On Water Conservation: Ideas From The Home of Architect Avery Go

The tiny pond with "floating" steps.

If houses could speak, what stories would they tell?  In many ways, we can think of home-building as story-telling; of architects as authors; and of elements of design as pathways to the homeowner's inner mind.  So when I found out we were invited to dinner to the home of our friend, Architect Avery Go and his wife Kit, I was excited to go! I so looked forward to great conversations, with the proud new homeowners, and the home they built... yes, I planned to converse with the house, I was ready to listen to what it had to say.  And the house seemed to sense my desire to communicate - it shouted at me as our car turned the corner into their street..."psssst!!!!  I am here", it said.  You see, Avery seemed to be playing a trick on his guests. His house did not have a number displayed outside, as though on purpose. And our driver was about to pass it by... but it called out to me. So I asked him to stop. "That's the house" I said.  And so it was.

Air-con-water catch basin, with bamboo dipper.

Now this house has many things to say, but for this blog post, I will stick to sharing that one particular message that was oh so loud and clear : SAVE WATER!!, it said repeatedly.  It was a message whispered in the walls.  Literally.  All around, where ever an air-conditioning unit was installed, so too was a drain pipe built into the wall, artfully designed: accentuated with a bamboo spout, and accompanied by a huge ceramic jar serving as a catch basin.  To complete the look, a bamboo dipper rested on the rim of the jar, ready for some scooping action to wet the plants and fill the pond with water collected from air-conditioners.  It reminded me of beach resorts with indigenous-inspired design - like Pearl Farm in Davao, or Friday's Boracay. I was momentarily transported. Never before, has aircon waste made me think of beach vacations... that is, until the visit to Avery's house.

The sink-with-three-faucets.

Towards the back, behind the kitchen, in the utility area, another quiet corner had it's own story to whisper. The Sink-With-Three-Faucets was no ordinary sink. It was profoundly linked to the entire house, from top to bottom.  Nope, having three faucets did NOT strike me as redundant. It was brilliant!  SAVE WATER! the three faucets seemed to say in chorus.  Faucet one was the usual faucet, like everyone else's. It is water that is linked to a service provider, and paid for each month.  Faucet number two...and here's where I find much inspiration, is linked to the roof's drain pipes and gutter system which flow into a rain catch basin and reservoir. How wonderful it is to use water provided by mother nature! For free!  And then there's faucet number three... which is linked directly to an al fresco over-sized tub on a deck just above the Sink-With-Three-Faucets.

The custom-built, concealed, outdoor tub.

Now this outdoor tub is a lovely idea - outdoors, but concealed with vegetation - it offers both freedom to be out in the open, and privacy from prying eyes.  It is a favorite hang-out for Avery and Kit's little kids. And they have organic soap on hand, the certified-environment-friendly variety, for when they want to use the tub for a good soak.  Seeing the tub reminded me again of resorts with signature outdoor baths - places like The Farm at San Benito... and Mandala Spa and Villas in Boracay.  I usually think of huge tubs as wasteful, but not in this house.  After being used, the water is collected, and drains into the third faucet, and gets used for cleaning the floors and tiles of the patio, and the slats of the outdoor deck, and even to water plants, or fill the pond.  Now this lovely little pond, is worth another chapter! It is almost a self-sustaining little ecosystem in itself, with a thriving population of frogs and fish.  He pointed to a lily pad where an adorable little green frog was sitting regally like true blue royalty.  It was making this captivating sound, a mating call perhaps? If I wasn't already married, I would have given it a kiss! But I already have my prince, so I could no longer be tempted by an enchanting frog.

Avery, showing us his pond's resident creatures.

I loved the many ways in which this house tells the story of the need to conserve water.  The objective of harvesting water is integral to the house's design, and is incorporated into everything, from the roof's gutter system, to the water pipes embedded in the walls, to the pond running along the length of the house - everywhere, water is collected, and reused, beautifully.  The execution is clean, and subtle - whispered elegantly - and not shouted out from rooftops, like the usual oversized, super-shiny water tanks found in many Filipino homes.  

