My mother and grandmother could only stay in the Philippines for ~10 days, so my father and I were left to our own devices after their early departure from Manila. He decided to take me to Tagaytay (tuh-GAI-tai), which is a highland city about an hour south of Manila. Tagaytay sits on a ridge at the edge of Taal Lake, which provides the city with gorgeous views of the volcano-formed island in the center as well as the other smaller islands clustered nearby. Because Tagaytay is at a higher elevation and is nowhere near as urbanized as Manila, it is treasured as an escape from the heat and hustle and bustle of the capital city. Many elite Filipinos own vacation houses or condos in Tagaytay, and I grew to understand why during the overnight stay with my father.

Our adventure started with a zig-zagged, rapidly descending road that sliced down the ridge from Tagaytay to the waters of Taal Lake. After some negotiation on my father’s part, we were led to our banca (a traditional boat outfitted with bamboo riggers) and our boat driver, who cheerfully greeted us and pulled up a plank to help us into the vessel. The next 15 minutes were spent in peaceful silence as our banca glided through the morning mist and skimmed on the water toward the volcano island.

Once we reached shore, we were escorted to a stable where we were assigned our own ponies. Luckily for me, we were also assigned guides that helped steer the ponies onto the correct winding path leading to the volcano’s mouth. As we slowly ascended, we noticed other tourists struggling with the heat, the dust and the steep climb… and the sight of them made me very, very grateful for the hard-working pony I sat upon! When we finally reached the summit, we were greeted by women selling fresh coconut juice for thirsty travelers. And… well, who am I to deny them my business?

The view of the crater lake was impressive, but a bit hazy because of the humidity and the sulfuric gas that was still steaming from underneath the lake. Yes, I did just say sulfuric gas. Taal Volcano is still active, and at certain points along the ride I saw volcanic vents that emitted smoke and the smell of rotten eggs. And unlike the crater lake at Mt. Pinatubo, access is limited to the lip of the volcano because of its current active status. It was a fun ride, but the heat made me grateful for the subsequent boat ride back to shore once we descended.

Unfortunately, the rest of the trip went downhill pretty fast once we returned to Orion–I won’t go into the details other than to say that having the untreated water here by accident is not a vacation for your digestive system. I was bedridden for two days, and so I missed out on the plans that we had made for the rest of the trip. But let’s not talk about the dangers of drinking the water in third-world countries by accident. Instead, let’s talk about how amazing the food in the Philippines is every time I visit!

Filipino food (to me) is like the Soul Food of Asia–packed with flavor and unabashed in its lack of healthier options. Even the dishes that aren’t fried are likely still packed with decadent ingredients like coconut milk, liver, and sugar. There are certainly foods in its repertoire that are less unhealthy than others, but I think that most of the ones that define Filipino cuisine are not going to break ground for being diet-friendly. I come to the Philippines armed with this knowledge and determined to eat with moderation. And yet, I usually leave the Philippines much heavier than when I arrived because I just can’t help myself–the food is too good!

Pork is probably what we’re best known for, and for good reason, as you can see above. With lechon baboy, the whole pig is slowly roasted over a charcoal fire with lower heat over many hours; this allows the skin to crisp evenly on all sides. While being roasted, the skin is basted with sauce to produce the most amazing, savory crunch. There really is nothing I’ve tried in any other cuisine that is equivalent to how damn good lechon baboy tastes when fresh off the spit–especially the skin, accompanied by a chewy layer of fat that melts over your tongue in a wave of umami sensation.

Lechon baboy is usually reserved for special occasions–the one I enjoyed in Orion was for my nephew’s birthday. But what if you’re craving that “this is so delicious I don’t care if I have a heart attack” flavor? Lechon kawali is pork belly that is simmered with flavors such as bay leaves and peppercorn, then deep fried and chopped into bite-sized pieces. (The picture is above the last.) I can feel my arteries hardening every time I eat lechon kawali, but it hurts so good!

Let’s not forget the other iconic pork dish of the Philippines–crispy pata, or deep-fried pork leg/knuckles! Yes, more deep-fried pork. Are you starting to see a trend here? I’ve seen both leg and knuckles used for this dish, but the more traditional meat used is pig knuckles. The knuckles are marinated overnight, then deep-fried and served with a soy-vinegar sauce. The result is tangy, savory and unreservedly delicious.

