My Weekend Break in Peaceful Putrajaya

Putrajaya's iconic pink Mosque - one I couldn't enter, but could appreciate from outside.

I have always believed that travel does wonders to our psyche. It is to me, like a reset button. I often leave in a messy state of mind - with to-do-lists and mental notes cluttering my brain. I always return refreshed. With my mind rewired, my thoughts focused, my agenda clear, my energy no longer erratic, but flowing smoothly.  This weekend, I had one very peaceful trip to Malaysia.  A confluence of factors led to a languid journey. I traveled with my mom-in-law, Mama Rubi - and she was in no rush. We were visiting my sister Marion, who was in Malaysia for an extended stay for work, and she just wanted to relax during our visit. And I, having seen Malaysia several times before, had only one agenda on this trip. To enjoy the change of scenery. To breathe in new air. To take a break from my daily routine.  And Putrajaya was a worthy setting for our kind of trip.  We took a ride on a tour boat that cruised around a lake around which Putrajaya's buildings are built. I sat out on the deck, in the sun and the breeze, and took in Putrajaya's experiments with architecture, and politics.

On board are tour boat, at Cruise Tasik.

Putrajaya is a planned city designed according to some utopic ideal. It feels somewhat surreal.  Somewhat detached from reality... like most utopias tend to be.  It is still, and quiet, like a ghost town - only, it isn't. It's a functioning administrative center, with government buildings, housing the country's bureaucracy.  There was a moment I was staring at the unmoving scenery, and I felt like I stepped into a post card. I have felt like this before - in another Muslim capital - Bandar Seri Begawan, in Brunei Darussalam, the abode of peace.  In both places, majestic mosques dominated the skyline.  The footpaths were lined with flowers. Calm waters and blue skies framed the view - with no threat of storms and subsequent floods.  The streets saw no crime, nor grime. And poverty thrived elsewhere, far away.  Islam means peace - we often hear. And staring at the iconic pink Mosque in Putrajaya, I felt this statement's truth. Encoded in the architecture is the formula: faith is the solid foundation on which a good society is built.  

A view of the mosque from our tour boat. Cruise Tasik, Putrajaya.

It was a vision to behold, of symmetry and harmony, and dignity.  I was allowed to admire it from afar, though not from within. And from a respectful distance, I was moved to meditate on the power of prayer, and of places of prayer - mosques, temples, and cathedrals alike - to project a message of peace.  It was a powerful image. The sight of that pristine, perfect, peaceful mosque.  It offered a respite from the barrage of negative images in media about Muslims and violence.  Putrajaya radiated peace, and exuded an other-worldly orderliness.  There was so much space, vast and wide, and green.

The government buildings on the banks of the lake.

The huge lake we toured covered such an expanse, and reached quite a depth (of some 18 meters in some parts), I found it hard to believe it is man-made.  It's a large-scale project, constructing an entire city from  scratch. It is an ambitious undertaking, a gargantuan task, and despite the many controversies it has ignited, and the huge costs, Putrajaya is a significant accomplishment.  The buildings and the bridges are of great architectural interest, referencing other landmark monuments from elsewhere in the world, from Australia to Yemen, the US to Europe.  The end result of deriving influences from a hodgepodge of global sources, is surprisingly a cohesive, harmonious whole that is distinctly Putrajaya in execution.   It is there, in the bones of the structures erected thus far: the rootedness in Islamic arts, and the desire to claim a spot in the global scene.  It resonates with the guiding aesthetic behind the iconic Petronas Towers in KL.

My mom-in-law, looking at one of Putrajaya's grand bridges.

Putrajaya presented a wealth of contradictions: it presented something new and modern, that also felt timeless and classic; it felt somewhat contrived and artificial - but also, well-suited to the surroundings, and peculiarly nature-bound (it's not a big chunk of concrete, but a garden city carved into the hills); it feels like an exclusivist city catering to Muslim dreams, but open to tourists and foreign workers who are welcome as guests; ... it is exciting, and (dare I say it?) boring, all at the same time.  For every person who recommends going to Putrajaya, you will find another who will say "there's nothing to do there, it's a waste of time".  But I loved it.  My stay in Putrajaya was a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Kuala Lumpur. 

