolable. I hit a deep dark place I had never been before. There was no solace from the company of family or friends. One day, a goofy friend much like Kramer, invited to join him sit with a sangha. Somehow, zen seemed to work. I then, sat religiously every day, and once a week with a sangha. And, I got through that deep dark place, breath by breath, surprised to see wonderful results in other aspects of my life.

But as I’ve moved to Singapore, I have been delinquent in my practice. While I attempt to sit alone, sitting with a sangha is profoundly powerful. This past weekend, with Sr. Sonia to my left and about a dozen other Catholics meditating, I was recharged.

The first hour, my monkey mind was hyperactive. It raced and tossed and jumped from thought to thought. My mind was filled with anxiety about my upcoming apartment hunting. Where should I stay? Should I stay alone? Should I live with a friend? Mental note check this place… but what about the bathroom? What if I lived in this other place? When thoughts come, Sr. reminded us to recognize them. We acknowledge them, not judge them, and then breathe them out. I realized, “Wait, this is not my now. It is the future I am worrying about. I’m in a retreat where I have to sit and meditate. I have chosen to come here. So, I will sit and meditate.” I acknowledge the thoughts over and over again. Then, it became clear to me, “The Lord has never forsaken me.”

Sharing these thoughts with the group, one lady asked, “Does doing a lot of zen meditation make you more detached from reality?” I immediately knew the answer. “No, not at all!” The days I sit and meditate my senses are heightened. It then became crystal clear to me. Zen meditation is like living in high definition.

A heavy downpour often saddens me, but not this morning. I welcomed the coziness of the rain, and enjoyed its crisp, clean feeling. I watched as the rain fell on the puddles. As the raindrop hit the puddle, ripples were formed. It reminded me how interconnected we all are. Ones actions or sometimes inaction cascades into a ripple effect on others. We are one breath.

For this food writer, eating in mindful silence heightened the flavors. I stared at how beautifully Sr. Sonia piled the garnish of egg, fried shallots and green onions on her rice porridge. I wished I had my camera. Such a simple breakfast, but the warm savory porridge satisfied immensely. The black pepper awakened my taste buds on this dreary day. The chewy pickled seaweed was a pleasant low intensity workout for my jaws.

Sweet Barley Soup

Chinese dessert soups never really appealed to me, not until this retreat. I wanted to break my silence at the morning snack break. They served a white murky soup, almost like birds nest soup. It was a sweet soup with barley, ginko nuts, tofu sheets, and egg. Fantastic! Served hot, the barley was chewy, yet somewhat refreshing. The red bean soup for afternoon snack was equally delicious. My favorite accent was the chewy glutinous rice balls floating in the soup.

Red Bean Soup

All the meals were vegetarian. Using vegetables, mushrooms, and tofu, the cook masterfully created a feast. The showstopper of the meal was the xo sauce, with chili, onions, and ikan bilis (dried anchovies). The sauce adds that zing to the dishes. But zen not only awakened this foodie’s tastebuds, but also her heart.

The woman who cooked the food for 40 people people for 3 meals and two snacks is Zeny. She is a very simple Filipina lady. When I asked the names of dishes, she didn’t know. She merely knew how to cook them. She studied how to make these recipes. In the evening after preparing all five meals, I saw her weary. She looked beyond tired. I knew that feeling. That’s exactly how I looked at 2am during a TV shoot, or a full day’s editorial food shoot. Despite being surrounded by food all day, you are hungry but too tired to eat. In Zeny, I saw myself. There was compassion. It was not her, or me, but we were one.

The next morning, I watched the fish swim. I saw the red hibiscus flower’s beauty, as if I head just seen it for the first time. I noticed how clever an old wooden wheel was turned into a garden chair. Everything seemed brighter, clearer and more beautiful. The details were more visible.

Even at mass, even the priest made sense. The choir sounded wonderful. The songs were so apt. Even the communion song, “Be still and know that I am God” seemed handpicked for me. I pranced home light as a feather. There was a definite bounce to my step. I slept soundly. I awakened, even before sunrise. I was energized and not desperately craving caffeine to function.

My only prayer now is to live in HD. May I experience life in high definition. It will happen breath by breath, and with the practice of sitting on my cushion each day.

July 19,2010. 12:32 am

More photos of The Green Kitchen

2010-07-07T15:54:00.000+08:00

brown rice and tofu with sweet and sour sauce

Vegetable Burger with more greens

All things organic including baby food and dog food

Glutten-free baked goods and other treats for those with food allergies

for the full story click on this link http://www.sixdegreesofexpatriation.com/Wellness/Wellness.html

copyright.MaidaPinesa.www.sixgreesodexpatriation.com.2010

FARMER'S MARKET FOUND!

2010-07-07T15:01:00.000+08:00

Whether I am in Manila, Australia or in the US, I always seek weekend markets. My spirits soar at the sight of homemade jams, fresh fruits and vegetables, and homemade baked goods.

As soon as I arrived in Singapore, I looked for such a market. But, I was disappointed to find no such tradition here. My search ended last month when I finally found one. Tucked in Loewen Gardens, deep inside the Dempsey Hill, is Singapore’s first Farmer’s Market. It happens only every first Saturday of the month from 9 am to 3pm.

The morning showers didn’t stop my trek on foot to this destination. It didn’t matter if waiters and other Dempsey regulars have not heard of it, I still continued to walk under the rain. Despite the downpour, the mood was festive at Loewen Gardens. There were fresh flowers for sale and face painting for kids. But the star of this market was definitely the food. Mr. & Mrs. Tsakiris sold Green Gold, extra virgin olive oil from the family’s 500-year-old olive grove in Greece. The wife enticed me with her Moussaka. And the tasting began. It was layers of eggplant, spiced meat, and rich béchamel sauce. Delicious, she sells it for $8/serving. Then the jamon Serrano, the dry cured Spanish ham caught my eye. A charming Spanish gentleman excitedly told me he supplies all the ingredients necessary for an authentic fiesta. Behind him, a large paellera was cooking the rice, vegetables, seafood, and meat. A serving of paella sells for $5/serving.

Olive Grove and their spread of olives

The sight of white serving plates filled with olives was a heavenly vision to this food stylist. I complimented the ladies and bought some kalamata olives to nibble on. Ayse, the lady from Olive Grove, coyly said she woke up late and just quickly laid these plates on the table.

