It was still dark yesterday morning when the chirping birds from the big old tree by our bedroom window woke me up so I decided to stay in bed a few more minutes. While I enjoyed nature’s soothing and calming sound, I instantly became nostalgic and my mind drew back in time reminiscing my early morning experiences in my grandparent’s house many, many, years ago. I realized, I’m so far away from the Philippines. I started to miss the country, our home, the time when I was still a little girl living with my grandparents.
I miss our neighbor’s roosters, our chickens and ducks, the sound they make which wakes me up in the morning. I miss the smoke from Aling Tasing’s wood-fuelled stove every time she prepares sweet stuffs and different varieties of kakanin to sell to the market, her transistor radio tuned into the local news with volume loud enough to reach four houses, including ours.
I miss the “Oinks” of Aling Rosy’s pigs as she feed them and clean their pens before daylight. I miss Lola Kikang inspecting her burong labanos contained in giant clay jars. And although the smell that comes out of the jar each time she opens one is horrible, people were crazy with her buro, me included.
I miss the lady vendors selling pansit, suman, and other native treats. Some were selling fish, crabs, and other fresh seafood catches of the early fishermen. Others has smoked and dried fish, both my favorites, and some vegetables. These ladies amuses me with their incredible strength walking along many streets of the city carrying the huge bilao full of goodies above their heads and announcing aloud to everybody what they have for the day. I usually save money for Pansit Malabon, and ask my Lola to wake me up as soon as she hears the pansit lady coming.
Flowers are lovelier in the mornings, and the enticing and romantic scents of Ylang-Ylang, Sampaguita, and Rosal enchants me. The best garden in the neighborhood belongs to Lola Mitang which happened to be on the other side of our fence, however their side of the fence had that thorny bougainvillea in its entirety. But I loved flowers and the colorful butterflies, there's a ton of roses, cactus and exotic plants and trees in their yard and I loved seeing Lola Mitang work on her garden, so each morning, I step on some old bench, stick out my head to take a peek at this lovely sight and risk a pinch or two of bougainvillea thorns.
Soon as the sun shines brighter, I would ran my way up the bahay na tisa, our ancestral home. Entering from the bodega, a cold, and dark storage where piles of clay water jars like those used by Lola Kikang for her burong labanos were buried underneath the soil with lids and covers protruding. The bodega is where my Lolo Ado’s family stores old and wrecked furniture, and other stuff which may have sentimental but no commercial value. On one corner there’s this old metal Spanish Flagpole which adds up my horror, so I would ran as fast as I can straight to the grand staircase and wait for my Lola Goreng, my great grandmother, to walk out of the bedroom with her native wooden cane and watch her sit at the narra rocking chair by the window.
I know I would never again see old women with long hairs in a bun and dressed in baro’t saya, like Lola Kikang, Lola Mitang, and Lola Goreng, nor smell the freshest air the morning.
Great mornings…then.
I was so carried away with the memories and my mind is ready to wander a lot more when Brack entered our room, I noticed he had already taken his shower. It’s time to get up; the hustle and bustle of downtown Los Angeles awaits me.
I miss our neighbor’s roosters, our chickens and ducks, the sound they make which wakes me up in the morning. I miss the smoke from Aling Tasing’s wood-fuelled stove every time she prepares sweet stuffs and different varieties of kakanin to sell to the market, her transistor radio tuned into the local news with volume loud enough to reach four houses, including ours.
I miss the “Oinks” of Aling Rosy’s pigs as she feed them and clean their pens before daylight. I miss Lola Kikang inspecting her burong labanos contained in giant clay jars. And although the smell that comes out of the jar each time she opens one is horrible, people were crazy with her buro, me included.
I miss the lady vendors selling pansit, suman, and other native treats. Some were selling fish, crabs, and other fresh seafood catches of the early fishermen. Others has smoked and dried fish, both my favorites, and some vegetables. These ladies amuses me with their incredible strength walking along many streets of the city carrying the huge bilao full of goodies above their heads and announcing aloud to everybody what they have for the day. I usually save money for Pansit Malabon, and ask my Lola to wake me up as soon as she hears the pansit lady coming.
Flowers are lovelier in the mornings, and the enticing and romantic scents of Ylang-Ylang, Sampaguita, and Rosal enchants me. The best garden in the neighborhood belongs to Lola Mitang which happened to be on the other side of our fence, however their side of the fence had that thorny bougainvillea in its entirety. But I loved flowers and the colorful butterflies, there's a ton of roses, cactus and exotic plants and trees in their yard and I loved seeing Lola Mitang work on her garden, so each morning, I step on some old bench, stick out my head to take a peek at this lovely sight and risk a pinch or two of bougainvillea thorns.
Soon as the sun shines brighter, I would ran my way up the bahay na tisa, our ancestral home. Entering from the bodega, a cold, and dark storage where piles of clay water jars like those used by Lola Kikang for her burong labanos were buried underneath the soil with lids and covers protruding. The bodega is where my Lolo Ado’s family stores old and wrecked furniture, and other stuff which may have sentimental but no commercial value. On one corner there’s this old metal Spanish Flagpole which adds up my horror, so I would ran as fast as I can straight to the grand staircase and wait for my Lola Goreng, my great grandmother, to walk out of the bedroom with her native wooden cane and watch her sit at the narra rocking chair by the window.
I know I would never again see old women with long hairs in a bun and dressed in baro’t saya, like Lola Kikang, Lola Mitang, and Lola Goreng, nor smell the freshest air the morning.
Great mornings…then.
I was so carried away with the memories and my mind is ready to wander a lot more when Brack entered our room, I noticed he had already taken his shower. It’s time to get up; the hustle and bustle of downtown Los Angeles awaits me.
Foreign words used:
Ale or Aling – a polite word used/placed before the name of older women
Kakanin – varieties of native treat, usually taken during breakfast or snack
Burong labanos – preserved radish in white liquid juice
Pansit – Philippine noodles
Kakanin – varieties of native treat, usually taken during breakfast or snack
Burong labanos – preserved radish in white liquid juice
Pansit – Philippine noodles
Pansit Malabon - noodles prepared as in style of people from Malabon, a town in Cavite
Suman – rice cake rolled and wrapped in banana or coconut leaves
Bilao - a huge and deep round or oval tray made of thick bamboo skins
Suman – rice cake rolled and wrapped in banana or coconut leaves
Bilao - a huge and deep round or oval tray made of thick bamboo skins
Lola – tagalog word for grandmother
Lolo – tagalog word for grandfather
Lolo – tagalog word for grandfather
Bodega - storage
Rosal – a white Philippine version of rose
Bahay na tisa – house of clay-tile roof
Baro’t saya – Philippine National Costume for women
Rosal – a white Philippine version of rose
Bahay na tisa – house of clay-tile roof
Baro’t saya – Philippine National Costume for women