Now, I finish this post without having really shown you the lovely house of Avery and Kit - but that's really their story to tell.  I don't feel guilty sharing their great ideas about water conservation though - for if we all find inspiration from the example set by their home, and if we all find ways to catch more rain water for our daily use, instead of sucking dry Manila's  supply of fresh water through groundwater pumping - if we all listened to the story their house told, and learned a lesson... it will all be for a good cause.  If a house is a window into the homeowner's mind, let me tell you the conclusion I arrived at after seeing the architect's home:  Avery Go is green-minded. Indeed.

Thanks Avery and Kit! We had a great time!

On Getting A Benji Reyes Chair For Oliver's Birthday

Our "Rajah" with Narra seat, Guijo backrest, Balayong armrest, Molave crown.

It isn't just any chair. It is our family's beginnings beautifully rendered in wood by the artist Benji Reyes, who kindly obliged my request for customized wood for his classic Rajah design.  Its seat is made of Narra, its back rest, of Guijo.  

These kinds of wood, of course, are the species of Philippine hardwood after which our children are named.  Literally and figuratively: Narra's supporting our weight, and Guijo's got our back. When I see Oliver sitting on this chair, I feel my throat tightening, as though I want to cry. I want him to rest his weary body on it, to lean on it completely, as he'd lean on his family during trying times, especially on Narra and Guijo. After all, don't parents lean on their children - for daily doses of hope and inspiration necessary for our sanity, and sometimes, even survival?  I've seen Oliver plunge to the depths of depression when he lost loved ones, and I felt helpless as I watched from the side.  I wanted to find a way to give him a lifeline, something to hold on to, something solid, and as effective - though less fleeting - than our children's life-giving laughter. This chair, no, it is not just a chair.  It is our lifeline. His and mine. Something to touch, and grab, when the world is reeling, and we need to sit for moment until the spinning stops and everything comes back into focus.  For those kinds of moments, one needs a really good chair, that supports not just one's weight, but one's spirit.

10-month old Guijo, admiring the arm rest made of Balayong.

This chair is like a trophy for me, an impossible purchase I shouldn't have been able to afford given the fact that I was out of a job when I bought it.  But the universe conspires to give us our heart's desire, and out of nowhere, I won a Prize for my thesis, the Wang Gung Wu Prize for Best Thesis, and with the cash award, I wanted an inspired purchase, one that would last my lifetime - and even beyond.  I wanted to get Oliver a birthday gift he would really like, and what art collector wouldn't be happy with a Benji Reyes piece?  But I wanted something more personal than a piece purchased from a gallery - I hoped that our family's story would be crafted into the making of our specific chair - and celestial forces were again kind to me, allowing me to catch the busy artist at a time when he could accommodate my requests for specific kinds of wood to be used. Of course, Narra and Guijo were the first types of wood I requested. Followed by Balayong, which is the "signature" wood used extensively in our current home in Pasay.  We used the reddish wood everywhere, for our stairs and shelves, ledges and benches, ladders and drawers, cupboards and frames.  Benji Reyes made the armrests of the chair with Balayong, and I was overjoyed when I saw how well the hues of the wood used on our new chair blended with the existing wood elements in our house.  It looked like it belonged to the house, like it's always been here all along. It simply fit in, beautifully.

The hues of the wood used for our Rajah chair blends well with our existing wood trims.

The chair has a crown made of Molave, another species of wood I requested for. At our wedding, Oliver and I chose Molave seedlings as souvenirs for our guests. We planted our Molave tree on the lawn of our first home, a symbol of our decision to root ourselves on Philippine soil after years spent abroad.  This brings to mind lines from the famous patriotic poem "Like the Molave", and the qualities I wish for our marriage, enumerated thus:

"Like the Molave,  firm, resilient, staunch,

rising on the hillside, unafraid,

Strong in its own fiber, yes, like the Molave!"

