Advent

Waiting, in the general sense of the word, is not very popular among many. But waiting for Christmas is an exception. The four Sundays before Christmas are usually full of cheer, hot chocolate, mulled wine, gift wrappers, presents, glitters, lists and more lists. The festivity is so contagious and commercialized that somehow along the way, its true meaning is lost. How ironic that from the asceticism of the Manger we now boast of an $11 million Christmas tree. A jewel-encrusted Christmas tree is a paradox. But I digress. This is the time for waiting. That's the beauty of this season. When every snow flake is not rushing to reach the ground. The fire flickering in no hurry. The winter nights in extended silence. We all await. Together.

In our stillness, let our hearts be filled with joy, peace and love.   

Mai pen rai

The mantra I lived by while in Chiang-mai. If Liz Gilbert has a word, I've got an expression. In different versions as spoken in different languages: in Kiswahili I subscribe to "hakuna matata", in French anything is "c'est pas grave", in Surigaonon I declare "way kaso", in Tagalog I claim "carry lang yan!". All of these do not necessarily translate literally to the same expression, but they all convey the same message to me- relax! In the imperative. I never realized how hard it is to truly relax. When you allow yourself to absolutely have no worries (hakuna matata), to take nothing as a big deal (c'est pas grave), to not mind (way kaso) and to just, be (carry lang yan). In Thailand I am often reminded that "mai pen rai". I still don't know what it exactly translates to, but I imagine it is in the line of "that's alright-never mind-do not worry-forget it-it's nothing..." and all else that might suggest the same. Not that I got myself into innumerable flurries to merit such advice, but it simply took me awhile to do what I intended to do in Thailand (and in everyday life) - to relax. So after I heard that said to me, by my husband included (he gets acculturated really fast) I tried to say it to myself, "mai pen rai". And it has become since then my "om".

When the head is quiet, the heart is at peace. Consequently, the sun is brighter, the weather is lovelier, the river calmer, the stupas grander, the temples holier, the caves darker, the mountains higher, the animals tamer, the food spicier, the shopping cheaper. Everything just becomes extremely beautiful. The truth is, it always has been. I just need to see it with an uncluttered mind.

Now I am back living on the edge. In a country with only a ceasefire agreement with its enemy, not a peace treaty. What a perfect place to say, mai pen rai!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Today in Seoul it's -3'C. Being born and raised in a tropical country, this temperature to me was unthinkable. But if you see me now, in my complete layered regala, you would think I've braved this weather all my life. That is just me taking it out on winter clothing. Underneath all that fur, I am cursing every negative degree found in Celsius. But tomorrow in just 3 clicks of my heels, I will be over the rainbow where it is 30'C. I will take no cellphone, I will check rien de emails, I will not log on Facebook, I will not blog. I won't have to cook a single meal for 10 days, there will be housekeeping, and I can wear shorts. Now that truly sounds like the other end of the rainbow when you come to think of it!

Where is that suitcase?

"When we truly care for ourselves, it becomes possible to care far more profoundly about other people. The more alert and sensitive we are to our own needs, the more loving and generous we can be towards others" - Eda LeShan, children's author.

Multilingual Children

It's fashionable now that children speak more than one language. A big reason is parents who come from different countries speak different languages, another because families live outside their country that has another mother tongue or bi-country families live in a third country, and there are also a few who simply want to raise a linguist. Studies show that when you speak more than one language to a child starting at 2 years old, it will make him smarter. Studies also show that crack babies are not any dumber (compared to non- crack babies). Why Joan of Arc's mother probably lived on goat cheese, tuna canapés and wine while conceiving and yet came up with such an offspring as Joan of Arc! The irony is that parents don't have complete control over how smart or dumb their descendants will become. From utero to college, children are and will be a class of their own. I did write a blog earlier that the way we relate to our kids directly affects how they will be as adults. That is written purely in the context of parent-child relationship and has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with how many Einstein DVDs we let them watch, how elaborate our craft activities are or how many organic apples we give them and for that matter how many languages we try to instill or install in their heads. In fact, the manner of giving birth, C-section or vaginal, does not entirely affect their brain development. In the same way that it is not the amount of fish oil a mother gets while pregnant that guarantees a spot in Harvard Law School. Children will speak a language. Sometimes more than one. But whether that is telling of the sum of their Intelligence Quotient is debatable. Language is a skill. Intelligence is genetic. Children are from God.