Lisa from Amazing Graze and her pates and quince jams

Having the cook or baker personally selling her food creations makes a huge difference. I grew up selling the cakes, cookies, and other goodies my mom and I made. It is this very interaction that makes Farmer’s Markets such a hit with me. Lisa, an Australian from Geelong, is the lovely lady behind Amazing Graze. She specializes on spreads ideal to have for instant get-togethers in your home. Her bestseller is her Cointreau and Orange Pate. The silky chicken liver spread is made even more decadent with the citrus tinge. Delightful!

The Pantry's adorable cupcakes entice you

But hardest to ignore is the large table selling freshly baked goods. The pastel colored cupcakes tied with bows are signature of Loewen Garden’s tenant, The Pantry. The cupcakes call your name. Then when you stand close to the table, the baked goods cast a spell on you. You are compelled to breads, cupcakes, and anything straight from the oven. As I stood there admiring the goodies and inhaling the aroma, the chef replenished the Cheese Scones and the Cornish Pasties. I took it as my cue to buy one of each. With non-stop purchases of bread, scones and pasties, the vendor was overwhelmed. The head chef of The Pantry, Jane Glasgow, chided her, “Who thought of this idea? She’s insane!!!” It turns out Jane is responsible for starting this Farmer’s Market last February. This chef has been a resident of Singapore for 25 years now. But missing this local tradition, as in her beloved hometown of Guildford, UK, she had to start her own in Dempsey. The result is a once a month madness of baking at 4am and a festive day selling British pastries in warm tropical weather.

The Pantry's British baked staples

I left the buzz of activity with my warm pastries. The rain had stopped. I walked on the damp grounds of the former British army barracks with a smile on my face. Bite after bite of the still warm cheese scone, I savored the delicious joy of finally finding a Farmer’s Market in Singapore.

Rainy day breakfast

2010-07-03T10:30:00.006+08:00

The rain is bucketing outside as I write this blog. It reminded me of the scene when a typhoon hit Manila when I was a little girl. My siblings and I gather around the dining table in our pajamas. The radio is on the blaring the agitated news from an AM radio station. We anxiously wait for classes to be called off. And when it is, we celebrate with Champorado for breakfast. Mom makes a thick chocolate porridge made of glutinous rice, milk, cocoa and sugar. Its sweetness is offset by a side dish of tuyo, dried salted fish.

As it has been raining in Singapore since I got back last week, I found comfort in my own version of quick Champorado. I turned my usual oatmeal into a semblance of Champorado. It soothed the melancholy of the rainy morning. Here's my recipe:

My quick breakfast for One hungry "Champ":
1/3 cup oatmeal (use slow cooking kind)
2/3 cup water
1tsp cocoa powder
1 tsp brown sugar
2 T milk

Combine oatmeal and water in a microwavable bowl.
Microwave on high for 3 mins. Add cocoa, milk, and sugar.

Serve hot.

Then, celebrate your fun day off indoors!

CopyrightMaidaPineda2010.July3,201010:30am

No Boundaries

2010-05-01T13:00:00.016+08:00

May 1, 2010- REDANG, MALAYSIA & NORTHERN THAILAND- One of the sweetest joys of travel is connecting with the local children wherever I go. Be it the children I taught English as a high school student in the mountains of Baguio or the little kids playing in the beaches of the Philippines, they always manage to make me smile. Children freely act and connect with out-of-towners like me. Without the inhibitions of adults, they come close to the stranger. Check us out. Sing, dance and say hello numerous times. Often times, if there is a camera involved, they would ham it up for the camera. I thought it was unique to Filipinos and our fascination capturing every moment in a photo. But my recent travels proved otherwise.

shot in Sugar Beach, Philippines (photo courtesy of Scott Woodward)

Last week, my travels brought me to Redang, Malaysia. On my way to the island, I stopped by a pier. There were a handful of stores selling hats, t-shirts, and sarongs. While my companions went shopping for island paraphernalia, I spotted a little boy in a hut. From a distance, I waved. He smiled. We laughed. He was adorable.

Without his shirt, he sported an apple cut hairstyle typical of little kids. But it was the innocence of his grin that melted my heart. I took photos of him. He put fingers in that funny pose many Asians kids do. His little playmate, a toothless girl joined in.

An Aussie editor traveling with the group said, “You’re obviously a people photographer!”

I said, “Not really!” He watched amused. Later, he said, "Can I join in the fun?" "Sure!," I said and shared my little model.

I did not speak Bahasa Malaysia. Neither did the little boy speak English. But it didn’t really matter. We connected. And every time I look at my photo of this innocent little angel, I smile.

my favorite photo

Two months ago, I found myself in a resort in Northern, Thailand. Engrossed in the riveting love and travel adventures of an Australian author, I heard some noises outside my hut. There were three little kids from the Lisu tribe at play. Their spirited laughter was pure and contagious. I left my book, and joined them. Losing my footing, my feet landed straight into a muddy puddle. They laughed. They spoke Lisu. I spoke English. The oldest of the trio, a little boy who was probably five years old, talked to me. He didn’t care if I understood or not. I talked to him in English.

my three little playmates in Northern Thailand...

Then despite being in a rustic, remote setting in the mountains without TV or online connection, the trio started singing and dancing. “Nobody, nobody but you...,” they sang over and over again. It was a popular song sang by the South Korean group Wondergirls, frequently played on the radio. “Wow, even on the mountains… mainstream culture has made it even to the tribes,” I thought to myself.

I start singing the same three words and we were bonded. We danced together. They offered me fruits and flowers. Right at that moment, I was in awe. I was celebrating my humanity with these kids, where language, culture, religion or race mattered. Whether we understood each other or not, it did not matter.

what do you mean... Goodbye?

This went on for an entire hour. They followed me back to my room. Not accepting the words “goodbye” when I wanted to return to my book instead of playing with them. I crawled back to my room. But when I opened my door, they were still there waiting for their grown up playmate.

Children in my travels remind me to laugh, to smile, to play, and to celebrate my humanity. There are no boundaries.

May,1,2010.Eatingmywayraoundtheworld.12:29pm.CopyrightMaidaPineda

The Power of Play

2010-03-20T14:56:00.002+08:00

Singapore-

Sadly, the older we get the more we forget to play. Here in Singapore, working long hours is a norm. And catching up on work on weekends is fairly common.