Even shopping was at such a leisurely pace.  My sister took us to a nearby mall in Alamanda, and it was nearly deserted.  We shopped at Carrefour (an old favorite supermarket of ours, from our days living in Spain and Singapore), and we had the entire superstore to ourselves!  Perhaps because we were there on a weekend? And maybe the place is busier on weekdays?  Or maybe we arrived too early? I couldn't tell for sure.  

My sister and I, outside Carrefour, in Alamanda.

But it was good for my spirit, the seclusion and the calm setting.  I shopped in silence, unhurried.  I bought toys and clothes for my children, and some stuff for myself. And felt very, very relaxed. This trip is a far cry from last month's trip to Singapore with kids and strollers in tow, when I felt tired and wiped out all the time.  This trip was at such a slow pace, it felt as restorative as a beach vacation!  Putrajaya had that effect on me.  A restful, relaxing effect. And I returned to Manila, recharged.  I could even say I missed Manila's chaos - after a couple of days in too-peaceful Putrajaya.  In truth, I sometimes wonder whether I travel so I could have an excuse to miss Manila and love it even more. I'd like to believe I am a better mother after a trip. I end up more attentive, and patient, and eager to tend to my children after missing them for a few days.  And my husband too, seems like a better father when I'm not around for a bit. So it was a good weekend. I got to bond with my mom-in-law, and my sister, for a relaxing break in peaceful Putrajaya.  

At the mall in Alamanda - a relaxed alternative to crowded shopping in KL.

The Phantom's Visit to Manila and How We Enjoyed It

My sister Marion and I, outside CCP.

The Phantom of the Opera. That alone, by itself, is a great gift.  Just to see it live, to soak in its lavishness, is worth the ticket price and the traffic.  But my sister decided to make something even grander out of our night at the theater.  She forcibly plucked us from our everyday existence and made us "travel" to Manila - that is, to see it with the eyes of tourists, to take in the sights and sounds, and revel in its beauty.  She gave our family a gift - not just of watching Andrew Lloyd Weber's great musical, but to enjoy the Phantom of the Opera IN MANILA.  My sis is a traveler, and has seen Phantom in three other places- in Toronto, New York, and London.  Why would she spend more money on a musical she's already seen a few times?  Simple. Because it is HERE, in Manila, OUR Manila. This is the MANILA PRODUCTION OF PHANTOM. And we enjoyed it as such.

Lounging around at Sofitel, hours before the performance.

My sister booked a room at Sofitel on the day of our show.  By booking a room, all the usual culprits for causing stress will be eliminated: no last minute wardrobe changes, no instructions to leave with maids, no traffic congestion to manage, and no threat of arriving late!! My sister asked that I meet them at the hotel hours before the show.  My kids were taking their nap when I slipped out of the house. I didn't feel guilty about leaving them. After all, Oliver was going to  take them to his niece's birthday party.  So they had their own thing.  And I was free, for the rest of the day, to be Nikki-the-bunso (the youngest daughter) in my old nuclear family of four.  And here's what we did. We relaxed. And chatted about our first family trip together, to North America, 21 years ago! That's when we first saw The Phantom of the Opera in Toronto when our aunt Maricar treated us to the show.   This was the central theme of our afternoon: while in the past we exerted strenuous effort, and spent on travel costs to see the world's great productions; Now they come here! How convenient!   And this mindset, we exploited to the hilt.  Our slogan for the afternoon: It's More Fun in the Philippines!!!

Enjoying the view of Manila Bay and CCP Complex.

