breaking eggs

last night, i got an email from my brother in law in canada. my sister was too distraught to tell me that my uncle (my father's brother) had passed away. the email didn't tell me how he had passed, just that he had and that if i had any contact info for my uncle's family, i should send our collective condolences.

at first, i wasn't sure he was gone. i thought maybe they'd heard wrong - maybe he was just sick and in the hospital. i remembered he'd had a stroke many years ago but recovered completely. it wasn't until a cousin called to confirm the news - that he had a heart attack at home and died - that i finally lost it and cried.

i finally got in touch with my uncle's son who told me that my uncle had come home complaining of feeling ill and had gone to bed earlier than usual. shortly thereafter, he got up and said that he couldn't breathe and collapsed. my aunt and cousin called 911. the ambulance arrived quickly and took him to the hospital, but they couldn't revive him.

this morning, i woke up feeling completely drained. it was almost as if by muscle memory, i showered and changed and then walked into the kitchen to make some eggs in a hole. and as i placed the egg carton on the kitchen counter, a memory flashed into my head.

i was back in my uncle's kitchen in LA. i was on vacation, still in high school. we were getting ready to do a tourist trek around LA/hollywood and the universal studio tour. he asked me if i wanted french toast. and i realized i'd never had french toast. growing up in a filipino home, i didn't get fruit punch or canned pasta or boxed cereal. my grandmother would often make a huge filipino meal that would last a few days - we'd eat the same thing for breakfast lunch and dinner. so i sat at the table and watched him break eggs in a bowl and beat them. he asked me if i knew how to cook yet. and i told him i was too afraid to cook. cooking had too many variables that i didn't think i could familiarize myself with...

that little reverie reminded me that this small act would really sum up my uncle: he who was never afraid to break some eggs to make an omelete (or french toast).

my earliest memories of my uncle are from my childhood summers in manila. although we regarded my uncle with the respect he was due, he acted like one of us kids. my wonderful father is/was the "serious" brother. where my father was a proud and accomplished engineer, my uncle had tried his hand at many jobs - a jack of all trades. when my father finished work, he took some time to relax before reconnecting with us at dinner. when my uncle arrived home from work, he wouldn't take a break, he'd talk to us, joke with us, run after us... often my lola (grandmother) would force me to eat weird concoctions, in an effort to shrink my hygroma. after a morning of downing a mixture with raw egg yolks, my uncle gathered us up and challenged us to climb a coconut tree and i'll never forget watching my brother race up the trunk like a gleeful monkey... :) i don't think it was possible to bore my uncle. he was easily amused and charming, but mellow and calm too.

later, he really seemed to embrace life in the states. he was a walking NFT guide for LA and NY when he lived in both cities. although my mother and i lived in the states, my father always complained about life in america, how different it was, how fast, how obscene, how depressing, etc...

i regret the last time i saw him in ny. i was in college, on vacation. i was trying to get any job i could in the garment industry. and in the wings, there was a boy in an up and coming indie rock band... i was drinking too much... the "highlight" of that visit was ending a night of alphabet city barhopping, kicking hypodermic needles around a playground... somehow, i got back to my uncle's apartment, bobbing, weaving, reeking of smoke and beer... and like the visit to LA, he was awake, smiling, in the kitchen, quietly making me a breakfast with eggs.... although i deserved it, he didn't preach or get angry, or argue or insult. he just told me he cared about me and was worried about me.

i couldn't believe it when he agreed to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day when my father couldn't make it. for some reason, he was nervous at the church. he was a little emotional. he fumbled a bit thru the filipino portion of the ceremony. but by the time the reception rolled around, he was up and dancing with the rest or us.

the last time i saw him was back in manila for my sister's wedding. he was one of her sponsors. he looked so handsome in his barong. he told jokes while we (the large entourage) all waited in the hot sun outside the church. at the reception, after my father's emotional speech, my uncle retold some funny, poignant and heartfelt stories from our family. and later when he set eyes upon the paloma, he joked with her and played with her like they were the oldest and bestest of friends. she was so excited to hear that he lived in america too. it absolutely breaks my heart that she won't get to know him...

i don't mean to lionize my uncle. he had weaknesses and faults. i'm sure his family had dysfunctions and resentments (like ours) due to extended absences overseas. and i don't mean to disparage my father or characterize him as cold or thoughtless - he isn't, he's quite the opposite.

i just wanted to say that my uncle winnie was a great role model for me. and he would want me to be courageous and break some eggs even if it meant i made a mess or something that required a hospital visit. he'd encourage me to machine sew blindfolded and try spelunking undersea... he would want me to relentlessly chase after something that might make me happy... just like him.

so, rest now, uncle winnie. for me. so i can catch up... :) i'll miss you very much...

