Cheapskate.

My daughter took the shinkansen and traveled a bit further to pay homage to Ludwig van Beethoven. Upon seeing the hearing aid, she felt sad for the great composer who gave us some of the most loved concertos we love to listen to now. And the pianoforte where he wrote his masterpieces…

Asked her sister, my younger daughter who once enjoyed tinkering the ivory keys if she likes a copy of some pieces with the composer’s notes.

Of course, my younger daughter answered.

And my daughter asked for the price. It’s 7k Philippine denomination.

Then came the….

Oooops, sorry I asked but if I buy the piece, that would mean I go hungry….

Cheapskate!

The Globetrotter.

A few months back, my daughter received an invite to explicate an article she wrote that landed as a chapter in a German publication. The presentation of her work, with a fellow Filipino, a mapper, would take place in Frankfurt.

Thus she packed her red stroller of a luggage again and flew Etihad Airways via Abu Dhabi to Germany. The airline was a treat, she said, with personal amenities that did suit her taste, like and individual screen for viewing during the lengthy hours or the trip, and the food that caters to one’s preference.

My daughter has probably commenced her globetrotting adventure. Right away, she explored the local central train station, the local stores, and the cuisine the ultimate goal of which was to find rice to satisfy the stomach. Nada!

But she settled well and good in a modest hotel that offered Asian breakfast of hot rice and miso soup.

At the conference she was given a tankard of beer, as in the picture, albeit she probably sipped just a bit to learn of the taste, Germany being famous for that Octoberfest.

And of course she received a copy of the book with her name on it.

Germany is a beautiful country, she said, she’d been to a stunning cathedral and a museum, walked through some forest grounds, but she still has to tell me what kind of art those padlocks on the bridge rail is called.

Spirited Away Moment.

Sometimes supernatural stories seem strange….till it happens to you, my daughter claims.

Her adventure north of Taiwan yielded one ‘spirited away moment’ she considers her scariest experience.

En route cultural kiosks, shops and museums in a quaint little town, the tropical weather was truly hot,

thus she deemed it would be refreshing to climb the one kilometer stone staircase leading to the Shinto Shrine. It was a bright blue day.

Nary a soul in sight but the surroundings was so inviting and she hastened her steps to the top. Feeling victorious about the steep ascent, it was like a Mulan moment when she finally got to the top of the mountain, when all of a sudden, from out of the blue, a massive wind, visible to the naked eye, tossed her to a halt. Surprised, she rushed to a square stone and placed her offering just as the thick trickles of rain dropped, turning the serene atmosphere into a cold freezer.

She counted seconds ticking into ten full minutes, and with no chocolate in her small white backpack, she surmised the cold creeping would be detrimental to her being. The small shed has no wall to shield her from the fierce gusts of winds. Ten minutes was enough to soak her hair and skin.

Shivering, she decided to go down, and with every step, she thought the ungentle winds could easily and swiftly take her away like a leaf. A dumb way to die, and so she prayed harder…

And as sudden as that massive wind came. the rain stopped when she made her final step. Thankful for the solid grounds, she whispered a solemn prayer. Drenched and shaken, a family of four on their way up the shrine smiled at her, asking if she had a good experience at the top. She simply nodded her head , turned, and sought a sip of hot tea at the tea house.

By the way, Spirited Away is a Japanese animation that won an Oscar. It is, of course, based on true tales, like my daughter’s.

My Daughter A Backpacker! Or Wayfarer!

A long time ago, a group of elderly churchmates invited me for an excursion to see the famous perfect cone volcano Mt. Mayon. Unfortunately, I was then the busy bee of a mother who couldn’t afford to while the time away, so I sent my teen of a daughter instead, thinking it would be an adventure for a convent girl to experience distant places, aside from home, school and church. After all, she’d be safe in the company of old ladies who later on, she narrated, made her do everything during the long, winding trip to the Bicol region, from checking lodging, marketing, cooking, setting the table for meals, etcetera, that she felt she was a bit deprived of enjoying the sites. Albeit the trip created, for my young lass, an insatiable quest to wander the world.