Or perhaps you’d like something unfried? This pig’s blood stew, or dinaguan, stews pork and pig offals such as tripe in pig’s blood spiced with chili, garlic and vinegar. Waste not, want not–all parts of a pig are delicious! Dinaguan is a popular meryenda or mid-day snack when paired with puto–a steamed rice cake, often topped with cheese or a salted egg. Don’t be off-set by the inclusion of offals in the stew (if you’re not already off-set by the inclusion of blood as a major ingredient!). I ended up gobbling down every piece of tripe by the end of the meal!

The bottom line: Filipinos do pork better than anybody. There, I said it, and I’m willing to stare anyone down that tries to prove me wrong!

Just because we elevate pork to the next level doesn’t mean that we aren’t equally adept at other proteins. Fish is the obvious example, as the Philippines is the largest archipelago in the world. And while each of these island regions has its own specialties, there are some that transcend regions and become staple dishes of the Philippines itself. One of these preparations is adobong pusit, or adobo-style squid. The small to medium-sized squid is cleaned and prepped, then sauteed with garlic, bay leaves, vinegar and soy sauce. As it is cooked, its ink is released, giving adobong pusit its trademark appearance. My mom’s cousin, or my second aunt, makes the best freakin’ adobong pusit I’ve ever eaten which is pictured above… right before I decimated half of the serving bowl!

I’m getting a little long-winded here, but I truly love the food in the Philippines. And even though I live in Southern California–which has the largest Filipino community outside of the Philippines itself–the food never tastes quite as good as it does back in the PI. And whenever I go back, my family is more than willing to reacquaint me with how delicious each specialty dish really is… which usually equates to a much heavier Kris on the return flight.

Family and food–through these two linchpins of my life, I feel like I have a direct connection to my heritage and therefore my culture. I know that at my very core, I am American in my thoughts, my preferences and my sensibilities. But my heart and my stomach are Filipino to the core, and I will always be grateful to my family for raising me this way.

I’ve been traveling quite a bit recently–and even that is probably an understatement. I was in Colorado for the holidays with my family for two weeks, back in LA for another two weeks… and then off on another adventure for the past three weeks! So you’ll have to forgive me for being quite truant in updating this poor site. Two-thirds of this most recent trip was spent in the Philippines with my parents and grandmother. Most of my previous trips to the PI have been for vacation purposes, with a minimal amount of time spent in the province my family hails from. This trip had more practical reasons, and so I spent much more time in our hometown than I have in the past. But that gave me much more perspective and background on my parents and their lives before I came along, as well as more quality time spent with my family in general.

Being the child of parents who leave their home country for the current one is being a child stuck between two cultures. I didn’t understand or I brushed it off when I was younger. But I feel it now, whenever I endure the prolonged silences between myself and other Filipinos. They are too embarrassed to speak in their accented English to me; I, in turn, am too mortified to attempt my elementary Tagalog with them. This is not the case for my family nor my family’s friends in the Philippines–most have traveled to the States at some point or have had excellent English education. But the vast majority of strangers, especially in my home province of Bataan, are a mystery to me.

With that said, I still enjoy the opportunity to visit my ancestral homeland. One of my favorite parts of this particular visit was hearing my parents’ stories about growing up in their hometown of Orion, then driving around the town and seeing those stories come to life. We attended mass at the church where my parents’ families have attended for decades, and a funny story about my father bubbled to the surface. (Apparently ‘making eyes’ at the girls in the church from the courtyard was a thing!) As we were going through the fine china from my mother’s childhood home, we found funny love letters from previous suitors. (And I read them aloud, to her dismay.)

