Travelin' Lite

  

This year, I have decided to travel light.  That’s really good news for my husband who has always said he feels like a donkey carrying all the baggage when we go on trips. But he is not off the hook yet.  I did not mean it literally. 

What I am doing is shedding.  Like coming home to a warm house after a long walk on a cold, frosty morning and removing the layers of clothing.  First the hat, then the scarf, followed by the gloves, that heavy, wet coat and lastly those cumbersome boots. 

I’m doing the shedding in stages as well.   

First to go are the things which cause pain.  Like the tight-fitting jeans that I put on with my face scrounged in pain as I contort my body into them. It’s time to get those senior-friendly versions with the elastic waistband. 

Much as I am letting go of those figure-hugging clothes of the size 34 I used to be; in the autumn of my life, I choose to be with the people who make me breathe. And smile. Friends far or near who I know I can count on for solace.  With whom I feel safe.  And with whom I am comfortable enough to share a dirty joke or a bitchy remark without fear of judgement. Never feeling needlessly exposed and vulnerable. Accepted for being just me.  

Next to go are the responsibilities I have taken on for myself.  Yes, tasks I have volunteered for or even created for myself.  I liked to say that I bloom where I am planted. I am now rooted to the ground.  There is no longer any need to reinvent myself with every move. No longer any need to prove that I am more than just another lady with time on her hands - available and capable!   Need someone to organize the church group? Here I am.  Need reading support for the class?  Here I am.  Need someone to edit the newsletter?  Here I am.

I can finally put my hand down. 

 I have (at long last!) realized that I just do not have that kind of energy anymore.  Because the years do take their toll.  And the person who has always been supportive of all my grand schemes and dreams has gotten old too.  My donkey’s back can no longer drag crates of beer and shopping bags full of groceries from the supermarket to the car, from the car to the basement and back up again for the events that I have organized. It is time for younger, fitter beasts of burden to takeover that task. 

Next to go are the I-have-to’s.  I’ve come to a point in my life where I can actually afford to ask myself – Do you have to?                                                               And that reply should be – Only if you want to.   

I am taking my time with this unburdening.  Every decision has to be made with care.  Specially if it affects others.  And it nearly always does.  Because none of us live on an island isolated from the rest of the world.  Life is so interconnected that when you let go of one thing, you can almost hear and feel the dominoes as they fall down the line. Yes, some things will take longer to let go of.  Maybe even not at all.

 The crucial question now is: what do I want to carry as I travel through these last years of my life?  

The simple answer is:  Only who and what really matters.  

This is such a quick, tasty dish to make. Perfect for the Fridays of Lent!

Chili Prawns

500 grams fresh, peeled and deveined prawns or shrimps (frozen ones are just as good as fresh!)

2 tbsp. cooking oil (not olive oil)

1 tbsp corn starch diluted in ¼ cup water

Pound or blend :

·      2 red chilies ( 1 if you like it less spicy)

·      1 big piece of garlic

·       thumb size ginger

In a separate bowl, mix :

·      1 tbsp. sesame oil,

·      a pinch of salt

·      1 tbsp sugar

·      2 tbsp tomato paste

Procedure :  Heat the oil in a pan, add in the pounded ingredients.  Saute till fragrant. Stir in the prawns. Cook for a couple minutes until the prawns turn pink, making sure they are coated with the spices.  Pour in the sesame oil and tomato mix. Blend well.  Taste to see if it needs any more salt or sugar.  Thicken with the corn flour mixture. Stir every thing once again.  Quickly turn the heat off. Do not overcook the shrimps.

Serve topped with a few coriander leaves or some sliced spring onions.

Family or party stretcher :  You can also cook a few hard boiled eggs, peel them, cut them in half and lay them on the bottom of a serving dish and pour the Chili Prawns over them.

If I had had a crystal ball.....

