Food

When in Rome, eat like the Romans…..or something like that. It’s hard not to eat like a Filipino here. Rice is served with every meal and knives are often not included with your cutlery.

The customs of the Philippines is based on old Spanish. The cutlery used here is the fork and spoon. Most of their dishes have sauces, or are cooked like stews. Meat is heavily used, already cut into small pieces  for you, and there are usually plenty of vegetables with it to fill out the dish. Salt is added, often to the extreme. The reason given is the lack of refridgeration in the country, and salt is a preservative, after all. Just doesn't work so well at preserving human life, I guess.

The saving grace is the vegetables. They literally grow everywhere. Folks can pick fruits or vegetables right outside their front door any day of the year. Leafy greens grow along fences, rivers, driveways, and are even picked from trees. I haven’t heard of nor seen any plant here labelled as poisonous. It is either eaten by people, or picked to feed the livestock. And the country is so lush, it is no wonder that you never hear of famine in the Philippines. Hunger, yes, in the cities where beggars live. But in the country, there always seems to be something to eat. Even small towns and suburbs have goats and chickens in every yard. I know, because you can hear them every morning. Very early.





It has been a real education for me to see how foods I had eaten all my life are grown. I had no idea that bananas start out as a huge flower bud that opens, each petal falling and revealing tiny green bunches of baby bananas on a long stem. And that there are so many different types of bananas, each with its own unique taste.

Bananas are a whole different animal here. The texture is the same, but the taste is not bland, not even mild. There are small ones that are barely half the size of the ones we get at home, but their light orange flesh has a rich sweetness to it with absolutely no chalky aftertaste. Another type of banana is stubby and fat, and very firm when it is ripe, but the locals will cook it to soften it and it tastes wonderful. They're often wrapped in spring roll wrappers and deep fried. They have became a favourite street food of ours.





I have learned that cashews grow on trees and the nut develops on the bottom of the fruit, not inside.

And that fish can thrive in mud, and that free range chickens are really, really hard to catch once they get moving. And that it is so much fun to watch someone try. Especially the children.

Hubby is delighted with all this familiar food and is reliving the flavours of his youth, with rice, fish, and fresh-from-the-ditch leafy greens for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was amazed when I found a Pancake House in one of the malls, and happily ordered waffles. Notice how the other plate  holds fish and rice with his breakfast egg. Yes, Pancake House in the Philippines has that on the menu, too.

And then my dear hubby found out how hard it was to get a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Instant coffee with powdered non-dairy creamer is the norm. He finds himself slowly being weaned from his morning addiction. Imagine his delight when we found a Dunkin’ Donuts in Baguio that served brewed coffee. Still no cream, mind you, but he will drink it black as long as it is made fresh.

Since then, we have found small pockets of places that serve good coffee. The resort on the island of Palawan, for example pampered my hubby with fresh French-pressed java every morning. For that week, he even had milk served with it.


I have been loving the fresh fruits found almost on every street corner. It has become my normal breakfast – an orange, mango, banana, and sometimes papaya or pineapple. These are just so accessible you can see them along any highway and overflowing in the markets.

Lunch for us has typically been a national specialty called Halo-Halo. The literal translation is “mix-mix”. It consists of tropical fruit jellies and beans with evaporated milk (anyone that has tried my hubby’s fruit salad will recognize this) over top of a generous portion of crushed ice and topped with one scoop of ice cream and a chunk of crème brulee (custard with caramel). What could be fattening about that? It is a perfect blend of sweetness and coolness in this hot climate.

I have a propensity for gaining weight.  This has been something I’ve lived with all my life. But, despite the daily halo-halo, I think I’m doing okay here.  There is no scale I can use to check, which up to now has been a ritual, but at least my clothes still fit. I’ll have to use that as my guide until I get back and learn differently.

Ignorance is bliss.

W

History Lessons

In our two years of travel we have stopped at many museums, both local and large, to educate ourselves on the history of the areas we travel through. It just gives us a thrill every time we can say, “Wow, I didn’t know that!” Not to say we remember everything we learned, just that the fun was in the learning.

We were taught the native history in the buffalo country of North Dakota, and then the native history in the rice terraces of Banaue. They are remarkably similar in that the native survival techniques of both were superseded by the “learned” cultures of the conquerors. In the Philippines, we were lucky enough to enjoy the native dances that are still enjoyed at gatherings today.

However the history of the area of Bataan in the Philippines is very disturbing. It is located in a strategic area for the protection of Manila, being across Manila Bay from the city. Thus it has seen many hard fought battles, the worst being during World War II. There is a shrine on the top of a hill commemorating the many fallen in these battles and describing the events that directly affected the outcome. Tour buses take school children and tour vans take adults to this shrine on a frequent basis. We however, took a tricycle. And the only one we could get had a small motor that couldn’t quite make it to the top of the road with our weight in the passenger cab. No matter. We walked the last couple of hundred meters to the gate and then the many steps up to the shrine.  We needed the exercise. The shrine has two parts: a memorial hall with descriptions of the battles and the battalions that participated, and then further up, a 400 foot tall cement cross at the very tip of the hill. The cross is large enough to hold an elevator that takes you up to the arms of the cross where there is a viewing area. And it is imposing enough to be seen for many miles around the countryside.

