Leche. But nice.

My mom makes fantastic leche flan. I mean, it's creamy and sweet and rich and makes you believe in your fervent wish that eggs do not contain bad cholesterol. She uses my Nana's recipe, and it's more or less a no-brainer in terms of putting it all together. (Hyuh-rayyt. Tss.)

Most of my close friends already know this, but the first time I made leche flan, I had my Mom taste it. She thought it was the best puto she had ever tasted. My brother made a similar attempt with (eerily enough) similar results.

A few hours ago, Mama cooked a few pans for a costume dinner party she was invited to (yes, costume dinner party...Since it's Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day here, they're all supposed to be dressed up as human rights activists. Yep. They do stuff like that around here...Tell me about it...Tss...) Providentially, my brother was here at that time.

Big. Deep. Breath. My brother and I decided to tackle that wretched leche-flan-making hurdle once again, but this time, we were going to do it together.

So I did the batter thing...making sure that it didn't get bubbly but remained creamy (hence the puto-effect daw before.) Paolo took care of caramelizing the brown sugar (we both got a little jumpy when the sugar went bubbly and popped, hehe...note for the future: it really does that, so don't scream like a girl...).

We were doing okay, the batter had about 2 bubbles in it and the caramel burned only in a teeny spot...we wrapped it (double wrapped it in fact!) so that the steam wouldn't get into the pan but merely surround it to cook it perfectly (another reason for the puto effect...)

Meanwhile, Mama left dressed as a Muslim activist in honor of our Muslim heritage (we're from Iligan).

(This is totally non-sequitur but I just had to say, she looked really funny in a malong in the middle of a snow storm.)

We waited the pre-requisite 1 hour. We took it out of the steamer. (It looked really professional, too...we have those huge steamer thingamajiggies that the chinese use...) We removed both foil wrappings.

It was too liquid-y.

Denial always comes first, doesn't it?

We said it wasn't undercooked...we just had to let it set. So we let it set. Then we both thought maybe it would be better if it set in the fridge, so that's what we did.

45 minutes later, we had the best tasting squishy pudding we had ever tasted.

As I see it, the foiled leche flan attempt (pun intended, you'll see how there's a pun in a bit...)

1. The double foil wrapper might have blanketed the pan too much. (See? The pun...) As a result, it might have needed to be inside the steamer a bit longer.

2. The pan was too big (it was a bit big...). It might've needed more cooking time.

3. Mama left, bringing with her the good leche flan joojoo.

4. The 3 Bears Theory (patent pending...): First 2 attempts must always be too (insert adjective) - Papa Bear - and too (insert opposite of previous adjective) - Mama Bear. Third attempt will always be just right.

But this trumps all of that...

For those of you who know the sub-reason for my being here, who know the back story...this afternoon was golden because I made syrupy, sipon-like, palpak leche flan with my brother.

With my brother.

We laughed and screamed and laughed at ourselves. It was fantastic. It was fantastic to be that way with him again. It was fantastic.

Can't wait for the 3rd attempt, the Baby Bear attempt. We're all gonna be just fine. :-)

Deal or No Deal - Without Kris Aquino!

I'm currently watching Deal or No Deal - the original one with Howie Mandel. Can I just say? It's soooooooooo much better than the one with Kris Aquino. It's just really funny because I read an article somewhere (Reader's Digest I think...) which said that Howie has major OCD and completely dislikes being hugged. Wrong job, buddy! Hehe. But he's a good sport - he just looks especially pained whenever the excited contestants hug him.

And then, it started to snow! After about a month of complete snow boycott, it's finally here. It's kinda weird because I know I've been complaining about the frigid weather - but actually, it's quite warm for winter. We've been having spring weather these past few days actually. And now the snow is here...which is a bit of a relief because now all is right in the world. Sort of.

All that because of watching Deal or No Deal without Kirs Aquino! Haha!

And then all was quiet...

I couldn't sleep last night for the life of me. I've been having really good sleep patterns since my jet lag wore off. But now, I think my legendary insomnia is taking control of me. Again.

While tossing and turning, I heard my dad yell for my mom to come look at the TV (yes, my dad's an insomniac. So's my brother. So it's a family thing, actually). Saddam's dead. They weren't showing the actual footage yet, and I just woke up (sort of), so I haven't seen the the actual hanging if it has been released already.

Prior to that, I was watching Fahrenheit 9/11 again.

I swear, I will always have a love-hate relationship with this country. It's always such a big deal when it has anything to do with the States.

Meanwhile, in numerous parts of Africa, so many people are still being killed. All sorts of companies are releasing red products for sale to raise money to fight AIDS in Africa. A way to make these materialistic people who keep buying stuff less guilty for having so much while so many other people have so little.

Silence.