As I sat on the stage clad in a makeshift black and gold cape, posing with nearly 80 of the 120 girls who graduated high school with me in 1969, I had to take a deep breath and control the flood of tears which I knew was beginning to swell from the pit of my belly.  No, they were not tears of sadness.  They were of joy.  Of being right there in the midst of the women whom I had known from my childhood.  Each of us with a story to tell.  A story of love, of loss, of disappointments as well as triumphs.  Perhaps not of Olympic proportions but monumental in our own little worlds.

As I looked at the faces around me, I recognized in each one of us dressed in that glittering polyester outfit, sporting wide smiles for the camera - a survivor. 

Perhaps survivor is too dramatic a word.  It was, after all, a highly emotionally-charged  moment.  Resilient is really more appropriate.  Because not many of us knew at 16 that we were stronger than we had given ourselves credit for. I know with certainty that I did not. Perhaps I could have been a more confident teenager had I known, saving myself from all that angst. But I didn’t. 

1969 was a year of great expectations.  It was the year Neil Armstrong made a giant leap for mankind; flower power exploded into a gigantic party called Woodstock; Ferdinand Marcos was reelected for a 2^nd term; another Filipina, Gloria Diaz was crowned Miss Universe; the Cultural Center of the Philippines opened its doors for the first time.  Yes, the moon was on its seventh house! 

If I had had a crystal ball, maybe I would have been more assertive. I would have raised my hand more often in class. Studied harder (oops… Maybe not).  Dared to do more in the age of Aquarius.  Just think of all those missed opportunities, so many I-could-have-done’s but didn’t do. 

But would I still be me? The person I am today. 

I like to think that the person looking at me from the mirror is a reflection of all the accumulated fears, self-doubts and epiphanies of that 16-year-old girl.  Not knowing what the future held, meant that I, like every single one of the women with me on that stage, had to learn to do with what I had been given.

With my mother working day and night at our pharmacy, I learned to managed a household.  To create meals for the family from whatever was in the cupboards. Watching those TWA commercials (Up, up and Awaaay!), I wanted desperately to travel the world or become an exchange student to the USA or to Europe like many of my classmates. But that was not within my parent’s budget.  So, I applied to become a flight stewardess – too short.  Then I tried out for an international dance group – can’t dance.  My soulful moves were not quite ballet!  Eventually, I settled for a summer travel program and then joined a local student travel organization which took me to Marawi, in Mindanao, the Southern part of my country.  The process, allowing me to realize that there are many roads to travel and many ways of getting there.

If I had had that crystal ball, I would not have had that most wonderful surprise of my life. Meeting my husband Louis. At 16, hopelessly in love with Captain Kirk of the Star Ship Enterprise, I would never have guessed that I would meet a blue-eyed Dutchman in the living room of a friend’s house in Makati.  Marry him at 21 and leave my childhood home and friends for a life of many unknowns. Many new frontiers.

Now, as I sit in my dining room in Holland writing this blog, I look back at the 50 years since we were last on that same podium.  Not in the bold colors of gold and black but in the innocence and purity of our white high school graduation caps and gowns.  Yes, we have all come a long way.  No longer wide-eyed and naïve, but women seasoned by time and experience.  Blessed with the knowledge that in spite of all the years apart, we have always had our friendships to fall back on and carry with us.

Today, I not only understand, but truly appreciate why looking through a crystal ball would not have guaranteed a happily ever after. There are choices I wish I had not made or had done differently.  There are roads which should been left untraveled.  But, here I am.  The sum of all of the above. Scarred but not beaten.

Why do we want to know what the future will bring?

Isn’t it better to just live each day as it comes?  Welcoming each sunrise. And as the sun sets, looking forward to whatever tomorrow has in store. 
Borrowing a phrase from the kids of today...bring it on!

 

One of my favorite Indonesian snacks or side dish to a meal is fried tempeh with peanuts.  Tempeh or tempe is a traditional Indonesian soy product that is made from fermented soybeans. It is a natural product made through a controlled fermentation process that binds soybeans into a cake form. 

