Mangoes, anyone?

Posted by Ai on May 23, 2013 in beauty and fashion, travels, write-ups on culture | Comments Off

a spoonful of ripe mangoes bursting with juices of nature’s sugar – gone into my mouth

Mike knows that mangoes tame my inner monsters, so since the onset of summer he’s been buying me kilos of yellow mangoes that exude that familiar smell of ripeness.

One second, I could be a complete worrywart, the next minute, I am Zenlike, eating bite after bite of mangoes divine. On Sundays outside the streets of stinky Manila, all he would say is “mangga?” and I would smile sheepishly and nod, and he would walk to the nearest cariton of those sweet smelling summer fruit, choose the fat ones, and show me the plastic bag full of happiness.

He once stared at me, looking at the way I ate mangoes – I don’t chew them, he thought out loud. I chuckled, eating some more.

It’s not only Mike who supports my addiction. My mother climbed a tree (which, I just learned, my father planted at an emptied lot), picked and plucked more than a dozen, and brought me bags of green indian mangoes, the shape and size of a human heart.

The fruit is a national favorite. Our memories of summer would always have that one time we were climbing mango trees, or eating indian mangoes with salt or bagoong or alamang or sukang iloko.

I was also glad when officemate Jeanne brought us indian mangoes (summer is all about mango giving).

When I was in Singapore, I witnessed how Filipinos go crazy over indian mangoes – pasalubong from the Philippines – and munch on them in no time. Even I myself missed it a lot when I was abroad, so I had to settle for mangoes from Thailand or Vietnam, but I found them less sweet than ours. I wondered why.

You know the best mangoes I’ve tasted so far were from the Visayas. Holy tropical miracles, those mangoes from Cebu and Bohol are so juicy and packed, they’re like the fuji apple of mangoes (if that makes sense).

If at this point, you still aren’t craving for mangoes, let me tell you their health and beauty benefits.

Mangoes may help prevent cancer, help lower cholesterol, promote eye health, help normalize insulin levels, help improve digestion, and boost immune system, and that’s because these fruits can supply us our needed vitamin C (very good for the skin), vitamin A (good for your eyes), and daily fiber (good for your diet).

Most important of all, you help mango farmers all over the Philippines earn their living whenever you eat mangoes.  I know the Philippines is already big in exporting mangoes to countries all over the world (you can check out the Philippine mango ad at the MRT Edsa station),  but we can support the local mango industry more by buying those ripe mangoes from Pangasinan or Zambales.

I say this with a heart for mango ‘farmers’ because my father once planted hundreds of mango trees in Mindoro when I was younger, in a time when all I had to worry about was how to finish eating all those baskets of harvested mangoes.

Planting mangoes (the carabao variety in particular) and taking them to the market is not easy.

My father said the soil has to be well-fertilized, with moderate irrigation, and void of weeds which could suck out the macro and micronutrients of the soil. Pests can destroy the trees while they’re growing so years of care have to be dedicated to it. And come harvest time, perfect ripening has techniques.

Maybe that’s why I eat my mangoes with such relish – because I am aware how so much love and care can go into producing the golden ripe tropical goodness that is the mango.

At the sound of hello

Posted by Ai on May 16, 2013 in self | 0 comments

At the sound of hello, I quiver holding the telephone connecting me to a voice from the land of aborigines, kangaroos, and koalas.

Koalas. Seventy-five percent of a koala’s day, they say, is spent on sleeping. There’s no way you can say hello to them while they’re up there with their arms looped around branches, dozing. Cuddly sleeping furballs.

Sleeping. I always like to sleep at work, but I can’t do it all the time.

My job is to write stories. I write news and feature articles about health, ageing, nursing, education, and technology. These stories are relevant to people in New South Wales, West Australia, Queensland, Tasmania, Northern Territory, Victoria and Canberra (yep, that’s just about all the Australian states and territories).

Believe it or not, I was clueless about Australia’s geography until the first day of my Manila-based work. Did I get an orientation or training on the culture, territory, or history of the state-continent?