I am currently leading a workshop called "Creativity Stew". It aims to help participants unblock and unleash the creative life they long to have. One thing I am imparting is the importance of play in the creative life. As Kurt Hanks said, "A person might be able to play without being creative, but he sure can't be creative without playing." I am getting my students to commit to at least an hour of play every week. It must be solo creative excursion, where they enjoy doing something on their own.

But you must always practice what you preach.

Today, as the rain pours outside, I seek refuge with my laptop in a cafe. I work on an article, even if it is Saturday. Despite my desire to be productive, I lose my focus. Outside, a lady applies make-up on two guys. They have costumes on. Unable to resist, I walk out and ask what its all about.

"This is one of the two Anime events in Singapore," the make up artist tells me. A guy with a sword tells me he is Chrono. The one with a red wig is Ariel. The Starbucks barista is appalled that I want a photo with these characters. They gladly oblige. And, I sense some sense of pride. I have no clue who Chrono or Ariel is. I even thought they were girls until we started conversing. I admire them.

It was definitely the universe reminding me to go out and play.

Never lose that sense of wonder. Always have time for play. Go ahead don that red wig and costume. Who cares what other people think. Have fun!

MaidaPineda.Copyright.2010.2:55pm.3.20.2010

Tickle Me Nemo

2010-03-10T22:07:00.005+08:00

Many Christmases ago, there was a very popular toy called "Tickle Me Elmo." The red stuffed toy would giggle when you press it.

Over the weekend, something reminded me of that toy, I will call it "Tickle Me Nemo (although it is not really a clown fish)." I found myself in the historic streets of Malacca, Malaysia. As I combed the streets with a friend, we found one old Peranakan house offering Fish Spa. For only RM7, you get thirty minutes of serious fish nibbling action on your feet. These doctor fish are said to eat the dead areas of the skin, leaving the healthy skin to grow.

Doctor Fish at work on my feet. (Malacca, Malaysia)

I've never tried it before. But hey, I always am willing to try almost anything. My friend enjoyed this many times in Singapore, spending much more ($38 Singapore dollars for 20 minute fish spa and 20 minute foot reflexology).But these fish in Malacca were much bigger. The owner, a Korean gentleman, encouraged me to try it. With his strong Korean accent, he said this fish was from Africa (not sure if this is true. Fish spas began in Turkey). They were bigger and darker than the usual doctor fish I've seen before.

My friend put her feet in then giggled for a minute or two then she was fine. I, on the other hand, could not get my feet into the outdoor pool under the air-well of the Peranakan house. I was actually terrified of the thought of these big fish nibbling on my toes. After much convincing, I finally put the right foot down. At least twenty fish came feeding on my feet. I was awfully ticklish. I giggled and pulled out my feet. I later realized just keeping your foot down there will eventually make the ticklish sensations subside. When I was brave enough, the left foot went down. A whole other 20 or so fish started nibbling this foot. And then, when I finally relaxed, it was actually enjoyable!

Aside from the exfoliation of dead skin, the micro massage sensations promote blood circulation, lightening of minor scars, easing of psoriasis and minor eczema. The last benefit was probably worth more than the RM7 I paid. It released stress and tension. The ticklish sensation causes perpetual laughter. So next time you find yourself in Malacca and are weary from all the walking, take a break with these docs. Giggle your way to good health!

Copyright. MaidaPineda.Singapore.March10,2010.

Northern Thailand- Breaking Bread, Breaking Boundaries

2010-02-25T00:26:00.022+08:00

**Sorry, it looks like I may have disappeared from the face of the earth, without new postings for several weeks. I was traveling. There was no internet where I was. So here, I am finally sharing some thoughts from my trip to Thailand.

February 6- On assignment up in the mountains of Northern Thailand, I arrive before the actual project commences. I find myself in an empty resort. It is just the resort staff, lovely people from the Lisu tribe, in the extremely peaceful mountainside property. Awake at 5am for my early flight to Chiang Mai, I was ravenous for lunch by 1pm. Then, a young Caucasian couple arrived. I was happy to dig into the food. Dining alone no longer bothers me. Bite after bite in silence, I am happily in the company of my food. The young corn was freshest I’ve ever tasted. Every crunch echoed in my mouth. Perhaps, the silence in this mountainside retreat heightened the experience or maybe it was really just freshly picked this morning. There was no way to find out for the lodge staff had very limited English skills. The beautiful young women clad in a rich fabric of vibrant pinks, purples and blacks would repeatedly say, “So-li.” They would shake their heads to say they can’t understand me.

here comes my lunch

the lunch all freshly grown from Northern Thailand

From a distance, sitting on the floor, the young couple ate. The blonde lady spoke in English with a noticeable American twang, the man a European, German I thought. We smiled later in the afternoon, introducing ourselves to each other. It appeared we were the only guests in the Lodge.

Dinner scheduled was scheduled at 7pm. All three of us dined together now. All anonymity quickly vanished. Landis and Christophe turned out to be in their honeymoon. Landis is an American, who grew up in Boston. She quickly warmed up when I told her I studied in Smith, sealing our New England connection. Her husband Christophe was not German. He is a French man of Greek ancestry. I commented how the food was not as spicy as most Thai food. Landis said she had requested for less spicy food. Perhaps, that explains my mildly flavored lunch. Reeling from a bum stomach, Christophe barely ate. We started with clear soup with Tofu. Then they served vegetable spring rolls, minced chicken with more young corn, and boiled eggs with soy dressing.

After dinner and a dance, we're no longer strangers!

The Lisu children and two adults staged a show, dancing to their tribal instruments.We danced in a circle, stomping our feet. Landis commented that this is probably the most exercise she’s had in her honeymoon thus far. Then, we ate banana and papaya drizzled with chocolate syrup, as we shriveled in the cold evening.

Before the staff called it a night, they asked us what we wanted for breakfast. A wooden menu of five options was presented to us. There was a mix of choices from Cornflakes to bacon and eggs or even boiled rice and meat. Bacon does wonders to my spirit. Serve me crisp bacon anytime (even at midnight), and I’m a happy camper. Christophe was repulsed by the thought of something salty for breakfast. So it was their usual morning fare, cornflakes. Landis explained that his usual fare was cornflakes, or a baguette, or a croissant or Pain au chocolat (Chocolate Bread). She lamented how France has limited cereal options compared to the dizzying variety in American groceries. In the US, the cereal aisle ranged from fruity, to healthy, to chocolate cereals. In Paris, she only had a few varieties of cornflakes and the chocolate based cereals French loved.