I have never been able to recreate the ones we used to have when we lived in Jakarta but this recipe comes very close.  The sweet-salty combination and the crunchy peanuts make it a wonderful meat substitute. And the best part is that my grandchildren think they’re delicious! 

Fried Tempe with Sweet Soy Sauce and Peanuts

 

 Ingredients :

500 gm. tempe, sliced into about ¼ inch strips

2 pcs. Garlic

3 -4 shallots or 1 small white or red onion

2 -3 tbsp. sambal badjak  (sweet sambal)  or sambal oelek (saltier version)

2 -3 tbsp.  kecap manis (sweet Indonesian soy sauce)

2 -3 tbsp brown sugar

1 tbsp. lemon or lime juice

1 lemon grass, bruised (optional)

1 cup of plain roasted, salted or unsalted peanuts

oil for frying

Preparation :

        1.  Grind the garlic and onion/shallots in a mortar or use an electric grinder.  I use the latter because it is just so much easier!!

2.    Heat the oil.  Deep fry the tempe until golden brown. Do this in small portions so that you do not use too much oil.  Set the cooked tempe aside on paper towels to drain off any excess fat.

3.    Leave about 3 tbsp of oil in the frying.  Saute the garlic and onion mix for a minute or so and then add the sambal oelek (if you don’t like it to be too sweet) or sambal badjak (my family’s choice of sambal).  Put in the lemon grass if you have one.  Mix well.

4.    Pour in the kecap manis.  And then the lemon juice, blend well into mixture. 

5.    Add the peanuts

6.    Lastly, toss in the fried tempe.  Combine all until they are all coated with the kecap-sambal mixture.

Serve hot immediately or at room temperature.  It tastes better after a couple of hours as it gives the tempe time to soak up all the flavors and spices.

It can be kept in the fridge for a week (if it lasts that long). Microwave or allow to cool to room temperature, serve as a side dish or a snack.

Where is home?

From the day I left Manila four and half decades ago, my dream had always been of coming back home again. Home to my mother and father, my siblings, the girls from school I grew up with, all the familiar smells, tastes and sounds of the place of my birth.

Today, my parents are gone. My siblings have gotten married and have started their own families.  My girlfriends have done the same, many of them moving to other countries as well.  Each and every person in my place called home has moved on.  Maybe just down the road or all the way across the globe.  But home is no longer what I had envisioned it to be.

So, where is home?

It is no longer the house my father built in Marikina. Sure, the mezzanine where the beige rotary dial phone used to be, is still there. The phone has gone many years ago to a trash heap.  Replaced by more modern cellular devices. But I can still see myself huddled in that corner by the window, in the wee hours of the morning, talking to my best friend, trying to contain the excitement in my voice as I describe the boy who asked me to dance and then asked for my number. So many hours of my life spent in that one spot   - laughing, crying, dreaming.

There are but a few traces of life as I knew it then.  The memories remain though. And the feelings that come with the flood of memories is overwhelming, even palpable.  Coming home in September for the reunion of our 1969 high school class threw me into an emotional overflow that still lingers to this day.

It wasn’t because of the frenetic catch-up rehearsals for the 7- minute dance performance in the auditorium and the lunches, dinners, even breakfast get-togethers in-between.  It was really going back 50 years to 1969.  Remembering once again all the insecurities of being 16 – middle class, not exceptionally brilliant in school, certainly not one of the beautiful belles, not wearing an oversized boy’s college ring on my left ring finger or even hanging from a gold chain on my neck, just one of the girls in a class of 120.

Walking into the first reunion meeting took a lot of courage.  Yes, I do have my core group of good friends, the ones I have remained in close touch with through the years by mail or by phone.  The girls who make up my must-see list each time I come to Manila.

But then there are all the others!  That was unknown territory.  Will they be as friendly and as welcoming? 

