Not being able to find an ideal place to walk, to jog (not fucking jogging on the highway).
Eating three meals a day
Waiting for the garbage to be picked up
Listening to the drone of the television blasting cheerful programming the whole day
Listening to the rooster crowing the whole day
Being approached by people asking me for shit
Bye!
One day, all the rats as big as housecats had mysteriously disappeared. Turns out, a family of unrelated cats had started hanging out in the backyard. My sister-in-law’s mum, bless her heart, had taken to feeding one of them (Mr. Moustache) and he stuck around. Pretty soon, several more white, slinky-bodied strangers followed soon after. I’d met them all last June and this year, I got acquainted with a young ginger kitten who was too young to resist me picking her up. How she came to be with the adult cats I’ll never know.
In less than a week, she would come running at the sound of my voice (well, I always had food for her so..). Feeding her special tidbits, I’d make sure to fend off the other cats from trying to steal what she was eating. In less than a week, she’d gained a bit more weight and some sass to get some food for herself when they would all be fed from a single trough.
If I was rich, I would definitely bring her back with me to New Zealand. Though the process is quite straightforward, it would be quite expensive.
Little ginger would have to take her chances in Naguilayan. I pray to the spirits of nature to protect and nurture her until we meet again.
My cousin told me that my old high school was holding a Grand Alumni Homecoming but 1) it was too late to go; 2) I didn’t bring anything to wear; 3) I didn’t really want to go.
My cousin was able to reconnect me with an old high school friend, however and it’s funny how you just pick up where you’ve left off. B and I became fast friends only after high school and it was cemented one Christmas day when instead of going to hear mass, I cycled to her house for our usual long chats and got involved in an accident on the way home. ‘That’s what you get for skipping mass on Jesus’ birthday, ’ my mother screamed at me through hysterical tears. I only got a few scrapes and bruises, but my bicycle was totalled.
We ended up at a coffee shop (of course), and a few of our batch mates dropped by. Turns out, there wasn’t really much of a crowd this year and B and I were honest in admitting that our social batteries could only handle interactions with people from our class (snooty much?). We figured that look, we’re old, we’re a skip and a hop away from retirement, death or disease, so we might as well do what we actually feel like doing and say what needed to be said.
And of course we all did, which for me was far more productive and satisfying than wearing a one-size-fits-all all alumni shirt and hanging around the school the whole day trying to figure out who that person is claiming you were best friends back in the day.
Life is too short for pointless nostalgia and weak tea, though we’ve reluctantly resurrected an age-old question that has been making the rounds since we left school (and still no answers).
WHERE THE HELL IS SWEET HAZEL VARGAS???
Ten years ago, inviting someone for coffee would have been foreign. But things have changed, and here are the facts from Google’s AI overview.
Over 16,870: A 2022 report from the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) showed this number of registered local coffee shops and related businesses.
Growing Culture: Coffee is a top beverage, with Filipinos consuming around 2.5 cups daily, making it the second-largest consumer in Asia after Japan, according to a 2024 Inquirer article.
Major Chains: Starbucks alone has over 460 stores in the country, with other chains like Figaro and Bo's Coffee adding to the count.
Urban Density: Major cities like Makati and Cebu show high concentrations, with roughly one coffee shop for every 4,000-5,000 residents in those areas.
Exceptional food like papait, steamed kamote tops, bangus innards, green mangoes, almondigas the size of rocks seeping spicy, sweet vinegar and Goldilocks cakes.
Good friends and you know who you are
PAL (nobody clapped when the plane landed, not that I ever minded this).
AC and non-AC buses that are just the right size
Not seeing or hearing from people you never really cared to ever see or hear from again
Amin, ginawa da lan chips (is it even healthy??)
45-minute traffic on a 2km stretch of road
People you know who actually know better, but whose politics are different from yours
Three meals a day plus snacks in between
ZERO planning for where to build things; so does it mean that we’re gonna get a fucking 7-11 in front of our house?