She didn’t really care for chocolate but her husband loved his Nutella. He would spread it on his bread, on a banana, or simply spoon it from the jar. I shared his love for the hazelnut spread so I could totally relate. Landis on the other hand, only recently discovered Nutella. It was always in the grocery she explains to me. But it was much more expensive than peanut butter. Now in living in Europe, it is in reverse. Her American staple of peanut butter is much more expensive. Love has bridged the gap. Landis has taught Christophe to eat oreos, with a layer of peanut butter, washing it all down with milk. She on the other hand, has taken a bit of liking to Nutella. But she has definitely embraced every French man’s love for cheese.

Landis, a French major, was finishing her Junior Year abroad in Paris. A friend turned 21 and invited her to an evening of Karaoke. She initially declined, with a trip to Dublin early the next day, but she figured it could be fun. Along with her American friends they laughed at the crowd singing American songs with a thick French accent. But one French man held the microphone. This time she stopped laughing for he sounded really good, plus the fact that he was cute. Her group stayed till 1am, so did his group. By the end of the evening, they caught each other’s eyes. He walked up to her to give his number and to get hers. Landis nudges him to tell his side of the story. Christophe tells me he doesn’t like football. His work buddies kept pestering him to play the sport. He said yes, only if they joined him at Karaoke one night. He was in a band, and loved to sing. So that night, he searched for a Karaoke bar online, headed to this one with his colleagues.

The young American was in the airport the next day, when he called. She promised to keep in touch when she returned to Paris. Dublin was fun, and she did almost forget him. But he didn’t forget her, sending her a text message upon her return to ask her out for a date. With only three weeks left till her return to the US, it took them less than to fall in love. Soon after she had completed university, she returned to Paris to be with him. Last July they got married in Boston. He describes her as a “typical WASP,” with her family living in a suburban home with a Labrador, the country club, and the New England summer home in Maine. He admits, it was a bit intimidating meeting the family at Thanksgiving. She gushes that he is the romantic Parisian. Unlike American men she has dated, this French man surprises her with bouquets of flowers for no reason at all, buys her favorite food, or whips up a meal for her.

Food is magical. Sharing a meal with strangers naturally breaks down the boundaries. After eating dinner together, we were bonded. The conversation flowed deep into the night. I looked at my watch it told me it was midnight in Singapore. Then we all got up. We all headed to our rooms excited by the shared experience of the exotic setting. What awaited us in our rooms was the romance of slumber draped under a canopy of white mosquito nets.

2.6.2010.CopyrightMaidaPineda.11:28am

When Snort Means Love

2010-01-26T00:04:00.005+08:00

SINGAPORE-

Tonight, I walked home making a detour at the nearby market to buy some fruit, yogurt, and dinner. I was craving Thosai Masala, a South Indian bread with potatoes inside. But it wasn’t available. I settled instead on Fish Fillet from the western stall. I walked home with a tinge of nostalgia. I passed two kids in our condo sitting on the grass with their Labrador. I smiled knowing how good that felt. All is good when you are just hanging out with your doggie. I dragged my drooping shoulders from the weight of my laptop, my books, and the groceries. As I put the key on the door, my mobile rang.

It was the phone call I had been dreading to receive. My mom called to tell me the sad news I have been dreading for a little over a month now. Snort died. He would have been twelve on April 19. He lost his battle to cancer, diagnosed last December 21. The vet told me he would probably have a week to live. But my little guy is a fighter. He proved her wrong, putting on his strong spirit for a little over a month more.

a polaroid taken of Snort and me in 1999 when I did a story for Good Housekeeping on dog grooming

Snort is my little ShiTzu. We got him August 10, 1998. He was a birthday gift from my parents. It was two years since I returned home from States. I had just finished resigned from an ad agency. I knew I wanted to pursue my love for writing and photography. It was a big decision to get a dog, for I knew that it meant Manila would be home. My mom and I went to several dog breeders. But it was when we went to this small house near the Quezon Institute (a hospital) that I knew he was the one. One look at the puppies, I spotted him immediately. I asked for him. When the breeder put him in my hands. He went crazy, wagging his tail, and licking me. He obviously liked me too. Then he made this distinct sound, he snorted. We brought him home. His adorable face, just like a stuffed toy, easily endeared himself to everyone in the house. And unlike our previous family dogs named after food (Sushi, Toffee, Crinkles and Chunky), I named him, “Snort.”

And the name stuck. He would make repeatedly make that snorting sound whenever he was happy: eating food he really liked, getting tummy rubs, scratching himself, or even kissing me. If joy had a sound, for this little doggie, it was snorting. It meant he was in a blissful state.

In reality, I think the snort was really a flaw in his breathing. Snort’s little tongue was always sticking out. But it made him even cuter.

Somehow, his arrival marked the beginning of my life as a professional writer. He would sleep in a doggie playpen at night. As I would sneak out for my call time for early morning TV shoots, he would look at me. His eyes, round like black marbles, managed to say, “Where are you going? You’re leaving me again.” I was then working for a Travel cable channel. I would leave him a shirt I wore, so he could still smell me. With every homecoming, he greeted me at the door with his butt sticking out and a perky little trot.

We were had our routine. He knew when I would go to my workshop spending hours writing. He would follow me to the small room. He would make a dramatic jump up the five-inch step, then curl himself into a corner. He loved airconditioned rooms. The cool air would quickly put him to sleep. Then, he would snore. I would be lost in my world of words. He lost in his dream. But we would be both in our own blissful states.

Snort all curled up in the corner of my writing workshop

When he wanted something he would bark. For some reason, Snort never learned to go up the stairs to the second floor of our house. But he still managed to get up. He would look at us, then bark as if to say, “Please bring me up.” Plastic bags scared him. When he hears someone shake a bag, he would quickly run in fear. We could never figure out where that phobia came from.

Snort and I would do everything together. He loved going for car rides. But he always had to sit on someone’s lap, so he could look out at the window. The kids in the streets would always smile at him. The would excitedly say, “Tuta!Tuta!” (Puppy! Puppy!), thinking he was a puppy. Even on our last visit to the Vet, another human with a pregnant shitzu thought Snort was still a puppy.