This morning little Oliver put on a hat and said, "kalo" (a Filipino dialect -Surigaonon- word for "hat"). Awhile later, he was beckoning his toy horse "iriwa" 이리와 (Korean for "come here"). Mostly he speaks English because that is what we speak at home. But toddlers learn whether we want them to or not. And remember, they don't wear a watch. 

"It takes twenty years to become an overnight success." - Eddie Cantor

The Seeds We Sow

One of the most obscure advice I've ever heard about parenting is, ""try to look ahead and then look back". It only made perfect sense to me when I saw my children perched up on a tree last Saturday. One day, they will be full grown trees (looking ahead); what could I have done differently (looking back)? Our answers will be different. Every set of parents will have their own unique list according to values, personalities, and priorities. And no one is absolutely more right than the other. In fact, not the same list will be applicable to every child. I have two children, 20 months apart, one would think I easily flip through the same notes when I find myself in a fork when dealing with the boys. I do not. In fact I learned what I needed to know more about motherhood with my second child. And perhaps I might approach things differently if another baby were to come. What is true for all is, there is something we can do now. Not later. When the plant has grown sturdy and harder to tend. After all sowing comes first. And that's where we are. Always. No matter what stage and age our children are in. We are always sowing seeds (of truth, of love, of hope...). And them reaping. So what will you do differently that you can change now?

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.” Master Ooguay from the movie Kung Fu Panda

G20, Pilates and a box of Wine

The dust has settled. The airspace is now clear. Those dignitaries who stayed at the hotel next door obviously preferred to jaunt in their helicopters to the summit venue than use the electronic buses to cross over the Han River. I wouldn't mind it so much it they didn't fly over my house at 6:30 in the morning. But all's well that ends well. For instance, Hyundai and Kia cars will be seen rolling down the roads of South Korea along with their European counterparts very soon. Hello BMWs and Minis! Diversity makes a great tapestry, so they say. Not for the Fords and Cadillacs yet, anyway. (SK and EU shook hands on an Foreign Trade Agreement (FTA) but not SK and USA) At least Obama was in the hood albeit shortly. That day we felt the ripples of his coming in our street, I checked if Stan knew the man, so I asked, "Stan, who is the most important American?", decisively he replied, "Baba!" (his father). How about Obama? I clarified, "Oh he's American too", said my (almost) 4 year old diplomat. That got it straightened out. 

Joseph Pilates. I think he is an important man in the world of fitness. I didn't dare verify with my son, but I do think the Pilates method of body conditioning is smart. I say this because when doing Pilates one engages the mind (a lot) to make the body work. Such was Joseph P.'s philosophy "training the mind and body to work together toward the goal of physical fitness", otherwise called "The Art of Contrology". A system he developed in Germany in the 1900s tested by WW1 internees. That claim would be hard to beat! Today may not be 1918, but the Pilates method remains to be the secret of athletes, models, dancers, and mothers who want to lose their stubborn post postpartum wobbly bellies. It is not easy in the beginning, but as dear old Joseph would say "Physical fitness can neither be achieved by wishful thinking nor outright purchase". I wish he was wrong! But two months into it, and struggling to be faithful, my pockets of doubt are starting to fade. I am starting to see results; I am beginning to stand straighter, my movements more controlled, and I am just happier to feel more energetic each day. The best part about it is, the soreness that I usually associate with working out is not there. At the end of the day, all I get is a good night's sleep.

Especially with a soothing nightcap, like Burgundy. Last Tuesday was an Ajumma (아줌마; meaning "mother" in Korean) Night for my girlfriends and I. It was not exactly your usual  Mother Butler Guild type of meeting nor was it quite the Tupperware party kind of gathering but like all those, it was what you'd expect of a slumber party/girl's night out/exclusively-estrogen-only sort of an event. We didn't really go out to a bar or restaurant or a noraebang (노래방; singing room) like we've done in the past year, instead we stayed in one of the homes (the Man of the house being out of the country). We had a box of finger-lickin' good fried chicken, boxes of pizza, immense blocks of chocolates and large bags of chips. To lubricate all of these, we had a 7L box of red wine. That night, no one was keeping track of calories. I did bring up Joseph Pilates at one point and we all got on the floor and attempted to do The Hundred, but that was as fleeting as the FTA discussions at the G20 Summit could get. We did represent some of the world: Azerbaijan, Philippines, Serbia, South Korea, Thailand and the United States. And if it were only up to us, we would have declared the end of war between women and food. Salud!