Fending off sales staff at Watsons (fucking leave me alone!! Do you honestly think I need niacinamide????)
The food train continues. But did you know that aside from its cholesterol content, fried chicken is not a bad food item if you’re watching your carbs?? This is what makes KFC special- because you only have it once a year.
As I’m writing this - off to the airport in about two hours- I’m running a mental check of what I may have forgotten to pack. Mental note next time to ask for an additional checked bag. Another mental note to pare down (yes, two shoes will suffice if you’re just running around Binmaley lol).
We had a pre-Christmas gift-opening just so we could have that satisfying feeling of being pleased at what a no-children lifestyle can allow you to afford lol. One of my friends who is an accountant (which says a lot about her pragmatism), complained about her kids’ Christmas wish-list. “Asking for so much, when I get really low returns,’ she said and I totally get it. Growing up, my mother always pointed out the effort and expense spent on our upbringing and it’s years later, as an adult, did I realise what that really meant. For me, it means an obligation to myself and to my parents to do better. Because when that works out well, it’s a win-win right?
It’s so easy to mistake discomfort from 28-degree heat as being an unsettling feeling about the world in general. But this is just me. New Zealand summer is unwaveringly clear, the sky a flat expanse of blue. It’s so harsh that a couple of years back, I noticed that half my face was darker than the other; the result of an entire summer walking home from the bus stop, the sun shining to my right. The saying goes that there’s a big hole in the ozone just above New Zealand. Higher rates of cancer, they say, but I’m more philosophical. You get to see things a bit clearer than most people.
I used to hate summer. I’m that person who revels in the gloomy, moody greys of a rainstorm or a drizzly winter’s day. But things change, and people change. Go out into the light and do something. Get out of your head.
You’re actually fortunate that you live in a country where undiluted common decency prevails.
I saw it on Instagram, some influencer preaching the benefits of canned sardines as a super ketogenic food. I don’t really care if it’s true. I’ve been on a nearly ketogenic way of eating the last two months or so- I just eyeball everything and if I want to eat carbs, then I eat carbs- and at the risk of sounding like a doctor, I can say that I’m in a perfectly stable (ketogenic??) state.
I don’t feel hungry. I have constant energy. I work out regularly within the safety zone of my shoulder injury. My weight has stayed in the same 74-75 kg range, even as I found myself again comfortably fitting into size 28-30 pants though I can’t really wear them anymore because my thighs and glutes have become more substantial.
So I know it’s working and most importantly, I don’t over-think it like I used to. I have more important concerns than agonising whether to have shredded lettuce with a miso-yuzu dressing or pan-fried eggplant slices with my gochujang-spiced Wagyu beef mince.
Most of the time, food is just fuel and nourishment. But it doesn’t mean surviving on nothing but boring steamed vegetables and grilled chicken. Every so often, you discover that little things like canned sardines and smoked seafood make for a tasty canapes-like meal.
Trouble is, in less than 12 days, it’s the holidays and it’s giving me a bit of anxiety. There’s no itinerary, more of a food schedule.
Dec 19: pre-departure dinner
Dec 20: catch-up drinks and maybe dinner with two of my closest friends
Dec 21: Buffet breakfast at the hotel/ lunch at the mall with cousins
Dec 21: Dinner when we arrive home
Dec 22:Catch-up lunch out/ another dinner
Dec 23: Catch-up coffees with close friends
Dec 24: Noche Buena, alcohol
Dec 25: leftovers and more food
Dec 26: Family Reunion
I’ve just been busy the last two weeks that I didn’t notice that all I was eating was protein, which lately, is so easy when it’s everywhere. Protein wraps, protein water, protein canned soup and my favourite, protein-dense coconut yoghurt which has the consistency and flavour of really soft cheesecake, yum! And then one day, boom! You’re on the toilet doing a dump and you can feel it- your shit is as dense and heavy as a damned brick!