We used this logic to convince our dad to enjoy himself.  When we told him we were going down to have coffee at the Lobby Lounge, he said "there are coffee-making facilities in the room diba?". "Dad, have the proper mindset!"said my sister.  "In the past, to see Phantom, we had to pay for visas, travel tax, airport terminal fee, airfare and land transpo, on top of the tickets, now we just have to take a short ride! Surely, we can afford to enjoy good coffee?" And enjoy we did. We took our time having our late merienda, and when the bill arrived, "see?" my sister said, "it's not even the cost of travel tax!"..."it's more fun in the Philippines!!" We succeeded in behaving with the enthusiasm and excitement of tourists.  It was precious.  My mom, who is usually reserved, was so relaxed, she even leaned on the balcony railing, which is impressive considering she has a paralyzing fear of heights.  Yup, even her vertigo was away on vacation that special afternoon.  Which is a really good thing, because the seats my sister got may have posed a problem if my mom happened to have a vertigo attack.

My mom, who usually has a fear of heights, was surprisingly relaxed and
unafraid looking out from our high-floor balcony.

My sister got us a Parterre Box, poised above the Orchestra seats, for a spectacular view of the production.  It felt oh-so upper-crusty. There are design elements of the Cultural Center of the Philippines' Main Theater that reek of the elitism of the Marcos era: the dramatic elevated driveway  that is practical only for chauffeur-driven cars is one; The Parterre Box is another.  Each box has a separate entrance and high wall partitions, for maximum privacy, and there's a bodyguard's bench to boot, to make life comfortable for the security detail assigned to dignitaries and tycoons for whom these box seats were designed.  The hierarchical structure of Philippine society was reflected in the exclusivity of certain sections, betraying the security concerns of a ruling class during tumultuous times. We had a box at the center, in the Imeldific zone - I could sense her personality permeating the space.  Thoughts of Imelda Marcos seem appropriate for a night like this, when we are watching an opulent theatrical masterpiece that holds nothing back.   I could imagine that this was what she had in mind when she envisioned this pet project of hers - to create a theater venue that could house world-class productions.  

Photo by the steps, before surrendering our camera to the guard.

CCP was inaugurated 43 years ago, and many newer theater venues have sprung up in the metro since.  But none of the other theaters could have hosted the Phantom's visit the way CCP did.  The grand fountain, the fluid staircases, the capiz chandeliers, the box seats - all these elements created a theatergoing experience that flowed onto the stage.  We always go to CCP to watch performances. Through the years, we have witnessed the CCP's turning away from elitism and transitioning into being a theater of the people in the Post-Marcos age.  Throughout my childhood, we went through many affordably-priced season subscriptions to Tanghalang Pilipino, Ballet Philippines, and Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra as part of our family's cultural enrichment.  Through so many visits, CCP had become so familiar.  But that night we watched the Phantom, she was different.   That night, I saw her not for the theater of the people I knew her to be, but caught a rare glimpse of her old stature.  She was a grand dame, a diva! An elegant hostess to the visiting Phantom.  Never mind that the carpets were faded, one elevator was out of service, and the bathrooms were outdated... these are peripheral details.  What mattered most was the believable union between Andrew Lloyd Weber's spectacular Phantom of the Opera, and the stage and setting of Manila's Grand Dame.  I was five minutes away from my house, and yet, when I returned home, I felt I came from as far away as the Paris Opera House.

I didn't expect tears to flow. I've seen Phantom before and found it exciting and grand, not touching and deep. But I was thirteen then, and a stranger to the allure of dark thoughts.  Now, I am older, and equipped in a different way, to listen anew to the lyrics I've always known.  I was listening to  "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" when I felt a tightness in my throat.  I thought of how much I missed our family of four, and the trips we used to have and would no longer do together.  "You will die to yourself" my mother warned me, before I got married. And I understand what she means.  I am mother and wife now, more than I am daughter and sister.  Of course I am all those roles at the same time, but mother and wife are in the spotlight, while daughter and sister have receded in the background.  This is only natural, for old families to give way to the new.  It is logical, and rightful - but somewhat painful nonetheless.  That realization made an already special night, even more precious. It was a special bonding moment we enjoyed immensely - because the Phantom was here, in Manila, and we went to see it together, like we did 21 years ago. And it was spectacular, as CCP theater was glorious. And we were happy with the fact that the world now comes to Manila, and we need not travel far anymore, to get a taste of the world's best offerings.