Another highlight of my Philippine trip were the house-calls we made to my family that still lives in Orion. My mom and I referred to it as ‘making mano‘ trips, or paying our respects to our elders around the town. When I was younger, my mom would make these calls on her own while I would slide out of the responsibility and play with my cousins instead. But they are no chore for me now–actually, I enjoy them quite a bit! Family is everything to me, and I jump at the chance to spend more time with them regardless of how many ‘aunts removed’ we are. Regardless of how distant we are in relation, we are all family… which makes my family truly gigantic. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So what is it like–returning to my home province–from my American perspective? Well, the streets are narrow and congested with a healthy mix of tricycles, jeepneys, brave (or ignorant) pedestrians, and cars. Tricycles are motorcycles with a covered buggy attached, as seen above. Jeepneys are chrome buses that have been tricked out with garishly-colored designs ranging from names to anime characters to quotes. I mentioned pedestrians because you will often find people walking along the edges of the highways–yes, I said highways. There are lines on the road and signs posted detailing speed limit and various hazards, but these are all treated like suggestions and not laws. In short: I would never drive here. Never. But I am very grateful that my dad is a pro at managing the streets and highways!

What are the people like here? Earnest, friendly and very hard-working. Many of them have OFW’s (Overseas Filipino Workers) in their families that fly to locations all over the globe to support them. The amount of opportunities for people who stay in the province are quite limited depending on your social standing, and the amount that most Filipinos can make overseas easily trumps the domestic pay rate. When they find out you hail from the United States, they can be inquisitive to the point of intrusive! Honestly, I’m just happy to chat with them because most people are too nervous about speaking in English with me.

As I mentioned, I spent most of my time in Orion, Bataan with my family. But we also managed to visit a few interesting places by car! This vertigo-inducing cross is the Mount Samat National Shrine, made in honor of the Filipino and American soldiers that lost their lives during WWII. Yes, you can go to the top of the cross–if you’re willing to stand in a claustrophobic elevator that barely fits 6 grown adults for one heart-stopping minute!

We also took a day trip to Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar, which is full of faithful reconstructions/rebuildings of Spanish-style Filipino mansions. Once you walked through the stone archway and onto the cobblestone streets, you felt instantly transported to the Spanish occupation of the Philippines in the 19th century. (With the exception of various modern conveniences, such as this motorcycle. Actually, I’m not sure if I was supposed to see this on the grounds or not!)

I think I’ll stop here for now, as I get the feeling this post is getting overly long. Next post: Hello Philippines, Part 2: Electric Boogaloo. Or, you know, just the second half.

WARNING: This post is much more talk and picture heavy than the last. Just so you know.

My brother’s promotion/pinning ceremony was on Tuesday, June 18–the real reason any of us were in Boston, period. Thankfully, everything went off without a hitch and now I guess I can call my brother ‘Captain’  if I want to. (Fat chance, since I’m his older sister.) Anyhow, I’m very proud of him and always will be. Congratulations, Captain Joel!

The next two days were an absolute blur. My grandmother and mother were determined to see the Boston Museum of Fine Arts  before they flew out later that day, so we took the Red Line on the T from Davis Square to Park St, then the Green Line to the MFA stop. Luckily, my friend Kenny stepped in like the boss that he is and comped our tickets as an MFA employee. (Thanks again!) Because I was worried about how easily my grandmother might tire as well as their impending flight time, we focused on two areas only: the Samurai! exhibit, and the European Art wing. Still a substantial amount of information to process in 3 hours, but we did the best we could! Some highlights:

I’ve been to the MFA before (in 2009), but I never tire of the history and artifacts housed within its walls. The last time I went, I think I spent… a good 6-8 hours there and still felt as if I had more to look at. Truly worth a visit if you happen to be in Boston. (My favorite artwork is housed in the European Art wing in the French Impressionists room. Monét’s various sets of nature at different times during the day… breathtaking.)

My parents flew out later that night, leaving me and my brother to our own devices for another day. Beer o’clock, anyone?

I’m so glad that we were able to have a low-key night–beer, pub food, and the Stanley Cup Finals–but even more glad that we went to the Harpoon Brewery Tour the next morning. Joel’s friends are nerdy, hilarious and fun–they made a good tour even better. And you really can’t improve much on a tour that designates 15-20 minutes for hanging out in a tap room full of beer. All-you-can-drink? Don’t mind if we do!Anyhow, I’m really glad that they weren’t freaked out by my paparazzo tendencies. I managed to get some great candid shots! (Obviously not the one below, of course).