"When I hear somebody sigh, "Life is hard," I am always tempted to ask, "Compared to what?" -Sydney J. Harris

Holidays and Observance

I've always been fascinated with them. Not only because I associate them with no work or (when I was younger) no school but because of the celebration they conjure. Growing up in the Philippines there seems to be always a reason to declare a holiday. My favorite is the absolutely meaningless "sandwich" holidays i.e. when Tuesday falls as an official holiday, Monday becomes a sandwich holiday. I love it! When I worked for the French Embassy-Manila I enjoyed the celebration of Bastille. When I lived in America, I loved Thanksgiving best; I still vividly remember my first Thanksgiving with the Montforts in New Jersey. When I lived in Ghana, I especially liked the Farmer's Day on December 1st. It was special to me because I lived with a farmer and his family, the Havors. When I lived in Kenya, October 10th was unforgettable. Moi Day. Just reading it makes me feel like I am entitled to do as I please on that day - thinking of "moi" in French - the day of Daniel Toroitich arap Moi (pronounced /moy/), Kenyan President. In South Korea, there seem to be countless Independence Days. I really have not gotten to the bottom of it all, but I like it that there are so many. What tops it for me is the South Korean observance of Pepero Day or Stick Day, celebrated on November 11 (11/11 stands for four sticks) a day to give loved ones cookie sticks dipped in chocolate. Ah! no other holidays in the world, contrived or not, can out best a day of cookies! On Stick Day, you don't have to dress scary or funny to merit a stick cookie. You just have to be loved. If that is not the best holiday in the world, I don't know what is.


"The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart, the secret anniversaries of the heart." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet

Lessons from the Potty

A few months ago I wrote an article for Cradle Magazine's summer issue about potty training your child. Writing it was enjoyable and productive because the research I gathered was very useful to me. When I turned in the "Choose Your Own Adventure: A Diaper-free World" article, I thought I was ready to step into the ring for round two (first round was Stan); after all Oliver was then about 24 months. He must be ready. I was wrong. One of the things I keep on forgetting is that, when parents set out to potty train their child, they are the ones who end up potty trained. Not their child. We know when they need to go, but they don't. We impose, we cajole, we declare- "potty time!" Sans victoire. I tried to do all the 5 different adventures of potty training with Oliver but he never chose "to-go". He had given in to one successful trip but he preferred the accidents better. Cleaning up wasn't my favorite part. So I gave up. I thought, well, one day he will surely stop wetting his pants. At that point I was dearly hoping it wouldn't be when he's 10 or something. Lo and behold, last Saturday, he took off his diaper and said "mom, pee!". I rushed to grab a rag - in automatic mode - to wipe up the accident, but alas, there was no pool of pee to be found. Oliver ran to the bathroom, aimed at his potty, and then I heard the most beautiful trickling sound I'd been waiting for all these months. Oliver peed in the potty on his own. It happened! I was so dumbfounded that I didn't know what to do, should I congratulate him? Hug him perhaps? I held back tears in disbelief. When I finally got myself together I patted him on the shoulder and said, "Oliver you are such a big boy now", he looked at me straight in the eye and replied, "yeah!". And I nodded in agreement, bewildered how he could be so nonchalant about such a great milestone. It suddenly made me self-conscious, what if he thought I was so silly to do such an otiose undertaking as attempting to empty his very own bladder? It seems to me now that he had a perfect plan when to do it on his own, all along. That is, at 27 months. And perhaps one of these days he will decide to regress. I can already see how my blood will boil and ire will rise. But I shall try to hold my ground. Because what I ought to know is, when it comes to potty business, timing is golden.

