Dinner At Mitsuyado Sei-Men: The House of Tsukemen

A new row of restaurants has just opened at Bluebay Walk and we've been trying them one by one. Tonight, we walked into Mitsuyado Sei-men: The House of Tsukemen.  The menu explains the resto's rather long name. Mitsuyado means "the three arrows" derived from an old Japanese tale. Sei-men means noodle making, while Tsuke-men means "dipping noodles". Entering the resto, I found the interiors delightful - I felt transported to an earlier Japan. It felt like stepping into a courtyard surrounded by little shops (although it felt far more spacious than the little shops I've eaten at in Japan).

Scanning the menu, the prices for Tsukumen ranged from 270 for a regular one, to 450 for a Jumbo Large. Although I was curious to try their noodles, I saw Gyudon (250 with miso soup) and craved it. I haven't had my favorite beef rice for some time now, so noodles will have to wait another day. When my Gyudon arrived, it was piping hot, and tasty. It made me think of Yoshinoya though. Similar portion size and overall look. I also remembered my lunch time favorite during my college days at DLSU - the Gyudon sold at the mezzanine level of what was once the Aristo canteen - oh my, that Gyudon was cooked on the spot, and had raw egg on top. It was the absence of the raw egg tonight that made me think of an old favorite.

Before leaving, I took a look at the bicycle in one corner, by the kitchen. It's the kind of bike I once dreamed of owning, complete with a basket, and bell. It's so Japanese! I found the bread a cute touch too. I was told by the waitress that there was a bakery next door.

I walked through the connecting door and admired the Japanese pastries on display. Oliver wanted to have Sumiyaki coffee at UCC, though. All three restos Mitsuyado, Yamato, and UCC were connected and bringing food from one resto to another was allowed.  For anyone needing a Japanese fix, this 3-in-1 destination awaits. 

Cool Industrual Interiors of the New UCC 3rd Wave

I've been to many outlets of UCC around the metro, but this newly opened branch outclasses the rest. I love the delicious design details of "UCC 3rd Wave Clockwork" which opened recently at Bluebay Walk.  I loved the messages on my table liner - they were so me. My husband's liner had an entirely different set of messages. Just as with fortune cookies, we got our customized messages from the universe :-)

I loved the ambiance of this cafe. It had a shiny industrial feel, a calming muted pallette of cement grey walls, distressed wood, shiny steel, and burlap sack upholstery.  A very high ceiling and a good-sized loft seating area overlooking a huge island counter below gave diners a dramatic view of the prep area.  It's reassuringly transparent.  I'm in awe at how efficiently laid out the work area is. I could see all the action behind the counter - a point of view I haven't yet had the privilege to see at any Starbucks.

The pastry display was particularly eye catching for me (because I have a sweet tooth). "Man does not live by coffee alone, have some pastries" said a sign above a glass case with several layers of labeled wooden blocks, displaying Japanese style baked goods. 

I really wanted to try the Cookie Cup Affogato, which had vanilla ice cream on a cookie cup to be doused with a shot of espresso. It looked terribly inviting - but I wanted good old black coffee tonight, for good reason :-)

Oliver got his favorite Sumiyaki coffee, and I got my black and we started talking about serious stuff - our strategies and next steps - and division of labor. It felt rather productive!  Look what industrial interiors and a good cup of coffee can do!  

I would imagine a meeting held in one of the function rooms (can be reserved for 4500 consumable) would turn out to be productive. It would be hard to ignore the message on the walls, that time is gold :-) 

I think I'll come back here next time I want to chill and get work done - it's a weird combination, I know - almost a paradox (how can I chill and work at the same time?) - but it's exactly what this new cafe in my neighborhood is inspiring me to do. I'm coming back equipped with my work stuff, and I'm planning to have an industrious, prolific time at UCC Clockwork. 

Murals and Seeking My City's True Colors

There's unusual activity on Diokno Bridge.  Half of the road leading to Mall of Asia is occupied by painters working on their murals.  I asked one of the guards what's going on and he said they're preparing for a running event on Sunday morning.  It was fascinating to watch the artists demonstrate their virtuosity with various graffiti font styles. I frequent this bridge when I bike my morning loop from CCP to MOA, and the change in scenery came as a surprise.  This organized art activity reminded me of the more organic street art I've encountered while biking Metro Manila's streets.

One of my favorite murals, and perhaps the most memorable - is a "Manila" piece found in the walled city. It was only my 2nd day biking with my Brompton, and it was my first unescorted outing, my first time to explore all alone without my husband's guidance and protection.  Biking from Manila Cathedral, heading towards San Agustin church, I was just nearing the Catholic Bishops Conference Building, when I saw the artful wall at the corner of the parking lot. I biked in, and stopped to admire how a mural in black and white captured Manila's colors!  It showed the music scene, the theater life, the artistic roots that gives Manila its soul. Like strings on a guitar, each section of the city is enumerated - each strand contributing its unique tone to give Manila its distinct sound: Binondo, Ermita, Tondo, Paco, Quiapo, Intramuros, Santa  Cruz, Santa Mesa, Malate, Pandacan, Santa Ana, San Andres, Sampaloc, San Miguel... I have many places I need to see!  That mural stirred in me a biking dream - to check out each area, one by one - to hear what each has to say about who we are. I whispered a vow to my bike: "we will see all those places dear friend".

