Ok, wait...

I just wanted to quickly talk about our last meal, which was possibly one of the most interesting and delicious we had eaten in a whole month. It was traditional, innovative, and delicious at the same time.

On a tip from our homie Theo, we went to Greenbelt 3, to Sentro, which claims it pioneered new Filipino cuisine. This is what we ate:


Queso Puti (carabao cheese), covered in breadcrumbs and fried and served with cream and chili sauces.

Ukoy with delicate shreds of camote and kalabasa and shrimp.


And then, corned beef sinegang. No, not out of the can, as we thought, but with rich, beefy, and sumptuous threads of tender corned beef and shank, with just-tender sitao, onions, sili and tomato. Can you believe that when you order this, they bring you a tiny coffee mug of sabaw so that you can judge whether it's sour enough or not?




And then, to finish, a cold, crispy and creamy halo-halo, rich with ube helaya, chunks of leche flan, nata de coco, sweet beans, freshly crisped pinipig, and shaved ice.

This meal covinced us to come back next year!

Home...

We are home now in San Francisco. We left Manila on a balmy Saturday morning and arrived 16 hours later in San Francisco...on the same day (we gain a day on the return).

Our apartment is a mess, our sleeping patterns have gone awry, and we're simultaneously sad to leave the Philippines and elated to be home.

I'll post soon with links to our pictures. Thanks for reading, and for keeping us in your prayers for our safe journey.

Now, onto the Filipinos in Stockton booklaunch (Feb 24 in Stockton), finishing my book manuscript, and Super Tuesday. Who are you voting for?

Cavite: Heart of the Revolution?

We got a Feb. 2 flight to SFO so we decided to go visit historical sites/shrines in nearby Cavite province on Friday, Feb. 1. Lola Isabel, Tatay's mother, was Isabel Timtiman Tirona before she was married to a Mabalon, and Tatay was very proud of his Tirona middle name. Apparently, the Tirona family is an enormous and famous clan from Kawit and Imus, Cavite. Candido Tirona was among the first Katipuneros killed in the Philippine Revolution. The elitism and strategic power play orchestrated by his brother Daniel, a lawyer and leader in the Magdalo faction of the Katipunan, led to the imprisonment and execution of Andres Bonifacio (I was very embarrassed to learn this in college, that a relative of mine killed Andres). The spouses of Emilio Aguinaldo and Emiliano Tria Tirona were sisters, making the two Katipuneros very close. In the early 20th century, Tatay was proud to talk about the fact that a relative, Francisca Tirona Benitez, founded the Philippine Women's University, where Auntie Puring Pastrana (Tatay's Manang) studied. In any case, we are the poor, provincial Tironas: our great-grandfather, Lola Isabel's father Juan, was the black sheep who left Cavite to become a provincial official in Aklan.

So I decided to hunt through Cavite to find the ancestral House of Tirona, which the internet told me was a beautiful family home located in G. Maestro Tirona Street in Imus, Cavite. After a 30 minute drive there, and several close calls (every street in Imus' town plaza is named after a Tirona, so if you stop a tricycle or jeepney driver and ask for the Tirona house, they look at you as if you were in Boston and asked the bus driver to take you to the House of Smith or some other Anglo-Saxon name), we finally got to the house, hidden behind a thick fence. The housekeeper told Jesse the owners had closed the house to the public. Sadly, we turned west and went to Kawit to the ancestral home of Emilio Aguinaldo, site of the declaration of Philippine Independence, June 12, 1898.
We had to wait 20 minutes because may the Virgin Mary help you if you interrupt a Filipino security guard on lunch break. The Aguinaldo ancestral home, which was built in 1849 and renovated continuously until the General's death in 1964. The house in enormous and situated on the Kawit river. The first floor, where Gen. Aguinaldo had built a bowling alley in the 1920s, is a nicely done mini-museum of Cavite and Katipunan history, featuring clothing, flags, and weapons owned by the General. Did you know he was only 5'3"? He would have towered over Rizal. In any case, I'm ambivalent, like many, about Aguinaldo's legacy. As the first president of the Republic and leader of the Revolution, he fought American colonialism until his death. Yet, he was willing to sacrifice the founder of the Revolution (Bonifacio) and also his own dignity (Pact of Biak-na-Bato, when he went into exile right before the Americans arrived in May, 1898) to survive. His house is quite interesting, however.
Kuya (I won't share his last name, so as to not get him in trouble) was our tour guide. When I told him that I was a history professor descended from Juan Tirona, cousin of Daniel, Candido and Emiliano, he immediately changed his formal demeanor and proceeded to show us every nook and cranny of this amazing house, which is built of beautiful narra, molave, and kamagong wood. Kuya holds Aguinaldo in extreme reverence, so I kept my Aguinaldo criticisms quiet, so not to insult him. The house itself is magnificent, but what makes it really interesting are the tiny details. Kuya explained that Aguinaldo always had to protect himself against enemies: the Spanish during the Revolution, Americans during the Philippine-American War, and then everyone else until his death in 1964. Aguinaldo designed the house to contain several secret stairways, entryways, hidden doors, escape hatches, underground tunnels, secret doors hidden in kitchen tables, and secret attic hideaways for his five children. At first he said that only dignitaries got to see these places. Then, he softened and said that I, as a distant relative of the General, could see everything off-limits to the general public. So here we go, folks: some photos of the inside of the inside of the Aguinaldo house:

Kuya: "I'm not really supposed to show you this, but this is the secret stairway that leads up to the secret bathroom and escape hatch for the three daughters..."

"And this is the General's library..."

General Aguinaldo's haven: his old bed, chairs, and a grand view of Manila and Cavite through the capiz-shell windows. Kuya made sure we specifically asked Lolo (the General) to take a picture, lest his spirit be irritated at us. We hurriedly complied.

I won't show anymore since Kuya made us promise to not share the photos. Here are some more general ones:


Students from Emiliano Tria Tirona High School were visiting the same day.

University of Santo Tomas

Our Tatay was always very proud that he graduated with his undergraduate and M.D. degree from the oldest university in Asia, University of Santo Tomas. After he served in USAFFE in his mid-teens during World War II, he finished high school and then went to Manila to study at UST. Our Lolo Ambo wanted a doctor in the family, though our Tatay's true loves were athletics and history. After graduating with his M.D. degree in the early 1950s, he stayed on at UST for 10 years as a volleyball and basketball coach. One of Tatay's most prized possessions was his old maleta from UST. It was ancient, brown, mottled leather, with UST stickers on it. In it he kept his old UST basketball shorts, his UST photo album, and all important papers. I remember thinking that the maleta held all the secrets to my Tatay's life before he married and had us, and that it smelled like the Philippines, or at least, what I thought the Philippines must smell like. When he passed away in April 2005, I immediately asked for the maleta and we opened it, finding so many treasures and clues to the person he was. One of the photographs in the maleta I loved the most was of Tatay walking on the UST campus, sometime in the 1950s.Before he passed away, I always imagined that I would one day go to UST with Tatay, so he could show me his beloved alma mater. After he passed, I resolved that I would still go, and moreover, I would find where he took this picture. Yesterday, I felt that he was with us when we arrived on campus. It is a beautiful campus, a venerable one, rich with history. At first, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to find the exact place where he posed so confidently, cigarette in his lips. Then we saw the distinctive main building, and turned towards what the campus map told us was the gymnasium, where I know he spent the better part of his 20s to his 40s. And then, there was the picture, and we felt as though Tatay took my shoulders and pointed us in the right direction. The trees are much bigger, there are cars now where only students must have only been allowed, but here it was. And I realized that my father was swaggering confidently in that photograph towards the gymnasium.
We were able to later go inside and watch the women's volleyball team, which my dad had coached for many years. Then we went to the Public Affairs office to buy some T-Shirts. There, I talked to Aristotle Garcia from that office, and explained why I was visiting and showed him some of the photos I had of my dad in his UST days. The office asked for digital copies of the photos for their university archives -- they loved them, especially the one of Tatay walking to the gym. Here are some of the photos I shared with the UST folks:


Tatay is second from the right in the front row.
Tatay, the coach of the UST men's basketball team, is first on the left in the top row.

For many years, Tatay (center, crouching) coached the UST women's volleyball team.
Tatay was a talented coach; here he poses at the UST gym with his trophies in the 1950s. Yesterday, we watched his former team get their puets kicked by Ateneo.
I always wondered what would have happened if Lolo Ambo hadn't forced Tatay to leave UST to come to the US; I know he loved coaching. As I was taking pictures, I imagined that the coach (in blue shirt) very well could have been my dad had he made different choices. And if he had stayed, I think the Tigers would have won yesterday, but I wouldn't be blogging this.


Being on campus helped me to imagine a certain person Tatay must have been, in a time when he was young, ambitious, passionate about sports and history and the city of Manila, a time before the work in the fields wore his body down and the frustrations of life in the United States embittered him. We love you, Tatay. Thanks for coming with us to show us your beloved UST.

Shopping in Manila

We arrived in Manila on Monday, early afternoon, after leaving Zambales at 4am. We slept at Jesse's uncle's house, or at least, tried to sleep, as the kids and family across the street were blastic Magic Mic power ballads until at least 1 am. We stopped in San Fernando, Pampanga, to buy parols (ground zero for parols). How we are going to pack them in our balikbayan boxes without them getting crushed is beyond me.