Caliciviruses

I just self-diagnosed myself as having that. (In this age of Google, I can do anything!) Symptoms are diarrhea, vomiting and fatigue (all check). Usually common between the months of October through April (another check). So I got one of the Caliciviridae family of viruses, cool! Sounds very Romanesque but not nearly as pretty. Being confined in my  bed for three days straight concomitant with 2 très actif toddlers was a circus! You need to pay a fee to see it. How those three days went by without any fatalities was surreal. But we all got through it with flying colors (yes, I saw those too while I was sick!) and are now moving forward. The boys didn't get it, so I am not sure if that was in fact the virus (at least I am not in trouble for malpractice) or it was simply due to the stress of the past week. It was an overwrought week for me. Our babysitter told me she's going home to Russia (bad), my husband and I had successive night outs (good), I organized a Halloween party (good), there was Halloween (bad; sugar rush at all time high in my house), I landed a volunteer work with the Sisters of St. Paul of Chartres (very good), my dentist told me I have to have my left molar extracted (very bad) and this season's Mad Men came to an end (very bad). Looking back, it seemed enough to turn my stomach around. But then again, maybe it was the virus. Either way, it was the most reasonable façon to drop a dress size down. Hopefully that part won't recover as fast.

My 3 Favorite Saints

St. Thérèse of Lisieux is my beloved saint since I was a little girl. I found it easy to identify with her since I had bad asthma attacks when I was little, and she had her share of illness too as a child. She died at 24; lived 15 years of cloistered religious life. One would wonder how a young and recluse girl could become a Doctor of the Catholic Church. Her life was immensely inspiring to me, not because of the grandness of it, but rather of its simplicity. Her autobiography "Story of a Soul" fortified my longing for Love. In all its mystery, pain and glory.

Zaidee (to whom this blog is dedicated; she lives in Miami, Fl.) is also my favorite saint. Zaidee was my dormitory room mate while I was a university student more than 10 years ago. She taught me so much about prayer, not in words but by example. Watching her pray in our little dorm room was a powerful testimony of her faith and love for God. Zaidee is a Muslim who taught me how to be a good -or at least I try - Catholic. My desire to pray like she prays brought me closer to God. I remember the times when we would giggle in our room sharing stories of victories (mostly about exams barely passed, but passed anyway or cute guys we saw in the lobby who smiled our way) and thanking God! Because of Zaidee I learned that God is God of all. That He is so much bigger than what we could possibly conceive of Him. That God is Love. He loves not one, but every one.

Orion, my husband, is another favorite saint in my list. Orion was baptized, confirmed and received the Eucharist on the day of our wedding. It was 4 Sacraments rolled into one, on that beautiful February afternoon. He was first Baptized and then Confirmed before Matrimony and the Eucharist were ministered. So while I was seated there beside him, in my wedding gown, I couldn't contain my tears and my joy. I never truly understood what a "calling" was until that moment. I could almost feel the whole Cloud of Witnesses (my St. Therese included) right there watching over us, welcoming him with songs of praise and thanksgiving. What amazing grace it is for me, that from that very day onwards, Love came into my life. Orion made God real to me through Love. Everyday I see how my husband teaches me that "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres" (1 Corinthians 13: 4-7)


I am just glad there is a day to honor saints. And that I live around them or they are up there praying for me...

 -written on All Saints Day, 1st November 2010

Are you a Witch?

Do you have an affinity with black cats? (here I am about cats again!) Do you have a big cauldron? Are you fond of black pointy hats? Do you have a friendly relationship with spiders and toads? Do you use a broom for transport? Do you feel energetic when there's a full moon? If you said yes to all that, then fairytale has it, you are indeed a witch. Congratulations! or My apologies...Depends how you take it. Nowadays, witches aren't always portrayed as unsightful nor vile as they used to be. There's Sabrina, blond and pretty and look at Kiki (Kiki's Delivery Service created by Hayao Miyazaki; excellent movie, you can't miss!) so cute and adorable! And there is Glinda too, from the Wizard Oz. Glinda is the good witch with such a silvery voice, as opposed to her sister the Wicked Witch of the West, the mean grotesque looking one. And then there is a third kind of witch. Those who can easily kiss a booboo away, those who can scare the monsters under the bed, those who can make any little thing alright, those who can make an old green shirt into a Peter Pan costume (well alright, maybe into a Leprechaun!). That proves they have magical potential according to the witch's handbook, but in the real world, we call them Mothers. Mothers could be scary as witches, I couldn't agree more. So if you are a mother and you do not wish to fall into the bad witch category, follow these *two-hard-and-fast rules:
1. The Witch's Rede: "As it harms none, do what you will"
2. Threefold Law: "Whatever you do, returns to you threefold"
If you follow these rules, you might graduate with honors at Hogwarts. And maybe, motherhood will just be well nigh magical.  