I know it is a scary proposition.  To go to the parts of the city well-known for grime and crime sounds more like a nightmare, rather than a dream. But the mural right next to my favorite "Manila" piece, helped clarify my vision for my biking future.  This mural  in shades of grey and blue, featured a mother and child set against a congested cityscape.  I could feel the pulse of my busy, unruly, cluttered city - I could sense in the tangled mess of electric wires, the unbridled development and the pervasive poverty in our streets. 

I think of Metro Manila as my mother, and I, her child, and how I am nurtured by her love amidst all this.  The streets are her arms, and she rocks me to her peculiar beat. In biking, I immerse myself in my  mother's rhythm.  I can bike alongside jeepneys, and pedicabs, and tricycles, and horse-drawn kalesas - because we are all attuned to our mother's dance. I am on my guard, of course, because anyone of us can lose our step or skip a beat - an accident is always a possibility. But I dive into city traffic the way a toddler jumps into his mother's arms - full of faith, and always, with joy.

The more I bike, the more I find my city's true colors.  I am surprised at how much more there is to see. I drive around a lot every day, to bring my kids to and from school, to work, to run errands - but the perspective from a driver's seat is a very limited one.  I tend to look up and ahead - and see only strategically positioned billboards, placed precisely to dominate my line of sight.  Like a horse with blinders, I only see enough to get me from point A to B, but I see little else.  

But with biking comes the precious gift of  limitless perspective. I see the road beneath my feet, and notice the patina of manhole covers.  I look to my sides and see the pleasant surprise of artwork on city walls.  I also see an abundance of poop on the ground, from various species - and I steer clear when the men and women in roadside shanties splash water with their tabo, dustpan or hose, to wash the poop away.  I see the bright colors of clothes hanging out to dry, and could smell their laundry soap scent as I bike by. Driving in my airconditioned car, I could have missed all these sights and scents. 

I continue to bike because I see so many things above, around, and below... Things that surprise, excite, and inspire me at every turn. Some things I see are depressingly sad, some are remarkably edifying - all of them, equally enlightening. 

Biking By Manila Bay: Meeting The Fishermen

"We have turned our back to the sea" said newly elected Indonesian president Joko Widodo in a speech on his plans to prioritize the development of his country's ports.  Biking by Manila Bay daily, I get a sense of how this can also be said for my city. How well we have built our walls to "protect" us from this body of water we now admire only from a "safe" distance.   

Yes, we look at the bay as part of the photos we compose when capturing Manila's famous sunset. But we've forgotten what it's like to actually touch the water and live off it. "Kadiri" (yucky) is what I hear when I tell people about a future I wish for, when we live so closely with our waters, our seas and rivers - especially in the city! - that we swim in them, catch fish, even live on boat houses. 

But there are people who have not forgotten the sea, and I see them in the mornings. On the biker's route between Mall of Asia and CCP (Cultural Center of the Philippines), I cross this bridge where urban fisherfolk congregate.  I catch them at daybreak, when they've just returned from their early outing. They sometimes sell their catch by the roadside, and to my surprise and amazement, bike-racked cars and SUVs stop on this bridge, and health-conscious morning bikers go down to inspect (and buy!) the fresh catch. 

Today, I stopped by and had a chat with a friendly fish vendor. She told me they came from Cavite and they offer early bikers first pick of their fresh catch.  I couldn't help but notice how the Tilapia laid on plastic sheets by the side of the road were still breathing.  They were selling for 50 pesos a kilo (less than half of the grocery price).  "Mayayaman ang bumili sa amin" (rich folk buy from us) she reported.  They swing by with their coolers or buckets. They leave their containers and as they go off to do their usual cycling laps, the vendors clean the fish they ordered and prepare them for pick up.  The vendor showed me a bucket by the roadside, filled with the larger fish.  The biking crowd in MOA are their regular customers. They start selling from 5 to 8 am - then they pack up the fresh fish (still alive and kicking) and start peddling them to residents of  nearby Pasay and Makati, selling directly, door to door.

Over by the rocks, some fishermen made a fire with twigs, and they were cooking rice; a little farther down, I could see smoke, and someone tending what smelled like fish being grilled. I also saw coffee being poured out of a thermos onto a tin can.  It seemed like a beautiful breakfast in the making. The sun was just about rising, and the entire scene unfolded in front of me, bathed in surreal light.  I smelled it all - the appetizing  scent of rice, coffee, grilled fish, and sea breeze; and also the stench of the sewer and the exhaust from a passing car.  It's always like this with Manila, there's always a striking contrast everywhere one looks.  I saw trash in the water, and pristine white birds catching fish yards away - it's a picture of a bay both dead and alive captured in a single frame. 

