Chillin'

MyFotoForToday
Jan. 7, 2009


These kids slipped into the egg chiller in one of the stores in Saipan unnoticed by their mom who was busy doing last minute shopping on New Year's Eve.

I flunked culinary class!

So what’s new with that? I have never been at home in the kitchen, whether to eat or to cook. I mean I’m not a hearty eater (ever hear of the phrase I eat for survival?) I cook for survival too. Living alone for as long as I can remember has its effects and one of those is developing the habit to buy ready to eat or order from a fastfood whenever hunger strikes. Which is not very often in my case. The best and must-not-meal for me is dinner. Breakfast and lunch I can go without, but not dinner.

Anyways, I signed up for a culinary class for overseas Filipino workers at the OWWA office in Susupe a couple of months ago with 'ranch-mates' Junhan, Raymond, Tita Lits and Terri. What never occurred to me was that the classes would require five Saturday afternoons because if I did, I would have relegated my slot to somebody else. I know I just don’t have 5 consecutive Saturday afternoons free.

We missed the first session which was soup making. The second first session was into Japanese cuisine. Haha when I came into the class I felt I flunked right away. Everybody had an apron and a head gear or hair net. It never even occured to me to get one huhu.

Not a big fan of Japanese food myself (or any other cuisine in that matter) I just observed as Hermie the instructor whipped up sushi and all those rolled Japanesy-foods which I always thought comes in ready made packages.

I kept notes but now I can’t even read what I wrote. If I give it to a pharmacist Im sure I will be given prescription medicines. Tasting time proves rewarding for everybody else except for me.

On our second (and my last alas) session we were into pasta making. Alas, I never cared that much for pasta. I eat them but I can't or wouldn't die for pasta. We were taught how to whip up red and white sauce, spaghetti, soba, and the whole noodle family. I just sat on a corner feeling so drowsy for five hours of staying in one room (*ewww you don’t know how hard that was) The fourth Saturday I had to be on Tinian to cover the Poker tournament at the Tinian Dynasty Casino, so another absent.

Funny but I took more photos of my classmates and of the food and ingredients than what my mind absorbed. I still find it still easier to just point what you want and leave the messy job of food preparation to the expert chefs in the kitchen. I was a misfit in the kitchen. Maybe I was thinking of photography class afterall when I submitted my application form.

The graduation was last Saturday. Only Junhan and Teri were able to make it. We three flunked the classes because we had more than two absences.

Somehow there are some people who could never be at home in the kitchen and I am one of them. My sis and my brod took that talent when I was away and only two were given to each family I guess…

What I would have wanted to join though was the bread baking and cake decorating classes. That im sure I wouldn’t feel drowsy but the list is long and the next classes may be held next year yet.

Maybe I will just have to content myself with taking photos of food, not preparing them.

Let there be light...and there was no CUC

Welcome to Saipan…bring your flashlights.

9:20 p.m. I have an hour and 40 minutes before the lights will go out (again? Yes, again and again and again!) and I will have to grope my way around to my bed and summon all my forces to fall asleep. 2 a.m. is a long way off and If you are a nocturnal being like me, you could understand the torture I go through every night. Or until the Commonwealth Utilities Corp. change the schedule next week.

I mean power outages is nothing new in this island. We have tasted power outages at all shifts but this 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. has been my biggest problem so far. It leaves me with no choice but to grope my way toward the bed guided only by the blurry light from my cellphone.

I prefer the darkness of my room because I can not bear to light a candle. It’s been over three months since I suffered the biggest blow in my life but I can’t even look at a lighted candle without breaking down. It just digs up the pain that I had been bottling and forcing to bury inside me. Enough about the subject of candles, tears are threatening to fall.

The continued power outages on Saipan is nothing new and everybody’s suffering from it. Since my two housemates left, I have learned to monitor the load shedding schedule CUC publishes in the paper every Friday. I mean it’s actually useless because CUC never follows its load shedding schedule anyway. The power just goes off anytime.