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do not buy this book for your child.

here at chez 'zilla, we read a bevy of books as part of our nighttime routines. lately, it's been really fun (in the paloma's room anyway... back in the porkchop's crib, it's all..."good night moon, good night cow jumping over the moon, good night light and the red balloon" blah blah blah ad nauseum... ad nausea...). we stack up the pillows and hunker down in the blankets, read new stories, look at some pretty pictures and yawn and discuss and yawn and point and yawn again....

the thin man has enrolled the paloma in eb white 101 and roald dahl 101. and i've been slowly plugging thru the children's books that we (my sisters and me) all bought while in manila. finally, i came across this one, "ang pambihirang buhok ni raquel" or "raquel's fantastic hair".

i think my sister (whose name is pronounced "raquel" but is spelled "rachel" - i don't know why.) thought this was funny and oddly coincidental. but, i don't think she actually cracked open the book. or at least i hope she didn't... i'm hoping it was an honest mistake.

now, i don't know if it's because i think the market for childrens books is bigger here than in the philippines and/or because i've seen/read so many. or because i'm so familiar with the sick child book genre. when i see a childrens book about hair, i almost automatically assume it has something to do with illness. or race. this book? it throws in BOTH - for good measure.

anyhoo - four sentences into the story you read:

"Raquel doesn't know that I envy her. For she is truly pretty, with flawless fair skin."

*insert sound of car - schreeching to a halt*

WTF?! TRULY PRETTY = FAIR SKIN??!! here i was (a dark skinned filipina) reading this story to my (fair skinned, mixed race) daughter.

i paused for a little bit... and against my better judgment continued to read, i thought, "ok, it can't be as bad as i think. maybe there's an epiphany at the end...TWO sentences later... it got worse:

"When i compare myself with her, I feel inferior."

in the story, ana, the dark skinned "country cousin" (who btw - smells and sweats and doesn't speak good english), begins to visit raquel, the "city cousin", in manila. during one of their playdates, raquel faints and her fantastic hair falls off. apparently, raquel has leukemia and wears many different wigs. she's rushed to the hospital. and while waiting for her, ana has a revelation:

"Yes, I may not be rich, I may not be as beautiful, and I have a dark skin. But I am healthy."

i was so unsatisfied with the climax of this story that at this point, i stopped to discuss all of this with the paloma. we've had similar conversations already about my being different from other mommies. when she was very young, too young to speak, she questioned it - she would gently caress my CH and then trace her own face. finally, when she could talk, she asked about it, what it was, if it hurt... lately, it doesn't come up in conversation much at all anymore though i'm sure it will come up again later.

i really wasn't sure how or if she was processing this story. so i said, "paloma, this story makes me kind of sad." she responded, "why mommy?" and i said, "because the girl in the story is sad because her skin is darker than her cousins. is it bad that i have dark skin?" and she replied,"mommy,your skin is darker than mine. but that just means we're different. it's ok to be different. don't be sad because you're different. i love you." she smiled up at me and patted my dark skinned hand with her fair skinned hand.

i should have prefaced this whole post letting all of you non-filipinos know that it's actually very common for filipinos to say things like "oh, she's so beautiful! her skin is so light" or "stay out of the sun, you don't want to get too dark!" i remember when we were still children, my sisters and cousins would apply eskinol (a common face cleanser in the philippines, like clearasil here, that doubles as a skin whitener) before leaving for grade school. in college, my mother, a light skinned filipina, greeted me at the airport upon my return from a long weary trip from spain with an obvious frown, furiously rubbing my dark sunkissed face with spit on her thumb saying, "are you... DIRTY!?". and just recently on our trip to the philippines, the paloma was FAWNED over - all over manila - everyone commenting on her beautiful fair skin. it hurt especially when my own sister said to the paloma about my new, dark and beautiful niece, "i hope she doesn't get too jealous of you and your fair skin."