"Kadiri"(yucky!) is what I hear when I report this phenomenon to grocery-raised friends and family. "That's crazy!" they said. But I wonder, if it is they - fishermen in the margins, (and their brave clientele) who live off the sea - who are crazy... Or is it the rest of us city dwellers at the center, with our backs to the sea who have lost all sense of place? We are in the islands!  This is the way it should be!  Elsewhere in the world, a fisherman's wharf is a normal feature of coastal cities! Why not here in Metro Manila?

Further down the road, at Harbor Square, behind the Philippine Navy Headquarters,   people come with their fishing poles.  Just as I was pedalling past one man, he reeled in a fish, it struggled for a bit, then he unhooked it and laid it on the floor - it looked like a Bangus to me, medium-sized, the length of a tile. I found it exciting to watch my fellow city dwellers connecting with the sea, I loved watching them angle their bodies - the smooth choreography of swinging fishing rods. I loved the whipping sound of a line being cast, and the whirring sound of it being reeled in.  

I chatted with some of the vendors in the area. One man in particular was peddling styro cups filled with worms, bait for sale! He told me so many people come to fish during the weekends - entire families. Fathers who want to make sure their kids see them catch something buy his worms at 50 pesos per cup, - he guarantees they always catch something!   On good days, when they have a nice catch, they also sell fish to joggers and bikers who frequent the Cultural Center of the Philippines. 

This is what I love about biking in Manila. I get the chance to stop and observe, to watch and learn, to converse with strangers and discover diverse ways in which this city comes to life. 

Today, I learned to take a look at the sea - to really, really see it for what it is. I learned a valuable lesson from  

urban fishermen who bring to the city the skills and knowledge of our seafaring ancestors. They remind me that the sea is teeming with life, that it is not some inert backdrop fit only for photographs - that the sea in Manila bay should be no different from the sea in Anilao, or Puerto Galera, or Malapascua - that to imagine "this part of the sea" as "kadiri" and "that part of the sea" as a "diver's paradise" - is a convenient way to artificially (conceptually) divide that which is, and should be seen as whole.  

We need to love and protect ALL our waters, and not forget what's right before our eyes. I find comfort in the knowledge that Manila Bay's fishermen are here. With more eyes watching the water, and more mouths feeding off it, the less likely Manila bay will be allowed to die. And I will join the fishermen (though I'm neither a fisher nor a man) - in watching the water, patrolling the shores on my bike, facing the sea with prayers of gratitude, and love.  

One Month of Biking in Manila and How My Brompton Connects Me To My City

It's been a month since my husband gave me my bike and I feel like celebrating a "monthsary" with my new "Bromance" (to be clear, "Bro" refers to my Brompton bike). Never before have I felt such a strong connection, such empowering chemistry with my equipment! Not with my old skating boots, not with a favorite badminton racket, not even with a laptop I used for years to write my dissertation... This bike has unlocked something in me, has opened a secret chamber of courage and competence I didn't know I had. 

I embark on my explorations of Manila's scary streets with confidence because I do so on a bike that allows me to feel the roads in my hands. It is punishing on my palms and wrists, to feel every hump, and bump, and manhole cover... every cobblestone, and cracked concrete... My hands feel the crunch of gravel, and absorb the punishing vibrations from biking on pavers -  riding a foldie with small tires and no shock absorbers is a sensory onslaught - one I am very thankful for! 

Feeling the road as I do now, I realize why my husband's fancy mountain bikes, the ones he lent me in the past in his attempt to get me to bike with him, didn't do the trick. They were too high, and were designed to protect the biker from the rough stuff. I didn't know I preferred to have a real feel for the road, until now.  I love how easily I can stop the bike at intersections, with the road within easy reach of my feet. I love how easily I can jump off my bike to walk it across a pedestrian lane, or lift it up on a sidewalk. I love how I can fold it fully, or partially and take it with me for a coffee break, without fears of it being stolen in this crime-infested town.  I love how the bike invites conversation from strangers from all walks of life. I love, I love, I love!!!! 

Maybe in the future I will try other kinds of bikes, and I am curious about them - but for now, the folding bike, in all its simplicity and accessibility - and the Brompton in particular, for it's reliability and stability, and its beauty!!! ....is all I need.  

It is a bike that connects my body to my city, allowing my beloved Metro Manila to leave its mark on my body. The blisters on my palms mirror the potholed state of our imperfect streets. My sore wrist, perpetually strained from too much gripping of brakes as I maneuver my way through Manila's crazy traffic, is my daily reminder that the enjoyment and meaning we derive out of our choices is commensurate to our willingness to suffer for them.

