My travels to places where there are no paths to follow.
When we were kids, my two brothers and I underwent a traditional Chinese haircut (minus the queued tail) that, for most boys at that age, was already a minor form of torture. But the torture was tripled—at least for me—because (1) it was done monthly, (2) it was done with an old razor featuring reusable Gillette blades, and (3) it was done by my father during his often-grumpy moments. Continue reading “Monthly torture for boys”
When Marcos declared martial law in September 1972, I was a student in UP Diliman taking up B.S. Chemical Engineering. When UP classes reopened around October or November (after a few weeks’ suspension due to the initial uncertainties of martial law), I decided to also go back to my studies while at the same time doing clandestine work with other comrades inside the university as underground ND activists. All my subjects as a freshman were still limited to the general arts and sciences at the Palma Hall (the famous “AS”). And that’s where this story about my short dalliance with frats is supposed to begin. Continue reading “How I transcended my frat leanings”
How Pinoy turon, that incomparable delicacy of fried banana fritters in lumpia wrapping, emerged from that popular Spanish holiday delicacy, turron, is way beyond me. Continue reading “Turon with langka”