My Diet-Friendly Apple Tartlets and the Joys of Snacking While Working

My apple tartlets, out of the muffin pan, and
off to the fridge.

I have a deadline to meet, and a paper to finish for an important conference.  I'm two weeks into my Cohen Program, and I was wondering how I can survive long hours of sitting, reading, and writing, without resorting to my usual practice of munching as I mull over my ideas and compose my thoughts.   I decided to surf the net for a recipe for a snack I could work on, while I worked on my paper.  And I found this recipe for making apple tartlets out of the usual cracker and fruit allowance. I was excited to embark on a Cohen kitchen adventure.  So here's how it went...

The main ingredients: Jacob's crackers and apples.

I started by reading a book.  I sat quietly for a bit until I stumbled into a very exciting idea that was useful for the main argument of my paper.  I was excited!  I scribbled notes, and put the book down. I had to stand up and do something with my hands while I tried to find ways to articulate in words the connection I was making in my head, between the idea I read, and my own topic.  I stood up, and started slicing apples into wedges, peeling off the skin, cutting and dicing, and putting them in a pot of water. I added some splenda, and a stick of cinnamon, and turned on the stove.  I went back to my seat. Wrote a sentence, one all important sentence that contained a major argument. As the apples stewed in the pot, I let my argument simmer for a bit.  I continued reading, quietly, until I stumbled into another exciting passage.  I scribbled down a quote. I got excited again. Stood up, and started pounding some crackers, 2 pieces of Jacob's Hi-Cal Original at a time.  I moistened the crumbs with some diet soda so they would adhere,  I sprayed some Pam on my muffin pan, and spooned the crumb-mixture evenly.  I popped them in the oven to let them bake for a bit.  I sat down, and scribbled a sentence. A second all-important sentence in my developing outline.  The scent of apples and cinnamon created such an invitingly warm atmosphere in the kitchen.  I was happy to be stationed on the dining table, with all my books and papers before me. I started to read, again.

Freshly baked apple tartlets right out of the pan!

I stumbled into another great idea from yet another book, and had to stand up again, to compose my thoughts, and carefully word yet another argument.   I busied my hands with draining the stewed apples from the pot, and spooning them into the cups of the muffin pan, then popping them into the oven.  As my apple tartlets baked, I spoke to myself, trying out different ways to phrase, as precisely as I can, the idea I can see clearly in my head but couldn't quite convey in words just yet.  I was muttering as I worked my way from the stove, to the sink, to the kitchen counter, cleaning up the mess I made as I attempted to de-clutter my brain and focus my thoughts.  I sat down, got a clean sheet of paper, and looked at all the notes I've scribbled... I began writing a fresh, new outline.  And there it was. An outline. A skeletal structure to be fleshed out in detail in the hours and days to come.  It's best to take a break, to let my ideas bake.  I packed up my pad, and closed my books, and prepared my placemat for a sacred ritual - it was time for my rewarding snack.  

My rewarding coffee break.

I heated some water, and scooped some freshly ground coffee into my Bodum single-serve/in-cup French coffee press (my new best friend!!).   As my coffee steeped, I carefully lifted two, piping hot apple tartlets out of the muffin pan, and lay them tenderly on my plate.  The rest, I transfered into a Lock and Lock container so I could store them for my writing sessions tomorrow.  Then, I finally sat down, took a tiny desert fork, and cut into my warm tartlet, and had a very rewarding moment.  It felt like cutting into a piece of apple pie.  The act of slicing, and scooping up, and smelling the scent of apples and cinnamon - it was divine!   And I was happy to eat only two tiny tartlets, flavored subtly. It reminds me of the new lifestyle I wish to embrace - the Cohen way...  the joys of snacking need not involve huge quantities of food and copious amounts of sugar.  I cut the tartlets into quarters, and had 8, fully-savored mouthfuls of stewed apples on a warm crust.  Partnered with coffee, it was sheer bliss.

I had a great afternoon.  I got my work done, and managed to incorporate food in my thinking process in a healthier way.  To top it off, my daughter Narra, saw me working and baking, and she copied me. She sat down and scribbled with her pen and crayons, and shadowed me in the kitchen...and when the snack was done, she asked me for a piece - ha!!! My picky little eater has been asking me for food since I started the Cohen program and paid attention to my own food, more than to hers.  It's been hard concentrating on writing papers when the kids were running around the house, but with my apple tartlet project anchoring me to the kitchen, I found the focus my work badly required and deserved.  I think the discipline required by the Cohen program has unlocked my hidden reserves of will power - allowing me to become disciplined in other aspects of my life, such as my academic writing.