This chair, it is strong and robust - but not rigid, oh no, not at all! Sitting on it, one feels a contradiction!  It feels like sitting on a rock-solid surface on one hand - but at the same time like sitting on air too! It's seat and armrests offer stability, while the back - oh my! the back rest of this chair - it is where the woodworker as artist and engineer is best able to show off his genius!  Benji Reyes borrowed principles of the bow, so the backrest flexes according to the person's weight.  The back rest appears to be floating, because it is unattached to the armrests. The result, is a pleasantly empowering sensation: one gets to lean back - but not in a granny-in-a-rocking-chair-way; rather, one leans back in a "Rajah-viewing-his-kingdom-taking-stock-of-his-victories" kind-of-way.  For sure, I can relax on this chair, without wanting to sleep.  It's no recliner nor lounge chair. It's a Rajah. Proud, strong, upright, stately, active, and empowered. But it gives a little, it flexes, it bends backwards, it offers a gentle and subtle accommodation. And this dynamic I get from this chair - between firmness and flexibility - is what I hope for in our marriage, and parenting.  I wish our family life can have a solid construction, based on sound principles we can live by firmly - but at the same time, I want it to be a somewhat soft home, a nurturing one, where kindness and tenderness governs our dealings with each other, and a certain degree of flexibility allows us to make room for each other's quirks.

Oliver, receiving the Certificate of Authenticity.
He asks jokingly:  "Is there an actual chair included?"

It was a few months before Oliver's birthday that I ordered the chair, and it arrived a week early! Oh, it was a stressful week. I am not good at keeping secrets, and I was so tempted to show it to him already, after all, what is a birthday? It's an arbitrary day, like any other day! But I controlled myself, and bit my lip, resisting my urge to spill the news. I hid the chair in our guest room, with the chair''s backrest behind curtains, and the seat, arms, and legs draped with carefully positioned "mounds" of linen and clothing waiting to be ironed. I feared Oliver would look for something in the guest room and discover his gift!  When we went out to dinner a day before his birthday, I casually handed him a brown envelope and said "Happy Birthday, here's my gift" (haha, he must have thought I was giving him an insurance policy for his birthday!). And out came the Certificate of Authenticity,  with a picture of the chair, its description, and the artist's signature. "May chair bang kasama ito?" (does this come with an actual chair?) he joked. 

Narra, inspecting the chair and feeling the back rest flex.

When we got home, Oliver finally unwrapped the chair, and Narra was so excited to see it at last! She'd been curious about it, making a daily pilgrimage to the guest room to pop her usual quota of bubble wrap per visit. A week of waiting heightened her anticipation.  When the chair was unveiled at last, our entire family appreciated the piece with all our senses! We looked, and touched, tapped and smelled, even tasted the wood! Guijo, being the teething baby that he is, explores the world and tries to make sense of it by putting things in his mouth, wood, included :-D  As for "hearing" wood, and "smelling" it, my mom does that. She and my dad are both passionate about Philippine hard wood, and they designed their own tables and chairs, and doors and benches for their own home. My mom was tapping and knocking on the different wood surfaces, listening to its timbre/timber! (pun intended).  The knocking and tapping was followed by some lifting, to get a sense of the piece's density, and we couldn't decide if it was heavy or light (Benji Reyes was playing tricks on our senses). Then came the sniffing.  When I put my nostrils close to the back splat, and took a whiff - oh my, it smelled fresh off the woodworker's workshop, and brought back memories of my parents' many wood projects while they were building our home. 

Oliver, admiring the Kamagong dowels.

It felt really good to get Oliver that chair. It wasn't the usual lame gift that got a tepid response. Nope!!  It was one of those really good gifts that offer something not just to the receiver, but to the giver as well. In getting him this chair, I got something back, that I needed very badly. It rekindled a desire to acquire! To want things, and to work hard to save for the things I want.  For quite some time now, I was okay, with being "just okay".  Of staying at home with my kids and celebrating little daily triumphs. But now, I want a lot more. I want to partake of quality things - of great craftsmanship, and inspired design! I want works of art - whether in food or furniture, or clothes; I want  to speak better, think better, dress better, work harder, earn more, to live fuller!  I also want to be like Benji Reyes, who gets to create something, a person who matters and has the power to touch lives with his works. I am inspired as much by the artist, as the work he produced.  So now, I want to write, and research, and fulfill the "promise" of being a scholar, which is what that Wang Gung Wu Prize was all about. With that cash Prize I made this purchase, and with this purchase I got my drive back. Funny how things work. Whatever stubborn stupor or restraining rut I was in seems to be coming to an end.  I am sitting on the Rajah chair and feeling power course through my skin.  I am glad I did not get the "Tumba-tumba" rocking chair, or even the riveting and engineering-marvel-of-a-piece called "Juan Tamad" (an impossible purchase which was way out of my budget anyway, and which the in-demand artist did not have time to produce this year).  Those chairs are for resting after I've toiled hard for years and really deserved a reward.  For now, though, at this stage in my life, when I am on the cusp of recovery, it is the Rajah that needs to be here, in this house, right now.  It is this stately chair, tall and proud, active and upright, firm but flexible... it is powerful chair that I need to see every day for my daily serving of empowerment. 