I chose this city. I chose to bike. I chose to get married to my husband and have kids. All these choices are crazy painful and unceasingly punishing. And I'm so in love it hurts :-) 

Daytrip to Minalungao National Park and Thoughts on Traveling With My Husband

Minalungao's clear river.

When I mentioned to my father that our travel group was going off to his home province of Nueva Ecija to visit Minalungao National Park, his face softened with the glow of nostalgia.  "I took my siblings there - it was our first outing together" he said. It was some forty years ago when as a young military officer, he visited home and took his younger brothers and sister out on a field trip, riding his military jeep.  The road was rough, the ride was bumpy, the destination was worth it.  He described the water as being so clean and so clear you could see the rocks on the river bed beneath.  From the water, you look up and you are surrounded by mountains on both sides. "I don't know if it's still the same, but it was pristine when I saw it", said he.  Then I visited Minalungao with my travel group a few weekends ago, and I was so happy to return to my father with the encouraging news, that the Minalungao I saw, looks exactly as he had described, that forty years hadn't ruined its natural beauty - (and neither had these forty years in between improved the condition of the roads).

Small sign along the national road, in Papaya, Nueva Ecija.

To get to Minalungao, we left our house at 6 am, and met with our travel buddies for a quick breakfast at NLEX.  We bought sandwiches and water to take with us on our hike.  From there, we headed out to Nueva Ecjia, passing through towns that were very familiar (for me) - Gapan, San Leonardo, Penaranda, Papaya... I was getting excited! This area was where I did my field work for my PhD Dissertation research a decade ago!!  I used to watch local troupes perform traditional theater out on the rice fields!  We passed by Sinasajan, the very barrio I studied and documented!  My heart was pounding - who knew these plains characterized by a vast expanse of rice fields could conceal a river that runs between mountains???  The image does not make sense!!!  A small sign simply stated "This way to Minalungao National Park" - there was no fanfare, no usual indications that one had arrived at a tourist destination.  Down a small road we went, which wasn't a bad ride for the most part, except at memorable spots where the road was visibly broken and we had to hold our breath as our vehicle carefully crossed over cracked concrete, loose dirt, and makeshift road replacements composed of odd-sized rocks (did I fail to mention these cracked parts of the road tend to be near ditches, and there was the real danger of falling?).   I would advice against using a sedan, or even a van; an SUV or a pick-up truck would be more appropriate.  We were in an SUV and even then, I felt my heart constricting as I heard and felt the road shift under our tires.  Don't get me wrong, it's not as dramatic as it sounds.  It's a brief moment; a bump in the road; we got over it, fast. We reached a clearing at the end of the road, and were stopped by locals who charged us an entrance fee of 20 pesos per head.  We parked under the shade of two trees, and left our stuff in our locked cars.  There were rest rooms in a building located uphill - it didn't have much: no lights, no working water, no tiles on the walls - the kind that has a bare ceramic bowl, with no flushing mechanism - it was the typical toilet one finds in far flung areas.  We knew we won't be showering after our swim in the river. 

Our travel group, at the "parking lot" of Minalungao National Park.

There were 2 ways to enjoy the national park: by hiring a balsa (a floating bamboo raft with a built-in table, fixed benches, and a straw roof) and riding on it up and down the river, or by hiking/climbing over the rocks beside the water, and crossing a makeshift bamboo bridge to explore a small cave on the mountain; or, in our case, we did both.  We arrived in Minalungao a little past 10 am.  We did a bit of hiking, for about an hour or so, then we took a rest in the shade, on some rocks by the river, dipping our feet in the cool, clear water.  Two members of our group, who were both able swimmers, jumped into the river and swam back to where our cars were parked.  They were tasked to fetch our packed lunch, and to hire a balsa.  They came back a little before noon.  The balsa was brought close to the rocks, and we stepped onto it.  We moved the balsa to a shallow, shaded section of the river where the water was just knee-deep.  I didn't sit on the bamboo bench of the balsa at all because there were tiny insects and fierce ants - territorial residents of the balsa - they had a mean bite! I ate my sandwich quickly, and went into the water where I stayed most of the time.  The others didn't seem to mind the pesky little creatures, and they lounged around on the bamboo raft, relaxing, and catching up.  There wasn't much else to do - it was a simple trip - we trekked, had lunch, lounged around, then headed back. Minalungao is good for a quick day trip.  Some groups stay overnight by camping in the clearing, but I personally think a few hours is sufficient.  We spent 3 to 4 hours to get there; we stayed from 10:30 am to 3:30 pm, then headed back to Manila, stopping in Clark, Pampanga for dinner. 

The strong swimmers in our group (Avery and Aiel), swam back to our car to grab our
lunch and hire a balsa. 

