Our Whirlwind In A Tempest

Manila Trip - Day 2
(June 5, Friday)

168

The kids are exhausted. The air of this teeming capital city doesn't quite agree with them, and they are lethargic the next morning. We leave them watching TV at the penthouse of my mom's family's apartment complex in Sampaloc with an equally lethargic Yaya Rose, hoping the idiot box would keep occupied them until we return.

The four of us: Atch, Inday, Sam, Nat, and I head off to 168 in Divisoria, part of our itinerary to acquire as many material possessions as possible without spending a great deal of money. Ah, the wonder of mass-produced China goods!


The sky continues to weep intermittently, like an aging widow remembering her dead. I haven't been here in nearly a decade, and I do some double takes at some of the transformations. The snot-inducing smog hasn't changed much however, and we breathe it all in courtesy of crowded public transportation. I despair that my hair will never be the same again.

We scatter like chaff in the wind at 168, greedy eyes and hands reaching for items sold at half-price. Embroidered throw pillow covers, 3 for 100pesos. School shoes, 200pesos. We haggle and acquire in a frenzy. We only have half a day, after all.

Atch and I get into a fight at one of the shoe stalls, and I head off in a huff, pushing into the thick crowd of bargain hunters, picking up socks, underwear and school supplies for the kids, while employing my sharp glances and even sharper elbows into the competitive fray. I am a more productive haggler when I'm mad, it seems.


Hunger reunites us at the top floor's food court, our earlier argument forgotten, and we lunch on fast food - typical gastronomic fare for the perpetually in-a-rush. By the time we leave the mall, the sky has let out its pent-up torrent of grief, and we make a run in the downpour, squelching ourselves into a near-to-bursting jeepney. In this city, the transportation doesn't wait around for you. Its a chase-or-be-cast-off world.

The First Time

Manila Trip - Day 1
(June 4, Thursday)

The First Time is always one of the most fascinating things to observe. The eyes light up with wonder, and the mouth drops down to gape. A gulp or two, maybe. And sometimes a moment of introspection (is this for real?)

I am so caught up in this observation that I plumb forget to take pictures of Woog and Yaya Rose as they spider-money up the windows of the taxi, craning their necks to behold the glorious skyscrapers of Makati.


Whoah! Says Woog.

Grabe, taas-taas ba!* Says Yaya Rose.

Atch is up front, chatting with the cab driver. Eli is fussing in my lap and longing for his siesta, wondrous city sights notwithstanding. The slight drizzle fogs up the windows, and the goggle-eyed duo on either side of me climb up the windows even more.

We are headed for Eric's family's condo unit at Prince Towers for a long-needed nap. In the taxi behind us is his wife Nat, plus Inday and Sam, who are trying to restrain an equally nap-deprived Ia from throwing a tantrum.

We reach the condo in due course, despite the heavy traffic, and the kids fling themselves into the beds, Yaya Rose included. It seems riding an elevator to vertigo-inducing heights, and viewing the whole city from the umpteenth floor

Whoah! Says Woog.

Grabe, taas-taas ba!* Says Yaya Rose.

is worthy of a whole body bed slam.

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* Wow! So tall!


Atch is impatient to scratch an itch. The years of his fast-paced Makati life are hopping lively back into his head, and he is pulling me off one of the beds. C'mon, he urges the heavy-lidded Inday and Sam, let's go and take a walk.

Translation: I want to relive my glory days. Now, now!

We leave pregnant Nat in charge of the napping kids and head off to the heart of Manila's business district, Atch marching in the lead of three lethargic and siesta-deprived adults.

A few leg-achey hours later, we all meet up at Glorietta 1 where their Auntie Nat has taken the kids for a romp in the rubber-floored central playground. Woog is hanging upside-down from the monkey bars, in animated "conversation" with another boy, despite the dialect-gap. Eli is running up a slide, the wrong way. And Ia it seems, is teleporting herself everywhere.


We have poured five bottles of overpriced mineral water down their throats to prevent dehydration when the inevitable happens: Woog's head connects with some little girl's front teeth. Both youngsters run off to their respective parents in barely suppressed tears, holding on to their offended body parts.

Fiasco over, we herd the kids to the Landmark basement food court for dinner, where Eli gleefully practices his new-found artistic talent onto the floor with pieces of squashed burger steak and a good deal of gravy.

