Hey Readers,
On our last day in my father's hometown, my aunt and I did nothing but eat and enjoy stories as we home-hop from one relative's to another's.
During breakfast we ate bibingka, champorado, and pandisal. My aunts chit-chatted about childhood bullies and later speculated about marriage of their children.
We walked to the house of my aunt's sister-in-law; we had noodles with chicharon et al. I listened to them talk about children's high energy, and body-conscious and technology-literate kids.
Next stop was my cousin's cousin's home. I was getting full so I just ate a little rice and a lot of papaya with sabaw. They told stories about working abroad, saving, and retiring.
Before leaving, we had merienda: spaghetti, bread, and coffee. The next relative we were going to visit last saw me when I was still in diapers. She nicknamed me Arabiano because I had just flown from the Middle East and my cheeks were round and plump like Buddha. When she finally saw me, she commented that in spite of the growth spurt nothing else changed; I was still her Arabiano.
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