i am my father's daughter and like him, i am dark. as a child, it was made abundantly clear that i wasn't like other "superior" filipinas. to my critics, it was tragic enough that i was born "disabled" (their terminology, not mine), but to top it all off - how sad it was that i was dark. thankfully, it was easy for me to get over being dark - especially because all of my caucasian friends kept going to the lake, summer day, after summer day, after summer day, in an effort to achieve an all over bronze like me. i was a walking paint chip for bain de soleil. i really wish i could write more on the domination and history of western beauty ideals in asia but i'm just not that educated. suffice to say, it's an archaic standard and it's not something i will perpetuate or tolerate in my house.

the author of the book, luis p gatmaitan m.d., wrote another book that we have - a BETTER book - called "sandosenang sapatos" or "A Dozen Pairs of Shoes". i can recommend this book to you. it's another story that follows the lives of a shoemaker and his two daughters - one is born without feet. it's a charming story and it's especially poignant because it was sent to me by my youngest sister and reminds me of our relationship and my relationship with my father.

i can also tell you that the publisher of the book, adarna house, has other great storybooks told in both tagalog and english with wonderful whimsical illustrations by filipino artists. we bought many of their books during our trip and so far all of them have been great. but i will definitely be sending an email to them to complain about this book.

the first few days...

i wasn't really sure what, if anything, we were going to be able to do the first full day we were in manila. although the paloma was recovering, i didn't want to push our luck or her health. my older sister, mrs. f, came over with her husband, mr. f and my youngest sister, soon to be mrs. s, in the afternoon to check on her.

the paloma was eager to get outside. come to think of it, so was i. as i mentioned before, manila was warm - sunny, not too humid and in the mid 80s every day we were there. the paloma's got horses on the brain too and near our hotel, kalesas (the filipino version of the handsome cab) were parked one after the other. she wanted to meet every single horse and find out their names. and that view of manila bay from our window was too inticing to ignore.

we agreed that we should take it easy on the paloma and maybe just get a bite to eat and walk around a nearby airconditioned mall to kill some time and help the paloma run off some energy.

my sisters thought that we should hit the mall of asia. since it's the largest mall in the philippines, it has a pretty diverse selection of restaurants and shops and random diversions for kids. i was shocked at the sheer size of it. we weren't looking to walk the whole mall. but even what little we did see was overwhelming and overstimulating - hello!? they had great shops like mango, marks & spencer, national bookstore (where i scored a bunch of adarna house books for the kids) and kultura filipino and the currency conversion was something crazy like 48 pesos to $1!!??

we ate at the yellow cab pizza co. my sisters couldn't believe that it wasn't a chain from the US. i was kinda surprised myself. i was expecting some kind of city-fied shakey's but it was better - gastronomically and esthetically.



here's a picture of mrs. f, me , soon to be mrs. s and the paloma... this was taken after a hearty lunch and a couple of spins on the indoor carousel. btw - this mall also has an olympic sized ice rink in it. then, home again, home again, jiggety jig.... later that evening, i got to meet one of my cousins, mrs j. and her husband, mr. j.

mrs. j is my lolo and lola's first grandchild. she's not that much younger than my youngest aunt on my mom's side (my mom has twelve siblings). the family was a little freaked out by her because my uncle and her mom split up when she was very young. then, after the family tracked her down again, via a detective, she ended up getting pregnant before marriage. blah, blah, blah... they ended up getting married after she had their first child and they had a second child a few years later. the kids are teenagers and she seems like a happy career mom. i can't believe this is the first time i've met her... she's so awesome. she's funny, irreverent, intelligent, spirited and very giving.

the following day, soon to be mr. and mrs. s picked us up to chauffeur spend the day with us. we visited their reception site, villa immaculada inside the walls of intramuros (the oldest part of manila), to tie up some loose ends, drop stuff off, etc... then, we headed over to fort santiago for some sightseeing.

fort santiago is an old spanish fortress within intramuros. it houses the jose rizal shrine.


the paloma gets to ride a kalesa for the first time. the driver was really nice and let her sit on his horse, "pretty boy", for a photo op.



there's a picturesque lily pond underneath the bridge that leads you into fort santiago.