Thanks sis, for an awesome birthday gift!!

1 Year of Blogging and The Rewards of Writing

Narra, excited to receive Wanlu's DVD.

It's September 16.  This time last year, I started this mom-blog.  I had just given birth to Guijo and there was a dark cloud hanging over our household: there was death in the family, I was out of a job, Guijo was confined at the hospital, and all those things combined wreaked havoc on our psyche and our pockets.  And I felt guilty that I was on the verge of despair.  The adrenaline from childbirth had worn off, and my supply of happy hormones was depleted.  I couldn't talk to Oliver who was in grief and withdrawn; Narra was in her terrible twos, and Guijo was in his "feed-me-every-two-hours-round-the-clock" phase. The sleepless nights needed to be about something else besides fending off despair as it threatened to engulf me! So I started to write. So I could nurture a positive spirit. And how many people came to my rescue - from far away and from long ago, friends and family began to weave a web of support written in encouraging phrases left on my blog, on facebook, by email or by text.  And all those relationships left un-nurtured through years of neglect, started to come back to life.   Yes, a blog does seem like a monologue. But for me, it has served as an invitation, an opening for dialogue - a means to cultivate conversations.  

With my Uncle (Pa Toots) and Narra, enjoying Swensen's Ice Cream Treat.

I've had all sorts of reactions to my blog, really. Most friends tell me "ang haba mo naman mag sulat!" (what you write is too long)... in my defense, the last thing I wrote was a dissertation which took years to finish, so from my end, my blog entries are super short and quick (length is relative!), what can I say, words just flow.  The worst reaction I got was from an anonymous reader who left a 2-word comment that simply said "Shut up"- I deleted that remark for lack of constructive substance.  But other than that one comment, it's been a year of rewarding responses.  For instance, I have to thank Swensen's Ice Cream for giving us gift vouchers for Christmas!  That was a pleasant surprise!  I blogged about Swensen's when they opened, and I was thrilled to receive a message from them months later, expressing their thanks with a gift of free ice cream.   Right around the same time, I also received a message from Museo Pambata, saying they were touched with my blog posts and had a gift for Narra.  Just last week, a guy from LBC was at our door, and voila! There was a new DVD from Wanlu the Ventriloquist!  He read my blog post about him, and he asked for my mailing address so he can send a gift for Narra.  My daughter was excited to receive a package from the postman! And she's been watching Wanlu's DVD daily since. Now all these gestures, from strangers, are quite encouraging and heartwarming indeed.  I feel all the good vibes I send out, coming back to me in return. 

With Museo Pambata's Chie-Sales Roman, and my good friend visiting
from KL, Rowena Sy, and our kids.

The post that received the most response from strangers is my detailed account on the cost of giving birth.  Entitled "The Anatomy of My Hospital Bill", this post was difficult to write because I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about money.   My mother has done her best to try to turn me into a lady of good breeding, and she emphasized the need to be discreet. I hear her voice ringing in my head, and I had to fight it down with every sentence I wrote, and every figure and cost I disclosed. In my mother's book of proper etiquette, money is never to be discussed in public.  But I had to follow my gut, and listen to my conscience. I felt I could be of help to countless other mothers-to-be out there who were desperate for information.  I remember being pregnant, and awake until the wee hours, scouring the net for info. The question "how much will I spend?" rarely gets answered, and here I was, with an answer!!  So I am happy whenever I receive comments from other mothers. It validates my decision and silences my doubts.

Narra, receiving a bag of books and educational items from Museo Pambata.