Narra and Guijo, enjoying the Rajah chair immediately upon waking up,
(and still in their sleepwear), the morning after their father's birthday.

And I will not lose sight of the fact that this chair is made of Narra ang Guijo, Molave and Balayong. These species of wood will remind me that whatever quest for self-fulfillment I embark on now, will always be in my capacity as mother and wife, and I must always find the right balance between my desire to make something out of my career, and to be there for my family. 

For Oliver's birthday, I got him a chair. It isn't just any chair, but a Benji Reyes. And that made all the difference.

Oliver's first time to sit on his Rajah chair.

The Design Features of Our Condo

View of the Living/Dining Areas and Kitchen, from the Balcony Door.

Last year, Oliver and I acquired a one-bedroom condo unit and transformed it from a bare space, into an efficient and inviting refuge. We designed it with a particular type of tenant in mind: the hardworking transient expat who doesn't want to come home to a box after tiring business trips and long hours of work. We were clear with our goals in designing the 58 sqm space: provide storage solutions; maximize space; and use robust materials to give the place a solid feel.  In collaboration with Oliver's sister Riza, who runs her own design-and-build business called Niche Interiors, we spent the last months of 2011, and first months of 2012 completing the project and scheduling viewings for prospective tenants.  We had several offers to consider, and finally decided on a corporate account which will commence this May.  As we prepare the condo unit for the official turn-over, I find myself reflecting on this condo's design.

A stair-style display shelf, and floor-to-ceiling shoe cabinet.

Between the two of us, Oliver and I have lived in a dozen condos locally and abroad in the past two decades.  I lived in 6:  a studio in Makati, and later a Penthouse near DLSU, 2 flats in Spain, and 2 in Singapore.  Oliver lived in a hi-tech condo in Japan; 2 in Hong Kong; and 1 in Ortigas.  From our collective experience, we have a wish-list of things we want in a living space.  First on the list: it must not look and feel like a box.  Living in a condo can feel very confining indeed.  I remember working in Makati, in a really nice building, and falling in line at the elevators at the end of the day, on my way home to another building, where I had to wait in line at the elevators again, and while walking from building to building I found myself thinking: I live in a box, and work in a box!  So, to fight the natural tendency of the condo unit to feel like a box, we cut a hole through one of the walls, and created a highlight made of glass, with a ledge of hardwood Narra as trim.  The glass is meant to allow a peek at the space beyond, providing a sense of depth, while the hardwood trim breaks the imposing mass of the  partition wall.  We dressed the wall with textured wall paper in a deep earth tone, and placed a light grey L-shaped sofa against it, for contrast.   By the entrance, we installed a built-in shoe cabinet, a tall one, from floor-to-ceiling. Next to it, is a sturdy wooden display cabinet, stair-like not only in appearance but also in usage. It is load-bearing, and can be used to access the top shelf of the tall shoe cabinet beside it.  

Living and Dining Areas, with Balcony.

We decided to use "heavy" materials like granite, hardwood, and leather, to anchor the place. We stayed away from light and flimsy materials.  It seems counter-intuitive to use hard and heavy things on a small space, but we think we pulled it off, using big pieces of wood without overpowering the space. The entertainment center makes use of a lot of hardwood accents: a solid bench which houses the mini-component and home entertainment system; a display ledge above the tv; and shelves built into the wall and lit with LED...all these done in beautiful Narra (yes, we love Narra wood so much, that we named our daughter after it).  Beside the TV area, is a buffet ledge, made of black granite, with a storage cabinet underneath.  The sliding panels of the cabinet are finished in dark brown leather upholstery - and the dining chairs as well, are done in leather.  Above the buffet ledge, is a mirror wall to create the illusion of depth and space. We also used Narra on door jambs, allowing us to frame the kitchen nicely with our signature wood. We used appliances with a stainless steel finish in the kitchen, echoed by a ceramic backsplash with a similar stainless-like sheen. 