Man’s best friend couldn’t be more apt in our case. Snort had been to all my favorite places. We would go to Sidcor, a Sunday market in Cubao to buy fresh fruits, veggies, and plants. He would walk around on a leash. His tongue would grow longer and longer. Then I would treat him to water with iced cubes. Oh how he loved ice cubes! He prefers it hand held. He would like it, with much appreciation. Drop it in his drinking bowl, it just wasn’t as enjoyable for him. When I would seek spiritual direction from the Cenacle sisters in Loyola Heights, he would sometimes come along. I would try to make sense of life. But my little Snort needed no spiritual direction. His spirit was well and good. He would run around the garden, bringing big smiles to the retreat house staff. They liked him so much, always asking how he was every time I visited. One even asked if she could adopt him.

Like his travel writer mom, Snort loved exploring new places. One day, he got a kick out of running around the entire cemetery. I was breathless trying to catch him, while trying not to step on the graves of the dearly departed. He had visited our Mango farm, enjoying the car ride about three hours away. He had no qualms positioning himself on my dad’s lap to get the best view of the rice fields along the way. When I felt like writing in a café, Snort would join me. He would lie on my feet as I wrote. Then after finishing my cappuccino, he would join me in exploring the nearby market. The only problem was he also wanted to sit on my lap, when I was driving.

Looks like Snort didn't like the food in our Easter picnic at Ateneo High school in 2007

Some wise observer had once said dogs the perfect friends when you are blue. They never try to fix something. They never ask for the gory details. And Snort did exactly that and more. Many times, little Snort had licked my tears away. On one sad occasion, I was crying. I confided to him, “Snort, no one loves me anymore.” He took it as his cue to lick me in the face. After that, the little trick has stuck. I would say those exact words and he would lick me. (If only men could be trained the same way!)

Snort wipes away my tears, and makes it all better!

There was something special about this dog. We’ve had at least a dozen dogs in our house. But Snort was the most secure. The other dogs would often be threatened by the arrival of a new dog. Not Snort, three bigger dogs came after him. But was so confidently loved, he wasn’t one bit threatened. Nothing changed in his behavior. He would even share his toys, his food, and his bed with the new arrivals. He knew his place. He knew who he was. He knew he was loved and no one can take that away from him.

Snort hanging out with his buddy and yaya, Maki (a Japanese spitz younger than him)

But as much as he was my dog, and I was his human, Snort had a relationship with everyone else. My mom was like his doting grandmother. When I wouldn’t be looking, she would give him bits of barbecued pork from the Sunday market. And while dogs couldn’t read calendars, Snort somehow knew when it was Sunday. He would run to the door excited every Sunday morning. When there were no bits of skewered meat for him, he was disappointed. He knew when mom was baking ensaymada (a sweet cheese bread topped with grated cheese). He would eat the bits of grated cheese on the floor. And yes, mom would give him a piece or two of cheese. He would sit near my brother in the morning as he ate breakfast. He loved sleeping in between mom and dad’s feet, while they ate dinner. And how he loved having visitors. He would be upset if he doesn’t get to socialize at our parties at home.

Snort and Maki the day after Milenyo typhoon in 2006

When I discovered Snort had cancer, I cried and cried. I gently told the helpers in the house his condition. They too cried. Our most trusted helper, Merlyn told me how just one look at him would ease her tired body. She told me in Tagalog, “He has such a cute face. And even if she seen so many shitzu’s, no one is like him.” I nodded, knowing how Snort had touched her life too. “Snort’s an angel!” I told her.

He had lymphosarcoma. In a week, his tumor grew to the size of an orange. It made it him hard for him to walk. But his mommy was home, and that’s all that matters. He celebrated the holidays with us. He forced himself to walk and run, just to be with his humans. He hated the loud explosions of firecrackers on New Year’s Eve. Even if he was in pain, he didn’t show any discomfort due to his illness. But he would instantly lie on his back, and ask for his tummy to be rubbed. That soothed him. I would just sit and rub it.

Before I left, I talked to Snort. I knew he was holding up for us, his humans. I knew I wouldn’t see him alive again. I repeatedly told him, “Snort, I’ll see you in heaven!”

Snort the last time I saw him...January 8, 2010

As I left my house at six in the morning, there he was in the porch. He looked vibrant and well. He pulled off a really good act to show me he was ok. I pulled out my camera to snap my last memory of Snort. Then, a few hours after I left my family told me he got worse.

I had been crying for three hours now. My head is already aching from the tears. But I can’t stop. I looked at his photos. And I marvel at how much joy he has brought into my life. He’s my dear buddy. He’s my baby.

A friend asked me a few minutes ago, what I loved about Snort. I think his name sums it up. His flaw became his asset. His name couldn’t be more apt. Snort became both a verb and a noun. Just like love!

See you in heaven, my little Snort! I love you…

Adorable Snort!

watch this video of Snort at play

*** You may click on this link if you wish to read an earlier post I had entitled "When Looks Matter" in my previous blog.http://foodtripper-fork-in-the-road.blogspot.com/2007/06/when-looks-matter.html

No portion of this blog and its illustrations may be copied or reprinted without the permission of the author.

CONSUMING FILIPINO IDENTITY

2010-01-23T15:50:00.001+08:00

Singapore-

Since I left the Philippines at age 17 to study in the US, my life has been a series of leaving and returning to my home country. But one thing that has remained constant is the persistent rediscovery of my Filipino identity.

Halfway around the world, I wrote a hundred-pages on the Filipino Identity in Children’s Art while dealing with a frigid Massachusetts winter. Inspired by the mail order brides down under, I wrote my dissertation on the foodways of Filipino women married to Australians in the warmth of Adelaide. Sixteen years ago, a Singaporean classmate in Australia told me, “You know you’re the first Filipino I’m talking to who’s my equal.” “Thanks, I think!?,” my confused teenaged brain wanted to answer back. I held back and kept these words instead. In Singapore today, some cab drivers are still dumbfounded that Filipina professionals exist.

But discovering my Filipino identity has always been a joyous celebration. When I would return home to Manila for my holidays during my college years, I would voraciously read F. Sionil Jose’s novels. I thoroughly enjoyed them, like a gripping suspense book, unable to put them down. Reading Gilda Cordero Fernando and Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo’s essays felt like listening to a warm tita (auntie)’s stories.