Wanted: Wedding Coordinator

So I'm going to have to arrange my wedding from gazillions of miles away, at the same time make sure I not offend anyone who will not be invited. I've actually been kinda postponing telling the rest of the extended family because I won't be able to really have all them in the wedding.

Oi.

I'm leaning towards a Jenny Gump look for the wedding - minus the bare feet. I've always wanted an earthy wedding (whatever that means) plus it'll be enormously cheaper than having, say, a Princess Di kind of shindig.

Sushi'll be the ring bearer.

Papa will make me a song and I shall walk down the aisle with it being played.

The wedding cake will be mocha.

Sigh...so much more!!! All this by June!!! Aaaah!!!

I need professional help. Shuddup. Not that kind. I need someone with the attention for details of Sherlock Holmes who will be willing to work for a $20 Walgreens gift card.

Anyone?

The Tulips Are Coming Out

Okay, despite all rantings and complaints, by Grand Rapids standards, it's not really that cold here. It's Christmas Day and it's not even snowing...no rain, not even sleet. Of course, this Tropical Barrio Lass' Ass is too used to the sweltering humidity of home, so this is still cold for me.

Anyhoo...apparently, we're having Spring weather...in the dead of Winter. I've seen several birds that shouldn't even be here anymore. They ought to be down south enjoying a dry martini with the geriatrics in Florida. I think I saw a rabbit yesterday when he should be tucked away sleeping somewhere. And the tulip buds are actually breaking free from the cold soil outside.

They died when Winter started a few weeks ago, but since it's too "warm," they're coming out again.

Of course there's a metaphor here somewhere. Of course I'm going to jump all over it like peanut butter.

Slowly, silently, and then abruptly...the idea of living here has ceased to be entirely repulsive for me. Maybe it's because I've come to accept the undeniable fact that life is moving on. Or my Inner Borg has taken over and I have adapted. Or maybe because I'm getting married in 6 months and I don't have to be "alone" here anymore. Whatever the reason, this dead tulip has been given a reprieve. Spring weather is upon us (albeit not for a long time...them weather folks say it's going to snow pretty soon...) and the buds are a-peakin'.

I feel sorta guilty for not hating the States as much. But it doesn't mean I love the Philippines any less. I grudgingly like being here. Not love. Kumbaga crush lang muna to.

Someday, I will live in the Philippines again. "By hook or by criminal!" Till then, I'll just keep clicking my heels and dream of home.

There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home...

Merry Christmas and a Big Announcement

Just finished the Noche Buena feast. I cooked Christmas Eve dinner for the first time in my life. Thank God Mama helped me out. I don't know if the salad came out perfectly, but everything else went well.

Listened to really good sermons in church today, so that was nice.

Oh, and I'm getting married on June next year (hopefully we can get the schedule we want).

Yep, you read correctly.

Ok, so it's not going to be a big wedding. In fact, it'll be reallyreallyreally private. Close friends and family lang talaga. I know we'll most likely have a few people make tampo with us. We'll make bawi with a party either pre or post wedding and have a riot there to save money. But we're pretty low on funds and we'll need to use all spare cash to start out here after the wedding.

But yep, I'M GETTING MARRIED!!!

More details to follow, like, for sure.

Who You Calling Ho?

I so miss the Philippines!!! Look at this cop, don't you just love him? I think I mentioned him in an earlier blog entry. This is that dude from Fort Bonifacio, leading into McKinley. He's awesome, man.

Ho, ho, ho.

And you are...?

I actually went out to a real bar last night. I got carded, which is actually a good thing. Being short actually has perhaps the solitary benefit of being mistaken for being much younger than I actually am. The disappointment came soon after though because the bouncer dude said, "Oh, I didn't realize you were that old already."

Ouch.

*****

I attended yet another Filipino community thingamajiggy yesterday and it was awful. Don't get me wrong. The children singing, dancing, playing etc. were not really that painful to watch. They were still mostly at that age when everything they do must be captured and emblazoned on a Hallmark card.

What was actually awful were the adults. Ugh. Filipinos, let's face it, we have this ridiculous habit of asking way too personal questions (ayan ha, sinama ko sarili ko...) But yesterday was especially perilous because apparently, my mom has been talking about me a lot to these people, so when they met me they felt as if they knew me. Ugh, ugh, ugh. I felt like a goldfish in a super clean fishbowl and I was being killed by overcrowding my space with stupid fake treasure chests that make stupid bubbles, plastic seaweeds, and a stupid seahorse. (I actually wrote "horsefish" first until I realized it was "seahorse." Of course, now I'm writing about it...)

Everybody, just back off!

Yes, I came from the Philippines.

No, I'm not staying here for good.