this is the building where jose rizal was imprisioned. his cell was located in the damaged part of the building. there is a mock up of his cell with quotes from his writings on the surrounding walls. it's a very moving tribute. the museum houses many of rizal's personal affects as well as a reliquary that holds one of rizal's bones.

these footsteps mark rizal's final walk to luneta park. it looks as if the steps end just outside the fort, but it's just that some of the footsteps have been paved over... if you keep looking you'll find they'll lead you all the way to where he was executed.


here's a view from inside the gates of the park outside fort santiago. i just loved the wrought iron, the church (?) dome and the filipino flag...

later in the day, my sister checked into our hotel for the night to get ready for the wedding the next day. everything seemed to be going well until my mom got upset that her name was printed incorrectly in the wedding invitation. she got even more upset when she found out that she had to sit next to my father at the reception. she was offended and upset because she felt she and her second marriage were being disrepected.

i knew that situations like this would arise, but i didn't realize how volatile they would be. my mom refused to talk it out with my sister. she just couldn't keep her emotions in check - which i totally understood intellectually. she was threatening to not smile, not talk, just show up and go home. she wasn't willing to compromise. but, i couldn't side with her. it just wasn't her day. it wasn't about her. i really felt that she had a responsibility, obligation or duty to my sister to let the animosity (for my father and for the hypocrisy of the philippines) go for one day.

i talked to my sister and she started to cry which made me cry. she opened up about how stressful the wedding planning had been. how often she felt she had to compromise. how awful it felt all these years to defend her upbringing in a "broken" family. she just didn't want to do it again on her wedding day. i knew that that was what the invitation and the seating arrangement was about. i didn't think it was right that my sister just slip it all under my mom's radar, but i understood why she did it. it was then that she told me that we have a half sister. basically, everyone knows she exists, but no one knows where she is. my sister thinks she's about sixteen. she saw her when she was little. she doesn't know her name. my heart just about broke... for my crazy family, for my father, for my unknown sister...

so, after i calmed her down a bit, i went back to talk to my mom who ended up crying as well... she kept saying things like "i made all the wrong choices.", "i ruined my life and the lives of my children", "i hate myself", etc, etc... it was awful... i asked her if she knew about my half sister. she said she did, but she felt it was my father's job to tell me about her. i did and said everything i could to try to salvage that day... in the end, my mom was inconsolable. my mom is strong though. she would get thru it somehow... and she did.

that evening we were expecting to have dinner with my dad's sisters. but, those plans fell thru. they came over but too late to have dinner. honestly, at that point, we'd all lost our appetites. i just wanted to sleep it all off and forget. just start all over again. just one of those times, i wish life had a "refresh" button.

getting there...

i guess the trip started when the paloma and i piled into my brothers car and we headed off to the airport. it was about 9:30 pm. i was really hesitant to leave. the paloma and i had come down with some pretty bad colds three days beforehand. i was doing ok. she sounded like she was getting better, but her cough was pretty bad - bad enough that it sometimes made her gag.

we managed to check in without any hitches. i was worried about security confiscating all of our cold medicines since they were all over the 3 oz limit, but they let everything through. the gate was further than i thought and the paloma was really tired so, i had to carry her part of the way - not easy, since i had to carry her carry on and mine - the laptop. at one point, she thought she was going to hurl which upped my stress level to "potential aneurysm".

i had hoped that she would sleep on the first 13 hour leg of the trip. but that just didn't happen. she was too excited, too sick and too tired. and she wouldn't eat. i gave her medicine anyway (i realize now that i shouldn't have) to help with her cough and the pressure on her ears... to no avail. she was miserable. i was miserable. i felt like the worst mom on the planet. (i still do.)

the interesting thing was that although the paloma was having a hard time. the other passengers on the plane seemed pretty cool about it. earlier in the day, i had talked to someone on the urbanbaby message boards about possibly cancelling the trip and worried about the possibility of getting kicked off the plane in seoul because of her throwing a tantrum. the poster replied, "if you were getting on a domestic flight, i would be worried about that too. but you're getting on an international flight to asia. in my experience, the flight attendants and the passengers on those flights are so kid friendly. you'll both be fine. don't cancel. just go." that poster was right. i never felt like i was getting the stink eye from anyone. i was able to focus on the paloma, her fever and her cough and not the wrath of my fellow travellers.