Last week, I attended Ambeth Ocampo’s talk at the Singapore Art Musuem called Jose Rizal: The First OCW (Overseas Contract Worker). Not many know, Jose Rizal visited Singapore in 1882, 1887, 1891 and 1896.

Speaking before a large audience of Filipinos working in Singapore and a handful of non-Filipinos, Ocampo enthralled us with stories of Rizal and his friends noted painters Juan Luna and Hidalgo. Away from home, these scholars developed a deep bond with each other in Spain. Rizal would pose for Juan Luna’s paintings. They would eat and drink together, a deep camaraderie so familiar to many OFW’s like myself. They became more than friends for each other, almost like family. Even today, gathering with fellow Filipino most especially to eat and talk, eases one's pain of being abroad. Being with them almost makes it feel like home. It is a special bond shared. In many ways, Rizal and his friends lifted up the image of Filipinos abroad during their stay there. Luna and Hidalgo were recognized as fine painters. Rizal was regarded as a fine doctor even in other Asian countries and in Spain. But living abroad also strengthened these accomplished professionals love for their beloved home country.

Ambeth Ocampo has this special gift of humanizing Rizal and Filipino history in a fun entertaining way. Many times, I found myself rolling into big bursts of laughter. We learned history, as he revealed the saga of how original Rizal manuscript of the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo were lost and found. He explained how a Filipino painting merited US $800,000 in a Christie’s auction, also due to Rizal’s presence.

Historian Ambeth Ocampo and Maida at the Singapore Art Museum talk

It was one of Ocampo’s tour guiding duties for visiting dignitaries that lead to this Fiesta Filipino in Singapore. Thanks to the historian’s conversation with Singapore President S.R. Nathan, a series of events and talks were organized in museums here to celebrate our rich heritage. As he ended his talk, Ocampo emphasized, “Every generation writes its own history.” He laments that while history has seen many Filipinos leave their home country, they often came back. Now, many young Filipinos he says leave with no intention of coming back home.

After the talk, Filipino dishes from Rizal’s hometown Laguna were served. There was Buco Pie (a pastry with young coconut strips and milk filling) and Espasol, a chewy tubular rice cake made with toasted rice flour and coconut milk. Shaped into cylinders, they are rolled in more toasted ground rice flour. They served Pancit Habhab, which is not exactly a Laguna dish, but originally from Lucban, Quezon. Pancit Habhab is stir-fried noodle dish with bits of pork and chayote, eaten habhab-style, slurped without a fork. A banana leaf is used as a plate, which you bring close to your mouth to slurp the noodles. It was a quick, cheap snack for jeepney drivers in Quezon, as they waited for their vehicle to be filled with passengers.

Buco Pie, a dessert from Laguna, Rizal's home province

The habhab, usually with just a few ingredients, here with lots of veggies and meat

The Espasol cut into bite-size pieces

As we ate, one friend told me how excited she was to see Espasol on her recent visit to the Philippines with her family. Her son, half- Filipino and half-British born in Singapore was repulsed by the way it looked. He couldn’t understand his mom’s excitement over this sweet delicacy, “But, Mom, it looks like tae (poop)”. It looked strange to this young boy. I smiled, knowing that this young Filipino, was already starting to discover and celebrate his Filipino identity at an early age.

No portion of this blog and its illustrations may be copied or reprinted without the permission of the author.

Dining Companions

2010-01-14T13:43:00.005+08:00

Singapore-

I believe God created food, for it to be shared. The experience of dining becomes more pleasurable when shared with loved ones.

Returning back to Singapore, I was disoriented by the numbing silence in my empty apartment. Unlike my family home in Manila, there was no hum of activity. No dogs barking, maids busy at work in the kitchen, family members coming and in out of the house. No laughter, talk, music or even the melodious chant of the taho vendor, “Tahoooooooooo,” he loudly announces, as he peddles the warm soybean beverage with dark caramel syrup and sago.

In my flat, it was silent. Not even the sound of crickets to accompany me… It was a disorienting feeling I came to grips with as I nibbled on black olives, the last edible bit of food in my fridge. More than three weeks away, I head to the grocery for a much needed food shopping. I send a message to my friend, Francis, living closest to my home. He offers to come and make some noise in my flat. After getting drenched in the rain on the way to the grocery and flight, I was too tired. I declined.

The next day, I tackle the enormous task of purging my closet of clothes I had not worn in the past year. I unpack my suitcases with my loot from Manila. By afternoon, I had a irresistible craving for Cold Mango Sago with Pomelo, an Asian dessert sold at Liang Seah Street. I invite my two willing noisemaking friends to join me. But before dessert, we need to eat dinner.

Two streets away from my dessert craving is a cheap and cheerful Thai Restaurant called, First Thai (23 Purvis Road). Hearing its name, we all break into the romantic Kenny Loggins song, “For the first time, I am looking in your eyes, for the first time I am seeing who you are…” Richard and Francis were both first “thai-mers” in this place. My first time here feels like a whole lifetime ago. My best friend invited me here for dinner to ease my emotions, hours after a break-up. The food was so good. I almost forgot my heartbreak. No tears rolled down my eyes during the meal.

First Thai, always packed with non-first timers and Thai diners

Tonight, my two friends were bubbly and animated. They both delighted in the retro feel of the place. The eclectic design is a hodge-podge of white tiles, hot pink fake flowers on the wall, a Garfield clock, and the piercing gaze of Keanu Reeves on a framed poster. There is always a queue for a table here. Naturally, the waitresses are always stressed out to quickly serve the food, then to hint to diners to considerately leave their table for the waiting customers.

For $15 each, we have a superb feast of Phad Thai, Green Curry Chicken, Squid with Long beans, and Fried Rice. The fried rice is a delicious meal on its own, with the usual condiments of julienned green mangoes, peanuts, ikan bilis (crisp dried fish), and egg. An unusual but welcome addition is pork floss.

Fried Rice at First Thai

The green curry is mildly spicy, nicely complementing the other dishes.

The squid is perfectly tender with the veggies not overcooked.

Squid and Long Beans

My constant order is the Phad Thai, the perfect balance of sweet, savory, and nutty all in one noodle dish. We would occasionally bite into a few red peppers, calmly washing down the fire in our mouths with the milky Thai Ice Tea.