Go witch!

*Source: The Witch's Handbook, A Field Guide to Magic  by Emily Dickenson

Cat Café

I wasn't sure what to make of that at first. Easily I thought of civet coffee. Ah! What if worse? Being in Korea, it wouldn't take much for one to imagine being served a feline caffeinated drink. Neither of those were true as I later found out. The Cat Café in Myeong-dong has over 20 cats to take pictures of, to pet, to feed, to play with and hang out with. They serve coffee- latté, cappuccino, mocha, regular things like that (thank goodness!)- which comes free with the 8,000 KRW you pay to enter (I pay 5000 KRW for Stan too, kids over 36 months are charged; he gets a free orange juice or tea). They don't really serve food there as they don't want the cats to go haywire. Instead they give you some little jelly cups that have cat food in them (which I almost gave to Oliver thinking it was jell-o!) that you can feed to the tabbies. Except for those who are accoutremented with pink ribbons around their necks. These ones are on a diet. Cute! (I need a pink ribbon myself!) As much as I don't believe in clichés, sometimes I defer to one, "curiosity kills a cat", indeed. While my sons are having a ball, I am all the while petrified. You know how dog lovers claim they hate cats? Well I am in a different level altogether. I am appalled by cats as I am by vermin. And yet there I am in a café full of toms, sipping my coffee with feigned composure until this hairless cat lands suddenly and yet gracefully on my table. It is called the Sphinx Cat. And alas! It is no less than one of the ugliest animals in the world! http://www.nydailynews.com/lifestyle/pets/galleries/the_worlds_ugliest_animals_/the_worlds_ugliest_animals_.html. Sometimes my days are uneventful, but sometimes I get myself into unexpected thrills like that. Not bad for 8,000Won! You will have a blast if you happen to like cats.

Kindle

I wonder how many could immediately tell this is about Amazon's latest cash cow (or perhaps some are expecting I am coming up with something profoundly poetic here. Buzz! you lose a turn). The BBC news says that Amazon's Kindle made excellent figures this summer (a rise of 39% in sales) some forecast an even gargantuan growth by the end of the year. But what about print? What will my licked thumb turn to next page? What will I dog-ear? The bookshelves will be left empty, the bookmarks unused. And think about all the work done behind a book/magazine - color separating, printing, folding, binding. Oh what a beautiful thing, print. I will madly miss it when it becomes archaic. On the other hand, I would like to think this will take us to the era when we could finally fly light. When we don't have to carry books in our carry-ons, when we don't have to pack tons of volumes when we moves places, when sorting what to and what not to keep, is over. When acquiring does not have to be possessing. That time when we own less and less and less...and most of all, when we stop losing trees.

But in the meantime, I love print.

3 Crowns and a Bridge

In full acquisition as of yesterday with sweat, blood and toil. Impressive as it may be if it were a monarchic success, it is but a dental affair that lasted an arduous two months. Complete with 3 root canals on my belt! So now I have a "beautiful smile line-up", as the slogan in my dentist's office says (I live in South Korea, where "morning view give me wide mind").


2 sons later, I finally adhere to the Yiddish proverb, "when a thief kisses you, count your teeth". I should have known these little angels have robbed me blind of my calcium reserve. From the womb to the years I breastfed them. I was a good pregnant lady, I flossed and brushed my teeth with the piety of a monk -mostly because I feared the lash of periodontal disease- but I was not as vigilant to the call of guarding my teeth from damnation at postpartum. So here I am now, gnashing my teeth (pun intended), paying the price of not loading up on my calcium intake while breastfeeding, at 1,000 mg RDA. To this day I do not drink milk (no, I don't walk the talk) instead I count on Häagen-Dazs as substitute, which I equally regret! Heed that, "we are not born to have cavities", it is not my priest who said that, but the National Institutes of Health (though I'd believe my priest anyway!). If you are a Thomas requiring proof, click http://www.nih.gov/about/researchresultsforthepublic/ToothDecay.pdf. You'll find a Fact Sheet (from the NIH) that will tell you what you need to know about teeth- Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. 