Maiden Flight

Manila trip - Day 1

Woog knows his dinosaurs. His particular favorites are brachiosaurs, diplodocuses, and brontosaurs - those huge lumbering long-necked lizards that lived millions of years before his own father ever thought of depositing the sperm cell that eventually formed half of him.

Woog emulates these favorite dinosaurs even as the plane taxies off into the runway. He and Yaya Rose crane their necks out the window as the whole world tilts at an uneven angle. If human necks could get any longer, theirs does the day of their first plane ride: June 4. Woog's 7th birthday. What better present can a boy and his nanny get?

Trying to believe his eyes

As the houses and trees depreciate into miniature structures down below and the clouds rush pass their faces, Woog trumpets his glee, the sing-song whoop spiraling up from his elongated throat to emerge shrilly out his mouth, only to reverberate in a pressurized cabin where a couple of hundred other people share limited air space. As one, his fellow passengers stretch their necks like a herd of grazing dinosaurs searching for the source of the sound.

The absurdity of imagining dinosaurs on a plane thousands of feet up in the air strikes Woog's mother as funny, and she takes a dozen shots of the first-time flyers who are straining against their seatbelts in excitement.

Yaya, are you going to be sick?

Eventually, one other starts to protest the papparazo invasion before attempting to escape his own restraints.

Fortunately, a stick of spearmint gum placates him, and his mother doesn't even scold when he swallows the whole wad after chewing. The window is beyond his line of sight, you see, and he is enjoying his maiden flight as only a two-year-old can.



Nine people land an hour after their scheduled time of arrival, having dipped and shimmied in the overcast sky, waiting for air traffic to clear before touching terra firma. The kids battle their midday hunger pangs at the airport by ganging up on each other until their irritable parents pull them away by their ears, or separate them with firm taps to their bottoms.

Finally, after the confusion of looking for and finding the car and driver sent by a cousin, six hungry adults and three hungry kids pile into a pick-up that seats four people (Atch spends the drizzling journey out in the truck bed, bedecked in a raincoat and umbrella). After the typical speed -crawl that one can only find on Manila streets, everyone finally settles down to a lovely meal that is summarily devoured without much fanfare, expense notwithstanding.

Chomping our way through The Aristocrat, Roxas Boulevard

Happy Birthday, Woogie! Welcome to Manila!

Speeding Through Time, Heels Digging In

It is June. Woog's 7th birthday. Where did my baby go? Where did the summer go? The rain is pelting down on the roof, and the sun is making its requisite weak effort. Mano a mano, neither the one giving in.

We wake up early today, the darkness permeating our tiny room. Even Woog, for whom sleep is infinitely preferable to food. The boys are excited to be getting on a plane for the first time. We are heading for Manila today, with cheap promo tickets bought online the month before. Our birthday presents for Woog, who is 7 toady, and Eli, who will turn 3 in July. And for Yaya Rose, who turned 19 last month.

It is June. In a week, my gapped-tooth older boy will be in first grade. The years are speeding by (oh be still, my racing heart), and I haven't the foggiest idea of how to slow them down.

I console myself by thinking of the month that has passed, and the many highlights that seem like mere flashes in my consciousness. Events that have made me, in equal parts, laugh and fume:

My Tatay, after gurgling half a case of beer with his brother, Ninoy Toto and my Atch, then attempting to turn off the overhead lights with the tv remote control.

Samantha, the Indian neighbor kid, slamming in and out of our apartment with impunity , and raiding the refrigerator while complaining of hunger. The things people need to teach their kids. I ought to have a few words with her mother.

Yaya Rose, coming home tearfully after a vacation. Her father refuses to let us send her to school. He prefers to pay for her tuition himself in their small pastoral community school in the hinterlands. When he can't even manage to put enough food on his family's table. When he is possessed of such small-minded maliciousness that makes us want to chew him up and spit him out.

The kids, building a castle out of Debbie-Does-Dallas and other Playboy Playmate video tapes that my uncle has sent over from the States. My uncle emails my father: you can watch these now you're a retiree. Tatay doesn't mention that VHS machines have become obsolete.

It is June. Woog is 7. That magic age, the beginning of the end of his wonder years. I look forward to the future with mixed emotions.....