But the most rewarding responses, I must say, are from close family and friends, from near and far,  past and present.  Even family I get to see regularly.  It is ironic how we can see people a lot without really getting down to the business of exchanging life stories.  At family parties, rarely do we get to pour out our thoughts, or get to share our joys, and hopes, and fears.  But now, with my blog, I find myself with more conversations, with my aunts and uncles. Also quite rewarding are words from far away, from childhood friends, old classmates from high school, former neighbors who've migrated abroad - all these loved ones so very sorely missed - when they write comments, it brings me profound joy.  I value the gift of being in touch, of remaining friends despite the time and distance apart.  

I have shed tears in the process of writing this blog. And I know that how I felt was conveyed through my words.  I have been told by family and friends that some of my posts made them cry.  I've written about death and loss a lot, and also love. And these kinds of piercing topics strike that part of us that feels the most pain - and joy.  And family, friends, and strangers alike - who read my blog - have made a difficult year more bearable, by simply accompanying me on this rough leg of my life's journey.  So here's to another year for this mother's blog, may my entries cultivate more conversations, and nurture relationships, old and new.  Thank you for reading!!!

Enjoying Two-Ecom Center's Novel Features

Before our ascent: Narra and her Lolo at the base of the stairs at Two-Ecom Center.

We've been seeing a lot of this building from outside on our way to and from Mall of Asia in the past year.  Even before construction was completed, we could already see the unique contours that made Two Ecomm a distinctive building.  It had a huge hole in the middle!  When at last, it became operational, that hole in the middle was further emphasized with digitalized intelligent lighting!  Access to the building is dramatic, through grand staircases from either side of the building, meeting in the elevated promenade a few stories up.  The first time we visited the place, we were with a happy bunch of senior citizens - my mom's siblings.  So we decided to take the escalators instead of the stairs.  They enjoyed that simple activity so much! Haha, it's as though they haven't taken elevators before.

My mom: happywith her siblings (Papa Toots, Papa Bendo, Mama Myr, Papa Joe)

I remember traveling to Cambodia sometime in the mid-2000s - not too long ago really, and I saw on the news that the country's first escalator had just been installed then. I saw the interviews of the first few passengers who bravely tried the moving stairs.  There was a guide explaining the proper use of the escalator, and media covered the event.  Some passengers reported feeling dizzy, and explained how disconcerting the experience was.  I was fascinated at how something so "natural" to me, as stepping on an escalator, is an entirely new experience for others.  I was reminded of this again recently, when we hired a nanny for Narra who came from a remote village, and who'd traveled to Manila for the first time.  I did not realize it was her first time to ride an escalator when we went out to the mall.  I had to train her, and walk her through the process several times, to let her gain confidence.  So back at Two Ecomm, my mom and her siblings were giggling like little children as they took the escalators!  And here's why: the escalators were like wind tunnels!  The movement of air through the outdoor tubes added another dimension to the experience.  The escalators were short, with landings in between them, but taken together, the succession of sections reached quite a height, and the process felt like scaling a mountain.  This had the effect of heightening our anticipation for what we'll see once we reach the end of the ride.

Group Photo on the second landing.

On one of the landings separating two escalators, our group took a short break to pose in front of the building's name. My mom's brother, Joe Serranilla, an electrical engineering expert who runs his own electrical consulting firm, is proudly involved in the building's construction process.  Papa Joe treated us to merienda that afternoon we were there. The occasion was our despedida for two uncles who were flying back to Canada the next day, my Papa Bendo and Papa Toots.  It was a pleasant afternoon - not too hot, and not raining - just right and perfect weather-wise.  When we reached the end of our trip on the escalators, we were greeted by a great view!

Windblown at the top of the escalators: Mom, Myself, and Narra.