Because saving our teeth is a battle worth fighting for. 

Goin Bananas

Prices of produce have skyrocketed the past few days (to prove a point, a quarter of a cabbage now costs more than 3,000 KRW (about 2.66 US$ or 115.00 PHp). It is pretty serious that news has it, they might start charging for Kimchi in restaurants one of these days. That would be tragic to some of us.

As for me, having to pay an arm and a leg for bananas IS tragic. It grows on trees where I come. Fortunately the other day, I found a good deal. I was able to get a bunch of them (approximately a little more than 1,000 grams/ 9 bananas) for something shy of 5,000 KRH (4.49 US$ or 194.00 PhP). Of course it is in its ripest possible state; almost got a Best Before Tomorrow printed on it. Ah what pressure! My husband does not like bananas at all. My boys do, but I sincerely don't expect them to gorge on it, say 4 each in a day, unless I wish them constipation! And me, well, I do like it. But 9 in a sitting? Seriously? I have to be creative.

I remember the times when I used to bake a lot. Name it- from muffins, to brownies, carrot cakes to breads. Our apartment used to smell like a sweet tooth's Mecca because I would whip something up everyday. Sometimes more than once a day. I have the bathroom scale to attest to that! However, recently (perhaps due to my fall out with the bathroom scale) I have not been so motivated. Good thing I actually didn't get into the business. Lest I would see it slowly wilt away. But today, I've got to kick myself and drag my unmotivated baking hands to the kitchen to do something about those bananas! And so it went in the oven, mashed and all and came out as banana bread. Not bad. Except that, I have about 5 more to go. Darn! Lesson learned? Never, never fall for the red sign that says SALE. Never! Or...well, be motivated. Because no matter the detour, you'll always end up with something worthwhile.

People often say that motivation doesn't last. Well, neither does bathing -- that's why we recommend it daily." - Zig Ziglar, motivational speaker

I wish I may, I wish I might

Last night we watched Pinocchio (1940) by Walt Disney based on the Adventures of Pinocchio by the Italian author Carlo Lorenzini (more popularly known by his pen name, Carlo Collodi). I remember seeing this movie when I was younger but I recall very little about it. Mostly all about the poor boy's disturbing nose. How can I not remember that, to become real, one ought to be "brave, truthful and unselfish"? I felt a stab of guilt when the beautiful blue fairy said that in her musical voice. By golly, it made me think about my existence! Not so much as how Mr. Sartre would put it, but I simply wondered, am I wood? Occasionally useful? but otherwise hard, heartless, inert? Lions-and-tigers-and-bears, oh-my! (from The Wizard of Oz). In all fairness though, I know I am quite "brave" (granted it is a calculated risk!) and I do try to be "truthful" in most of my dealings (granted it is mutual!)...but "unselfish"? I cannot find a defense for that! (..er...I did breastfeed?) To be real is a tough call, to follow through is a greater challenge. It is not just knowing what is right from wrong, but doing it and sticking to it when no one else is on your side. To be real (brave, truthful and unselfish) will set one apart. Only then will Life truly happen.

Looking at my children now, these are my Jiminy Crickets. They are my guide. For who else can truly teach me how to be brave, truthful and unselfish but these pure at heart? Pinocchio is aimed to teach the old.

"The value of marriage is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults."

Noodles

In the Philippines, we refer to Ramen Noodles as simply, "noodles". Sometimes we call it Maggie (a popular brand name that makes ramen noodles), otherwise we say Lucky Me (its competing brand). Ramen is generally known to be from Japan of Chinese origin. Why they don't say it is from China, to make things simpler, I can't tell. Some say that it comes from the Chinese word "la mian", and that "ramen" is how the Japanese could best pronounce it. In Korea they say 라면 romanized as "ramen" but seems to be pronounced "ram-yon", perhaps from the word "le mien" in Cantonese that means "to stir" (the process of stirring the noodles with the sauce). 