The efficient little kitchen.

The bedroom, we kept clutter free and spacious. This room is a storage junkie's dream. We built a wall with concealed cabinets, 16 doors in all, padded panels upholstered with a durable stain-resistant fiber-blend. For a streamlined look, even the side-tables are built into the wall.  Narra is again used in abundance, for consistency: on the side tables, as a frame for the headboard; and as a "bay window" bench.  The Narra bench has an ultra-spacious drawer underneath - big enough for 2 suitcases; or for a rollaway mattress.  

The concealed cabinets can store anything, from extra pillows to designer bags - all within reach, and easy to keep out of sight for a clutter-free environment.  We wanted to provide storage but do so in a subtle and artful way.  Our palette for the room is still earthy, centered around a calming shade of olive. 

The concealed storage cabinets.

For more storage, we've added shelves and cubby holes with Narra pull-out boxes on one end of the bay-window-bench. It serves as a display shelf for nice-to-see things; and also a hiding place for those things better left out of view.  On the other end of the bay-window-bench is a firm leather pillow.  The bench may be made of hard wood, but it is pretty comfy to lie on, really. I can imagine many hours spent on this spot, just staring at city lights below - or enjoying fireworks (in smoke free comfort) as they burst all over the metro for New Year's eve.

The view from the bedroom bay-window-bench

Designing this condo was a very enjoyable project indeed. In many ways, it seemed to me like Oliver was designing it for himself, or that version of himself BEFORE he became a father.  This condo is like a tribute to his life as an expat abroad.  I am so glad we found a suitable lessor for it.  We hope for our tenant, that the space is as comfortable and efficient as we envisioned it.

I am now beginning to wonder what our next design project would be...

My Earth Day, Our Green Home, and Narra's Treehouse

Narra's treehouse, smothered by greens.

In celebration of Earth Day, I took photos of my parents' garden and thanked them for having such a green home. Whenever I come over for a visit, I feel like breathing in, deep nourishing life-giving breaths.  My parents' garden is overwhelmed by plants... perhaps a little too much to suit most people, but just right for earth-loving people like myself. One is FORCED to touch, or be touched by plants in this home. Upon entering the gates, hanging vines descend onto the foot path, so one has to swipe away at the roots of the air plants. Not everyone likes the feel of cool tendrils on their skin, but we are unapologetic about the "discomfort" we put guests through. In a world of manufactured things, it's good to be tickled by something natural and alive.

The vine-covered handrails on the steps leading to the house's main door.

Even the handrail on the steps leading up to the main door is smothered with leaves. We tried to trim them bare, many times over. But nature will not be held back for too long, it keeps finding a way, and we decided to relinquish control.  My parents garden feels as though plants have taken over, and overstepped their limits (to our delight!) Potted plants outgrew their small containers, and once transfered to the ground, flourished in gigantic proportions. Shrubs and trees dominate the skyline, so much so that anyone seated from the living room looking out, can only see a green expanse.  

From the front door: a view of the garden above the garage.

I am having a hard time deciding if it is by design or by accident, that the garden came to be like this.  It is by design that space was saved for plants; by design that vines and shrubs, and trees were planted; but it is by nature's hand that the vines planted in the front, found their way to the back of the house - enveloping the building in its green embrace; that shrubs on the ground, found their way to the roof; providing privacy, shade, and security (I feel sorry for burglars who will have to deal with the thorny bush). Perhaps it is also with my parents' coaxing, that vines that come to the windows seeking invitation to enter the house, are gently re-directed to an outdoor foothold.  I swear, while typing away on the computer, which sits next to a second-floor window, vines knocked on the glass, as if asking me to let them in, to take shelter from the wind. Another time, I was breast-feeding my son in privacy in what was my old room in the house, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was peeking through the window. True enough, a vine magically made its way through a tiny opening on the sliding glass window; and peeked through the gap between the drawn curtains, as though waving at me (if I imagined the leaf as a hand) or even staring at me! (if I imagined it to be a head). I was spooked for a moment, then I stood up, said hello by giving the leaf a gentle pat, and set the vine free - bringing it back into the wide open.  Grow, dearie! 