No, I'm not culture-shocked. I've actually been here several times to visit. I actually migrated along with them but I went back to the Philippines. I'm not exactly a sophisticate but I'm not a country mouse visiting your fantastic city. Besides, I lived in Manila. By my standards, this is Hicksville.

Yes, (thank you) I speak good English. I was an English Merit Scholar; I taught it for 3 years for Pete's sake...

Yes, I left my boyfriend in the Philippines (yes, I have a boyfriend) but he'll be coming here on June.

No, we're not getting married yet. (Besides, it's none of your business. What, you want to get invited to the wedding?)

Yes, I'll be taking my Masters in Education in English Literature at Grand Valley State University in Fall.

Yes, I'm slowly recovering from my jetlag.

And BLOODY NO, I don't want to talk to you anymore.

AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!

Next!

The fact is, I don't even want to be here. I am tired of being looked at, all the small talk, and the fake friendly smiles.

Just leave me the hell alone.

Confessions of a Jetlag Addict

So I'm kinda liking this pseudo-high this jetlag is giving me. I'm trying hard not to sleep at odd hours, limiting myself to sleeping during normal hours (define normal?). As a result, I'm sorta floating about now.

I've seen several squirrels and chipmunks now. In my stupor, I've imagined them wearing bomber jackets, Indiana Jones-esque hats, and red Hawaiian shirts. Such is the influence of good ol' Walt on me.

It isn't so bad. Yet. Mostly because I haven't had a minute to myself yet. Except for now. Everyone's out leading actual lives while I continue bumming around. I'm totally resisting the urge to clean up the house. Well, because this is carpet. Carpet's a whole new arena for asthmatic-y me. I'm used to marble floors that are oh-so-easy to disinfect. What am I gonna do with all real and imagined bacteria living in the fibers of the carpet?!?

But because of this denying myself of having an actual emotional breakdown, I'm kinda afraid of the time when it actually hits me. Maybe it's not so bad because I know I'm still going to see the Bear in a few months. (But how I miss him! Telenovela montages with sappy love songs were made for moments like this.) But on my Nth hour of watching VH1 (such a fascinating channel, really) I realized I miss my daily brain-beating sessions by watching Bulagaan. I miss Vic and Jose, damnit ("La, la, la, lala, La, la, la, la, lala. La, la, la, la, la, la, LA!") That beats Angelina's confession about her actual relationship with El Brad-o. ("We're bound to our children, and that's what's important." Sure. If you ask me, you're just running out of space to tattoo another weird marriage for posterity.) I miss the inefficiency of the guards of Burgundy. Ugh. And yes, the never-ending drilling of Esteban Abada that remind the good people of Quezon City that Sonny Belmonte really is doing his darnest to make Quezon City the best city in the entire frikkin' world! (THUNDER! LIGHTNING! DRY ICE! FADE TO BLACK!!!)

Oi. Of course, this isn't just jetlag. Folks, let it be known that I am, uh, discontinuing certain habits that have become a way of life for someone who has been living alone for 5 years. Yes, by Jiminy Cricket (curse you, Walt!), I shall overcome.

Deep, slow, well-paced breaths.

I'd Like To Strangle Red Tape Till It Turns Blue

I'm in some stupid rinky dink internet cafe at the UP shopping center, trying to keep calm and view matters with a healthy dose of humor.

I'm failing miserably.

I went here to get the transcript of my Tito in the States. I went to the Registrar's office to apply for one. No problem there. Found out I had to pay less than I expected. Certainly no problem there. Found out I had to pay all the way at PNB - a skip, a hop, a leap, a somersault, a pirouette, and a plié away. It was already 11:18 am. I knew they'd close at 12 for lunch.

Problem most definitely there.

So I get to PNB at around 11:43 (yep, I actually checked.) Whoa-ho, well waddayaknow. Those beautiful government employees were already on lunch. So now I'm stuck here till 1, to pay a measly fee.

I managed to find this place, which was a relief I thought - until I went in. It reminded me of the sweatshops in Cambodia. And the connection is S - L - O - W. So slow that...wait, is that the tortoise zipping by to cross the finish line? By golly, it is...and I'm still not done downloading!!!

Did I mention after paying for the fee I had to go back to the Registrar just to show that I've actually paid - and THEN they can go work on the application?

I swear to all things holy and powerful in all known and unknown religions in the world!!!

I mean, sure, this is UP's schtick. Only the brave and the ridiculously patient can survive here. But seriously, there is some measure of insanity here. THIS is our State University. Oi!!!

And for the record: It's not that I'm impatient. It's just that THEY'RE slow.

Harumph. So there.

The Day After

It's the day after my birthday and now I guess I'm allowed to be depressed.

I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving and it sucks, sucks, sucks.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

I actually disinfected my floors 3 times today. Yup, the panic is that bad. At least I'm productive when I panic.

Now I'm running out of things to clean. Damn.