We were surprised to see a green expanse of carpet grass that created the illusion of such wide open space.  With Manila Bay in the distance, our eyes were drawn to the horizon, past the glass railings.  I saw so much sky and sea, and felt the wind on my face it seemed like I was on a huge cruise ship, and not on a building at all.  On one side we had a panoramic view of Manila's skyline, on the opposite side, we had the calm and majestic breadth of Manila Bay.   From another angle we could see Mall of Asia, and the Ferris Wheel on the water's edge.  I live in the area and see all these views on a daily basis, still, I felt excited to see all the familiar views from Two-Ecom's elevated vantage point.  It must be the combination of the height and the wind - I just felt I was above all the congestion and confinement of city living... I could breathe!  My dad took Narra's hand (or she took his) and they started to head towards the sunset, and it was a picture perfect moment.

My dad and my daughter strolling to the edge.

We had merienda at "Just Thai" and had a good time relaxing. It was a very pleasant afternoon.  A few weekends later, Oliver took us there at night to have dinner at "Uncle Cheffy's", and Narra loved the lighting effects on the building.  The view of city lights is quite nice too, but I personally prefer the daytime view - though a good compromise would be to go there to watch the sunset and to stay on for dinner to see the night lights.  A building with imagination can do wonders to one's spirit.  I'm planning to go back to Two-Ecom soon, to have generous servings of fresh air and great views with my next meal at one of the restos there.

The Pleasures of Singapore Zoo

Narra and I at the pygmy hippo's observation dug-out.

We were there for the kids. But we ended up enjoying ourselves as well. This, to me, is one of the perks of being a parent. It gives one the motivation to make time and exert effort to learn about the world all over again.  We do it to introduce our children to wonderful things, and in the process, we become enchanted ourselves.  Our afternoon in Singapore Zoo was full of "look at this" and "look at that" moments.  So well have the zoo's designers recreated the natural habitats of the animals on display that scoping the exhibits was truly a rewarding exercise in discovery.  

The exhibits have thoughtful lay-outs with strategic viewing points for zoo-goers at a respectful distance from animals.  There were also thrilling sections where animals were free-roaming, I couldn't believe my eyes!  The rainforest exhibit inside a gigantic aviary-like enclosure was one of my favorites.  Once inside, a mouse deer approached me and came within arm's length while I was walking on the foot path. A Philippines mouse deer!!! Back home, I've only seen these shy creatures in cramped cages in zoos outside Manila.  To find them here, roaming freely in lush surroundings, was a welcome surprise.  Just above our heads were crawl posts for all sorts of tree-dwelling creatures - like monkeys and lemurs. I had to wheel Guijo's stroller out of the way so we wouldn't be too near a lemur stationed right above the main walkway.  There were also birds, like multi-colored parrots to be found hiding under vegetation, we got excited when we unexpectedly spotted some.  There were also awesome fruit bats and lovely butterflies fluttering about.   I was somewhat scared to be wheeling my babies in a cage full of animals, but I trusted the Singaporeans with safety standards - I knew that when it came to controlling behavior through intelligent design, they know what they're doing.  

A lemur resting conspicuously above the Rainforest footpath.

Singapore Zoo, like the rest of Singapore, is carefully planned and thoughtfully designed - and perfectly executed.  The gently sloping inclines meant for strollers and wheelchairs were judiciously  integrated into the landscape, so intelligently and artfully, that one would tend to forget they're there at all.   And everywhere one looks, one would see meticulous attention to detail.  A stretch of land next to a foot path, for instance, was made into a delightful garden.  What could have been an otherwise negligible corner was transformed into a focal point with the creation of a pocket lily pond.  We came to the zoo to see the animals, but we ended up enjoying the plants just as much. 

At a pocket Lily pond by the reservoir.