Growing up in the Philippines I only know how to make it one way: throw everything in boiling water and serve. We are very straight forward like that when it comes to our noodles. What I missed though, is not getting the most nutrients from it except sodium overload. Living in South Korea for the past three years, well...besides acquiring the taste for kimchi, I learned how to dress up my old time favorite noodles. And I call it--



Maggie gets Lucky Recipe

Medium Onion
Mushrooms
Green pumpkin

Sesame leaves
Chicken broth

Pack of Ramen noodles

-Boil water with chicken broth
-Toss noodles and chopped vegetables in. Simmer until cooked.
-Add the seasoning. If possible on half of the packet. Add soy sauce and sesame oil to taste. Top with dried sage and serve.

Night Light

It was not the the 4th of July, it was not the Olympics, it was not (yet) New Year's Eve but Saturday Night was ūber spectacular! Our prolific family of four joined the throng of people in Seoul. With all the hustle and bustle around, it surely felt like all 12 million of the Seoul  population was in attendance, all headed to the banks of the Han River to witness the International Fireworks Show. We could have chosen a distantly strategic spot to watch it (like from a friend's roof deck) but we stubbornly chose to be perched up on a little hill at Ichon Park. It wasn't so bad, we had a good view, just that every now and then I would uncontrollably and unstoppably roll downhill tagging along with me our two tots (3 years old and 2; They're 20 months apart). The three of us laughed as uncontrollably and unstoppably as our descent. When we'd try to climb up, we'd start laughing that we would just end up at the bottom of the hill again. My husband looked concerned and entertained at the same time, watching us from up there (he always has his feet planted firmly on the ground, I give him that!). While there I was, his better half -falling all over myself- struggling to get a grip! The pyrotechnics was absolutely impressive! A French team, called Groupe F was featured (they performed at the Opening Night of the Hi Seoul Festival 2010). They did the 2010 Dubai "Burj Khalifa" Inauguration, 2009 Paris 'Celebrating 120 years of Eiffel Tower', 2004 Athens Olympic Games' Opening and closing etc., so you can just imagine the grandness of the event! It lasted for 2 hours.

Our boys have a regular bedtime at 9pm every night but that Saturday night. After the fireworks extravaganza, we met up with some friends. Thing 2 (referring to 2nd son) and I retired at midnight but my husband and Thing 1 (1st son) stayed out until 2:30 a.m. Thing 1 surely had a blast, that he wasn't so pleased to find the fun over (so early in the morning let me add!). We told him, we know exactly how that feels (boy! don't we?), but that there is a time for everything, that it is time to sleep. He didn't seem convinced but he must have been too tired to argue that he just crawled up on his bed without another word. The next morning, he wanted to watch the fireworks again. Who didn't?

"Feelings of worth can flourish only in an atmosphere where individual differences are appreciated, mistakes are tolerated, communication is open, and rules are flexible". -Virginia Satir (1916-1988) [http://www.webster.edu/~woolflm/satir2.html].

Left-over Make-over

I am probably not in the Iron Chef level in my culinary prowess but I am certainly trying out for the fairygodmother-in-the-kitchen category these days. I must admit, I wouldn't mind wearing a cocktail dress avec glitters on my face while doing a stir fry, but I am simply talking about turning a rugged little left over meal into a magically transformed dish action here. Like that old beef and cabbage I had the other night. It was meant to be meatloaf until I realized I couldn't find my bread pan (the boys must have used it as their car carrier or something in that line of equipment) so I ended up sauteing the minced beef with garlic and onion, added a few chopped mushrooms and celery and thinly sliced cabbage. I served it with boiled potatoes. That was that. The next night was when the real legerdemain happened. I turned that old predictable dish into an enchanting Sheperdess Pie (recipe below) that awakened the gourmand in my household. How marvelous to hear the "ummm! ummm!" all around! It stayed with me until I rested my head to sleep that night. Being on the roll I tried another wizardry a few nights later. It was Project Old Roast Chicken that time. What to do with a half consumed bird looking torso-nu, baring its skinny bones? It couldn't be any more unappealing. So I did it a favor and sang "allouette" as I gently shredded off what was left of its meat. Setting it aside, I poured EVOO in a little pot, sauteed garlic and onion, threw in a couple of peeled, cored, chopped ripe tomatoes  added the shredded chicken meat and some water (wish I had chicken broth then! so un-iron chef-like without one!), and brought it to boil. My magic wand pointed at the quick-cook couscous in my cupboard and I threw those in after boiling. A minute or two later, voila! An enticing fluffy couscous chicken pilaf  sat on our dining table ready to be devoured by hungry little beasts.