It would have been perfect if we had a cooler full of beer to accompany our post-lunch lounging on our balsa. But we didn't. Sad. So since I didn't want to sit in the balsa, I asked our guide, a 14-year old local named AJ, to accompany me and help me climb up this rock that stood right smack in the middle of the river.  We had to walk in knee deep water, against the current, which wasn't that easy for me, because the current was strong,  and the riverbed was rocky.  AJ showed me how to climb to the top, but I only made it halfway, then I turned away from the rock, faced the river and jumped in.  I felt afraid to jump because the water was shallow, but I found myself encouraged by the young boys who started showing off by jumping off from higher points.  They were even doing fancy tricks - back flips!  Oh to be young and fearless like them! I missed my days doing gymnastics!  One thing I did enjoy about Minalungao is the way it made me want to climb!  There were many opportunities for the beginner rock climber because there was an abundance of footholds available.  In some spots, it seemed to me as though mother nature carved out stairs, or ladders, designed specifically for my climbing pleasure!  The rocks called out to me, I could see clear paths, obvious places to put my hands and feet - I felt a warm welcome from the mountain, as though it was leading me to come closer.   I just wanted to keep climbing up, and up, and up!  

Climbing up Minalungao's inviting rocks :-D

"Parang nakawala yang asawa mo", the group teased my husband, Oliver.   "Isama mo nga parati" said one of his travel buddies.  I didn't realize it was my first time to join Oliver's travel group - I've known them for a decade now, and he's traveled regularly with them in the last ten years, but I never joined - not until now!  There were many reasons: I was away overseas doing my Ph.D. in Singapore for a good 4 years; then after we got married, I was either pregnant, or recovering from childbirth each time they had a trip scheduled.  And... those other times I was physically present and able to join, I chose not to go, because I always felt that I wanted Oliver to have the space to get away from me (hahaha). I felt that traveling with his buddies will allow him the opportunity to vent about our marriage... or rave about it!  Truth is, it was always after a great trip with this travel group of his, that he decided to take our relationship to the next stage.  It was after a trip to Sagada that we started dating; it was a after a pivotal trip to Batanes, that he decided to propose; and I found out in Minalungao, that it was during a trip to Palawan that he first told them he was seriously contemplating building a life with me.  Time away has always been good for our relationship.  So I wanted to keep it that way - that he travels with his good friends, without me. 

Oliver's perfect spot. It was a solid, comfy rock to lounge on.

I didn't want to join him on these trips because I loved seeing him come back home - I loved the rituals involved - of him telling me where they went, what they did, the jokes and the mishaps. I loved the storytelling that followed our time apart. He always goes away on business trips - but that kind of traveling just makes him tired.  But when he travels to explore, and to spend time with his friends - he comes back a better man. Happier. Wiser. In Minalungao, I saw my husband resting on a beautiful rock,  perfectly curved.  He lay on it looking as though he was resting on the very palm of God.  He was staring at the sky, and the towering trees provided him with a comforting shade.  I took a snapshot, he saw me, and beckoned me to join him. I almost didn't want to. But I did. And I gave the rock a try. It was very comfortable indeed.  And in that moment, I felt very, very married.  I felt everything a marriage takes away, and gives back in return. I felt the solitude that's lost, the companionship that's gained;  the mystery that disappears, and the predictability that settles in; I also felt the stability of staying put - at the price of freedom; I thought of all the trips I've done in my youth, and how little traveling I do now. I felt parts of my being have died, and the nomad in me no longer moves.  I thought of a great big, solid rock, unmoving;...and why the wise man builds his house on it. 

I spent the day rock climbing in Minalungao, with my husband and good old travel friends.  And I came home late at night, tired and yucky from not having showered, but I felt better. Refreshed. And more happily married to Oliver, my rock.

5 Days of Contemplation at the Cenacle Retreat House

Entrance gate to the Cenacle Retreat House in Varsity Hills, Loyola Heights.

Tomorrow, I end my 5-day retreat and leave the restful sanctuary of the Cenacle retreat house.  It was my first time to try a directed silent retreat and I didn't know what to expect at first. Now, as I leave, I can only count my blessings. Working with my spiritual director Sr. Cecille, was a joy! And being alone with my thoughts, to contemplate on my faith for days, was profoundly satisfying. 

Why have I waited this long to go on silent retreat? All my retreats prior to this have involved being with other people: with my classmates in high school and college; with my family for Holy Week; with my husband in preparation for marriage - but never alone, never in silent contemplation. Until now. And I am overcome with awe and gratitude at how rewarding the last five days of solitude has been. I am in love. With God. With my husband and children. With my work. With all of God's creation. I am just overflowing with energy that springs from within. I am rearing to go! Woohoo! I am an extrovert by nature and a big, healthy dose of introspection makes me feel like a bow, or slingshot, or spring being pulled back, waiting to be released. 