So many treats popping up but at this point, I’ve gone far beyond the initial plateau, the constant, irksome cravings. It’s a feeling of triumph tinged with a bit of sadness to stroll through a Dutch deli on Black Friday and leave with NOTHING (pistachio stollen bites, tres leches stroopwafels and Gouda cheese half-price).
Finished my test packing, and it came in at 14kgs, 16 kgs more stuff to possibly put in. Now how am I going to fill it up on my return? Clothes aren’t necessarily cheap in the Philippines (the good kind anyway) and there’s nothing I hate more than going to the mall during the holidays looking for stuff. Maybe I’ll get canned tuyo or bangus or something and tons of dried mangoes.
We found a drowned wax-eye bird in the pail of water on the deck. I read somewhere that curing the browned tips of my indoor never never plants involved only watering them with distilled water. So we’ve placed a couple of buckets around the house to capture rain-water. Our hypothesis is that the wax-eye flew onto the glass sliding door, got knocked out and fell into the pail which sits just in front of the door. Poor bird. Don’t know which is a worse fate, drowning or being eaten by the cat.
When I was in my teens and knowing that a long Christmas break was at hand, I would take the opportunity to make a list of stuff I wanted to do or change for the new year ahead. I didn’t really wait until the stroke of midnight when the 1st day of the new year rolled in to make some spontaneous resolution. I knew even that it took effort, planning and dedication to make stuff happen. And the things I wanted to do and change were small, stupid teenage stuff like working out and building muscle (which didn't really happen until I was in my late 20s), learning French (got a 2.5 for it as a university elective which pulled down my average) and to succeed at literally everything whatever that meant.
I found this book you see, at my dad’s ancestral house, an old hardbound copy of Napoleon Hill’s The Law of Success and I was amazed that there could even be a blue-print for that, and explained clearly and painstakingly which was so unlike my mom’s unhelpful rebukes (after I had failed and then what?) or my dad’s silence (he was always busy).
But it’s a habit I’ve carried ever since and while I’m not rich, muscled or spectacularly successful, I am here and I am happy, and I am content, and I am still making lists, so…
R and K parked at the front of the building and came down the disability ramp as if they were in a fashion show, and they looked it too with their long, tanned torsos and bare arms swathed in off-white asymmetrically cut and tightly wound-up linen. They were also holding aloft a box of Dunkin Donuts. Oh no, Lord.
But it was, and I told S later that to my (delayed) horror, I had become that annoying person who refused or declined, or gave away gifts because they were dieting, were lactose-intolerant, had coeliac, or were ridiculously triggered by anything that was not a fair-trade product. In my case, I had not had any form of sugar or carbs for the last 72 hours and I wasn’t about to surrender over what, Dunkin??
But thankfully, like all attractive, physically-perfect people R and K understood these things. ‘Well that’s good, keep it up’ R said, flashing perfect, white teeth and she also meant it. Hmmm
Did you know that if you get your coffee at Starbucks, you’d be hard-pressed to get a Keto-friendly drink? I asked ChatGPT about this and this it what it spit out:
A simple, solid choice is a Tall (12 oz) Hot Americano (espresso + hot water) with a splash of heavy cream (or full-fat milk) and no added sugar or syrups.
The basic hot brewed coffee/americano from Starbucks has very low carbs.
By skipping syrups, flavour shots, whips, etc., you minimise hidden sugars and carbs.
🛠 Customisation Tips to Keep It Keto
Given your low-carb goals (and your focus on protein and energy), here are some tweaks:
Ask for heavy cream instead of 2% or skim — this gives you fat (good for keto) and very few carbs.
Or use unsweetened almond milk or coconut milk (some Starbucks locations offer these) to keep carbs lower.
Skip the flavoured syrups, sweet sauces, whipped cream, drip toppings — all of those typically add sugar and carbs.
If you like a bit of flavour: ask for a single pump of sugar-free vanilla syrup (if available in NZ) or a sprinkle of cinnamon.
Check portion size: stick with “Tall” or “Short” sizes where you’re less likely to get huge milk volume which increases carbs.