We went to Divisoria to pasyal (shop around). It's heaving, dirty, chaotic, and full of all of those Filipiniana giveaways. Want a Precious Moments parachute wedding favor? They've got millions in Divisoria. I stepped in unidentified wet stuff (of course, wearing my tsinelas) and wanted to suka in the street, which, considering the atmosphere, would have made me fit right in. This is the dirty, real, unforgiving, bag-snatching, cut you in the throat Manila that one is warned about. Unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, they didn't have the Filipino crafts, trays, carvings, etc. we were looking for, so we went to Quiapo, under the bridge, which is balikbayan nirvana for shopping. A lot of the stuff -- carvings, baskets, shells -- we had come across in our travels across Luzon and the Visayas was here! We got some great, cheap stuff here, including capiz stars for our Christmas tree for next year, tubaws from the Muslim vendors, etc.

Yesterday, after spending about seven hours doing research back at University of the Philippines, Diliman, (I ran into a colleague there who is working on post-WWII Philippine politics, particularly the Recission Act that stripped veterans of US benefits, also working with the Carlos P. Romulo papers), we went to Greenhills, which is Divisoria and Canal Street (NY) without the bagsnatchers and anti-pirating police. Now, THIS was a shopper's paradise. No wet stuff to step in in the streets, no black diesel jeepneys and tricycles farting in your face, no open sewers. This is tiangge style shopping (like Divisoria), with hundreds of stalls selling everything from fake Prada, Gucci, Chloe and Coach purses to glasses, wallets, Old Navy and Gap overstocks from the Philippine factories, fake Lacoste, everything fake or brandname overstocked you could ask for. We imagined taking Allyson and Leenie here and then joked that we probably would have to leave you guys there for about 8 hrs. I bought two purses. Then we went to the MegaMall in Ortigas, and tried to find some stuff for which some have you have texted or emailed me.

It's interesting what you can and cannot find in Manila, and the city is a nightmare to navigate, especially during rush hour. Now I totally appreciate ten times over every pasalubong ever brought back for me. Mare Donna, I can only imagine the journey you had to make to find me a capiz lamp, that wasn't the size of a toy or monstrous!!! Certain kinds of art and handicrafts my family brought back by the boxload in the 60s and 70s are now considered very baduy (corny) by pretty much all classes of rich and poor: sungka sets, capiz lanterns, narra wood platters and serving items, Weapons of Moroland, Filipiniana wear that is casual (seriously -- I have been looking far and wide for casual, cute and simple barongs and embroidered dresses for Pumpum, Laya and Taytay with no success), woven purses, etc. Items we bought on our trip to Davao in 1997 are so hard to find in Manila -- you really have to go to Mindanao to get kubings, tubaws, a good selection of malongs, and tribal art and artifacts from the South (such as the T'boli bells I bought by the dozens last time), or to the Cordilleras to get Ifugao and Kalinga weaving.

I found a lot of some stuff in Quiapo, but the average mall will not have any of that (except for Filipiniana sections, or Kultura stores). People in the urban Philippines buy and want the same stuff in their malls that we have in our American malls. We went to a Vans store yesterday! For example, here in the Philippines, it seems that the only kind of Filipiniana wear one dons is in weddings. I remember having these really cute, embroidered dresses and shirts folks brought back for me when I was a kid, and am trying so hard to find them for the godchildren, with frustration. When I ask folks in the shops if they have casual barongs or cotton embroidered shirts for kids, or jusi dresses for kids (I had this really cute, embroidered casual dress when I was 3), they look at me like I'm crazy. Why would I want a casual barong?, they ask. But if you want fake Lacoste, a fake Bottega Venetta woven leather purse, plasticware of every shape and kind, Body Shop lotions, or Le Sportsac fake stuff, I can bring it back by the boxload!

Anyway, despite this, we have bought TONS of stuff, and we will have two balikbayan boxes plus bursting luggage. Today, we are going book shopping at La Solidaridad and last minute barong shopping at Tesoro's around the neighborhood we are staying in, Malate/Ermita, then to Sampaloc for University of Santo Tomas, Tatay's alma mater, so I can see it, then in the afternoon I'm going to the National Archives and National Library for some research.

We are set to leave on Friday morning (Feb. 1), but are on a waitlist to leave Sat. Feb. 2. Will keep you all posted.

