Coffee Thursdays
No more rice for breakfast
And so after a couple of months in hiatus, I am back in writing mode, resurrected. My apologies to my readers and friends who were left hanging, wondering and asking what happened to this column Coffee Thursdays. Many thanks for all the emails; it makes me believe there are really people who read this piece of cognition. Well, this whimsical island boy who moves about aimlessly in Philippine beaches and coffee shops is now living in the United Kingdom, seems so much going on by the start of the New Year holidays and finally getting settled. In a nutshell, I should continue to write my brewing thoughts and stop justifying my absence and indolence.
The long 20 hours trip from Pacific to Greenwich Time becomes incomprehensible as my watch had to adjust in stopovers and missing sleep, and these major cities of the world don’t agree with the simplest structure of how the clock ticks.
Arriving in England, of subtle observations, my dark brown skin and petite structure couldn’t hide my South East Asian origins despite wearing a black wool jacket, scarf and pair of gloves in the bustling city centre. However, the diversity of cultures appears to me the vibrant life of what keeps this country alive. From Indian curries and Chinese take-away’s, nobody seems to be a foreigner in the United Kingdom. A mark of one’s culture is embedded in the streets, outlying shops and even in the trendiest shopping promenades.
Of course, I myself don’t want to let my nationalistic pride down; I searched for where my flag is stationed. Alas, it remains in a nearby Asian store. Despite crossing continents of thousand miles, one can still eat Lucky Me Pancit Canton for a price of 60 pesos per sachet and can make Adobo with Datu Puti soy sauce and suka readily available. Comparing prices from native land, it’s not that bad to indulge in overpriced imported Filipino food when in addition you are buying home comfort and nostalgia.
I sat in a coffee shop as I scribble these notes in my journal; I found my nook, comfortably wrapped warm staring outside the window, I pat myself being proud that I had given up smoking since I arrived. For the reasons, it is too freezing cold to smoke outdoors and a pack of Marlboro Lights costs about 500 pesos.
The price I have to pay in a foreign land, I begin to contemplate: “should old habits die?” So, that means less being a Filipino: rice for breakfast and dried fish becomes the thing of the past? Well, as the old adage goes, when in Rome do what the Roman does.
Certainly, in my years and experience of traveling, it more than just the sights and places, there is this effect of change that comes to a person, slowly that goes on in one’s ideas, cultures and living.
Reading a quote from Mark Jerkins on his thoughts of travel: “Adventure is a path. Real adventure - self-determined, self-motivated, and often risky - forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind - and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.”
I guess so, but as I end my thoughts pondering about my new life here, I couldn’t be silenced.
You can take a Filipino away from the Philippines, but not the Philippines away from a Filipino.