The selection of plants for the garden was deliberate, guided as it was by an underlying agenda: to give a sense of place in the tropics and particularly in Southeast Asia.  On display were typical vegetables and fruit-bearing trees and shrubs from the region.  The "Bahay Kubo" vegetables were there, and it would have been an excellent opportunity to introduce Narra to the origins of her table food - but she was napping as we took our leisurely stroll.  With kids fast asleep, Oliver and I had the chance to focus on Mama, and share in her enjoyment at seeing flowers, shrubs, trees and fruits from her childhood - plants she hadn't seen in ages.  Mama Rubi is an outstanding cook, and traveling through a vegetable garden with her is profoundly delightful and enlightening.  She pointed at each leaf, and fruit, with unbridled enthusiasm, saying what they were, and what they're for.  She carefully inspected a vine that produced a cross between a patola and upo, and contemplated on whether it was more like the former or the latter.  There were vignettes of personal recollections too, of Mama's neighbors that had this tree, and that shrub, and where this plant once stood in which part of the garden in the home she grew up in.

Oliver filming Mama as she pushed Narra's stroller through the garden.

"Look at that - it's a Rozelle!" she said excitedly at a rich burgundy clump of flowers.  "That's what Haw Flakes are made of", she informed me. And I accepted this tiny bit of information with great interest - I loved Haw Flakes, and consumed them with reverence for 3 decades, without ever knowing what they were made of.  It was a moment of revelation!   That walk in the garden is special to me, it gave me a chance to marvel at my mother in law and get a brief glimpse of the depth of her culinary genius.  To know Mama Rubi is to cook with her, and since I don't cook - I miss out on the opportunity to bond with her.  I didn't expect that a short walk through a vegetable patch would offer me the opening I didn't know I was hoping for.  It was a perfect setting for a bonding moment, as we snaked our way through a garden by a lake, with overcast skies and a cool breeze, and we pushed strollers with the babies peacefully asleep.  

Guijo and I on the tram ride to the zoo's exit.

We realized we had walked the entire zoo without once taking a ride on the tram (despite the fact that we bought tickets for unlimited tram rides).  We hadn't planned on walking the entire park, but we ended up doing so because of the shaded paths through thick foliage.  There were some majestic old trees that towered above the rest.  They reminded us that a big part of the zoo's many inducements is its being in a true nature reserve with a thriving ecosystem.  Parks designed for tourism tend to feel somewhat contrived - and in some ways the entire island of Singapore can sometimes feel like one big well-planned theme park - but the presence of these huge, centuries-old trees in full glory makes me feel closer to nature.  I remember just standing in front of one particularly powerful tree outside the buwaya exhibit.  The sun hit the trunk at a magical angle, making its wood shine with deep and rich orange-yellow-gold tones.  Oliver and I admired it (we love trees), and we stopped for a moment to breathe.  Our day at the zoo had come to an end. We took the tram to take us back to the entrance. What a fun afternoon appreciating flora and fauna it was, even for the kids!

This Time Last Year: On Guijo's Being 1 Yr. Old Now

Guijo's birthday cake, at our serviced apartment in Singapore.

It was this time last year when Guijo was released from the Neonatal ICU. He was ten days old when he stopped feeding and became unresponsive all of a sudden. Red flag! We knew something was seriously wrong. We rushed him to the hospital where he stayed an entire week to complete the course of antibiotics to fight the infection that weakened his vulnerable little body.  I found that experience quite scary.  Nothing frightens a parent more than feeling their child go limp in their arms. It is a feeling I do not ever want to feel again.  So I am happy to report that since being released from the hospital last year, he's been reassuringly full of life, and malikot, and suitably noisy - with giggles and wails, and a lot of baby babble.  And now, he's enjoying to walk, and I have to run after him, and when I am on the verge of complaining about how tiring it is to watch him, I remember my prayers, uttered in earnest at the hospital chapel a dozen months ago. I prayed to God to restore Guijo to good health and make him strong and energetic.  

Asleep in his crib, with Singapore shophouses outside his window.

