Channeling ze inner goddess

Nurtured

Nurtured

Hubby went away. Will be away for 20 days. He is the resident cook. Heck, not just the resident cook. He is cordon bleu, a cooking superstar, with legendary chef-like prowess.

Many have passed through our door, the invited – and those who invited themselves – testing him, and finding themselves impressed. Always.

So I was naturally apprehensive. With him away, we might grow hungry.

In panic, I sat down to list all the places in Vancouver we could eat at. Then I stopped. Frowned. Led to a different path by my thoughts.

I started to list down all the food I loved to eat as a child, food my mom would cook, food that I missed. Food from a time long ago, comforting, heart-satisfying. From memories that have not been a part of my recent life.

The life starred in by the hubby-chef.

As I listed down my favourite food from my childhood, I was seized by an idea. Why not cook them while hubby is away? With no one to critique my cooking, I should be okay.

Right?

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Thoughts while on a bike

Love, on wheels

Love, on wheels

I was 12 and my dad just bought me one. It was not a BMX, the “in” bike at that time, but impressing others really did not matter in those days. The world was younger, life was simpler, and material pursuits were not a concern.

My cousins and I – we would roam our fiefdom in Imus, Cavite, nodding our heads to people we knew (like little ladies and lords). We stop at a sari-sari store to get our softdrinks in plastic bags. It had a straw peeking at the opening and was met by grateful, thirsty, puckering lips. Or we would buy our favorite bread boling (never figured out how it is spelled but they were ball-like small hard bread smothered with margarine and the name maybe is the colloquial equivalent of bowling and depicted, maybe, little bowling balls). It tastes of heaven.

We had the wind in our hair, steered free of jeepneys and trikes, we had speed, the sun, carefree laughter. We had no destination and no concept of time and we did not care. We went over bridges and humps, through cemeteries, rough roads. We stopped to repair our bikes some of the time, or walk a flat tire.

It was fun.

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Resort Review: Pacific Shores Resort and Spa (Vancouver Island)

Pacific Shores Resort and Spa

My timeshare is probably one of the best investments I have ever made.

I did not always think so.

I ranted about fees, used it sparingly, suffered poor customer service, thought about selling it.

But very recently, RCI redeemed itself through one beautiful resort in Vancouver Island.

Enter Pacific Shores Resort and Spa.

Let’s start from the very beginning.  The resort was in Vancouver Island, which is not in Vancouver, and we had to cross a body of water to go to it.  And by body of water, I mean a large one, and by cross, I mean through a ferry.  So we took the BC Ferry from Vancouver to Vancouver Island and brought our rental car to the island (our rental car on a ferry!).  This was the first time hubby drove in Canada ever so he was not very pleased that (1) he was driving the car to the inside of the ferry (which was crowded with other cars) (2) the ferry, with the car (and us), will be sailing for more than an hour and (3) he was sticking his neck out and his driver’s license too by doing this.  But after all is said and done, I think he did a great job.  (whew)

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Lessons from a Portuguese Woman

The View

She was in coveralls, smudged by soot from head to toe.

She had been cleaning the fireplace of one of the apartment she owns.  She did not look the part at that time – but I was looking at one of the more financially savvy immigrant septuagenarian of Vancouver.  Her eyes had confidence as it held mine, and kindness too, perceptible and palpable, the trait of ladies who have aged gently.  I could tell life has been good to her, because maybe she has been good to it.

I was a prospective renter and I engaged her in conversation because her story – which I knew from people who knew her for some time – greatly interested me.  She owned several apartments but she arrived in Canada without money, or possessions.  I wondered how that could be, what’s her story, and can it be duplicated?

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