In a country where deep fried chicken intestines are an afternoon snack, and fetal duck egg a midnight treat, the line for a Filipino’s food limit really can veer to the far left.

I’ve been thinking about this since last week, when I reached my food limit when visiting my godfather in his apartment in Marikina. This is what happened:

He asked us if we’ve ever had maya, and we said, “the bird?” and he said yes, the one you find everywhere here.

For reference, this is a maya:

(image from: http://www.sxc.hu/pic/m/f/fa/falk1984/457531_maya_bird.jpg)

So we said no, we made friends with a few since they’re all over the yard at home, but no, we don’t eat it. He then goes on to tell us that every year when he comes over to visit, his uncle catches a whole bunch of mayas from a rice field to cook in adobo. He then prods us to try it, then proceeds to take a microwaveable container out of his fridge so we could see it. At this point, my mother and sister were recoiling in horror, my dad was furiously shaking his head no and was saying he couldn’t do it, and me, morbidly curious was considering it, and asked to see how it looked.

Boy, did I regret looking. Mayas are teeny tiny birds, and I saw a couple dozen in that small microwaveable container with their heads intact, their beaks taken off, and with huge eyes staring at me, their heads oddly darker than the rest of their small, straight in death bodies, with the sadly familiar scent of adobo around them. I couldn’t do it. I promptly thanked my Ninong and told him that I couldn’t, but he should have the rest and enjoy them (he likes them a lot).

I’m sure if I grew up with it like he did, I wouldn’t blink an eye and just start chomping down, but those teeny birds still haunt me. It also got me thinking how far I’d go to satisfy the inner extreme foodie that I hoped I would be, but I think I’ve set my limits:

1. No animals I’ve known as pets. No dogs, rabbits or cats. I’ve heard so much about the benefits and deliciousness of all three meats (Dog warms the blood, rabbits delicious in stews, cats amazing in adobo) but I will not, to my values and morality, eat animals I loved as pets.

2. I’d probably say no to something with a face. I’ve said no to two things with faces. Cooked pawikan and the mayas. The faces really bother me. Even if it’s something that I eat everyday like chicken, I’d think twice if I saw something staring at me. I balk at fried chicken in a few Chinese places that include the head, I think twice at goat head. The only heads I’m not iffy about are pig and fish.

3. No to anything someone has gone bodily in before. Nothing prechewed, predigested, stepped on to crush in (yes, wine). I have issues with these things and I’d prolly say no.

Anyone else tried maya?

Also, what are your personal no-nos when it comes to food?

I say sort of food post because it was mostly just three girls wanting to meet in the middle of their workday and finding themselves in the same vicinity for once. Sarah, Anna and I went to have tea two weeks ago and catch up in a very grown up feeling venue, and we all agreed that we’ve been curious about the tea salon since it opened. I had seen the same establishment in a trip to Singapore and didn’t have the time to go, Anna passed by it a lot in trips to Greenbelt, and Sarah sees it often as it’s a hop, skip and jump away from her work.

We had the “Chic Set” which according to Munchpunch is:

TWG Tea from their extensive tea list, served hot or iced. A petite selection of three finger sandwiches – Vegetarian Set, Royal, Set, Imperial Set. Choice of 2 freshly baked scones or muffins served with TWG Tea jelly and whipped cream or 1 patisserie from their trolley.

We had the Royal set, as the Imperial one had foie gras, and Sarah told us of a friend fiercely against it. We didn’t feel like the vegetarian set as we wanted a little protein (well I did, I forgot to have lunch).

It was nice. It felt very civilized, and while we talked about not so civilized things sometimes (wedding stuff, bachelorette things), we enjoyed ourselves immensely. We ordered a fruity, light tea that I forgot the name of (it was recommended by the waiter since we looked so overwhelmed at the 400 tea menu) that went great with the teeny salmon and kani sandwiches and the scones.

Would I go back? Yes, but with like minded ladies and a semi-full tummy, as it’s not really the place for the ravenous, as everyone is sort of dressed up and civilized. I can’t imagine digging into a full meal not caring about the horrified stares of ladies who lunch in the next table. If you want relaxed, grown up conversations, and really good tea, try it. Maybe I’ll bring Mom there soon. 🙂

 

1. Men in suits are hot. Three piece, wide peak lapels, the works. What guy doesn’t look good in a well-made suit? Ask Harvey Specter (Suits), Neal Caffrey (White Collar), John James Preston III (Sex and the City), they’ll all tell you, or better yet, show you.

2. Aling Ude’s tokwa’t baboy cures all hangover ails. Catch her at the Marikina Riverbanks early morning every day (I think except Sunday?)

 

3. The MyThai/Jack’s Loft in Il Terrazzo aint a bad place to work, an outlet, fishbowl iced tea, and cheesecake! (Though sidenote, not a fan of their pad thai, too greasy, yecch).

 

4. Making a mix tape to introduce a coworker to Filipino music is harder than I thought, when you can’t pick songs sung in Filipino, it makes for a really watered down mix.

 

5. Don’t get a haircut when you’re bored, or at least tell the stylist to “do whatever” or you’ll end up with a haircut that you’ll have zero idea on how to get back the moment you step out the salon. It will also leave you looking like Billy Ray Cyrus in the 90s.