We managed to cram a lot of eating into the few short hours prior to my plane’s departure as well. Harpoon Brewery served soft pretzels with a long list of sauce choices. Mine was a little too salty and burned at the bottom, sadly–but it photographs well:

We then blazed over to Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH) for a halal chicken and rice food truck. Joel knew how crazy I was about the Halal cart in NYC and was adamant about taking me here before I flew out. Isn’t he awesome?

The Verdict: It staved off the big hole in my heart that is shaped like Halal Chicken and Rice for now, but still cannot compare. But the service is friendly and the food is fast, so for a day drinker like me at the time–it was perfect!

Speaking of day drinking… ugh. Why do I always forget how miserable it makes me to fight off the inevitable mid-day nap, then evening hangover that always follows? You think that I’d be wiser in my late twenties, but that’s definitely not the case. Even though I was groggy and my flight was inching ever-closer, I was determined to bring food for myself onto the plane for the trip back to LA. If I was going to spend money on dinner, better it be at a local delicious spot than yucky airplane food.

Enter Dave’s Fresh Pasta–just one of many delicious small businesses that practically saturate the suburbs of Boston. I was unable to order said pasta because I loathed the idea of carrying a bowl around the airport, but they had a separate sandwich menu; I ordered a prosciutto and fig sandwich with buffalo mozzarella on focaccia bread. And of all the things I should’ve taken a picture of… but alas, I ate the sandwich too quickly! You will have to do with the menu of sandwich selections:

By the time I left Boston, my hangover had finally subsided and I was full of delicious sandwich. I doubt this will be the last time I visit this fantastic city–but it might be for a while, since my brother is moving to Sunnyvale in a month. However, as much as I loved my time in Boston… I was terribly relieved to be home as soon as I stepped outside of LAX and felt the hot, muggy air fill my senses. The police sirens in the distance, the honking of the taxis, the multitude of languages every which way you turn; it is the opposite of relaxing, but for me–it’s ‘welcome home!’ (Also: screw you, learn how to drive, HONK HONK. Haha. Oh, Los Angeles. You’re the best!)

I’m in Bah-stun right now.

Err, I mean Boston. Same thing?

My brother has been stationed here at the Air Force base near Boston for the past four years and is getting promoted to Captain tomorrow. To commemorate the occasion, my immediate family and I flew out to spend a few days with him. We arrived on Saturday night, and the past two days have been a whirlwind of activity: late night eats at Chinatown, mass at a historical Catholic church, and more. I miss being with my husband, but I really treasure any time I get with my family–especially because we’re in different areas of the world most of the year.

Boston is worlds apart from Los Angeles, and not just because of the obvious distance: the architecture, the illustrious history, and especially the people are so different that it might as well be a different country. My heart will always belong to LA and SoCal living, but Boston is a fantastic place to visit. As an (adopted) Angeleno, my favorite part of Boston is its compact size… well, compact compared to the LA sprawl, that is. Being able to get just about anywhere worth getting to on the T, easily walking from one area to the next, the narrow streets, the winding paths… I just love it. And everything here is so full of history–it confronts you at almost every corner of the city, both in the obvious guise of the costumed walking tour guides and in the uneven cobblestones laid on the street. I’ve been fortunate enough to stay with my brother and visit him here at least three other times, and I have never run out of things to do or places to see.

So far, we haven’t really eaten at places of note in Boston; we have so many things to do that waiting in line for a renowned restaurant or eatery would just eat up time. But we’ve managed to hop around to Chinatown, Davis Square, North End, and Union Square for eats so far. I’ve been trying to take pictures of the places that we’ve been eating at, but I’m finding that my nascent photography skills are woefully inadequate–also, jumping back 5 feet to get a good shot with my 50mm in a restaurant is definitely not something my family appreciates. If anything, trying to wander around this city while taking pictures is just convincing me that I need a 35mm! And I know I look like a total crazy-pants when I kneel to the ground just to get a good perspective. The Kris of 15 years ago would have cringed in embarrassment. The present one, however, is having way too much fun.

Hopefully I’ll have more food photos to show you all when I post again on Thursday. Until then, here are a few more pictures of my experience so far in Beantown. Have a great week!