April

Posted by Ai on May 1, 2013 in hugs and kisses | 8 comments

I’m not sure how many of our classmates and professors had a crush on her.

Women, they say, are most physically attractive when they’re in their late 20s and early 30s. Natalie Portman easily comes to mind as an example. This is the time of maturity for many in terms of physique, career, romance, and well-being. (If you’re 28 and you still baby talk in social media, perhaps you’re a sad case of under-development.)

One person I know of, though, has been beautiful ever since I’ve known her. She just announced her having a baby, and I’m blogging about her because I almost missed the big news.

I’m talking about a fellow Comm Arts graduate and staff of UPLB Perspective, April.

April’s smile sets a room aglow. 

She’s one of those girls back in college enviable for sex appeal and graciousness. The university newspaper office would swell in envy whenever a bunch of expensive-looking flowers would come from her then suitor, now husband. 

April wasn’t born in April, but her personality brings about the promises and warmth of summer (I was about to say spring, but using that metaphor in this country is just not fit).

Whenever we would enter the office, and hear the Hanson roaring “rooool the wiiindows down” we know April is on the desk happily typing her draft by the window. If she’s high, I mean, hormones high, she would sing with the brothers while snapping and clapping her hands and swaying in her chair. She loves being in love.

Cause Penny and me like to roll the windows down 
Turn the radio up, push the pedal to the ground 
And Penny and me like to gaze at starry skies 
Close our eyes, pretend to fly 
It’s always Penny and me tonight

We are what we eat and I am a salad

Posted by Ai on Apr 27, 2013 in books, self | 2 comments

Star ingredient: creamy camembert cheese. Salad is best enjoyed with a glass (or two!) of Chardonnay

Since I come home after work early in the afternoon, siesta time, I would usually take a nap, read a book, walk around MOA (Booksale or Fullybooked or fashion stores), watch BBC/CNN/HBO, or prepare merienda.

Pasta is my pastime because all it takes to cook it is boil the pasta and prepare the sauce. All in about 15 minutes ala Jamie Oliver. Black pitted olives, parmesan cheese, basil leaves, lots of garlic, and Clara Ole sauce are my favorite combination. Not only does the dish serve a holy treat but it gives our place a coffeeshop-ish aroma.

If you are obsessing over pasta, you would also invest in good oil and cheese, that is, splashes of extra virgin olive oil and a sprinkle of mozzarella. It doesn’t really matter for me what meat I put in, whether hotdog for spaghetti, tuna for pesto, or ground pork/beef for bolognese, because I usually like mine puttanesca style –  ”whore’s style spaghetti” containing only olives, garlic, tomatoes, and herbs.

When I finished reading a novel called The Food of Love I got all excited experimenting with different pasta: spaghetti, linguine, fusilli, fettucine, rigatoni, and farfalle. The story is set in Italy and I felt like roaming Rome and eating Roman dishes prepared by one of the chef characters. The effect of reading it is unbelievable. A turn on, sensually and gastronomically. I picked up the book at Booksale, because I saw Jamie Oliver’s commentary on the cover: “A fantastic story, you can almost taste the wonderful Italian food.”

Crossing fingers for heaps of good news

Posted by Ai on Apr 16, 2013 in grad school, horrible news | 2 comments

It’s a shame that the world is crazy over news on Boston bombing while ignoring or ignorant of that bombed Afghan wedding where casualties were ten times more than the marathon tragedy. This is not to say that little attention should also be given to Boston, but that equally big, caring social media space be given to the Middle East, Asia, and the rest of the world.

That is the bad news, and hopefully beautiful things alight from these rubble in the coming days. Surely, there are inspiring stories every day but we tend to focus on what will make us anxious and angry. (Sadistic tendencies in today’s media?)

Good news is, after completing short written tests and passing a phone interview, I was offered a place at Westminster University in London. Should I be given one of the so many generous scholarships that the University offers to international students, I will start this September.

Crossing my fingers for more Good News.