                          

The Cenacle retreat house was structured perfectly to lead me to prayer. The labyrinth, for instance, was a favorite of mine. I'd put one foot in front of the other as I contemplated on an assigned bible reading, or prayed the rosary - with my breath, movement, and words flowing in unison.  Round and round I went, countless times, always moving, while staying in place. What meaningful thoughts came to me while in that labrynth. I cried and smiled, pondered and wondered. Reminisced and hoped. Back and forth I went, in and out of gratitude and grief. I brought with me all I loved, and all I lost - I relived so many journeys - ancient and recent.  Time collapsed, worlds overlapped, I was a child one minute - and with my children, the next. The man walking beside me was God, Jesus, dad, husband, son, friend, mentor, ancestor - taking turns in holding my hand. I turned to Mary, and her face became my mother's, sister's, grandma's, daughter's, friends'. I was crossing the desert, and walking on water, taking the train in Singapore, rollerblading by the beach in Spain, biking in Pasay, walking the dogs in Lipa under the starry sky, husband by my side, with our child in my womb. I was myself, in various stages of my life. I was Jesus performing miracles. I was the adulteress he saved from being stoned; the Pharisee he rebuked; Peter sinking in water. In contemplation I was given license to relish the grace of limitless perspective. Mine. His. Past. Present. Imagined. Lived. 

                                        

I sensed everything. I could feel the birds, and smell the trees, and hear the fruit falling to the ground. I could read the sky and taste the wind and tell exactly when it would pour. I walked barefoot on stones and grass, and read about Jesus' feet being washed with a sinner's tears and wiped with her hair.  I cried on my feet and felt comfort from the earth, in dirt and dust. I picked fallen mangoes from the giving tree that wouldn't stop its prolific display of fertility all day and night. Bang!  Bang! Falling mangoes landing spectacularly on steel roofs kept stirring me from meditation and sleep. As if God wouldn't let me forget his message of abundance.  

                                  

Everywhere I looked, I saw God in all things. In what was in front of me, big and small, in details I saw with my eyes - in thought fragments that crossed my mind's eye. I saw God in all the pain I've endured and all the triumphs I enjoyed. Things fell into place. Everything made sense. Out of the tumult came the calm. I de-cluttered my heart of garbage and ordered my emotions. I put everything I felt, good and bad, in their correct place where they could be in balance: I put my pain in the chamber of healing; my anger in the chamber of forgiveness; my disappointment in the chamber of hope; my doubt in the chamber of faith; my past in the chamber of wisdom; my future in the chamber of peace; my present in the chamber of love.  I expelled envy, vanity, greed, and regret - I just didn't want them in my heart anymore. Having freed up so much space, my heart was open to new possibilities. 

                                 

I am ready to seize each day and face my responsibilities wholeheartedly, indefatigably! This retreat has given me a most precious gift: "Bukal sa loob" (a spring of life-giving water will gush forth from within) promised by Jesus to the Samaritan woman at the well.  In my contemplation, I was that Samaritan woman, shamed and sinful - but saved by my encounter with Jesus! He had opened a spring within my heart and I am overflowing with love - with love He gives me - and with love I am eager to give. 

I went on silent retreat for 5 grace-filled days at the Cenacle retreat house and I leave nourished - mind, body, and soul.  I had my first taste of Ignatian spiritual exercises and I am in awe at how much closer I feel to Jesus. Never before have I felt this deep a connection to Him, never before have I immersed myself in such contemplation. 

In silence, how eloquently my heart sings! 

For 5 days I did not see my children in the flesh. But how much clearer I see now, their process of becoming who they are. I am fully aware what a great privilege it is to be their mother. And as for my husband - being away from him allowed me to grasp with gratitude the daily truth I take for granted: that he is my rock, my foundation and strength; he's always got my back, steadies me when I falter, and leads me when I get lost so that I could find my way.  And I love him more and more.

So energizing, so motivating, so inspiring and empowering is this retreat that I can't wait to get home to live and to love more now, more than ever before :-) 

Those interested in the Cenacle Retreat House may see their schedule here:

http://www.cenaclephilsing.org/welcome-to-the-cenacle/

Cakes for My Daughter's Winx Party: Red Ribbon and Iko's Compared

Left: Doll cake with wings from Iko's; Right: Spring Flowers Cake from Red Ribbon 

                  

For my daughter's 5th birthday, I got her involved in deciding on her party cake. For weeks we'd look at pictures of Winx cake ideas online. I originally wanted a single-layer fondant cake with edible toppers, but little Narra had other ideas: she wanted non-edible toppers she could keep as toys after the party; she wanted the kind of icing she could swipe off the cake with her finger; she wanted edible sugar flowers that can be plucked from the cake; she wanted it taller than a single-layer cake - she surely knew what she wanted! I had only one condition: It had to be within my budget of 2,000 pesos.  We ended up with 2 cakes that easily met all our criteria! We got one cake from Red Ribbon  (1400php) and another from Iko's (499php) and I just have to compare the two! 