I'm looking forward to writing again tomorrow.  I decided not to write throughout the night, the way I used to. I need to sleep (part of the Cohen prescription). And midnight work often involves midnight snacks, and I'm not going to set myself up for failure by staying up late, and working up an appetite. Nope. Discipline. I will sleep at night, and work in the morning. And I know some nice apple tartlets are waiting for me when I earn my morning coffee break.

Free Play: Sunday at the Park in High Street

Yaya Gigi, teaching Narra the basics of "Piko".

On the first weekend of the year, we wanted to do something fun and active, without resorting to the usual pastime of shopping and eating out.  We decided to bring out of the house our new puppy, Jack (a Jack Russel terrier).  We put him in his carrier, and headed off to pet-friendly Bonifacio High Street. We headed to the recreational area on the south side.  Oliver and I first stumbled upon this park a couple of months ago, and we vowed to return with the kids... and now, with our new dog. I just love this park and all the good things it stands for.  It stands for a "breather" in a congested metropolis smothered in concrete.  It stands for "common good", over commercial interest - this park sits on prime property that costs millions!  (I believe this is an Ayala Land project. It surely bears their signature sophistication, intelligence, and commitment to improving the quality of life of the mall-going public).  And with play space designated for Pinoy folk games, this park stands out to me, as a symbol for bridging generations, and allowing children of the past to play with children of the present, so they may keep alive the games of old.  Coming here made me feel happy, reminding me of my very enjoyable Pinoy childhood.

At the Patintero lawn - though our kids are too young to play the game.

I had the great fortune of growing up with street games: piko, patintero, taguan, langit-lupa, luksong tinik,  habulan, "chinese garter", "doctor quack-quack" and agawan base among others.  This was right around the time computer games were just finding their way into our homes in the early 1980's. But even after Ataris and Nintendo Family Computers dominated the scene in terms of indoor entertainment, the frequent blackouts (or in Pinoy-speak: brown-outs) of the late 80's to early 90's left a lot of room for traditional games to flourish.  I remember playing with neighbors, classmates, and cousins... out on the streets, or at the school quadrangle or playground, or  even during family parties and outings.  I simply assumed that these games will self-perpetuate... that every generation will come to know them, naturally.  I am beginning to rethink this assumption.  I've been asking my students in the last few years if they knew some folk games - and I'd enumerate the ones I know.  To my surprise, my students knew only a minority - and not a majority (as I had hoped) of the games I grew up with.  I really couldn't blame them.  I myself, am forgetting the rules of the games I used to play with passion.  Which is why I loved coming to this park on High Street.  It forced me remember what I was beginning to forget.  I had to rely on Yaya Gigi and Yaya Jen to refresh my memory.  I had to ask for a tutorial on the mechanics of "piko".  Yaya Gigi picked up a stone from the ground, and started teaching Narra and I how to do it.   We reviewed the rules of Patintero, but the kids were too young to play it. Maybe in a few more years... For now, they're better off in the playground.

Narra and Guijo at the whimsical playground south of High Street.

And what a fun playground it is!  The usual swings, slides, monkey bars, and seesaw are there - with a twist - literally!  The design of the playground equipment incorporates a lot of curving lines, and swirls, and twists, creating a re-imagined, whimsical version of the standard equipment.  The swings, for instance, do not simply hang from bars, they hang from looping arches painted in fire truck red.  Next to the swing is a swirly slide, done in sunny yellow - it functions every bit like a typical slide, but does not have the usual straight ladder leading up.  The monkey bars are similarly provocative, and inviting. Narra and Guijo were content to monkey around the bars for nearly an hour, repeatedly climbing up and down until they've mastered the equipment.  

Narra, on her favorite twisty monkey bars.