 A tiny island in the mouth of the bay, Corrigedor Island, was a major battlefront. After the Japanese overran Bataan, the defenders retreated to this island for their last stand. Even with help from American forces, the island was devastated. The government has now repaired the roads and put up shelters, shops and a museum for the tourists, but has left the bombed ruins on the island as a testament to the horrors of war.

After defeating the island, the Japanese then took the remaining survivors of the defending forces and, after amassing them on the shores of Bataan, made them walk the 128 kms to their POW camp. This has become known as the Death March, as many of the soldiers in the march did not survive the walk. There are white cement posts along the entire route, kilometer by kilometer, reminding all of the tragedy.

On the other side of Bataan from the bay, there is history preserved that has a less tragic overtone.  A developer with knowledge and finances has been buying up the oldest houses in all of the country and relocating them on his seaside property. In so doing, he has preserved heritage homes that would have otherwise been lost to rebuilding.  He has researched the history of the buildings and restored them, only improving the interiors and amenities to make them high end resort accommodations.   Employees dress in period costume and give walking tours of the heritage town, telling the story of each home in turn, as well as the plans for further development. There are statues throughout the property, folk music in the square, and cobblestone pavement. 

A delightful part of history to relive.

Island Connections

Same island we were on, but now we are at the other end, on the other side, and in a different world.  We left behind the high energy of the adventure tourists in the north and any diesel fumes of city life.  Our new resort is 10km outside of a town, and in fact even a full 3 km off the main road. No tricycles run past this place, only the odd local motorcycle or a cart pulled by a water buffalo or cow. This fairly new establishment is within a coconut grove on the seashore and has very little in the way of population around it. Gone are the sounds of horns and engines, replaced by birdsong and the occasional thump of a falling coconut and a coconut leaf . I was warned not to walk too close to the tree trunks.

On our last evening the resort gave us dinner on the beach. They had 5 bonfires set up ready to be lit, and as the night went on, each bonfire got its turn.  No feeding the fire, once it died down the next one was sent up in flames. There was a buffet table and eating tables with linen and place settings set out for the four couples at the resort, and they even had a fellow with a guitar serenading us with songs from the 70’s. It was a glorious evening under the stars with a gentle breeze coming off the ocean, and a good celebration of our final night there.

One of the reasons we came to the town of Narra in southern Palawan was to locate family members, some not seen for 55 years and only a distant memory. We found them. They are a boisterous group who eagerly enfolded us and proudly showed us the best spots of their region. Their family occasions remind me much of my own. Food is the hub around which everything else radiates. A trip to a waterfall became a picnic. A boating excursion over to a little island was a reason to eat and drink and let the little kids swim… and swim some more.  And then they collected clams to cook up once we got back to the main island, just in case anyone was hungry.

Hubby is enjoying revisiting the past and mentally connecting the branches of a convoluted family tree, basically trying to fit those 55 years into four days.He has been grilling the older relatives about names, places, and dates, and finding his own spot in an ever expanding universe of family.  Big bang theory, proven.

There is a string of mountains running the length of Palawan, and the island isn’t so over populated as some parts of the Philippines. This means that there are still a few wild animals in the mountains. What we saw were mostly wild monkeys. Wild in the sense that they are not yet tame, but they are certainly habituated to people. They follow you around and steal off picnic tables. One poor young lady was startled by a monkey jumping up beside her as she was going down steps towards the picnic area, causing her to drop the buns she was carrying. Score one for the wild side.

At the National Park that encompasses the Underground River, there are monitor lizards. These are large reptiles with a snake-like tongue that lumber over the ground and mostly ignore people. Hard to do when so many tourists were sticking cameras in front of them.  Including us.

Since the naming of the Underground River as one of the 7 Natural Wonders of the World, the Philippines have done a smart thing. They have limited the number of visitors and how far into the cave these visitors can travel. Out of an 8 kilometer stretch of river, we were only allowed to see the first kilometer and a half. There is still plenty to see, as the cave is long and winding and has all the best cave features, like stalactites and tall ceilings and bats. They have tried to keep it all natural, so there are no lights attached inside the cave; only a battery powered one on the boat. Still, it is hard to get that feeling of isolation when your boat is only one of a half dozen paddling through the darkness. Yes, they have put a cap on tourists: only 900 can visit in a day. Sounds like a lot, but there is so much demand that it is fully booked usually 3 or 4 days in advance. And then you also have to add in the "politically approved" permits.

  

We didn’t mind the delay in getting there. It gave us another opportunity to snorkel and island hop. I think this could be addictive.

W