Market Day With Mum

March 1, 2010

I used to hate going to the market, particularly the wet market. When I was little, I used to go to the wet and dry market with Mum downtown to buy meat, fish, fresh fruits and vegetables good for a week’s consumption. I can’t remember now whether she dragged me with her to the market or I went with her just because I was bored. Either way, I hated going to the market.

I didn’t like the smell of wet markets. It made me kinda dizzy, the smell of newly slaughtered cow or chicken or pig with their flesh precisely chopped into choice cuts; the smell of newly caught fish and other seafood that sometimes are still writhing on the vendor’s table, hanging on to dear life. I didn’t like how the smell stuck to your clothes, and you went home smelling like fresh meat. I didn’t like combing through wet markets because the uneven flooring, the gaps which were sometimes only bridged by flimsy wood boards, and the slippery surface made walking without slipping difficult. It didn’t help if there were a lot of people accidentally bumping into you or poking your ribs with their elbows.

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Childhood Noms

December 11, 2009

Ever associate a particular food or drink with your childhood? Like every time you eat or drink it or even just see it or remember it takes you back to your childhood in a high-speed time machine? Some foods do that to me. Some of them I haven’t tasted in a long time, but I can still remember their textures and how they tasted. We Filipinos love to eat. Aside from the usual three big meals a day, there’s always merienda  in the morning and in the afternoon, and sometimes even a midnight snack for the late sleepers or insomniacs.

When I was in grade school, my parents and I lived in a small, close-knit compound. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age. We played a lot, almost every day. My playmates and I were loyal customers of Aling Anding’s sari-sari store, feasting on salty chips or on cavity-causing candies and chocolates. Sari-sari stores are basically small mom-and-pop retail stores. You can buy anything from junk food to canned goods to laundry bar soaps to cigarettes. You name it, they sell it. You can even have a beer or two as long as there is something to sit on just outside of it. Some of the kinder owners even allow credit or what is more popularly known as utang or lista in Filipino. (more…)

Perya

December 9, 2009

Last time I’ve been to our ancestral home in Ilocos was in 2005. For the longest time, I’ve been wanting to go back there and have an epic trip down memory lane. When we were kids, summer vacations were almost always spent there. My paternal cousins and I were very close, as our ages are almost the same, add or subtract a couple of years or so. There was always the padasal for our dead grandparents and great grandparents. There was always the trip to the beach. There was always the trip to the family farm. There was always the visit to other relatives’ houses.

One of the fond memories that my female cousins and I still laugh at up to this day is our trip to the town’s perya. During town fiestas, the perya was always present anywhere you go in the country. It’s basically a carnival, Filipino style. We usually go at night, much to our parents’ disapproval. In Ilocos, the perya was just walking distance from the ancestral home, so we egged on our parents to let us go.

Cotton candy and popcorn were always sold at peryas. I also remember those betting games where we, especially my male cousins, would participate in, loose change in hand that were squeezed out of our parents’ pockets. You could win your money back and more or all sorts or things like a cheap stuffed toy or junk food or even plates. I never had luck in gambling. I always lost when I try my luck on these games, while my male cousins would go home, pockets heavy from the coins they’ve won. (more…)