So inviting was the playground that even the Yayas were obviously enjoying themselves.  I felt glad to see Yaya Gigi enjoying herself.   God knows she needs a break, after all the family troubles she's needed to address in recent months.  Seeing her relax, even just for a bit, seeing her like this - childlike and carefree, makes  me feel that playgrounds are necessary social spaces... they are not merely "nice-to-haves"... they are "need-to-do's".  This reminds me of an old family story of my aunt, my mother's youngest sibling, who was visiting Manila as a little girl from Bicol in the early 1970's.  My father drove her to the playground near Manila Zoo...and she called it "paradise".  It's not a great story, really, just an anecdote - but I remember it often because I pass by that playground regularly, and each time I see it, in it's current overused and grimy state, with the paint worn off on the old equipment, with the dusty ground where no grass grows, the overflowing trash cans and the sweet-sour stench of the sewers underneath - I remember my aunt, and how she once called this place "paradise".   Seeing Yaya Gigi made me think of the same word - "paradise".  To be free from all the cares in the world, to be having fun, and smiling from that place within our being where our inner child resides, isn't that heavenly?

Yaya Gigi, happily monkeying around too.

I had just started on my Cohen Program and I was strictly following my food prescription.  It's only been a few days into my new diet, and as I reduced my food intake, the toxins hoarded by my fat cells were being released, and I was getting headaches.  The walk at the park really helped clear my head. Seeing so many people jogging, healthy and fit folk, encouraged me to persist in pursuing my resolution to put my health on top of my list of priorities this year.  I want to feel as light and agile as my kids, as I used to be.  I tried swinging on the monkey bars for a bit and my body felt so foreign - so heavy and sluggish.  I felt old. And I don't want to feel old anymore. So weight loss is the first step, so I can return to a more active lifestyle, with sport and dance back in the picture.  I am so looking forward to having more fun and exercise this year... to feel light and free when I play with my kids, to no longer feel dead on my feet... to see paradise in a playground!

Guijo, a picture of pure exuberance as he floats mid-air.

For now, I can't do much exercise just yet, not while I'm on a very restrictive eating plan.  I'll have to be happy with slow walks in the park, and engage in recreational activities that do not gravitate towards food. So far, so good, it seems we can work out newer patterns of leisure.  And with parks like the one south of High Street, with the landscaped paths, artful trash bins, and engagingly designed spaces, we can while away the weekend engaged in free play.  One weekend down, 50 more to go in 2013...may all the weekends to come be as lovely as this.

Guijo's Baby Barong

Guijo comfortably and proudly paraded around in his barong all day long.

Last weekend, we attended a cousin's wedding at Caleruega Church in Tagaytay (congratulations Gio and Melan!).  We had to look for a suitable barong for Guijo, and finding one was quite pleasurable because Guijo was sooo cooperative. He was charming to the sales ladies assisting us, "modelling" the stuff he tried on, strutting about proudly with an impish grin.   Originally, I wanted to get him a traditional barong made of jusi or piña fiber, so I checked out Tesoro's, but the smallest size available was still too big for Guijo.  We checked out infant wear at department stores, but they were too "baptismal" in style and material, and were too small for Guijo.  Fortunately, we checked out Kido Republic, a line of Filipino-inspired natural-wear for children, and found many options from their modern "barong-inspired line" which offers a kid-friendly and relaxed alternative to the formal and traditional barong. 

Guijo, so well-behaved. He's pretty neat, the barong survived the day with no stains.

The Kido "barong" differed from the regular adult barong in significant ways: it is not made of jusi or piña, which can be quite stiff for baby skin; rather, it is made of a nice, soft, natural fabric, which could presumably be a cotton-linen blend.   While different in texture to the traditional barong, visually, the Kido version mimics the adult classic.  It is similarly beige in tone, and has a semi-transparent/translucent look.  The design at the front of the shirt is painted on, which makes it more comfortable for kids than traditional embroidery.  Oliver picked out a "Chinese collar" style, instead of the traditional collar, so Guijo looked more current, and presko.  We received a lot of compliments on his faux barong, many people found it adorable.

Guijo's faux baby barong (back view) visually matched his Lolo Walter's classic barong.

Guijo gives me my daily excuse to gush.  And when I saw him looking dapper in his baby barong, I found him so cute, I couldn't believe he was mine.  I swear, I will cry at his wedding.   I know that's many years away. But last week, at the wedding - I found myself relating not with the bride... but with the mother of the groom!!! I was watching my aunt, who is as dear to me as a second mother, my Mama Eva, and I watched her keep her composure, as she gave her son, her bunso, away. I held back tears. I had a sense of what she was feeling. How would I feel if it was my baby boy getting married?!  I looked at Guijo,  all dressed up and adorable in his baby barong, and I was ready to weep.  My perfect little baby boy. This will most likely be the image I will replay in my head on his wedding day. Of him, in his first barong.  No matter how tall he gets, how old he becomes, he will always be my baby.  And his wedding day will be one of those days I would hope for, and dread at the same time.  