Narra's first cake was chosen from Red Ribbon Bakeshop's online cake catalogue. She already had tiny Winx-themed figures at home and she asked me if she could decorate her cake by herself (and by that she means that deciding where to position the dolls on the cake will be entirely up to her).  So I had to look for the type of cake that can accommodate her toys as toppers. I was worried they wouldn't stand upright on their own when planted on boiled icing, so I looked for designs with 2-3 layers so we could lean the toys on the sides of the cake (and a tall cake was one of Narra's requests).

3-layer "Spring Flower" cake from Red Ribbon's "Debut" collection
(doll toppers are from Narra's own collection)

                                

I didn't find the cake in the usual "Female Birthday Cakes" section. I looked for options in the "Wedding/Debut" section because only cakes in that category can have customizable colors to suit party themes. We picked the design called "Spring Flowers", Narra asked for a pink and purple cake with green border icing (the border in the catalogue was white originally). The flowers are edible gum paste flowers with customizable colors too. The number on top is made of sugar (and can be delicate - ours broke when we removed the cake from the box, and we resorted to scotch tape for an emergency fix - it held up til the end of the party). The total height of the cake with accessories is around 18 inches. We cut the cake in take-home portions and sent them off as souvenirs - and the recipients were reportedly quite happy. At 1,400 pesos I found this cake reasonably priced for the quantity of cake and quality  of execution. I also love how Red Ribbon staff were so accommodating with requests - they even allowed me to pick up the cake late at night, past closing hours! So I wouldn't have to swing by in the morning. :-)   

With the remaining cake funds available, I was able to buy another cake for Narra - a doll cake from Iko's! Months ago, when we visited their shop in Pasig, Narra saw their doll cakes and asked me if she could have one for her birthday. I found the cake appropriate only for an intimate party because of the modest quantity of the cake. In terms of height, it stands tall at a little over a foot, and offers a visual impact statement (kids and adults alike gave positive feedback). It's nice to look at and captures the imagination of children of all ages. At 499 pesos, it's quite a steal!

The edible layer between foil on top and styrofoam at the bottom.

                               

It's not the kind of cake you should serve to guests though, don't get me wrong, it is delicious! But gaining access to the edible parts is challenging and cumbersome - and should best be done in private. The top layer from the doll's waist down to its knees is covered in icing-concealed foil! The bottom layer (from the doll's ankle downwards) is made of styrofoam. The only edible parts are from the doll's knees down to it's calves - so there isn't much - it's just enough for a small group of people - but it's yummy! The chocolate cake itself is denser than Red Ribbon's, and the icing too - is much more "swipe worthy" than Red Ribbon's too sticky boiled icing. When we took of the wings and washed off the icing, we were left with a forlorn naked doll - the party was truly over. As the saying goes: you can't have your cake and eat it too.  Thank goodness for photos!

Narra's candle-blowing (after we replaced her number topper with a candle)

For the candle-blowing moment at Narra's party, we had a few issues.  The doll-cake did not have any suitable space for a candle, and the placement of the candle on the 3-layer Spring Flower cake was at the front, which meant we'd have difficulty taking a good photo of her.  Our solution? We removed the "Number 5" at the top of her cake, stuck a candle right on top, and got Narra to stand on a stool so she could reach her candle and blow it out while facing her guests. I realize that Iko's offers the option of creating a faux mini-cake which can be "carried" by the doll on her arms, and a candle can be positioned on it.  The Red Ribbon "Spring Flowers" design has a huge flower with leaves positioned on top, I suggest - for other moms who plan on getting this cake for their kids - to forego the leaves, and request instead, that a candle be inserted next to the top flower.  Lesson learned: I need to be more prepared next time - I should anticipate all requirements for the candle-blowing moment and figure out a child-friendly and photo-friendly placement for the candle! 

Add caption

                        

In the end I'm happy we had both cakes.  Dealing with both suppliers was straightforward and fuss-free, and both bakeshops were comfortingly accommodating and professional.  McDonald's SM Aura does not allow cake to be served within their premises so the cakes were only for display and photo-op purposes, but we were happy to have a cake to partition off as take away for guests (the Red Ribbon cake) and another cake to bring home to enjoy (our Iko's doll cake). 

The cakes really weren't just for Narra. They were really also for my own mother - who belonged to a brood of 12 children! - she didn't have fancy birthday cakes growing up - that's just the way it was in the 1950's - for the post-war generation - theirs was an age of frugality and resource-stretching home economics.  My mother always has a wistful look on her face, a sense of nostalgia (for something she's always wanted but didn't get).  She made sure that growing up, I would always get cakes for my birthdays :-D  I have fond memories of icing and sugar flowers, and blowing out candles - and on my 18th birthday she ordered a towering cake, 5 feet tall, with lights and fountains - all the bells and whistles! - we had cake for days... I want to laugh and cry at the same time, just thinking about what getting that cake for me truly meant for my mother.   It's my turn now, to pass on to my daughter, what my mother provided me: love, joy, child-like wonder, and a lifetime's worth of memories that comes with birthday cakes.

