BAWAL ang asin, paminta, at kahit na anong may lasa

You know your mind is on vacation mode when you write December 2008 on all forms or documents given to you for signature and Valentines is fast approaching.  Having exercised much restraint this past Christmas from all things sinful and mouth watering I’m beginning to question whether I did the right thing at all. It certainly has infused me with a post Christmas craving for the good stuff.

Abstinence from fatty food has given me much hope, having fit snugly into my jeans from 2006, which should be reason enough to pursue this lifestyle. I remember my mom’s keen frustration over my preference for all things salty and savory and her constant nagging that I will die early, ridden with various forms of kidney ailments. I think our oatmeal dinners and our militant food portions have helped somehow.  Growing up, we have always been led to believe that all tasty food is not good for you. That any kind of taste (sweet, sour, salty bitter, etc)  and cold will ruin your body’s natural equilibrium… I KNOW! Perhaps my tastebuds have only developed in college when I would eat most meals out of the house, and was able to choose my own diet. Now that I think about it that was my heaviest time.

I would often hear our cook being reprimanded by my mom for using salt and pepper in our food. “Huwag ka na maglagay ng asin: mamamatay ka ng maaga!”  At this time there was no such thing as the food network yet where cooks would demonstrate the importance of  taste AND presentation.  When I think about it presentation wasn’t that much of a big deal either with my mother in the kitchen. I remember, as a child, when we would visit my grandmother’s house she would always make me drink water in a deep soup bowl, because only small teacups were available.  This was disconcerting for me for two reasons: the water was not cold and I felt like a dog drinking water from a deep dish.

I gained an awareness of flavourful food and festive meals, marrying into a large family. I realize mealtimes are not just meant to nourish the body, but also the spirit. Eating together was a celebration in itself, and the food, prepared delicately is a toast to that important occasion.  It is now clear to me that the celebration of eating together necessitates an explosion of the senses. From the vivid and beckoning colors of the food, to its mouthwatering aroma, the joy of one another’s company seems to enliven the taste buds. Now I understand why so much passion is essential to great cooking; the dish will lose its flavour if the ingredients are not carefully chosen, or brought together without sensory stimulation.

I actually don’t understand this whole fuss about salt.  It is actually an essential ingredient for life, in fact it has religious roots in the Bible, where God calls us men to be the “salt of the earth”.  As such, it is an important ingredient to all foods because it brings flavour and it not only sustains, but preserves life itself.  In fact, it is scientifically impossible for salt to lose its flavour. One ever wonders how, the evils of salt, came about.  I suspect it was only because people were getting too much of a good thing.  Living life without salt seems unthinkable to me now, even just a pinch of it, can hardly be called living at all, for when the food loses its flavour, then perhaps nothing worth the consequence of enjoying something can truly be savoured.

my life in shoes

I can recall the milestones in my life by enumerating my life by shoe eras.  As long as I remember I’ve only had four pairs of shoes, in my childhood.  I remember it being classified this way: school shoes (black), rubber shoes (for PE), dress shoes (literally, to go with the dress, but again, in white) and finally, formal shoes (to go with my flower girl gowns).  Every occasion would entitle a much awaited trip to SM where I would be overwhelmed with the constant buzz of shoe codes broadcasted by department store ladies into a mysterious hidden shoe reservoir.  This trip would be preceded by an analysis of whether the retiring shoes are worthy castoffs, and rugbying the front part is a lost cause

 

This uncomplicated category of shoes in my closet seemed perfectly ordinary through to my college years – with school shoes replaced by my sturdy Birkinstocks (worn with thick, sports socks) and my P.E. rubber shoes, with Keds sneakers.  My dress shoes evolved from wearing my white mary janes to penny loafers. It fit my lifestyle perfectly, especially my idealistic years of serving in the impoverished community where I taught catechism to children who could each barely afford a new pair of slippers for their feet.  My sandals and loafers were a perfect reflection of my life: uncomplicated and simple.

 

Graduation led me to venture into another type of category: heels! And here, I was surprised to find that this category was an endless portal to footwear! Having worn jeans most of my life, I was cautious to try anything beyond one inch, considering them too elegant and intimidating.  Besides I did not have the corresponding femininity to pull it off. But, being forced to wear “dressy shoes”, I would go for the low pump – in black of course, and if I were adventurous enough, sling backs were the spiffy alternative.  Another natural choice for me were boots, which covered my feet just fine and seemed to be a logical progression from loafers.  I dressed conservatively, always prioritizing comfort over aesthetics.

 

Years flew by and I was content in my newly evolved category, with of course, a few more shoes for each category, but still immune to this whole psychology between a woman and her shoes. 

 

Graduate school came and then after I landed my first adult job – brand manager for a portfolio of luxury brands.  I knew dressing carefully came with the job, by the simple fact that we were representing leading fashion brands but what opened my eyes was the role of shoes to a woman.  I dint understand it at first, having classified my shoes into neat little categories, but what amazed me was the essential component of shoes in defining femininity for a woman.

 

To explain I think it’s important to point out that I was thrust into a world where dressing is practically a religion.  An ensemble was put together from head to toe with flair and glamour, but the piece de resistance came, quite literally, down to the shoes.  It was in these twin punctuation marks that would capsulate the state of mind of this person for the day: you could gauge what their day would be like, their mood, their plans after work, and other things that I dint quite figure in between.  I was in a world where shoes dint need categories; shoes were an elevated form of expression with unending possibilities.  Shoes could make or break the person’s outfit for the day. In fact I think, retail therapy’s close cousin is shoe therapy. 

 

It astonished me that because in this culture, it’s perfectly fine to buy more than two pairs of shoes at a time.  I must admit this was a fun time for me, as I came to develop my own style and the glamorous life beckoned appealingly.  Nevertheless, I had to return to my real roots, and innate calling for education – which is why I pursued my real vocation as I was settling down.

I am now entering another chapter of my life as I pursue my calling, and my primary goal is to prepare myself for motherhood.  This time, I am being pressed by anyone motherly; to skip the heels and wear comfortable flats (probably an indication that my previous life has altered my taste in more lasting ways than I imagined). 

 

And as I voluntarily give in to this ‘requirement’ of the moment I’m beginning to realize that in life, you really do come a full circle. I’ve traded some of my painful but stunning heels to sensible flats, and I find without regret that I am back home to my simple days where teaching and simplicity ruled my life.

my little cove

 … such a hackneyed phrase but broadway has always been my sanctuary growing up. There is only the naked truth behind the music and inspiring words.  No apologies for it.

One day I will be walking the streets of broadway again and watch all those magical plays to my heart’s content!

I left my heart in NYC

it’s true

I’VE HEARD IT SAID
THAT PEOPLE COME INTO OUR LIVES FOR A REASON
BRINGING SOMETHING WE MUST LEARN
AND WE ARE LED TO THOSE
WHO HELP US MOST TO GROW
IF WE LET THEM
AND WE HELP THEM IN RETURN

as told by Glinda