Me, capturing Oliver capture the moment. If only we can keep them cute forever...

Kido Republic is the children's line of Obra ni Juan (which also makes another line of Pinoy-wear called Hijo).   I first found out about these brands from Carsi Cruz family who gave us their cool clothing as gifts. (Thanks Miriam and Gio, Monty and Molly, and Winnie).  We liked the pieces we received, we looked up the clothing line and happily found comfy and cool Pinoy-style designs for our kids. 

Here's a link to their Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kido-Republic-by-Obra-Ni-Juan-Hijo-La-Obra/243042552401790

A Fresh Start For 2013: Embarking on my Cohen Program

Weighing portions of Cohen-approved food, according to my eating plan.

On New Year's Eve, I took part in an ancient tradition and embraced the cliche: I made a New Year's Resolution.  It is believed that early Christians embraced the first day of the New Year as an occasion for reflecting on past mistakes and resolving to improve oneself, saying their prayers at a midnight mass.  The Romans before them, began each year by making promises to the god Janus (after whom the month January is named).  And before them, the Babylonians too, promised their gods to pay their debts from the previous year. So as 2012 came to a close, I too, looked skyward, and whispered a prayer as I watched the fireworks display on New Year's Eve.  I prayed for fitness and health, and a fabulous figure to match.  Yes, it's really such a cliche.  I join the hordes of fat-fighters all over the world who make "losing weight" a perennial entry on the Top 10 Resolutions List.  Somehow though, my resolution didn't feel like an empty wish whispered to the wind.  I felt the firmness of my resolve.

As the popular saying goes "nasa Diyos ang awa, nasa tao ang gawa" (roughly translated: Mercy resides in God, deeds reside in people). My prayer for divine assistance had to be coupled with actions. And I tell you, I took action indeed!  It took a few weeks to orchestrate my New Year's Eve moment.  It started in early December with a trip to Cohen's Lifestle Centre in Makati where I attended an Information Session on their Weight-loss and Wellness Program.  I signed up, paid, and returned for my Blood Test, the results of which were sent to the US for analysis.  I had to wait until after Christmas to receive my Personal Eating Plan.  It took a couple of days to shop for essentials: Extra-virgin olive oil spray; Jacob's crackers; multivitamins; and approved proteins, fruits, and veggies.  I spent an evening happily weighing portions precisely down to the last gram, as prescribed.  I bought organic greens, and choice lean meats, and my mouth was watering as I prepared my food for the next few days.

Our current best friends in the kitchen: the tabletop grill, salad spinner,  
and for Oliver: the juicer and blender for his fresh fruit shakes.

On December 31st, I woke up excited to start my Cohen Eating Plan. I had a mushroom omelette for breakfast, a calamari salad for lunch, and I packed my grilled chicken breast with grilled veggies for our New Year's Eve dinner.  I ate my meal happily, while the rest of the family feasted on paella and lengua, gambas and calamari, beef stew and bbq... I munched on my approved amount of crackers as my loved ones enjoyed their slices of ham, and cheese, and pasta.  And when desert was served, I munched on apple slices as everyone had a slice of cake.  It felt GREAT to be in control! I was surrounded by sweets and savory treats and I did not cave in! I was triumphant over temptation! 

I am more hopeful now, and empowered as I never have been before, to face my weight issues squarely and deal with the problem with finality.  There are several reasons why I am motivated more than ever: 1) Oliver and I just had our annual executive medical check-ups. The results were rather sobering. I had fatty infiltration in my liver, linked directly to my being overweight. The medical recommendation: weight reduction.  2) There are also indications that my hormones have gone haywire. I've been bleeding excessively, enough to make me run to the doctor a few times on suspicions of miscarriage, but repeated ultrasounds have ruled that out, and a pap smear also ruled out infections.  A more plausible cause: hormonal imbalance.  This is what made the Cohen Program attractive to me - it is not just another diet, but promises to re-set hormones.  Signing up for the Cohen Program, in itself, is another source of motivation because... 3) It doesn't come cheap.  But I guess it's also because of the monetary investment in the program that one feels more committed to make it work.  Another cliche comes to mind, the idiom: "you get what you pay for".  I am truly hoping that in this case, something higher in price is proportionally of higher quality (because this is not always the case, necessarily).  There are less-restrictive Cohen programs online that cost a mere fraction of what I signed up for, but I decided to go ahead and do the full formal program (thanks to Oliver's support) which offers continuing blood work and analysis, monthly weigh-ins, and consultations for the next six months.  I want to find a way to peek into my blood chemistry to get some assurance that I am truly addressing my issues from within.  I don't just want weight loss - I want to reboot my entire system, and reset my metabolism, restore hormone balance and really, really start fresh.