My constant order at First Thai, Phad Thai

Feeling extremely greedy, I wanted to eat two desserts. Aside from the upcoming Mango Sago, I also wanted sticky rice with mango, unfortunately the glutinous rice dessert was not available. Throughout the meal, we gushed over our food. My two friends ate with much gusto and the thrill of a new food discovery. Good food when shared tastes even better. The enthusiasm of a first timer, the fresh eyes, and the delight upon the first bite made my meal even more delicious.

Stuffed, I teased them, “So, are you fed up?” We laughed, rolling our way to eat dessert. From Purvis Street to Liang Seah, we giggled and snickered at anything and everything. Liang Seah has two popular Asian dessert places.

"Bless You..."

My favorite is Ah Chew(1 Liang Seah, 01-11 Liang Seah Place), not just for its funny name (makes me want to say, “Bless you!”), but also for it Mango Sago. Again, there is a queue, with teenagers all getting their dose of late night sugar.

While the Cold Mango Sago with Pomelo ($3.50) is the most popular, there are other variations of the Asian dessert available.

Mango Sago with Pomelo, a sweet soup with tears of pomelo adding a tinge of sour citrus flavour

Many come here to eat the Strawberry with Aloe Vera and Lime and the Papaya White Fungus Soup.

Strawberry with aloe vera on an earlier Ah Chew outing with another friend

Despite the long list of health benefits, I’m not a fan of white fungus or the other exotic Chinese ingredients for dessert.

In the past, I’ve tried a gorgeous Almond soup and black sesame soup. Served in one bowl, it gorgeously looks like a yin and yang symbol. Pretty, but I still prefer the refreshing sweetness of the mango sago interrupted by burst of sour pomelo pulp bits. My friends opted for added calories with a scoop of ice cream on top.

Mango Sago with Pomelo (plain for me) and with ice cream for my buddies

We walked to the MRT very full from the meal, dessert, and lots of gas from laughing uncontrollably all night. Richard shrieked in excitement seeing a Chinese bazaar. It is the usual sale of Tibetan and Chinese knickknacks. I would otherwise bypass these stalls. But not this time, we looked at the jewelry, the customized clay Mini-Me version you can order of yourself, Chinese characters of your name, and other Lunar New Year gifts. We giggled in the train, continuing our laughfest. Both thanked me for sharing my food discoveries. I am immensely grateful not just for the good company and making the meal more delicious. But I also thanked them for giving me fresh eyes. Every time I see these little bazaars around Singapore, I now smile. Indeed life’s little joys when shared grow in abundance.

(Special thanks to Francis for sharing his iphone to capture photos of the evening. Additional photos of Ah Chew were taken from an earlier visit to the dessert place).

Here's to New Beginnings

2010-01-05T09:11:00.002+08:00

Marikina, Philippines-

January 4-Today, many adults are dragging their feet back to work. After the holidays, many still have a hangover. Others are recovering from trips. They begrudgingly scribble appointments on their brand new calendars and planners.

But for the students in Marking Elementary School, a surprise awaits their return back to school. They will be shrieking with delight in seeing a new and improved library.

The Disney Voluntears

The library was submerged underwater by Typhoon Ondoy. Books and facilities were damaged. The kind folks at Disney along with volunteers comprising of Filipino professionals working in Manila and Singapore all worked together to make things better. While the kids were on holidays, last December 28, the team all got dirty painting beams, walls, and doors. It entailed carrying tables, pushing bookshelves, and smoothening surfaces. New books were purchased along with some book donations. There were new computers and printers too.

Who's with Goofy?: Me and Mai of Disney

I was part of this jolly crew of mostly strangers, working towards a unified goal. Mai Tatoy, a dear friend from Disney, spearheaded this fun and noble undertaking. Having only 7 hours to complete the task, “It almost felt like Extreme Makeover,” she confides to me. We painted like mad, using roller brushes. Without ladders, we stood on counters, tables, stacks of chairs and bookshelves. Many of us have not painted before, hearing shrieks of panic when spots of blue, yellow, red, pink or purple splattered on the wrong surface. But by 5pm, the library was nothing short of lovely. Two walls had Cinderella, Mickey Mouse, Goofy, and other Disney Characters smiling back at us. Stickers of pencils, crayons, apples, and all things nice decorated the other wall.

Husband and wife Duo of Lizzie and Nino show us cooperation

In true Filipino fashion, there was lots of singing. “I got a feeling” of the Black Eyed Peas was chanted over and over again, while a shower of paint sprinkled on our faces as we painted high surfaces. Another team worked outside wrapping each book. Like professional wrappers, they even followed the elaborate curves of die-cut book covers. I found this the opportune time to part with my collection of Archie Comics and double digests and Disney books from Bambi to Dumbo.

Lizzie down on bended knees....

I believe goodness begets goodness. Everyone was in high spirits. There was not a single person in a grumpy mood. Of course it helped that Mai made sure there was abundant food and drinks for everyone.

I whistle a happy tune....

The next day my body was sore from painting high beams and scrubbing paint off the floor. But it was good pain I welcomed. My only regret is not seeing the happy faces of the children as they saw the library for the very first time.

So here’s to new beginnings! There is much to celebrate, be it a new library, a blank piece of paper, an empty calendar or notebook waiting to be filled, the dawn of a new day, and the promise of a brand new year. There is much to be excited about. I know I am. Cheers!

The Gift of the Imperfect Holidays

2009-12-30T12:41:00.004+08:00

Manila, Philippines-

It is December 30. There is only one day left of 2009. As the holidays draw to a close, I sit in the Lanai with a cup of Barako coffee. The cool December breeze prompts the bamboo trees outside to sway. Near me, our two dogs, Maki and Snort, are peacefully sleeping. The usually rambunctious Maki is quiet for a change. And Snort, my eleven-year-old Shi Tzu diagnosed yesterday with cancer and only a few days to live, enjoys his last moments with me. I pause to make sense of the holidays.

For the first time, we have no Christmas tree up in our house. I returned a few days ago to our family home with Typhoon Ondoy’s savage still evident in our damaged house and belongings. And picking up the pieces is an overwhelming task.

A Christmas tree marks tradition. But I sense this is not a traditional holiday season. The usual cool crisp air of December was there. Yet the feeling wasn’t the same. Like my own family, many other families are picking up the pieces. Whether it is holding in their hands remnants of lost possessions, lost lives or lost loves.