And that's the way he's been throughout the year. He is so strong, it hurts. He is so eager to wake me up in the mornings, he slaps me repeatedly on the face on good days... on less favorable days, Guijo finds the remote control and whacks me with it.  I wake up in pain, and in a terrible mood - until I see my son's adorable face, smiling from ear to ear with his four front teeth.  He lunges at me, for a hug and a slobbering kiss, which often results in an assaulting head butt, and a wet cheek for me... Of course this can be annoying, but it's hard to stay angry when I see him clapping excitedly at the grand event of my waking up.  He's really a morning person, my little Guijo. We can wake him up any time and he'll stir calmly, and smile.

Guijo's baby breakfast buffet at our hotel. Singapore, Aug. 19, 2012.

So for his birthday weekend, we took a trip to Singapore.  To get ahead of schedule,  we made it our strategy to wake him up early, and take him downstairs for breakfast before rousing the others in our group.  Feeding him is profoundly enjoyable. He eats whatever we bring to his lips. He reacts eloquently. He grunts assertively for faster returns of his baby spoon when he likes what he tastes; and he simply pushes food he doesn't like right out of his mouth the moment he decides it's not to his liking.  It's a straightforward process. Predictable and entertaining. Especially at buffets. He'll have cereals, eggs, yoghurt, diced fruit, bread, cheese, cut up pieces of meat, rice, porridge, oatmeal... and he'll be smiling unequivocally, to show he's in a state of gastronomic bliss.  It's a great way to start the day.  And predictably, he'll unload his tummy right after breakfast. We bring him up to our room, he's done with his business, we bathe him, get him dressed, and we're ready for an entire day of touring with no fears of messy trips to the toilet. He is a ray of sunshine in the early hours, I tell you!  Too bad, I can't say the same for his sister, who is NOT a morning person at all.

Guijo, succedding in waking up his sister and  making her laugh.

Narra is unbelievably difficult to rouse from sleep. She isn't easy to dislodge from her dreams... you can physically wake her, but her mind and spirit will still be elsewhere.  It takes time for her being to inhabit her body, and it's best to coax her back to reality with something sweetly sobering.  We assign the task of waking up Narra to Guijo, who can already pronounce his  sister's name. "Na" he says... "Na"...pause..."Ra"!!!... "Narraaaaaaah"!!!...he pulls her hair, he slaps her face, he plunks his hard head on hers and plants a wet kiss on her cheek, on our instruction. He will do this repeatedly, for as long as it takes (good thing kids have a lot of energy).  We will laugh, Narra will stir, slowly, and to our relief, she'd also laugh.  Only Guijo can get away with  waking up Narra without unleashing the exasperating little drama queen in her.  I'm glad they enjoy their special rapport.

Guijo and Narra, clowning around in the morning. Aug. 19, 2012.

Although sometimes, I feel like they gang up on me and get to enjoy a few laughs at my expense. At one of our dinners in Singapore, for instance, Narra pulled my hair as I was giving Guijo a drink, and my shocked squeal made them both laugh. Narra did this with impeccable comedic timing, eliciting hearty giggles from her little brother.  I am amazed at how they could conspire like this at ages 3 and 1! I shudder at the thought of what tricks and pranks they'd pull when they're older!  

My kids, having a few laughs at my expense.

This morning, it happened again. Guijo woke me up with a slap on the face and a mischievous grin that transformed into a genuine welcoming smile on his lips.  Then he woke up Oliver and Narra with their ration of slaps - fair is fair!  It was 5 am and still dark outside! I was about to get grumpy, then I saw the date flashed on our digital clock, and remembered that this time last year, he was strapped to an IV drip and was confined at the hospital, weak and vulnerable.  Between last year's sleepless nights full of worry and fears, and this year's hand-delivered wake up calls, I'd say I'm much better off these days. I'd pick the pains of having to deal with a robust child's heavy hand any day... though I am seriously contemplating sleeping with a helmet.  Guijo's just one year old and already, he packs quite a mean wallop.  I did ask God to make him strong and energetic. So I take the blows I'm dealt each day with a great deal of gratitude.