My lunch of grilled chicken breast fillet with garden salad.

And somehow, even though I'm only a few days into the program, there are clear signs of good things to come.  Even if I am the only one in the household enrolled in the program, everyone else seems to partake of my resolution in their own ways.  Oliver took me grocery shopping and together we bought lean cuts of meat and fresh vegetables. He coordinated his food with mine, although he didn't do the measuring, and didn't hold back on condiments.  He had a nice lean, flavorful steak for dinner, while I had my steak ground up so I could apportion it to exact weight specifications easily.  I formed it into a patty (with no binders, just salt and pepper to season) and had it grilled.  Last night, we both had grilled chicken breast - his had more flavor, mine was simply seasoned.  He accompanied his meal with brown rice, and soup and salad (with dressing), while I just had plain greens with a few sprays of olive oil and vinegar (no rice nor soup).  It felt good to have him "accompany" me, even if he wasn't on the program.

Narra and Guijo too, are catching on.  They see me preparing my food, and they ask for bits of whatever I am eating.  I snack on apple slices, and they ask for some.  I carefully weigh my food, though, so I don't share my plate.  I give them their own separate servings - and this act of separating my food from my children's is helping me a great deal!  It means learning to resist to finish their leftovers.  I've also reprogrammed myself not to reach for food on display, specially now that our house is full of holiday treats - gifts of chocolate, cookies, cake, and candies.  Oliver suggested we purge the house of forbidden food to create a controlled environment at home, but I refused the offer.  I told him the world will be full of tempting treats, and I must learn to embrace my new principles with conviction from within - that my ultimate goal is self-control / self-improvement / self-mastery.   Narra and Guijo used to love to "feed" me.  They'd affectionately pop a piece of grape, or pop corn, or jelly bean into my mouth.  But they don't do so anymore.  It took only a day for them (and everyone else around me) to catch on.  

Beyond our household, I heard that over at my parents' house, my sister has followed my lead and has also started eating healthier.  She called me last night to report that she prepared her own steamed tilapia (and that's a miracle in itself - tilapia and my sister don't usually go together).  She, in turn, has inspired my dad, who wants to jump on the fat-fighting- bandwagon too.   I first heard about the Cohen program from my cousin Debbie, and later from a friend, Kit, and they inspired me to go for it (thanks girls!). Now, it's my turn to go through the process, and I'm so psyched up!! 

So I had a great New Year's Eve, because I made a Resolution I am excited to live by.  Here's to a fresh start in 2013!!!

Here's the Website of Cohen's Lifestyle Centre Philippines (for the full, formal Cohen Program):

http://www.cohenlifestyle.com.ph/

Here's the Website for the On-line, less restrictive, and cheaper version of the Cohen Program:

http://www.belletoday.com.ph/

   

    

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!

Spain Trip Diary 3: Spain by Train with the Spain Pass

A view of Spain's vast central plains... en route to Madrid.

This is one thing I love about train travel: the window becomes one big screen through which you see your destination unfold before you, placidly.  And with high speed trains, one is offered a most enjoyable contradiction: one gets somewhere fast, unhurried.  It's something wonderful, really. When going speedily, doesn't mean rushing. For me, to be on a train is to sit still, in quiet contemplation of the scenery. There's time for a long cup of coffee, and a chance to write down thoughts in my travel journal. It's a great way to see a country, especially Spain, where tracks are lain on very scenic routes through the Iberian peninsula's variegated landscapes. Where many breathtaking ancient fortress-cities sit atop hills, and can be seen from the distance.  Spain's railway system is one of the best in the world: extensive, efficient, and exciting.  Covering the country's plains, and hugging its coasts, crossing its rivers and ravines, and cutting through cities, it is a truly rewarding experience to be on a train in Spain. So when I found out there was a new SPAIN PASS offered by RENFE, Spain's railway operator, I was absolutely thrilled. 

Our first trip with our Spain Pass, from Barcelona to Valencia.