Coming home for the holidays lets me savor flavors I had missed for months. But it is also an essential time to partake of sumptuous moments with old friends. Not a fan of big parties, I cherish tender moments with dear friends intimately. Over a cup of coffee, a meal, or bottles of wine, we catch up on events of the past months. My best friend since I was eight years old recently gave birth to her second boy. My dear friend recently returned home from Spain. Finally, he and I find our selves in the same city after two years. Two friends have happily shed off many unwanted pounds. Both have leaner and healthier bodies. They also have a lighter and cheerier outlook in life. I revel in spending ‘ordinary’ moments with best friend in Singapore, who had relocated back to Manila this year. We are gifted with again wasting time together. We survey the weekend market, poking and tasting the food offerings. We shop in a bazaar, in search of good bargains. We laugh. We talk. We drink. We eat. In between bites, in between buying things, we share stories.

With every encounter with these friends, I marvel at how rich the encounters are. It is as if we had never parted. We continue the conversations, as if months or years had not passed since we had last seen each other.

A wise friend told me these are holy entanglements, special relationships not wrought by time or space. Indeed there must be something sacred that binds these friendships. I get so lost in savoring these grace-filled moments with friends I often forget to capture it in a photo. But at the end of our time together, I leave overflowing with gratitude. I treasure how much my friends have grown. Each one has faced difficulty in the past year, the death of a parent, enduring the betrayal of a lover, starting over, or just surviving the everyday wear and tear of life. Each one gracefully rises with strength and resilience. I too become aware of how much I have grown. But more importantly, I love the person I am becoming.

I briefly lament to one friend my woes as a struggling writer. Mingling with rich and powerful people in the Philippines, this man of deep faith looked at me and said, “Maida, you are one of the richest people I know.” He tells me I get to live my passions and see the beauty of life. I treasure connecting with people and celebrating our humanity, unobstructed by religion, beliefs, or culture. I smile in recognition and awe.

At the end of a long animated conversation with this friend, we hugged and kissed goodbye. He told me, “Maida, thank you for being you.” At that moment, it dawned on me, the best give we can give each other is the gift of ourselves.

Indeed, the holidays are not perfect. I am no longer nourished by big parties filled with small talk, the frenzy of packed shopping malls, or large gifts devoid of real meaning. Instead, I found joy in cleaning up the house, lending a hand to my parents, giving things away, in painting a devastated school library with friends, and in seeing my family and friends laugh and smile.

2009 has taught me much. It has imparted many lessons in my life. I have humbly learned that people make the place. As much as the attractions, the food, and the scenery entice, it is only encounters with people that gives a place meaning.

I am slowly learning and embracing how abundantly blessed we all are. More and more, I deeply believe that I’ve got all I need. And that is enough.

So wherever, you may be for the holidays, I wish you the best. I wish you a grateful heart. As Meister Eckhart said, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you. It will be enough.”
Give thanks. And celebrate the abundant year ahead!

Manila- Reunited with Familiar Food, a Homecoming Story

2009-12-17T21:45:00.003+08:00

MANILA-

It is the season for reuniting with what is familiar in our lives. As I flew from Singapore to Manila last Saturday night, one friend was flying from Singapore to his hometown in Canada. Another friend was crossing the Atlantic to head home from London to his folks in New Jersey. My journey to Manila was only a little over three hours. There is no time difference between the two cities. And it is only one or two degrees cooler in Manila, and a tad less humid than Singapore.

But there is nothing like eating food you grew up with. Landing a few minutes before midnight, the airport was less chaotic than usual. My parents picked me up at the airport. They greeted me with a warm welcome, and a hearty appetite for a late dinner. At this late hour, there were only a few choices open conveniently located on the way to our house. My choice was JT’s Manukan. This outdoor eatery owned by Filipino actor Joel Torre serves hot off the grille Chicken Inasal. This specialty dish of Bacolod is spit-roasted native chicken marinated in garlic, vinegar, and salt and brushed with achuete oil (steep the oil in annatto seed). It is served with garlic rice and a dipping sauce of vinegar, soy sauce, chili, and calamansi (Philippine lemon).

Chicken Inasal Pa-a ( Drumstick and Thigh) and Baticulon (Chicken Gizzard)

We arrived an hour before closing time, with only a few items of the menu available. They had only the Chicken Inasal Pa-a available, the drumstick and thigh skewered and grilled on a stick. There was also Baticulon, chicken gizzard grilled to perfection, achieving the delightful exterior crunch to the otherwise chewy innards. I indulged in the gizzard bringing back fond memories of an Aussie flatmate Jacqui who shared the love for this chicken part. But tonight my big indulgence is the Inihaw na Liempo, grilled pork belly.

Succulent Pork Liempo (Pork Belly) means its vacation time for me

The mere scent of grilled pork brings a smile to my face. Many summer vacations in the beach had this for lunch along with grilled seafood. Tonight, despite the city setting, the scent of the sizzling pork fat instantly turned on the vacation switch in my head.

Garlic Fried Rice, gives you a bad breath but who cares in the country where rice is a staple!

No meal in the Philippines is complete without the sawsawan, sauces to suit the taste to your liking

Everything was washed down with Royal Tru Orange. A bright orange carbonated drink Coca-Cola produces only in the Philippines. Another happy memory of my youth included many moments with an orange moustache, when I often failed to wipe my mouth after drinking Royal Tru Orange.

The diners in the next table were having a loud and animated conversation in Tagalog, a language I understood. Next to the outdoor eatery, a row of parols, Christmas Lanterns blinked endlessly creating glorious patterns in Manila’s streets. The evening air was a tad bit cooler and crisper than usual. The conversation flowed. There was no need for explanation for I was catching up with my beloved parents, talking about old friends, relatives, and mostly familiar topics.

When my parents would arrive home after a long trip from the US to Manila, I started a tradition of cooking Pancit Molo, the Philippine version of the wonton soup. Its warm chicken broth magically soothes weary bodies after a long flight. The plump and filling dumplings satisfies after many meals of airline food. The condiments of toasted garlic, green onions, black pepper and some fish sauce liven up the already tasty soup.

As I chewed on the last morsels of chicken gizzard, garlic rice, and pork belly, I wondered what my friends would be eating when they land this holiday season in their hometowns? What familiar food would they be reunited with soon after the plane hits the runway?

Post me a comment and let me know what’s the first dish you eat when you head home. And yes, no matter how long the trip or where the familiar is for you, Welcome Home to your own favorite comfort food!

CopyrightMaidaPineda2009.12.16.09.Manila