by the way, we flew via asiana airlines. it was a great flight. and by far the least expensive and most direct way to go. they even had toys and puzzles for the kids. the food was good. i finally got to try korean food other than korean barbeque. my first meal was bi bim bap which was YUM-MEE! however, i passed on the hot pepper paste cause that looked lethal. i don't remember what my second meal was called but that was tasty too. it was mystery beef in a mystery sauce.

in addition to the safety info film, they show another film about pressure points you can massage to alleviate nausea, earache, headache, deep vein thrombosis, etc... and they show another film showing excercises you can do in your seat. it was really cool. and i gotta say, the flight attendants were HAWT. can't wait to fly via asiana again.

this pic was taken on the flight from seoul to manila. thankfully, this leg of the flight was shorter - 4 hours ish... and the plane was pretty empty. we all got to stretch out and finally get some sleep. the paloma finally has a smile on her face... it didn't last long. she got her first nosebleed right after this was taken.



we finally land in manila. it's about 80 degrees out. we got thru most of the airport without much trouble from the hawkers looking to get tips from us for "helping" us out. it wasn't until we got to baggage claim where we got jacked into renting a luggage cart and a luggage cart dude. i think we were just too tired to say no at that point. he didn't do a thing. i found all of our luggage and put it on the cart. he just stood there waiting for payment. all we had was US$ too but he was happy to take the $5. we sailed thru immigration and customs too - which was really surprising. we used to bring cigs and chocolate specifically for those people so that they'd let us go. the woman who we saw, glanced at our passports briefly and said, "please go ahead. happy valentines day."

when we finallly got outside the airport and found my sister and my papa and my soon to be bro in law. my papa couldn't stop crying and hugging us and saying, "my daughter!" and "my granddaughter!" which of course got me all kinds of speechless and emotional...

i brought along our portable carseat which is really nothing but a board with a five point harness attached to it. it amazes me that carseats aren't even a blip on the radar in the philippines considering how aggressive the drivers are there and how bad the traffic is... my family didn't once consider that i wanted to use the car seat. any car we got into was always packed two people than the seating allowed. the paloma was usually on someone's lap. i rarely got to use the carseat. it was so hard to just let go.

we finally got to the diamond hotel. i managed to forget our printed hotel voucher back home, so i had to use their business center to open the email again. thank goodness we got there in the afternoon when it was open. the hotel is a beautiful luxury hotel located on manila bay. it was a good location, located midway between my sister's wedding and the reception site.

usually, i would stay with my family in the house in cubao. but, i was worried about my mom and my papa not getting along (which proved true when they saw each other at the airport). it was also going to be a full house with my older sister staying there with her newborn, her husband and her mother in law. and i was really worried about the paloma not acclimating to the heat, the bugs, the environment, etc... anyhoo, i booked our stay via hoteltravel.com so we got a really - and i mean REALLY - cheap rate. our room was less than $100 a night via hoteltravel.

once we got into the room, the paloma got worse and worse... her fever spiked again and that's when she finally tossed her cookies all over the bed. what scared me was that she'd gotten another nosebleed and there was blood in her vomit. rick, my brother in law, is also a doctor. he was the voice of reason and calmed me down. i was FREAKING out. he suggested we just let her rest - no meds necessary, just a cool compress.

i called my sister (another doctor) to get a second opinion and she agreed. so, the paloma slept for about 10 hours. when she woke up she thought she could keep down some soup and some bread. she did. in the am, my sister came over with some "gentler" meds - fever reducer, decongestant and some liquid vitamin c. the paloma was doing much better. she was regaining her sense of humor and her cheery disposition. see below:



breakfast at the palm court restaurant. the wall of windows looks out onto a giant waterfall and the hotel's two pools.



the view from our room of manila bay in the wee small hours of the morning...



the view of popular mabini street (i think?) . that's the hyatt on the far right. the hotel i wanted to stay at but there were no vacancies...



the paloma resting in our room. for some reason, the beds had down comforters. we either slept on top of the comforters or jacked up the ac in the room... who in their right mind thought of down comforters in manila!?

we're back!

we arrived around 5 pm last night... of course, the paloma and i are jetlagged.

