Happy Easter Sunday

  1. I remember being obsessed with penny loafers, but the bigger mystery was the source of that obsession. Where had I seen them? What thought process did I go through at 12, 13 (?) to make me want them? But the mystery deepens when I actually get the shoes (don’t know how I convinced my mother of that) and to wear them specifically for one event- the Stations of the Cross for Lent. They were so new that they cut the back of my heel. To this day I still can’t decide whether I suffered for fashion, or was punished by God for my vanity.

  2. I miss the quietude of the Holy Week of my childhood. No distraction of either entertainment or food. Pray and contemplate my mother, the lone Catholic enforcer in our household, urged us. I prayed- to get taller, for better (less oily) skin, for friends. I contemplated my existence, and of life out there in space, of faeries who attended Easter Sunday mass and whose only tell-tale clue of what they are is the absence of a medial cleft (I furtively scanned people’s faces as they bowed their heads and closed their eyes to pray).

  3. What do you eat for Sunday when everyone is dieting? Don’t forget the buns (we got a pistachio and chocolate variant); an easy to cook lamb (butterflied leg of lamb that cooks in 35 minutes); and sticky date pudding (minus the ice-cream). I miss the lechon from Bangsal which we got on the way back from church.

'Adult' books

In The Art of Simple, Eleanor Ozick retreats to the ‘bush’ country of Te Atatu and shows us that it’s okay to ‘isolate’ ourselves, that we can have our Walden moment. Well, in New Zealand we certainly can, and why not?

How can we stay connected to others without losing ourselves? Don’t ask me a question whose answer I already know. I could add my own tips: 1) don’t be afraid to let someone go if they turn out to be total cunts; 2) be generous; 3) know and respect the limit of your generosity.

What’s a reverse mortgage? What’s an offset account? Should you invest in unethical stocks, and to hell with ethics because the world is fucked anyway? Suddenly, moving out of middle-age and into the twilight (!) years is so much more than having great blood-work, great skin and getting away with wearing clothes meant for people two decades younger than you.

After being in this country for nearly 18 years, I’ve realised that I don’t really know much about it beyond my own Walden Pond. And that’s actually terrible.

If it feels like Monday, then it must be Monday

It’s actually Tuesday.

A brilliantly sunny, cold day, the chill coming in so suddenly- no warning, no transitional ease- that it makes you think of the worst. What if the weather turned the way our normally genial cat would suddenly turn from picture-perfect cuddliness to possessed, rabid psycho with razor-sharp claws?? (We’ve never clipped them, the better to defend herself, we’ve rationalised).

Well, I thought, glancing at the clothing racks filled with last season’s coats and jackets in the spare bedroom turned walk-in closet, at least we’re prepared. Last year was so strange that we didn’t do a spring clean at all. The coats and jackets have stayed put instead of being stored in the bins we have for winter clothing.

So which one is suitable for olive, wide-legged cargo pants and silver New Balance 1906s? The checked bomber in Italian wool? That waxed cotton jacket, perhaps in navy blue? Another bomber, but a shiny black aviator-style in flight nylon?

I could still smell last year’s scents on them- Replica’s By the Fireplace (my favourite, until I got three bottles at the same time as gifts and got sick of it); D.S & Durga’s Debaser, which I liked better than Diptyque’s Philosykos; Prada Pour Homme which smells like rain at 4am.

None of them seemed suitable and I wore a thermal hoodie instead.

Library Series (Botany)

Did you know what actually convinced to live in New Zealand permanently? It was the libraries.

I would spend every weekend at the library, making a whole day of it. A typical library Saturday would go like this: Gym, coffee, first book, meal break, 2nd book, walking break, 3rd book, espresso, last book of the day, walk home.

It gave me everything that I wanted and needed, beyond what a job or a relationship could ever give. I felt safe. I felt confident that I could find within it, the tools and knowledge I needed to solve any problem, hurdle any challenge. I felt validated, that being alone did not mean that you didn’t have anyone.

I felt entertained and mentally and intellectually satiated in a way that no amount of television (then) or social media (now) could ever fill.

And the last couple of months, I also discovered that in lieu of going out to eat, you could go to a library instead (well, we could always have good coffee after minus the pastry or the big brunch). But to make it more interesting, we’ve been going to different libraries; I would need to do an actual check, but this is our 12th library that we’ve visited in Auckland?

The Auckland Council Libraries is one of the best public library systems in the world; clean, efficient, housed in fit for purpose buildings, and actively involved within the communities they’re situated in.

When you have a society that cherishes and values food for the mind and soul without hidden agendas or censorship, then you know that society is doing things right.

China (town)

  1. Auckland doesn’t really have a Chinatown section per se; this was just a humungous aircraft-hangar sized mall-type structure with a food-court, a maze of shops, some restaurants, a supermarket and fish and meat shops. To complete the vibe, nobody really speaks English.

  2. ‘A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!'. No, we weren’t desperate like King Richard III, we just loved how it looked and the fact that every time we asked for the prices of other stuff in his shop, the old Chinese guy kept lowering his price for the horse. When we were paying for it, our eyes were glued on the EFTPOS machine to make sure the amount didn’t have extra zeroes in it. Plus, it’s the year of the horse!

  3. Haggle, haggle, haggle! Or not.

  4. Looking for dumplings that have actual broth inside them? You can find them here.

  5. I wanted to buy some skate wings so bad, but I was intimidated by how big these were. I wish I photographed my hand with them for reference; a piece was bigger than an A4 sized paper.

Wild weather week

It had been raining on and off for weeks since Christmas and it honestly feels like June in the Philippines (my favourite month growing up because it’s back to school, love the smell of new notebooks and love the cold, grey, moody weather). It’s not the same as typhoons, and we’re happy with that!

Auckland has escaped the worst of it which is ironic given how many people seem to loathe living here.

Done

  1. Not being able to find an ideal place to walk, to jog (not fucking jogging on the highway).

  2. Eating three meals a day

  3. Waiting for the garbage to be picked up

  4. Listening to the drone of the television blasting cheerful programming the whole day

  5. Listening to the rooster crowing the whole day

  6. Being approached by people asking me for shit

Bye!

Things I'll Do If I Was Rich (1)

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.

High school reunion! (sort of)

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???

Coffee with friends and family who matter

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. 

5 Days Before Christmas

  1. 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.

  2. 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).

  3. 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?

21 Days Before Christmas

  1. 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!

  2. 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).

  3. 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.

  4. 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.