6. Singing Bob Marley’s “We jammin'” while eating ube jam makes for a very annoyed, within earshot mother.

 

7. the Transporter tv series feels like FPJ, Lito Lapid and Chuck Norris collaborated on a character and made him drive. He gives chicks money after smashing their car to save her life, gets a multibillionaire heiress to strip naked in front of him to “get a man’s opinion”, crushed more than a dozen apparently inept armed men with his bare hands, and got a police inspector to water his daisies with a single look. Absurd, and Statham is ten times sexier with that rough voice and workingman appeal that carries all his movies, however absurd they seem, the guy in this one, not really.

8. Hellish hot Mondays make for very absurd thoughts. What do you think?

The one sport (aside from biking) that I enjoyed immensely the first time, was surfing. It was 2005, my friend K asked if I wanted to go to La Union with her and her football friends from Ateneo, and I went. It was a looooong ride to La Union as SCTEX (the titular highway linking Pampanga to Tarlac) wasn’t done yet and we had to go through the long way. I saw town after town and after what felt like days, we arrived at this quiet shore with a handful of resorts, and hard bodied men offering lessons.

I was hesitant. If you’ve ever seen me on land, you’d know why. I’m clumsy and uncoordinated, and trip over my own feet, and this thing is about being one with your own body. I can’t even say anything about my balance.

But as the saying goes, it took like a duck to water. The first time I tried standing up as the instructor pushed me, I rode the board to the shore, my only issue was getting down. That one hour I spent riding to shore and giddily getting back to the water to wait for the next one.

So I made plans to go to another trip, to Baler, a different shore, the same purpose. I found Baler more consistent, but harder to get to, a 10 hour car ride to the shore. I felt more attached to La Union, but have went back twice to Aurora for weekends made for surfing in the subsequent years.

But wait, it’s 2013 and this story started in 2005, what happened?

I got lazy. I didn’t apply myself to what I felt was a sport that I could just pick up anytime, especially when I started dating someone who could take me to La Union any time. Every time we went, I just felt myself wanting to not go with the crowds of surfers learning with instructors, and not having the courage to just get a board and try it myself. I wanted to relax and spend my days just reading on the shore, or just diving in. I went twice with an instructor and tried and failed one pre-New Year weekend to surf by myself, but the past 4 years, my surfing wasn’t really anything worth writing home about.

Up until last Monday. The waves were the best for a beginner, and the shore deserted, as La Union’s waves are really low from March to October, and more reliable in the months after that. So I grabbed a board and tried to paddle out, read the waves that were worth riding to shore, and propel myself with no help.

I failed. Whether it was lack of arm strength to propel myself properly, or not reading which waves were the ones that were to shore, I spent 45 minutes of paddling out, paddling furiously to catch waves, and failing. Frustrated and disappointed, I trudged my weary self to shore and drowned my sorrows in a cold Coke.

Future attempts will be made, and arm strength built. But right now, I’m still dreaming of success.

One of the most haunting voices I’ve ever heard, and such simple, sweet lyrics. Hear this song and stay haunted. This song is older than me by a lot, but it’s one of the most played songs on my ipod, and one I sing often.

The lyrics go:

Just before our love got lost you said
“I am as constant as a northern star”
And I said “Constantly in the darkness
Where’s that at?
If you want me I’ll be in the bar”

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh you’re in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I’m frightened by the devil
And I’m drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid

I remember that time you told me you said
“Love is touching souls”
Surely you touched mine
‘Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you’re in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
“Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed”

Oh but you are in my blood
You’re my holy wine
You’re so bitter, bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you darling
Still I’d be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

The line “Oh but you are in my blood” I can relate to the most. Some people just leave their traces, and we can feel them pumping through our veins. Only needing a whiff of a scent then you’re back where you were ten years ago, saying you’ll write letters, or laying a bottle of their favorite gin on their grave. People we love get us drunk on the feeling we have for them, but if you can still find yourself on your feet, you know you’re right where you need to be.

I turned 27 this weekend, in the most blissful place possible, the beach.

Maybe this growing up thing ain’t so bad, I thought, as I wiggled my toes into the sand and lay down the and smelled the salty air that always makes me hungry for uni. It was a trip we finalized the night before, and just planned as adults. We got into the car, decided our own itinerary, and headed for the North, to one of my favorite shores on earth, San Juan, La Union.

Why do I love San Juan? It’s easy. People are nice. Resorts don’t charge entrance. You can buy a beer at one place, and drink it on the shore, in front of any place. You can get salmon sashimi that’s oh so fresh.So back to the growing up thing.
27. Not really a momentous age. Nothing changes except a number. No milestones except for the ones you make. It’s not like it’s 25 that makes it a quarter life, or 30 that shoves you into adulthood. It just ages you.

For me, it’s a milestone year. This is my last one pre-marriage. The last one before the adulthood really kicks in. I wanted to make it fun, and spend it somewhere where I felt the best, with the people I loved most. The beach, the fiance and my family. True, things didn’t go exactly to plan, things were missed, some people had other responsibilities to take care of, and conditions weren’t truly perfect, but at that moment, all was well.

I would like to spend the rest of my life, with my birthdays in front of a beach. If that’s not a life goal, I don’t know what is.