Narra's child-height handrail, for climbing up her treehouse.

Out on the garden, my parents gave Narra a precious gift. A treehouse! The type I dreamt about as a little kid. Made of yakal, a Philippine hard wood species that fares well outdoors, the tree house is sturdy and strong. We call it Narra's treehouse, but really, it is for all of us...a place where we can all be children again.  Here, my senior citizen of a father is Peter Pan, light on his feet and flipping in the air (at least that's how I see him in my mind's eye); My mother is her own kind of Tinkerbell, with her special pixie dust, which makes everything work, as though by magic.  It's a tall treehouse, and takes some effort to climb. But once up there, aaaaah. It feels like being in a private other world, far from Metro Manila. We could be anywhere, really. If C.S. Lewis' wardrobe led to Narnia; who knows where this tree house leads?! What could be beyond the leaves? We could be anywhere!

Nature's own way of welcoming guests to the tree house.

The most important gift of all, even more than the tree house itself, is the gift of story-telling and conversation.  I am happy that Narra never gets bored, up in the treehouse. No Ipad, no toys and games, no coloring book and crayons, no candies, or stickers, or any other thing designed to entertain children these days.  Just a tree, with everything it has to offer: Fruits to pick! Limbs to swing on! Birds to watch! And a lot of shade, conducive for telling tales and exchanging thoughts.  These summer months, the tree is heavy with fruit, all made within reach, even for my three year old.  So she grabbed her stash of green mangoes, and jumped up and down in excitement as she saw it being cut into bite-sized chips - which she savored eating, and passing around to anyone who'd listen to her tale of conquering the tree to secure the prized fruit.  I rejoice at the thought that junk food loses to fresh fruit in vying for my daughter's attention, at least when it is fruit-bearing season.  

A clump of plump mangoes well within reach.

It was a good way to spend Earth Day. By partaking of the feast mother nature provides in abundance. By enjoying an afternoon without relying on electricity, or packaged food, or manufactured goods. It was a very hot day, but instead of holing up indoors in air-conditioned comfort, we sat in the breeze, and stayed in the shade. My sis tells me: it's a good thing you raise your kids to survive well in a tropical country. Haha. She was referring to how sweaty my kids were, and how I didn't run to the nearest electric fan, or aircon vent, to get them cool. I just let them be. Be the sweaty, active kids in summer who climb trees.  At sundown, I ask them to come inside, and leave the garden in peace. I bathe them, and change them, and we have a good conversation over dinner. My parents are eloquent speakers, and I become a kid again, listening in awe, when my father tells a story, even those I've heard before. But alas, we are just visiting, and it is time to leave. Walking out of the house, I stop in my tracks, I see light flickering - and no - it's not the lights leftover from Christmas.  It's fireflies. Magical, hypnotic, inspiring fireflies that fill me with hope. It is said that they survive only in clean environments, where the air is pure. They are here. Dead smack in the middle of the city, a stone's throw away from carbon-belching SLEX.  My parents have done it!  They've reclaimed a piece of the city, and given it back to Mother Earth, and she repays them with a visit from her sparkling little envoys - her ambassadors of hope: the fireflies.  They are found all over the garden, even in Narra's treehouse where the leaves are thick.  What a precious, awesome gift from my parents. My dad Walter, my mom Sonia, and the one parent I share with everyone else, my Pacha Mama, our Mother Earth.

A Sneak Peek At Our New Kitchen

Smiley people: Oliver and Narra happily hanging out near the storage area.

I wanted to wait until the official opening or "house" blessing before blogging about the family's new kitchen, but I felt the strong urge to write about what's really getting us all excited these days. So here's a sneak peak at the new commissary built by Oliver's family.  It's still a work in progress, with a lot more purchases to be done, and construction to be completed. But the kitchen's been operational for a week now, and the staff are doing rounds of cooking to gain familiarity with the equipment and recipes.

  

One side of the cooking area.