I was rushing toward the Attorney General’s Office after a press conference at the public safety on Thursday, skirting the puddles of water on the way, but with three minutes left to be on time for an interview with Atty. Ed Buckingham, I was not successful in totally preventing the heels of my sandals from sinking in the muddy portions. I was directed to go straight to a room where Atty. Ed was waiting, and had to hesitate in the doorway.

The room was engulfed in darkness and I was sure I had come to a closet or a darkroom. I was about to back out when a figure turned around. Atty. Ed was working on his laptop using miner’s flashlight attached to his forehead. What a way to work. At the Justice building on Monday, court proceedings were suspended and the hallways were filled with a mix of lawyers, clients and court staff fanning themselves to survive the heat. The court needs at least 50 gallons of gas an hour for the generators to run and the court’s dwindling budget can’t afford to pay for gasoline.

Oppsss, gotta grab some dinner before the lights go out. I don’t fancy groping my way in the kitchen. I've got a flashlight bought for $1 at a garage but I have to buy batteries yet.

Time off

The gentle rocking of the yacht and the cool breeze blowing is making me drowsy, not minding the noise and laughter my companions are making as they drowned bottle after bottle of wine in rapid succession.
We were in a cove in the Rock Islands and I was sprawled at the helm of the “Great White”, a yacht owned by Sam’s Tours, one of the leading dive operators in Koror. I had just photographed one of the best sunsets I ever saw, with the big red sun slowly setting over the horizon and splashing hues of reds, orange and vermilion over the darkening sky.

We were a few miles off the shores of the Palau Pacific Resort where a welcome party was in progress. Big waves started to roll in, prompting our yacht operator to head for some place where we can simply relax without feeling nauseous.
After finding a comfortable cove between two smaller islands, we dropped anchor and the party began.

Minutes later, a semi-full moon bathed the surrounding with a soothing glow, making the trees in the islands around us look like eerie figures that I almost imagined one of them will jump at us any moment.
This was the first activity of the yachting club and I grabbed the chance to join although I am not a member.
For the past year and four months, Wednesday nights had always been the busiest time for me and ex-Sunstar layouter Celina because that’s our newspaper deadline and we have to stay by until the last page is ready to go to the printing press.
Although we are a weekly newspapers, the manana habit rules, making us delay writing until Wednesday morning and by then that is too late.

The appointment of a new editor from Saipan lifted much of the burden of closing the pages from my shoulders. I was finished at 2 p.m. and was free to go with editor Fermin’s permission.
“Just keep your cellphone on all the time,” he warned before I and co-reporter Junhan dashed off.

I was in a trance-like state, half-awake and half asleep when three cubes of ice landed on my head and my feet. I jerked alert and discovered that my companions (Americans and a few Palauans) were engaged in an ice cube battle. They were getting noisier as the night went deeper. We were supposed to be home by 11 p.m. but from the looks of things, nobody was thinking of going yet. I was already shivering in my thin shirt when I heard the engine of another boat coming towards us. More people were joining the party and as we didn’t drink or smoke, we were starting to feel out of place. Luckily the boat operator had to go back to shore after dumping his passengers into the Great White so we grabbed the chance to go ahead of the others.
So much for the time off, it was time to go home but it was worth it.

The ultimate Balinese experience

She was a small lady, weighing maybe a little over 90 lbs and I looked her over, lingering on her hands while wondering if she can handle the job she was hired for.
I was inside one of the “Whisper Zone” rooms of the Mandara Spa at the Palau Pacific Resort (PPR) to have a taste of the free Balinese massage offered by the spa director, and was greeted by this small Indonesian whom I mistook for a Filipina.

I wondered how she would have fared if a 300-pound Palauan customer comes in for a massage, and it’s not unusual to find one because most of the Palauans are huge.

