He couldn’t remember the last time he had chocolate! My father stared at the shiny bar as the soldier opened the package for him, revealing the rich brown color. It really was chocolate! He took the bar and greedily took a bite. Yuck. It's disgusting was the first thought to enter my my father's head.
Read MoreWhen Elias met Charing, he was already old—in his 30s! (I never thought being in your 30s was old.) But clearly, Charing, who lived on books and worldly stories, was enchanted by this man’s real life adventures. She did not want to marry an entitled mestizo cousin. She did not care about consolidating wealth. She wanted to be with the landless merchant. And so they devised their escape.
Read MoreWhen Dada would recall his romantic years, he would blush, remembering how the common water shed made encounters possible, by the poso and palikuran (restroom), where the townsfolk would commune for their daily ration of water and sanitation. It was also a time when paglalako or peddling of goods was a common sight, and everyone would think of a way to raise money just by toting along their goods and shouting at the top of their lungs. Dada would woo my Nanay by offering his help to carry the bilao (wick tray) or by fetching her by the main road to carry her bayong (native shopping bag) to my lola’s house.
Read MoreAngkong was from China. He came to the Philippines in the late 1910s when he was barely a teenager to help out with his uncles who were Chinese merchants. He worked various jobs in the Philippines for about ten years, sacrificing study to be able to earn enough of a capital to eventually strike out on his own.
When he reached the age of reason—that age elders deemed proper to marry—he wrote to his family in Xiamen, inquiring if they could look for or “kai shaw” (matchmake) someone who would be a good match.
Read MoreI only knew my grandfather as a quiet, kind man, so it was a nice surprise to learn that he had the heart of a hero as well.
Read MoreFor most people, life with their parents can be long-running films, and that's the case between me and Mommy. With Dad, however, it's mostly snapshots, interspersed with a short video clip here and there. If the story jumps back and forth across three decades, it's because the photos are few and far between, and each of them carries volumes.
My story with them starts here; if the smiles on their faces hint that they're up to something, it's because they were, and that it was a secret.
Read MoreOur origins couldn’t have a more of a surprising twist, beginning with this tale of how we got our last name. This might just be barrio folklore, but it is one I’d like to believe and am choosing to pass on to my children.
Read MoreThe hotel warned him about how brazen the thieves were in Romania, so he tucked his wallet into his right front pocket, hung his DSLR around his neck, and slipped his backup camera into his left front pocket.
He opened the doors and stepped out into the street. He was immediately greeted by a rush of crisp morning air, and the first rays of sunshine.