The SPAIN PASS is a product designed exclusively for foreign tourists. One must present a passport to purchase it.  The cheapest one costs 165 Euros for 4 trips anywhere in Spain! No matter the distance! And on the nice kinds of trains too - any of them! - from the popular high speed AVE, or the sleeper-car equipped Trenhotel, or the coastal Euromed and Alaris trains.  Whether one wanted to travel from North to South from Bilbao to Sevilla; or East to West from Barcelona to Santiago de Compostela... one could do so for the price of one regular-prized trip on a high-speed train! One could choose more trips, for a higher price, ... and the ticket would be valid until the following year.

In the past, travelers to Europe relied on the EURAIL Pass for this kind of flexibility and convenience.  When my father first visited Europe in 1979, he used his EURAIL pass extensively, fully exploiting the unlimited rides by visiting 33 cities.  When he took us to Europe in the early 1990's, he bought EURAIL passes again, but by that time, there were many restrictions already: we had to apply for visas for all the countries we'd pass through, and some trains required supplemental fees.  Nowadays, with the Schengen visa, crossing borders is no longer as tedious for Filipinos touring Europe (thank God!).  We weren't planning on crossing borders though, our trip was dedicated solely to Spain, so I looked up the EURAIL SPAIN PASS and compared it with RENFE's own SPAIN PASS.  In the end, RENFE won the contest. And here's why: it was cheaper, and valid for longer, and could be bought at the train station, and it measured usage by the number of trips.  In contrast, the EURAIL SPAIN PASS cost just a little bit more, was valid for a shorter period, had to be bought overseas, and measured usage by the day.  Both options have their pros and cons, and I would still consider the EURAIL alternative when planning future trips, but for this particular trip, RENFE's Spain Pass suited our requirements best. 

Unlike in planes, they don't make you turn off your gadgets on a train :-D

In this age of budget airlines, taking the plane may be cheaper than the train, but it may involve a bit more pain... it would mean queueing up at the airport, going through check-in and boarding procedures, waiting to board, being squished into cramped seats, then traveling from the airport to the city center. Trains, on the other hand, especially in Spain, usually mean comfortable seats, and strategically located train stations in the heart of the city. And with high speed trains, the travel time has been reduced tremendously that it is comparable to flying. Train travel is really attractive, if only it wasn't so expensive! My initial search showed a plane ride from Barcelona to Madrid could cost as little as 39 Euros on Vueling airline, while the AVE train would cost 139 Euros... whoa! - that's a big difference. Good thing the Spain Pass arrived! It was released to the market days before we traveled to Spain. I was using RENFE's website to plan our trip, and I visited the site daily to study the timetables, and one day, I saw the announcement: "New!" it said, "Discover Spain with the Flexible Spain Pass". Woohoo! I felt the universe conspiring to give me a great trip :-D  

The product was so new, that when we arrived in Barcelona, the attendant at the sales counter had to ask for help from colleagues in inputing our information and preparing our pass - "It's my first time to do this" he explained.  It was the same story in Valencia where another first timer prepared our ticket and had difficulty fulfilling our request to be seated together.  "The system only allows me to book one person at a time and it chooses the seats"...he said, "but let me try to figure out how to assign you seats that are together", and he patiently worked on it, while we patiently waited. By the time we got to Madrid a few days later, the railway staff had gotten used to the Spain Pass. Our tickets were processed quickly, and we were assigned adjacent seats in a flash.  Just like that, in a span of a few days, it was no longer "new"... even the website removed the "new" label formerly attached to the Spain Pass icon.  They've ironed out the kinks, fast.  

At the train cafeteria with my cafe con leche, bocadillo, and guide books!

As soon as we boarded our Euromed train to Valencia, I just had to visit the train's cafeteria for my cafe con leche and bocadillo de jamon y queso.  I bit into my first taste of Spain in over a decade since I last left it when I turned in my MA thesis and left for home back in 2002.  As a graduate student in Spain, I've taken this train many times, and memories came flooding back as I viewed the unfolding landscape. We passed by the dry mountains of the Costa de Azahar...and I remember climbing those mountains before. Oh wow! When did I last have the energy to climb a mountain?  Then we saw endless rows of olive trees; then orange groves; and stretches of beaches and the vast blue sea.  It was all so exciting, and calming at the same time.

Valencia's charming Estacio de Nord, right next to the bullring.