“Welcome to Elilei Mandara Spa ma’am. I’m Marge, your masseuse for the evening. If you will kindly step this way and take off your clothes….” she recited in a halting English.
I stepped over to the next room where I took off all my clothes and was given a a disposable underwear and piece of printed “kukur” cloth (kukurtinahin) to wrap around my body.

Marge led me to an immaculate elevated bed and instructed to me lie face down where a pleasant aroma of herbs and incense wafted straight to my face. It smelled of warm woods, lush tropical foliage and aromatic oil permeating the air that I felt as if I were in a private garden.

Marge rubbed some sort of ointment all over my body and pressed my ankle. I was startled at the strength she possessed. The pressure of her hand was firm as she started to apply the Balinese massage, making stretching, long strokes from my feet up to my hands and to my back, kneading and rolling my skin, applying thumb pressure techniques that I felt I were a dough readied for baking but it felt heavenly.

One thing Marge didn’t know was that I had a very hard time trying not to jump up and run from the bed at the beginning. I didn’t tell her I was ticklish in almost all parts of my body. I tried to think of other things like deadlines and the elusive business man I have to interview for my business profile and the huge pile of laundry in my hamper in order not to divert my attention.

I won the battle and before long, I was already feeling relaxed as I gave in to the professional ministrations of Marge’s skilled hands, feeling my tension evaporate as I breathed in the tropical aromas.

I got the invitation to sample one of Mandara’s services from the Mandara Spa director at the PPR, Dharsana Matratanaya and I did not refuse the invitation because I have always been curious about it going to one before although I classified the word “spa” as an expensive luxury that is way beyond my budget.
“It’s not just about having a treatment, it’s a total experience that involves all of the senses,” says Matratanaya, who turned me over to Marge after our brief chat.

Maybe next time I will go for the the ultimate in massage treatments, the Mandara Massage which is a unique blend of five different massage styles – Japanese Shiatsu, Thai, Hawaiian Lomi Lomi, Swedish and Balinese to be done by two therapists working together in rhythmic harmony perform the spa’s signature treatment.
Yeah, maybe soon, and soon is I have no idea when unless I win the jackpot prize in the sweepstakes. But first I need to start buying tickets.

Gunfire!

In an island where guns are strictly prohibited and policemen are not seen carrying them, hearing a gunshot is a remote possibility and a remarkable event. The law is very strict about it, and anyone caught under possession of even just a bullet or an empty shell could mean 15 years imprisonment.

Before coming to this island of Palau, I had visions of joining regular shooting practices and tournaments so that by the time I would come back to Davao I could compete with the other journalists here who are sharp shooters. I envisioned long stretches of empty spaces with world-class shooting ranges but one year of staying here I was yet to see a real gun. That was remedied when I bravely asked a policeman if they ever carry guns around, and if I may see one. He looked at me long and hard before finally saying yes. He went to the police car and fished out a shining .38 caliber from the compartment, then took it back as if he was afraid I would snatch it from him.

The nearest sound to a gunshot one hears here would be the explosion of a car tire but that too, is not common. Palauans tend to change tires without waiting for them to “retire”. It’s funny but if you hear a car tire explode, that car for sure belongs to a Filipino because if it’s possible to put scotch tape or glue, they’ll do it to save dollars (including me). Palauans also do not buy second hand tires and service station attendants are finding a lucrative business reselling tires to Filipinos at $15-20 each.

But back to guns, our target.
A couple of weeks ago, the Senate president of Palau who happened to be the brother of my boss died in a fishing accident. At the funeral, the late senator was honored by a 21-gun salute. Seven policemen carried M-16 and garand rifles, and that was the first time I saw long guns here. They looked shiny as though they are framed inside cabinets with no intention of using. It was a big event for the locals!
Growing up in a “gun-infested” area in North Cotabato, the sight of guns and the sound of gunshots is nothing new. As early as grade four I have learned to distinguish a shot that missed its target, or a shot at close range. (This would be followed by piercing screams from the family of the victim).