Ah! If that isn't magic, I don't know what is.

Sometimes, a second chance is all that's needed. Yes some call it magic, I'd like to name it Hope. Hope substantiated is the most beautiful thing. If only we can put that in all that we do, no matter how trivial, we can make ordinary things extraordinary.




Sheperdess Pie recipe:


1/2 lb. ground beef
1/2 cup mushrooms
1 cup (or more) cabbage
1/2 cup celery
small onion
4 cloves garlic
salt and pepper

6-7 small potatoes
cream

margarine, beef cube, flour, little water, paprika and parsley

Boil Potatoes. Add salt after boiling.

Fry garlic, add meat to brown. Add vegetables.

For gravy: in a small pan, put margarine and half a beef cube and flour to thicken. Add tablespoon of water as necessary. Add gravy to pan with meat. Stir until combined.

-preheat oven to 180'C

Mash potatoes and add softened cream/ or sour cream. Put meat on pan top with potatoes. Sprinkle with paprika and parsley. Broil for 15 minutes.

Bien-être

At 16, I had that as my eau de toilette. I didn't quite know how to pronounce it then (bien-être and eau de toilette both) until about a year later when I started my major in French. Whether that had something to do with it, or it was my sheer desire to pursue a career in languages (not that I knew what that meant back then either, I wish I did!) I couldn't be too sure. It was rather fulfilling to be able to enunciate the scent I wore. The complex French "r" and the the play of liaison was enough to be belauded of my linguistic skill. That of course didn't bring me very far. But at least the word lived on...

Especially now living in Seoul. Many things around me are called Well Being. From fermented rice drinks to big supermarkets. Even a restaurant that serves charcoal grilled pork (Duegi Galbi) is called a Well Being Restaurant (is that even possible?).The breadth of its usage is just so vast. And sometimes loose. It makes you wonder if it is at all meaningful.

If you translate Bien-être to English it gives you Welfare. This anglicized version connotes and denotes many other things beyond colognes and pork restaurants. It depends too whether the context is American or British. Indeed this word is more complex than the rolled "r" it has en francais. But what is essentially true is that it means "harmony in oneself and others". Take this word to France, Korea, England or America, all it's trying to say is "realization of oneself". Whoever we are. Whatever we speak. Where ever we live.

And hopefully, we could dare say it. Somehow.

Flaxseeds

At breakfast my 3 year old son asked me why I put pixie dust on his cereal (referring to the flax seeds I generously dashed over his cheerios). I was tempted to say, so you can be like Peter Pan. But I didn't. First because I didn't want to address the questions that would follow (more like afraid really) and second because I didn't want to have to make things up. So I ended up doling the bitter truth-- that it wasn't pixie dust but mere mundane tiny little flaxseeds that will make him stronger (I could have added because it contains Omega 3,6 and 9 but then again, you just don't shoot info to a 3 year old if you are not armed). So it ended there. Stan happily ate his fortified morning meal assured of its health benefits. Or who knows? He was probably hoping, he could then fly.

What will you read about in this blog? There will be a mille fouille of family, culture, cuisine. A slice of life, a piece of heaven, a pinch of reality, at noon. It's surely won't be pixie dust, But still, I hope it can take you to Neverland...

it's about time

I like noon. It doesn't require time to tell time. Just, "noon". A powerful word that evokes "un arrêt". A brief stop. A moment to recoup. A midday break. Although it never always meant midday. It used to be the end of the day in ancient times. Nevertheless, it is such a lovely time, noon. So now, at noon, I will stop. And write.

As the sun reaches its highest elevation in the sky, I will try to reach the deepest part of my mine...