We just came from a long haul flight from Singapore, and we've been traveling for nearly 24 hours straight since we left our house in Manila, and I was neither tired nor energized - I was in that confusing zone between wanting to move and wanting to rest, too excited to sleep, but too tired to run... and for this ambivalent state of mind, being on a train was perfect. I was moving, while standing still (or should I say, gently swaying) in the train's cafeteria.  I was traveling - by looking out the window, but also resting, retreating into silence, free from the obligation to talk.  I was looking out, and looking in, reconciling past and present, I was both cooling down from the flight, and warming up for the days of traveling ahead. A train ride, is like an incubator of sorts, a place to extend gestation for a bit longer, after already being delivered into the world.   A trip, like an idea, can benefit a lot from a period of incubation.  Plans can develop and mature appropriately in situ, and no amount of pre-planning can compare to being there at the destination, at that very moment. Then, and only then can you tell how many layers of clothing will be sufficient for the current temperature; and how much money you'd willingly spend for a good meal. Guide books and on-line fora can provide advice, but only you can gauge for yourself, your personal threshold of comfort.  All these qualitative assessments can happen only in context, when you arrive. A train ride, after a plane ride, is a perfect occasion for such  musings.

And in Spain, some train stations are destinations in themselves.  Valencia's Estacio de Nord, for instance, greets visitors with proud displays of the region's locally produced ceramic tiles. The ornate old mosaics on the walls and ceilings are often accompanied by contemporary art installations and exhibits, making the train station a museum-gallery of sorts.  In Madrid, the Atocha train station is like an indoor garden, an oasis of sorts, teeming with plants from rain forests.  The shops and restaurants under the grand garden atrium give a taste of the bustling scene outside.  We lunched at Samar Kanda, an elegant restaurant on a terrace overlooking the train station's tropical garden.  Like a secret little place, the restaurant was shielded from view, and located far from the busy corridors of the huge train station.  We "incubated" for a moment, hatching our plan of attack for taking on Madrid.  The restaurant gave us a sense of being outdoors on the street, without the biting cold, and fear of pickpockets. We felt warm and safe, and after a good meal, we felt ready for our adventure.

At Samar Kanda Restaurant in Madrid's Atocha Train Station.

When I traveled with my mother in Spain back in 2000, we took the train and she mentioned how she used to take the train from Manila to Bicol.  "I took you when you were a baby, you were in a bassinet on my lap, and I held you throughout the ride, lifting you when the train swayed and jumped, so you wouldn't wake up".  Wow. I could imagine my mom, my indefatigable, self-sacrificing, nurturing and tender mom, not being able to sleep so I wouldn't wake up.  That's the kind of mother she was.  And maybe that's why I feel happy in trains, reminded of my mother, and how she lulls me to sleep, swaying me from side to side when I was a baby, the way she does with my children now.

I can't wait to take my children on train rides, so we can see the world unfolding, together. I find myself now, echoing the dream once made by my father when he first went to Europe: "someday, I'll bring my children here".

Spain Diary 2: Our Roast Suckling Pig Story in Toledo

My hefty serving of cochinillo, at Restaurante Don Diego, Toledo, Spain.

You are what you eat. And we found out in Spain, just how Filipino we were, when we bit into the crispy skin of their famed cochinillo, or roast suckling pig, and all we could think of were pork dishes from home.   We were in historic Toledo, which has the reputation of being that one city that best offers a window into the Spanish soul.   It is a common saying that if one has only a day to spend in Spain, one should spend it in Toledo.   And we were told that cochinillo was a specialty of the region.  So we we trained our eyes on our culinary goal - to find a good restaurant where we could get a taste of this famed dish.  Thus began an epic journey, a laborious search for good pork.  We felt like knights in search of the holy grail. Seriously.

Behind me, the historic walled city of Toledo, Spain's old capital.

When my husband Oliver purchased a sword from one of Toledo's shops (for they are well known for sword craft as well), we asked the shop owner to recommend a good restaurant. We mentioned cochinillo and they started to swoon - "es muy rico" they kept saying, repeatedly, and with appropriate gestures to match.  They gave us the name of a restaurant, and the name of the person to look for, and directions that didn't really help. We got lost.  Toledo's medieval paths are bound to play tricks on the mind. It is like entering a maze.  And with hunger comes poor judgement.  The cobblestone steps and the hilly terrain didn't help ease our pain. We were tired, confused, and desperate.  I asked for directions at another shop, and mentioned the magic word cochinillo, and the shop owner swooned again, and said "es muy rico!", and proudly pointed us to another restaurant, with a business card this time, and she wrote her name on the piece of paper to show the waiter, so he'd treat us like her guests.  We showed this card to locals, and we were directed up and down, and on and on, through more winding streets, until at last, we walked through the entry arch of a walled compound, and found a restaurant tucked in a corner of an inner courtyard... a secret place frequented by locals.