They were.  Really.  There were open arms and tight hugs everywhere.   Naturally, there were some awkward moments too. One former classmate even asked me to point out who I was from our high school graduation picture.  
 50 years can change one’s appearance.  Some of the girls were instantly recognizable.   Others took a bit longer to recall until the familiar sound of a voice, a certain smile or a mannerism triggered a chord in my declining memory.  Followed by even tighter hugs to conceal the embarrassment and to affirm the genuineness of the sentiment. 

Yes, 50 years not only changes how we look; it changes how we view the world.  At 16, the future was crystal clear – go to college, find a job, get married, have children…  Whilst eating lunch in the canteen, we would look at the other girls and try to guess who was going to be successful, famous, important, mom of many children and some, even all of the above!

Fast forward to 2019 and we have all come to realize that it was neither simple nor clear. Our preconceived ideas of our rightful place in the world was exactly that … pre- and ill- conceived.

The best part of the reunion is that as I embraced each familiar face and recalled some of the crazy, mundane, happy, even sad events of our lives, we knew that we had all come a long way from the confines of our convent walls and our sheltered lives. We have all lived and have survived, some better than others.  But that is what life teaches you along the way as well. It’s not a perfect world out there. We just have to create a safe haven for ourselves and for the ones we love where ever we are.

So, where is home?

For me, home, like the cliché goes, is where the heart is.  And my heart is in many places.  It is in Manila with my siblings, my extended family and my childhood friends.  It is in every place that I have lived in, where friendships born out of necessity have blossomed into lifelong attachments.  

 It is here in Hilversum, in our little white house with green trimmings where we have lived for the last 22 years.  The home which our children have used as a springboard to start their own lives. It is here where our grandchildren now come to play with the toys their parents have left in our attic.

Where is home? 

I am home. 

Post script :  The black and white sketch above was done by a little girl named Olivia.

 

                                      Palitaw

The one true cure for homesickness (aside from taking the plane home) is food from home.  And for me, at the moment, it's Palitaw.  A simple, 4-ingredient wonder that lies heavy on the tummy when you eat too much.  But it sure makes the heart feel happy and light! 

for the dough :

2 cups glutinous rice flour

1 cup water 

the garnish :

1/4 cup white sugar

2 tbsp roasted sesame seeds

1 cup grated coconut 

for cooking :  10 -12 cups of water  in a large pot 

Procedure : 

1. Boil the water.

 2. In a large bowl, combine the rice flour and the water.  Mix this by hand, add more water if it feels dry.  But do this carefully, adding just a bit at a time.  The consistency should be like soft, maleable playdough! 

Take a bit of dough and form it into a ball, the size of a big walnut.  Then flatten it with your hand to form an oblong or even round patty.  Place on a plate or cookie.

3. As soon as the water starts to boil, drop one patty at a time.  Once the patty is cooked, it will float to the top (thus the name - palitaw - to appear!).  Lift each one from the water with a slotted spoon and gently lay it on a plate to cool.  Do this until all the dough has been cooked. 

4.  For the garnish -  Prepare 2 plates.  Place the grated coconut on one and the sesame seeds mixed with sugar in another.  First, coat both sides of each patty with coconut.  Then dip it in the sugar mixture, making sure both sides are coated.

Arrange the patties on a nice serving plate and sprinkle the leftover coconut and sugar mixture on top. 

Please note that this dessert/merienda should be eaten within the day.  It really does not keep.  Nor can it be refrigerated.   Keep it in a cool place once done and serve within a few  hours.

 

 

That Can’t Be Me! 

 

I look at the mirror and I do not recognize the image I see.

That can’t be me.

The old lady with the 3 cm of gray peeking through the parting in her hair.  The one with the lines under the eyes magnified 3 fold under the 3.5 reading glasses. The one for whom men who look even older offer a seat to in a crowded tram. The one who is shuffled to the Senior Citizens line at the immigration counter.

No, that can’t be me.  I’m the one who bought first line standing tickets (by accident in a moment of sheer excitement) for the Justine Timberlake concert at the Ziggodome.  I am the one who’s wide awake at 7am checking my email and phone for messages, making breakfast for 2 or 8, rushing to dance class, then back home for lunch in time to prepare for a remedial class, give the class, make dinner for 2, then go out to play 3 hours of bridge and finally coming home to catch the last bits of the 11pm news.