Zambales

We are in the ancestral home of the Perez family, Jesse's maternal family. We left Baguio today at 11am and spent six hours through La Union, Pangasinan, and then through Zambales. We arrived here at Masinloc at 6pm. We're staying at Jesse's cousin's house. Jesse hasn't been here to the province since he was in elementary school, so it's been very sentimental to him to see his grandparents' old store and his Lolo's old dental office, and the old property, and old friends and relatives. Some of his old barkada are back here visiting too and he's having fun reminiscing with them, and laughing at how much they have grown in 25 years. The nieces and nephews here, all under 10, have spent the last three hours singing Celine Dion songs on Magic Mic at full blast. They're actually pretty good!

I am writing this at an internet station here at the sari sari store owned by Jing's mom's friend here in Zambales. Can you believe the internet was down mostly in Bohol, nonexistent in Banaue, and I didn't bring my laptop to take advantage of the wi-fi in Baguio, and then we get to this tiny town in Zambales, and they have wi-fi? "Oo, wi-fi na talaga!" they said, laughing. Hey, even the Lolas are texting here in the market, so nothing surprises me in this country of ironies.

We just had the best diniguan I have ever had since my Lolo Ambo's and my Grandma's and Mabalon cousins....made by one of the aunties here, close family friend and owner of the sari-sari. I wish my family could have been here to taste it. It might have been the best I ever ate since my Lolo's, though I don't want to insult the rest of my family...

Anyway, we will be going back to Manila at 4am to get to the Divisoria Market to get last minute pasalubongs. I messed up our tickets and waited too long to extend, and now Chinese New Year has jammed all the flights Feb. 2. We may be seeing you earlier than expected so everything is so rushed now.

We are missing home and missing here already.

Do you know the way to Banaue?

In one of the most sadistic itineraries ever, we made our way to Banaue after Bohol. We arrived in Manila at 5pm (Cebu Pacific is inevitably late), went to San Juan to check out the custom made barongs at Patis Tesoro in San Juan, and then picked up our luggage in Makati, dropped it off in Malate at our condotel, rearranged our clothes, and then had our driver (our cousin in law Christopher hooked it up with his friend) take us to Sampaloc to the Autobus station, where we boarded a 10pm bus to Banaue. You're supposed to sleep on this bus, which is hard because the brakes sound so bad you don't want to nod off lest you find yourself lurching off the side of the mountain into the Cordilleras. I won't even discuss the bathroom at the rest stop, but let's just say that this is the Character and Resilience Building part of the trip.

We arrived in Banaue to a cold, wet, rainy, and foggy morning. After dropping our stuff off at the cavernous, dark, and, for Banaue standards, luxe, Banaue Hotel, we were picked up by Mang Abe, our Ifugao tour guide/expert jeepney driver, and taken on a six hour tour of the rice terraces. It was raining hard by then. I kept my eyes closed through much of the traveling, and held onto the rails inside the jeepney praying to every spirit possible that we wouldn't fall off the edge. Hail Marys too, just for insurance. The terraces at Hungdaan are amazing. Unfortunately, the day we arrived turned out to be the one day in the entire dry season it rained incessantly, bringing in blinding fog. By the time we got to the Banaue Viewpoint, it was pouring, all the terrace views were fogged out, and I felt heartbroken. I did see some amazing ones, and I do have to say that you cannot truly appreciate their grandeur without seeing them in person.

We blew a bit of money at the Banaue shops and then went back to our hotel, where a group of Ifugao musicians and dancers were holding a cultural show. It was the first time we had seen Ifugao dances outside of the Bayanihan style; there are no formations, lights, or makeup. Again, an eye-opening experience. By this time, my sipun had abated a bit and we packed to leave for Baguio the next day.


The bus to Baguio was at 7am. Too early to be able to see some terraces, though the day, of course, was beautiful and clear. It took 8 long hours on a crazy bus trip to get to Baguio. We went back down to Nueva Ecija, through Nueva Nizcaya, and then through Pangasinan. At one point, I woke up and we were in Binalonan. Which famous Filipino American author was born in Binalonan? (Clue: he wrote America is in the Heart). After eight hours and about twelve provinces, we finally arrived in Baguio. Baguio City was founded by American colonial officials, who found a cool valley in the Cordillera Mountains and turned it into their administrative center because of its temperate climate. It used to be a mountain retreat -- think Lake Tahoe or Yosemite, but now suffers the fate of Manila. It's crowded, polluted, and jammed with traffic constantly now. Jesse was so excited to visit where he spent many a summer vacation in a bucolic atmosphere. Now he's more than a little disappointed. We met up with Jesse's mom here. She hired a driver to take us around. We shopped at the City Market, went to the SM Baguio City, and then crashed at this really cute bed and breakfast, PNKY.

We left for Zambales at around 11 am.