After a long search, at last! We found this restaurant.

  

Meson Restaurante Corral de Don Diego, it was called.  And the waiter swooned and responded with "es muy rico" as soon as we said the magic word.  Like a prayer, the word cochinillo, when uttered, got a reverent response. You could tell the locals were very proud of this dish.  It will take some time to prepare, we were told. And though we were starving, we said we could wait. We've walked this far and waited this long, surely, we won't quit now? So while waiting for our food, we took the time to appreciate the restaurant's interiors.  We chatted with the owner, who introduced us to a local painter, seated at the bar with what could have been his nth drink for the day.  He painted the murals on the walls of the dining hall, which looked like a mini shrine for the worship of meat.  There were legs of ham hanging from the rafters, and deer antlers displayed on the walls.  It was quaint and cozy, warm and oh so charming. It was a tough choice deciding whether we'd sit indoors, or out in the courtyard.  We later decided to sit outdoors to take in more of Toledo's sights and sounds.

The restaurant's charming interiors.

While waiting for our main course, we started our meal with a lovely spread of vegetables: fresh tomatoes, and grilled asparagus with sea salt, and mushrooms with bacon bits drizzled with olive oil. Oh that was so good.  These are not the usual vegetables we find in the Philippines... not the same size, and not the same texture.  We also ordered a plate of piping hot paella with tasty langoustines.  We were properly primed for the main course. We were so ready for the cochinillo, we summoned the waiter and asked if it was ready...and it was! 

And so it came.  In a plate so huge it felt like a platter, it came. Each of us had a daunting serving of cochinillo that looked like a quarter of a piglet.  My husband, a true meat lover, looked so excited as he started to dig in.  We took our first bites. Then there was silence.  Then we started to chuckle. One can't control the direction one's thoughts would take. A bite of succulent pork will trigger instant associations, unfiltered, uncontrolled.  For Oliver, it was Mang Tomas lechon sauce.  Wala bang sarsa? he asked playfully.   For me, the sauceless roast pork reminded me of lechon Cebu! I was in Toledo, Spain but I was doing a mind trip to Toledo, Cebu!!!  Or more precisely, to Toledo's neighboring town of Carcar, and its wet market where lechon is bought by the kilo, and where Oliver and I had our last pork feast early this year.  Mama was reminded of pritchon, the deep fried suckling pig, especially the one served at our wedding, the one our guests continued to rave about long after Oliver and I exchanged vows.  We were unanimous in thinking this cochinillo is not the best roast pork we've ever had... not that it wasn't any good. It was good. It was worthy of the "es mur rico" phrase the locals described it with. It was rich.  But our palates were proudly Filipino, and completely decolonized. 

My husband, ever the meat lover, excited to dig in.

Of course there's a part of me (and my husband shares this too, I think) that aspires for some degree of cosmopolitan culinary connoisseurship. There's a part of me that wishes for my taste buds a kind of world citizenship.  We wish to savor global cuisine and to appreciate authentic dishes in their own terms, as they are intended by local chefs for their local audience.  Oliver praised the cochinillo's subtle flavors which offered an opportunity to better taste the meat, in its purity, without being masked by too many condiments.  I tried to enjoy the cochinillo's crispy skin as it crackled between my teeth.  "Es muy rico", indeed (although Mama stands by her assessment: "no tiene sabor"). Much as we enjoyed our meal, with our bottle of bubbly, comparisons to our versions of roast pork were inevitable, and a sort of gustatory nationalism surfaced.  Just as the numerous works of masters at Museo del Prado made us want to revisit Juan Luna's "Spolarium" at our National Museum, so too did our cochinillo adventure make us want to have some of our own Pinoy-style lechon.

As luck would have it, my sister was in Cebu while we were in Spain. And she bought a few kilos of lechon Cebu to bring home to Manila.  How fortuitous it was, that she arrived at our house bearing gifts of pork, on the very evening we arrived from the airport.  The lechon we craved was right at our table. It was one warm welcome of the splendid kind. Truly, there's no place like home.