it's 5 am now and she's watching boobahs on sprout and i'm contemplating bludgeoning my head in with something heavy and blunt if the advil doesn't kick in soon.

i'm so glad to be home. being reunited with the thin man and the pork chop is wonderful. but i must admit i'm not looking forward to a full energized day with the porkchop who should be up in about an hour - probably less. hopefully, the paloma will go to bed around 8ish for her full 10 hours sleep - manila time.

i can't believe how cold it is here... i was just in a sleeveless tee, turning up the the ac... by far, the rudest awakening....

i hope to return to regular posting soon with some stories and pics of manila...

hello from the philippines!

just wanted to let everyone know that we made it to
the philippines ok. the 20+ travel hours that we
logged just about killed us - especially the paloma
who came down with fevers, nosebleeds and
upchucking... :(

my sister (the MD) checked her out and she doing much
better... we've had some time to recover but we've
been very busy reconnecting with family and preparing
for the wedding...

it's warm and beautiful here. i wish i could share
some photos but i forgot my usb cable and getting
internet access is either pricey (for dial up) or
unavailable. so, i can't promise that i'll be able to
update the blog as much as i'd like. or answer the
latest comments.

i heard it's freezing and snowy again back home. i
miss the thin man and the porkchop so much... i'm
constantly asking to hold babies and am often telling
thin man stories... althoough, i'm so happy here - i
cannot wait to come home!!!

love love love... MZ

dude. where's my kid?!

metrodad had this funny post that made me reminisce about my own business and pleasure travels as a single person. like him, i worked in the garment industry (in production) and though i never got to travel overseas to visit the sweatshops factories, i did get to travel to new york to visit with the gestapos designers.

besides getting to visit with friends during off-hours, my perk was always a stay at the mansfield hotel, one of the nicest hotels i've ever stayed at... my room was always a minimalist oasis - the large comfy bed, the soothing sauna, the complimentary buffet breakfast, the complimentary cappucinos available all 24 hours of the day....

most of my overseas travel was to the philippines to visit my papa, my two sisters and my brother. between 1972 and 1994, those trips happened every couple of years or so with stops in hawaii, tokyo, or seoul. then in 1994, i got to travel to europe for the first time and save for the bohemian homelessness and the demise of a close friendship, it was AWESOME. and last but not least, there have been the unforgettable trips to the UK and italy with the thin man.

the picture above was taken during one of my first trips to manila. my father is helping my mom with something. and my lola (papa's mom) is standing next to my aunt who is holding my baby sister (the one who is getting married in february). that's me in the pink dress looking like i'm planning an escape or a hostile takeover or is that my potty dance? hmmm, i dunno...

when i travelled as a single girlzilla, i had single girlzilla worries:

* will i still have a signifigant other when i return from this trip?
* will i get kicked out of a train station for sleeping there?
* will i meet cool people at my destination or will i only run into "ugly" americans?
* can i expense report that?
* will i have to declare that?
* will i get mugged and what if he's cute?
* will i ever catch a flight home... flying standby?
* if i find love or find i love this place, can i find a way to stay... legally?

now, i'm a travelling mamazilla, i have travelling mamazilla worries:

* which and how many inoculations do i have to get to ensure i don't soil myself walking down the aisle?
* how badly will i lose my sh*t when i have to fight with wake the paloma up at o'dark early to catch our flight?
* how loudly can i scream at the airport without having security taser me?
* how full of *ssholes will the flight be?
* how much bribe in currency & paraphenalia will it cost me to get from the airport to the hotel room?
* do i really have a reservation at a hotel? or just a piece of paper that says "I'M A F*CKING IDIOT! TAKE MY MONEY!"?
* who's going to get b*tchslapped first - strangers, family or me?
* what do i do if/and/or/when the paloma gets sick?
* what do i do if/and/or/when the paloma gets lost?
* how hot and humid is it? enough to warrant UPPERCASE typing?
* will i really go to H*LL if i kill myself? will i notice?

as you can see, i'm mildly freaked out about this trip and it's only ratcheting up more and more the closer we get to departure time...

i'm not sure how my mom did it... but then again, she says that i was a pretty cool headed kid, unlike the paloma... i guess the good news is that i'll have my mommy with me when things go wrong. she has a way of making things all bettah.