The reflection I see in the mirror is my mother. That can’t be me.

But the hands tell a different story.   The blue green veins embossed  on the thinning and ever dry skin. The wrinkles that the best hand cream cannot erase.  The tendonitis creeping at the wrist and making its way all through the elbow and upper arm.

All right then, it must be true.  The lady in the mirror with this hand … is me.

 Yes, it does take getting used to.  Acceptance is a hard pill to swallow.  But the only way to get through this transition from middle age to senior age is to actually go through it.  To live it every single day.

Yes, I am living the third act of my life.  This is the part of the play where the character is more defined. We know what has happened in the past and we know that the ending is inevitable.  The question is: what will the denouement be?

Who knows?  It will come, when it will.

Jane Fonda and all the other women who write about this third act of life are right.  There is a sense of empowerment in being 65 plus. And it feels good!  I can now choose to let some things go, relying on my sense of empathy and compassion. My mothering instinct magnified by the grandmotherly one. 

I can also choose to confront and say exactly what’s on my mind.  Like telling a man in my bridge club that I had had enough of his comments.  They were unnecessary and unkind.  To which he responded with an apology. It was just a joke, he claimed.   Really?  My 40-year old self would have meekly left the table and cried in the bathroom. Not at 65! I can now move from doormat to feisty. And, yes … it does feel good.

I look back at the years behind me and I know what I have accomplished.  I can say in all honesty, that there are many reasons to be proud. I also recognize the mistakes I have made.  The regrets and the what-ifs.  But they are few and by now, immaterial.

I am moving on and living the third act of my life.  There is still so much to accomplish and so little to give up. If only, I looked the way I feel. The mirror image is a constant reminder.  But the spirit will triumph.  That 40-something woman is alive and well.  Stronger. Enriched by all the years and experiences amassed in her lifetime.  Ready to rise to every occasion.

 In-between naps, of course!

Here's an easy-to-prepare recipe that can be a starter, an extra dish in an Asian theme dinner or a spicy chicken burger sandwich! 

 

Thai-style Chicken Patties

Preparation time : 10 -15 minutes!

Ingredients:

500 gm. minced chicken

1 tsp – 1 tbsp. Thai red curry paste (depends on how spicy you want this to be)

1 small onion, minced

1 tsp. fish sauce

2 tbsp. fresh coriander, chopped fine

3 tbsp. breadcrumbs or 1 slice of white or brown bread, softened in water

1 egg, beaten

Oil for shallow frying.

Procedure and other suggestions :

Mix all of the above and form into small patties.   I usually fry a little bit of the mixture to see if the seasonings are enough. If not, add more fish sauce or salt according to your taste.

This recipe makes at least 12 good sized patties.  They can be shaped, frozen and fried when you're ready to serve them.

 A simple Mango Salad, inspired by my friend, Alma, gives this dish an extra kick!

Mango Salad

1 mango, peeled and sliced into julienne strips

1 tbsp. lime juice

1-2 tbsp. fresh coriander, chopped fine

1 tsp. fish sauce

1 fresh red chili, sliced or a pinch of red chili powder (optional)

a dash of sugar

Mix all of the above.  Chill and serve with the patties!

The Finish Line

I made it!  After 21 Wednesdays, 57 hours of lessons, at least 124 hours of preparation, 6 hours of rehearsals and the seemingly endless messages between myself and the 20 sets of parents of my 23 students ranging from 7 ½ to 12 years old.

Was it worth the sleepless nights worrying if I had enough material or if the YouTube films were age appropriate?  Was it worth the rise in my blood glucose level and my blood pressure as I juggled home, work, social life, church commitments and the responsibility for 23 souls? Was it worth the fear that many of the children will never really understand that the host is more than a cookie and that all of the lessons had been in vain?  Was it worth the anxiety that I caused in my husband whose only fault is to protect me – even from myself? 