Hmmmm.
Is ignorance really bliss? Is there a downside to knowing a lot of things especially, when you can’t do anything about it? It seems that everywhere you look, and putting the man-made disasters aside, destruction and death is just around the corner.
And look at me- I can’t even function at temperatures that would be considered ideal in some countries. Lemme do the house-work later, or better still, let me do the housework at night when the temperature drops.
It doesn’t bother the cat though. Lily follows the sun along its path around the house; 10am on the deck, 2pm on the short couch; 3pm in the outside deck; 5pm and onwards on the stairs.
Let’s breed a billion cats and have them absorb the heat of the blistering sun.
I thought I was going to get sick. I had this scratchy, niggle in my throat and I’ve lived long enough to know what that meant, so I got ahead of it by buying over a hundred dollar’s worth of (anti-bacterial) lozenges, throat-drops, paracetamol drinks and immune-shots.
I was describing it to my colleague and I told her to picture the illness just outside your door trying to get in, but you’ve barricaded it. But it’s there, waiting, this heavy, slightly stifling and itchy presence inside your head, right behind your eyes and nose.
I think it was Sunday- pack-up day- when I woke up and it was gone. I looked under the door just to make sure and there was no shadow, just the glare of the bright Taupo sun as it reflected off the lake. But it left a parting gift; I felt a congestion in my throat and nose as if I had eaten marshmallows in my sleep but didn't manage to keep it down.
I tried to hawk it up and didn’t really care if people in the other rooms heard me (I was doing it in the privacy of my own room anyway), and after a few tries when I thought I was going to throw up, it was expelled, a golem of a phlegm, green and grim. Bye!
First gift (for me) to go under the tree(s) that are still to be set up.
We booked really early for our Christmas trip to the Philippines and got dirt-cheap economy flights. We also got I thought - well, I did anyway- plenty of time to prepare for it. But having the time you think you have is vastly different from having the actually energy and will power to use it wisely.
Well, I wouldn't say I have not used my time wisely, but rather, things take a different direction than you intended- and that’s okay.
We’re suddenly at the tail end of October and looking back, I can say that I’m mostly happy. But let me start with ticking off the things I wanted to do but wasn’t able to do:
1. Organise a balikbayan box for more of my shoes and clothes. I also wanted to have had included in the box, gifts for family. Shipping to New Zealand is expensive, and the few companies that ship boxes to the Philippines have short time-frames which I couldn’t meet as I wasn’t convinced that the gifts I wanted, were really suitable. The box would have to wait for next year as I still need to off-load my stuff, most of which have not even been worn.
2. Work out because with only one checked luggage, the only clothes I wanted to pack are shorts and singlets. And I need to look good in them. But then a scan showed that I had an asymptomatic torn shoulder, so I couldn’t really go all out in the gym. I tried focusing on just my legs and then realised my thighs wouldn’t fit into my pants. We never win the body-improvement game, regardless of what social media wants you to believe.
3. Finish some major work-stuff. Not even using AI could make things faster- ironically, one of my work projects is on AI.
But there’s a whole bunch of good stuff that I’ve been able to tick off:
1. Finalise Christmas gifts for everyone
2. Pre-ordered our favourite Christmas cake and ham (to have when I get back).
3. Finalised my work-project schedule for 1st quarter 2026
4. Finished 12 books.
5. Organised my desk
6. Organised an art piece (it’s not done yet, but confident I will finish it).
7. Had my sister-in-law buy new towels and to make sure to pre-order two cakes for Noche Buena; Black-Forest cake and Sans Rival from Red Ribbon.
8. Convinced my mother to have a whole Lechon for Noche Buena (my cholesterol is uhm, perfect).
9. Organised catch-ups with the only friends I want to see (you know who you are!).
10. Did a test packing of my single luggage (ugh, can’t really get more shoes in).
Worked from home today for no other reason than that the weather was terrible—wild, heavy rain hammering most of the country, except for Auckland. And even when Auckland does get hit with a weather event, it’s usually somewhere else. We’ve lucked out, I guess, in the weather sweeps. God knows our clapboard house would take a beating if we ever copped the brunt of it.