The seven police officers took their posts and prepared to fire. At the command, each police officer pulled the trigger. At the first batch of gun burst, people near the shooting area were visibly shocked. Glasses and other objects fell to the ground as the people clapped their hands to their ears and braced themselves for the second and the third batch of gunfire. I couldn’t help but wonder if these people knew how fortunate they are that their place is relatively peaceful. The kids here are fortunate because they never knew what it is to live in nervous anticipation when or where the next round of gunfire will come from, or master the art of automatically dropping to the ground during an explosion. Lucky islanders.

Uniquely Palau

A few days ago I chanced upon an old file in a compact disk where I listed things that makes Davao unique from any other city...and the idea came up to make a list of things that will give you a glimpse of things unique in this island. This is not to offend the Palauans or the islanders but here are a few observations I had for the past year:

*Kids’ necks and faces sticking outside of car windows without the fear of any danger is a very common sight. In fact, it looks as natural as if it’s a car accessory.

*Drivers stop their cars in the middle of the road when they see an acquaintance on the street (or another driver from an oncoming vehicle) and chat with each other while other motorists wait patiently behind.

*Stray dogs in the villages (hamlets) come in hordes. I walked in a neighboring street one morning not too long ago. One dog barked at me. In two minutes flat, there seemed to be a hundred dogs of all sizes and colors barking a few inches from me. I walked on air in pure terror. Had one of them took a chance to bite me, nothing but scraps would have been left of me.

*Overtaking is looked upon as a “crime”. Try speeding up more than the recommended speed (considered slower than those in the slowest lane in the Philippines) and expect the wailing siren from a police car to tag you down.

*The weather is so unpredictable. You wake up to a very hot morning and wear light clothes. Five minutes later it is raining sleets. After a few minutes, then the sun comes out and you would never guess it ever rained.

*You can meet the president, senators, congressmen or governors alone on the street without bodyguards.

*Electoral candidates go out by themselves and stand in the street waving placards to vote for them to passing cars.

*The sight of a pair of shoes tied with together dangling from electric wires in the middle of the streets is common. I still wonder at the time and skill used by the pranksters to throw it there.

*You can’t see guns anywhere, even the policemen rarely carry one.

*Food servings are so huge that for me, a serving is enough for three meals.

*It’s common to see groups of men sitting in waiting sheds, coffee shops and other hangouts swapping fishing tales while women tend the taro patch (gabi plantation). The men fish for living, but it’s the women’s job to tend the farm. Women who can’t grow up their own taro patch are looked down.

*Leave your cars on the street for sometime and better bid goodbye to it forever. (Last week, a Pinoy’s car broke down in the bridge and he went to get help. When he came back a few minutes later, help was no longer necessary. His car was already burned. When you leave your car unattended on a street, here’s the scenario: First day- all four tires stabbed flat. 2nd day- all windshields and mirrors smashed. 3rd day- burned to a crisp.

*Obesity in a woman is a status symbol. The fatter the women are, the higher the prestige her husband will have in the community as a good provider, and “bilbil” is not considered as flabs. It called “love handles”.

*It’s hard to hide in Palau. Somebody is always bound to see you wherever you go. Everybody knows everybody, and they know where you are based on your car or slippers!

*The locals are made of sterner stuff. They don’t seem to get sick from common cold, cough and other seasonal epidemic. They are not afraid of the scorching sun (and the sun here IS very painfully hot compared to the Philippines) or of sudden rains. You can’t see them running for shelter when rains come.

Palauans hold countless custom parties like first bath, house parties and others where even the “seniorist citizens” join in till the sun rises. They chew betel nuts regularly. They eat a lot and dance gracefully, even the oldest and the fattest women’s bodies sway gracefully and when they feel the urge to dance, they don’t care where they are. One final observation- Palauans are cheerful, happy people.

Oh-one more observation. There’s no need for you to get numbers at the baggage section in stores. Just leave your packages and it will still be there when you come back. If you left wallets and valuables, it will remain safe ---unless a Filipino passes by! (sad thought!)