Related Post:

Celebrating Narra's 5th Birthday: Winx Party at McDonald's SM Aura
http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2014/05/winx-birthday-party-at-mcdonald-sm-aura.html

Celebrating Narra's 5th Birthday: Winx Party at McDonald's SM Aura

From top left: Winx party banner; Me and Narra; Family pic with mascots.

                         

Sometime in the mid-80s I had my own McDonald's birthday party. I remember being so excited!  Watching my own daughter's excitement felt like traveling back in time.  It seemed as big a deal to her today as it was to me back then. Sure, McDonald's represents accessible everyday fare these days, with their convenient locations and affordable food, it's hardly "special" anymore - but on the day of her birthday party, McDonald's wasn't just the common fast food she visits normally, it was HER party place - infused with the magical energy of HER party time!  

Prim and proper Narra while everyone stood and sang "Happy Birthday"

                         

Narra sat on her pink stool, hands on her lap, feet crossed, eyes scanning the crowd as everyone clapped and sang "Happy Birthday to you!" - she swayed gently from side to side - she was neither shy nor self-absorbed, just simply immersed in the moment. And when the song was done, she had this super sweet smile.  It's the first time her two worlds came together: school and family lives combining in celebration. She had just completed her first year of schooling, so having classmates at her party  is a whole new experience for her.  We knew she'd need enough time to play with her friends and cousins so we decided to book 2 time slots so we won't be rushed.

The Party Program.

                  

We booked our venue from 11 am to 3 pm. We chose the earliest time slot because parking at SM Aura could get full easily on weekends. We decided to serve food twice. For round one: We served spaghetti, chicken and rice, cheeseburger, drink and apple pie for adults and kids alike. Then, when everyone was full, we started with the program and games. This was followed by the second round of food service: piping hot French fries, ice cream sundae, and drink. As the food was served we were distributing loot bags and giveaways and doggie bags - everyone had food to take home!  

Art activities for the early birds.

                            

We also prepared a simple (and very well received) art station for the kids. I took pages from a nice coloring book and provided crayons, blendy pens, and colored markers.  We also had a "nail art" station courtesy of my mom. She owns a beauty salon and she brought one of her staff to do kiddie manicures. They brought cute nail stickers which was such a hit with the young ladies!

Nail art corner.

                                        

The program consisted of the usual party classics: "bring me" and who can sustain the last syllable of the phrase "happy birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaay" the longest (the winner clocked in 12 seconds).  One game that was new to me was the "cup tower" game. Mothers and daughters teamed up to create towers out of flimsy plastic cups. All of Narra's classmates and their mothers joined the game. I felt the pressure because Narra really wanted us to win. We assembled a really high tower, but alas!, the ceiling-type split aircon was producing a blast of cold air that made our tower shake, and fall :-(  it was intense! Haha. I felt like a kid holding my breath, full of hope that we just might win! I had fun even if we didn't emerge victorious. 

"Cup Tower" game. I felt pressured with my kids watching in earnest.

                         

A high point of the program happened quite by accident. The mascots Birdie and Hamburglar were supposed to make their entrance, but were taking too long to arrive so the host played some upbeat music and the kids started to dance! It was so much fun to watch :-)  then, I requested the party host to play "Let It Go" from Frozen, and the little girls sang forcefully in unison, complete with synchronized action. Many of us watching from the sidelines were touched by the pure emotion, full commitment, and unrestrained quality of the impromptu group performance - one guest even asked if they rehearsed this or were taught the song and choreography in school.  

Narra and her classmates singing "Let It Go" from Frozen.

                        

It felt like a "Greatest Love of All" moment from the 1980s. I do believe "Let It Go" has reached the status of  "anthem" for Narra's generation.  Even if the song wasn't particular upbeat, it brought a different kind of energy to the party - the kind that makes adults thankful they attended a children's party. It was a moment of pure joy, uplifting innocence, camaraderie and harmony. That moment made me miss so many people, friends from long ago with whom I shared a special bond: choir mates in church; friends in high school; team mates, skate mates - anyone I performed with (formally or spontaneously).  I just knew my daughter was getting the full range of emotional benefits a birthday party offers.  

The only thing I had to prepare: Cakes, Loot Bags, some Game Prizes, Giveaways.

               

I booked McDonald's because I was busy working full-time this summer and needed the stress-free convenience of a fast-food party. I ended up enjoying the experience much more than I expected. And my daughter - my lovely, lovable daughter - she acted in ways that made me want to repeat the whole experience all over again :-)  When asked by the party host for a closing message, for what she wished for her birthday, she said: "I wish everyone would be happy".  Well said, Narra. You made me happy by letting me see how much fun you had :-D

Narra blowing her candle after making a wish for everyone's happiness!

Related Post:

Cakes For My Daughter's Winx Party: Red Ribbon and Iko's Compared

http://nikki-mama.blogspot.com/2014/05/cakes-for-my-daughter-winx-party-red.html