Was it worth it?  Several weeks after the event, I can look back and smile. No more palpitating heart.  Just a sense of contentment and tranquility. 

I have prepared 14 sets of children for First Holy Communion in the last 18 years.  It was my way of giving thanks for all that I have received in my life.  It is my testimony to the faith that has seen me, and those I love, through good times and not so good ones.

This year was my last class, my swan song.   It has also been the most difficult.  Not only because of the size of the class.  But principally because of the children’s age range, their varying levels of fluency in the language, as well as their actual knowledge and exposure to the faith of their elders. 

I have always believed that God gives me gifts along the way.  Telling me I am on the right path, encouraging me as I falter.  And He has done it again.  This is the year that I have felt most connected to the parents of the children. Nearly everyone came for an hour each week to stay with me during the class providing me with an extra pair of eyes and hands.

He also sent me a friend. Someone who came not only to help with the activities that I had organized, but who came for me.  Someone who listened, who helped make things right and made me laugh.  Someone who understood that I had taken on too much. 

On the 21^st of April, I reached the Finish Line. First Communion Day.                 

And FINISHED was what I thought I would feel.  But as I watched my 23 boys and girls, nervously gripping their white, long stemmed roses walk down the aisle towards the altar under a canopy of yellow and white paper flowers, I sensed instead a tremendous surge of energy, much like an Adrenalin rush.  I did not even notice the pinch of my ½ size too small high heels as I led them to and from their various assigned tasks. 

What I felt was pride.

Pride in each of these beautiful children who came every Wednesday, who proudly showed me their homework, asked me questions many of which I could barely answer and opened my eyes to a child’s view of the world and of God.   Pride in the way they conducted themselves through the 2 ½ hour service.  Pride in my role as mentor.  Praying that having brought them this far, they will continue their journey of faith and love.

Am I truly finished?  No, I am not.  I am taking a break and then starting a new project – introducing young adults to the Sacrament of Confirmation. 

Right now, I am a long way from the next starting line.  But I am getting ready for the challenge. 

    Sometimes, even good girls can be bad! 

 

Rocky Road

Preparation time : 15-20 minutes

• 100gm butter, cubed
• 300gm milk or dark chocolate ( I usually do 100 gm of dark (70 %) and 200 gm of milk chocolate)
• 4 tbsp corn syrup or honey
• 200 gm digestive or wholewheat cookies, crushed into small pieces 
• 75 gm marshmallows (in Holland, they are called spekjes and are pink and white) sliced into small cubes
• 75gm dried fruit like raisins, mango, apricot …
• 75gm salted peanuts or walnuts, roughly chopped

Procedure :

1.     Line a baking tray or a rectangular baking dish with baking paper. 

2.    Put the cookies, marshmallows, dried fruits and nuts into a bowl and mix well.

3.    Fill a large pot 1/3 of the way with water and bring it to a boil over medium-high heat.

4.    Fill a second pot with small pieces of chocolate and place it on top of the first pot. They should fit together in a way where the top pot rests in place about 1/2 inch above the boiling water.

5.    Stir the chocolate constantly. As soon as the chocolate begins to melt, lower the fire and add the butter to the chocolate.  Blend well.  

6.    Turn off the heat and then add the honey. Stirring it until the honey is completely dissolved.

7.    Pour the chocolate into the bowl with the cookie-fruit mixture. Make sure that the chocolate coats all of the mixture.

If you wish, you can save a small portion of the chocolate for the topping.

Fill the prepared baking tin with the entire mixture. Press evenly to cover the whole tin.

8.    Using a rubber spatula, spread the rest of the chocolate on top.

9.    Let it cool.  Then put the entire tray into the freezer for at least 30 minutes to harden.

Remove from the freezer and slice to serve. Or transfer to the fridge until ready to serve.

This keeps for at least 2 weeks in the fridge.  Longer if you keep it in the freezer and just defrost about 2 hours before serving.