Still, it’s awful to admit, but I miss a good old nasty storm.
“I miss a good old typhoon,” I once said out loud—and immediately got a scolding from my mother.
“What if you got your wish and it was Signal No. 4?” she shot back. Fair enough.
One of my earliest memories of a typhoon is walking the five meters from our old house to my aunt’s in the middle of the night, rain and raging wind on our backs, because there was a real danger our house might be blown away. I have fond memories of that old place—it was little more than a large nipa hut with bamboo slats for flooring, held up by thick hardwood logs embedded in concrete.
Even then, though, people knew it wouldn’t stand up to the seasonal storms that grow stronger every year. (Not long after, my parents took out a loan to build our current house.) The last time I was home, I don’t think there was a single house left in Naguilayan that wasn’t made of concrete and cement.
But as a child, the danger never really registered. What I remember most was the cozy kinship of being safe inside a solid house—drinking coffee (at night! a treat!) and listening to the hushed, slightly worried voices of the adults, tut-tutting at every whip and howl of the storm outside.
Of course, danger is always present with a typhoon. But as my dad always said, at least you’re given time to prepare—and you just need to make logical, sensible decisions.
Still, you never really know, do you? For some people, the odds are stacked unfairly against them, no matter how careful they are.
I just hope and pray that I’ll always find myself on the other side—warmly huddled in bed, with a cup of decaf in hand.
Today’s lunch: scrambled eggs with furikake and chilli oil.
We had to go away for a couple of days so we had to leave Lily at a cattery. She had been there before with no issue, but we still requested daily reports on how she was doing.
Friday’s one was funny; we brought in her specialist food, but being in a space shared with other cats presented an opportunity. She was probably sick of her own food that she gently pushed the other cats away and sampled their meals.
When we picked her up Sunday, all the other cats came to the screen partition at the first sign of human visitors. But not Lily; she was sitting inside one of the hutches up until we called out her name and she let out this cry that broke my heart before running to where we were.
Did you know that a size 14 chicken only takes an hour and a half to cook in the oven?? So why not a roast chicken on a Monday? I usually do a whole clove of garlic mashed into olive oil flavoured with Old Bay seasoning, pepper and garlic-herb salt. Two hefty wedges of butter are inserted into each breast, just under the skin. I don’t normally do gravy, but since I’m having rice for this one, I’ve kept the juices and spiked it with a few lashings of Maggi seasoning.
Ugh, the gym is starting to smell (uhm, from the people working out) because the temperature is a bit warmer.
Spring is in full swing.
Rice and chicken take-away meals at the supermarket! (we live a part of Auckland where the ethnicity is partial to rice).
Over-salted margarita glass
HATE manual labour
Do cleaners look at your stuff and judge you?
Cambridge is a great town
Indian without much of the omnipresent curry flavour is refreshing
I must admit that I’ve always felt a little miffed when someone asks me how my weekend went because:
Equally good stuff also happens on the weekdays
A failure of imagination about how else to greet a co-worker
I’m not really inclined to share how my weekend went (it has never, ever been my greeting on a Monday or Tuesday at work).
I’ve never been curious as to how people spent their weekend.
But now, I’ve fallen into the habit lately of just highlighting my weekend (and sharing it to the world lol) because admittedly, we’ve been planning it a bit better which makes all the difference in feeling that not only have you accomplished something, but that you somehow triumphed over time itself and its ever fleeting nature (more so it seems when you’re absolutely doing nothing).
But I still wallow in not caring about time at all- I normally sleep past midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, I wake up just before 9am, I take leisurely naps.
But weekdays are also a goldmine of pockets of time where you can move things along and not be stuck in the cycle of your 9 to 5 or 8 to 4:30 in my case. If you’re fortunate that you’re in charge of your own time, then get as much out of it as you can.