I never thought I'd get excited about being in a kitchen - I'm neither a foodie nor a cook, but I find myself spending many hours in our commissary, never bored, and completely absorbed, figuring out how things work. I'm sure years of watching cooking shows on t.v. has something to do with my excitement.  From Wok with Yan in the 80s to all the various cooking shows on the Lifestyle Network in the 2000s, to today's Top Chef, Iron Chef, and Chef Rosebud's Quickfire (she's a good old friend from my high school days), I clocked in countless hours of contented spectatorship. Now, I get to observe all the action at close range, and for prolonged periods.  My being a researcher has something to do with it too, for I enjoy observing - and data gathering - these are the kinds of activities I engaged in while doing field work. I need to be familiar with what's going on, so I can be of use - ok, haha, definitely NOT with cooking, but with many other things. 

The cooking area from another angle.

I love bringing my children to the kitchen, so they can gain precious exposure in their formative years. I suspect this will be second nature to them, the art and science of food preparation - it runs in their blood. Oliver's mother is an accomplished cook, just like her mother before her, and what amazing kitchen stories there are, of their legendary cooking feats.  Our kitchen now is shiny and new, with recent technology - but the spirit that guides the enterprise is old, and deeply rooted in the family psyche. This is the kind of family that smokes their own meats; dries their own tapa; cooks their own chicharon fresh; cures their own hams; and bakes their own mamon.  I will teach my kids music, and literature, art and history, politics and performing arts - these things, are the endowments they will get from my side of the family. But cooking? Running a kitchen? Secret heritage recipes?... this is their heritage from their father's side. 

Oliver and Narra, with her Ninang Rina (at the back), and Tito Tonton.

In many ways, building the kitchen is a return of sorts, to family roots. The structure is built on family property, right across their ancestral home. I often catch snippets of conversation, with anecdotes of grandparents, and aunties and uncles and their quirks. And their childhood memories - of  the lovely rose garden of old, the pool that has long been covered up, and the dramatic driveway that led to it. I can only imagine what used to be there.  What I see now, is a modern structure, especially striking at night.  It's not even completed, but already, the building is a thing of beauty, with its crisp, clean lines.  We get to see the kitchen a lot at night, because the kitchen runs 24/7, and Oliver gets to visit it after he comes back from work.  Narra's always excited to come along, which I like! I'd rather have her observing real life situations, than being left at home watching t.v.  Here in the kitchen, she's learning that the world does not revolve around her.

A work in progress: the kitchen's exterior, partially completed.

Here, the world revolves around food. A lot of it.  We haven't even really started with our operations, and already, I find the volume of activity dizzying.  As I saw the supplies come in, and the pantry and freezers being filled up, I felt an adrenaline rush. It was exciting to see the once empty stock room come to life.  Even seeing the stock cards in the pantry was enjoyable for me.  My sis-in-law Winnie, however, has that headache on her plate, of figuring out inventory.

First batch of stock cards hanging in the pantry.

The storage racks aren't silent either. They've been making music, with the banging of pots and pans, and woks and  cauldrons as they come into use after weeks of waiting in the wings.  At last! There's fire on the stoves, and the kitchen is very hot.  Summer's upon us and the weather's unbearable at times, but for some reason, I find myself willing to stay in this very hot kitchen. I guess our personal thresholds for comfort are proportionate to the degree of our emotional investment in an activity. An olympic athlete can subject his/her body to all sorts of torturous pain in pursuit of a gold medal. Just as my aircon-loving sister-in-law Rina, suffers countless hours of heat in a high-fire kitchen in pursuit of quality food that meets her standards. She checks every lumpia, and every meatball, making sure they are the right shape and size, before they are even cooked, after which they are subjected to taste tests.  

Storage rack in the cooking area.

Aaaah. The perks (and pitfalls) of hanging out in the kitchen. I have had my fair share of temptation.  A kitchen in the early days of operation sure has a lot of taste tests.  It's a blessing in disguise that the tasks assigned to me are mostly outside the kitchen. Imagine if I stayed there longer and sampled more food! That would be a disastrous turn of events, from a dieter's point of view.

We bought a batch of these, to take home.

Soon, it will be show time! And not just a dress rehearsal. Curtain's up in a week's time. And I am counting the days. I'm so excited. And so is everyone else. The family/board meeting last night ended past midnight, and everyone's fired up to their share of the work as opening night approaches. We got a sneak peek this week, and we liked what we saw.