Thus far, she’d been to four continents, for education and work, and some young ambassadorial task for the country. This week though, she said she’d be a tourist for once, and just enjoy a little island nearby called Taiwan.

Nope, she’s not a tourist in the strictest sense, because she sent me pictures of an accommodation on top of a hill, ate local food and she walked the streets to see what ordinary life is in Taipei and Jiufen. She’s more of a backpacker!

Twenty thousand steps a day, she said, and that makes her a wayfarer. Grateful for the stones after the long walk.

Wanderlust.

My little wanderlust of a daughter has packed her luggage again, this time on a nearby archipelago right below our own, in a land called Malaysia. Not a travel for pleasure but for work.

Sent me photos with Petronas Twin Towers as a backdrop, with her workmate, and the delightful food they consumed, the sunny side up egg looking luscious and the white rice cake with tropical oregano enticing.

T’boli: the Pretty Proto-Malayan.

Work brings my daughter to the most inconspicuous, or rather, obscure of provinces in our island paradise. This mother can’t help but worry when she announces a destination like Tawi-tawi or Sulu, down south in Mindanao. Do not get me wrong because Mindanao is endowed with a naturally tranquil beauty that is in sharp contrast with its notoriety that an American passport is deemed “no entry.”

As interesting as the people, culture and tradition that is Mindanao, the provinces have been synonymous , in my growing up years, with Jabidah Massacre, or, in the not so distant past, the Maguindanao Massacre of 2009, the infamous Marwan special operation that claimed the lives of forty-four Filipino special forces in 2015, and the Marawi Siege of 2017.

Speaking of the latter, there never was a comforting moment when my daughter was part of the program that sought to rehabilitate Marawi where she had to travel the long roads to and from the beleaguered city.

Thus when she said she was Cotabato bound, this mother went into a prayer mode once again.

But lo and behold, my telegram went into a colorful and happy mode. She has become a T’boli princess!

The T’boli is an indigenous animist tribe that is very rich in music, dance, and weaving. A creative people. the T’boli caught the attention of the art and fashion world.

The T’boli are deeply spiritual and believe everything happens for a reason. The stance, the gesture, and practically all movement generate good fortune.

A Mother’s Day Gift.

A totally pleasurable and utterly wonderful Batulao/Nasugbu/Tagaytay road trip for a Mother’s Day treat from my daughters. Actually a pilgrimage of some sort because we visited sanctuariums such as a secluded Bosconian retreat house at Calle Ruega, heard the pink sisters mutter their high noon vespers at Angels Hills, where I felt a spiritually uplifting moment as the sanctuary seemed to change hue from pastel pink to pale blue. Hmmmm. We indulged first at an ultra expensive breakfast at the cozy but well-lit and modern Bag of Beans. Sosyal! Ultimate destination was at a nature village called Nurture Farm cum Farmers Table, a place for wellness and healing coupled with good, healthy concoctions for nourishment. Afterwards. it was a freewheeling spree at Crosswinds where the pinewoods, breathtaking to behold, dwarfed the little Lilliputian such as me! The restos and cafes and theme parks added to the attraction. But the Swiss inspired mansions on the slopes between pine forests, for me. are prospective venues for Halloween horror flicks. Mandatory stop for buko pie at Cecilia’s and quesillo at Moo’s, and, hanging plants and wild bush for our own garden, were the final order of the day. Salamat, mga anak, for taking time to treat me for a real breather. 

Virac! The Land of the Howling Winds!

I have roasted pili nuts, soft but crunchy to munch, sweet camote bars, and a tiny rainbow ‘walis tambo’ ( broom) from the ‘Land of the Howling Winds.’

Yup, my daughter traveled to Virac, the capital of Catanduanes, not for the pristine beaches but for field work. She chanced upon a rainbow almost fading at the breakwater. where rainbows are often spotted.

Yup again, Catanduanes is the province always first hit by typhoons and superstorms. The winds howl all the time. And after the battering, the breathtaking rainbows arch the skies.

Why the delicacies? Well, ‘pasalubong’ is in the culture. One must always bring home something good to eat. And the ‘walis?’ Oh, I much to sweep and cobwebs to rid off, literally.