Our House In The Middle Of The Street

I was excited about going back home but anxiety crept in once in a while. It was my first time to visit Cebu after our house got sold and I didn’t know how I would feel about seeing other people live in it. But when the plane landed and I saw the Mactan airport sign, I was more than happy to be where I always wanted to be.

As Aiza drove us into the subdivision, I told her that everything seemed smaller. The roads were narrower, the houses tinier, but at the same time mostly nothing had changed. Maybe it was because we’re much bigger now than when we roamed, biked, and skated these streets. When we made that turn into the 12^th street and I saw our old orange gate, I was surprised that I didn’t feel anything as emotional as I had expected. Maybe I’d anticipated it too much in the past I expended too much energy. It still felt sad to see that my Tatay’s plants weren’t taken care of, and that instead of our Lancer someone else’s Pajero was in the garage. It felt a little weird, that I was in Cebu and my family wasn’t there to greet me, and that for the very first time I was sleeping over at the neighbors’ house across. It had always been so convenient to stay up late at a friend’s place and then go home to my own house and sleep. We never found the opportunity for slumber parties but never failed to have all-nighters.

I brought my luggage into my friend’s room and looked around at the purple walls. It was comforting to see some of the artwork they’ve kept since elementary and a few pictures from way back. But even with the abundance of things it felt emptier with the absence of Katy. The quiet bed was begging for an occupant, and fortunately there I was. I proceeded to distribute a bit of pasalubong to our old neighbors and chatted with them as they asked about my family and how everyone’s doing. Everyone was offering me a room in their house, and I was warm with happiness and comfort.

A few days later, I went to my friend Aimee’s house and got the same feeling: an unusual hybrid of familiarity and strangeness. The house was still the same, save for some rearrangements and stuff indicative of change-Kaye’s law books, Aimee’s farm blueprints, and their very eager dog who seemed to love me, among other stuff. Their little sisters are all grown-up now, and they all seem closer as they spent the last few years living on their own.

On the day I left I thought I had enough willpower to stop myself from crying but as I wrote Aiza a farewell card, tears started streaming down my face. She will be leaving the country and only God knows when she’ll be back. I am selfishly sad about her going, but I can only be happy for the opportunities that await her. This is her great adventure. I said goodbye to Tito and Tita and we exchanged tight hugs. Being the crybaby that I am, you already know what happened. Tito, also on the brink of tears, assured me that I will always have a home whenever I decide to go back. (And while I’m writing these lines, I am trying my best not to cry.)

It will take me more time and organization before I can tell you about the things I did during my short stay. I had lots of fun being with people I missed so much, remembering all the things we did and building new memories together. I don’t know when everything changed. It may have happened gradually or in one sudden go, but now more than ever I feel like we’re on the brink of something big. More couples are now married and having kids, most of the barkada has moved out of the subdivision and another one of us is leaving the country. Who knows what will happen next? We’ve graduated from baking pizzas and cookies, going up the rooftops and waiting for shooting stars, eating pancit canton and spicy tuna, and the next time we get together there may be fewer of us than usual. But we will remain friends. I am crossing my fingers and wishing that stays the same.

As I took a last look at our old house I thought that losing it has made me realize many things. I was afraid of giving it up because I would lose the option to return to Cebu and stay for good if ever I changed my mind. I was only scared that I would lose my connection to the people I love, having less of a reason to go back because my family and house weren’t there anymore. But my trip made me realize I had more than enough reason. I may have lost a house but I haven’t lost my home.

6:34 June 29, 2010

Back from Cebu

I don’t know where to begin to tell you about the wonderful time I spent in Cebu with my friends. It’s been a whirlwind of fun, laughter, talk, and of course food. Now exhaustion is settling in, my throat and body hurts. Once I have gathered my wits I will write about it. I sincerely hope I get to.

One thing’s for sure: things will keep on changing every time I go back, but at least we will continue to have memories to hold on to no matter what happens.

My First Paella

After several days in London and Paris it was just a matter of time until my craving for rice kicked in. So even if I was quite anxious (okay, I was VERY anxious) about my solo trip to Barcelona, I looked forward to being in Spain so that I could have a wonderful rice meal. Paella, here I come! On my first day I spent the whole morning walking to the different Gaudi houses and exploring the interesting principles behind his fascinating architecture. The hustle and bustle of La Rambla took me in but unfortunately the Mercat la Boqueria was closed. That meant I was to explore its culinary delights the next day. But I didn’t leave empty-handed because the streets were lined with really pretty accessories. I took a city tour bus and hopped off at the sight of a stretch of white sandy beach dotted with people. Barceloneta was undoubtedly my kind of place-. I sat by the beach and believe it or not, enjoyed basking in the sun in comfy 15-degree temperature, in my boots and thick coat. =) I was so tempted to dig my toes into the sand if only I hadn’t worn stockings. The girl beside me eating takeout reminded me that I had yet to take my lunch and it was already 2:00P.M. so I strolled along the al fresco restaurants to sample authentic Spanish cuisine for the first time. The first restaurant I approached I asked the waitress if the paella was good for how many people and she answered by saying, ‘It’s good’. Okay, I think my Spanish flew out of the window due to hunger and I didn’t want to try and cross the language barrier so I moved on. As I walked along I saw this nondescript restaurant and studied the menu outside when their waiter greeted me in English. Ah, it was just music to my ears. I immediately entered and asked which of the tapas he could recommend and he pointed out this item which meant battered baby squid. Anything deep-friend sounds good to me so I had that and of course, I took the chance to get a paella. While waiting I watched these two frail, old women who just received their order. I was immediately alarmed upon seeing this gigantic 15-inch dish filled to the brim with paella! I hoped to God my order was a whole lot smaller than that. Before my hunger got the best of me my battered baby squid arrived. It looked very promising and I took a whiff as I squeezed a lemon wedge over the dish. As I took a bite, I tasted the sea and the salt was sprinkled over the teeny tiny fried squid was just enough. It was delicious! If only I had someone with me, I would be able to exclaim how fresh the squid tasted. I kept on eating squid after squid after squid until my paella arrived. Fortunately, I didn’t get the humongous dish the old women got; I received a 12-inch pan! Oh. My. Goodness. But since I was so hungry and excited to try this popular dish I wasted no time and dug in. It was just a taste of heaven, especially after days of not eating rice. The rice was al dente, and the ingredients were cooked just right. I ate the rice until my stomach couldn’t take it anymore and then I proceeded to pick out the remaining tender chicken and assortment of fresh seafood (mussels, shrimp, fish, squid). Everything was so fresh and it made sense because I was eating by the sea. It was a lovely experience. Not bad for my first Spanish meal…not bad at all. As I got my bill and paid at the counter the kind waiter chatted me up a bit and asked me where I was from and if I enjoyed my lunch. I responded enthusiastically and rightfully so after that fantastic meal. I headed out the door, ready and full of energy to explore the city once again, looking forward to the great meal I was about to experience next.