Back in the Game

Today was my first chef job in a long time. I'm a casual at a catering company and at a cafe, they pretty much call me to fill a gap in their staffing especially if they have a catering job.  I like to call myself a chef as long as someone else is willing to pay me to do the job even if only occasionally. My quiet fear is that if I don't get to practice professional cooking then I might become rusty and be of less use than a first day apprentice.

However, today was special. I was looking forward to working for Chef Krys, my unwitting mentor, my former teacher at cooking school, who also runs his own catering business. It has been a long time since the last shift he's tossed my way, I wonder if his style has changed much.  I was also nervous because I had a bit of a drama two days ago.

Over the past week, I've been feeling what I diagnosed as a "stiff neck". So meh? What do ya do? I soldiered on, the damned thing will go away on its own time. Last Sunday morning I had the shocking experience of feeling my head unsupported by my neck muscles as I was descending down the stairs on some errand.  Every signal my brain asked of my neck muscles to please do its job was met with sharp jolting pain. The kind that I visualise as tiny electric sparks every time I try to tell my neck muscles to contract and hold my fuckin' head up. As it turns out, I managed to wobble down the stairs like a circus performer balancing a pole on his head with a ball at the  tip. As soon as I was on level ground I used my hand to prop up my neck and made my way to the sofa so I can sit down, All this time I'm giving Beatriz a running account of what was happening to me like some demented radio sports commentator. As soon as I was seated I started to lean back on the sofa so as to brace my head and neck against the cushion and try to make sense of what just happened.

After trying to move my head on all axis to determine range of motion, I rediscovered that stiff neck I had been ignoring for the last couple of days. I felt around my neck and shoulders and found a hard knot of muscles just above my right scapula. Fuck! Sunday was gonna be a busy day and how the fuck can we get all those jobs done when I'm supposed to be the muscle?  Beatriz is still recovering from knee surgery and still uses a crutch to get around, yet all I could think of was I just need a neck brace and I can get back to work and soldier on. Patch me up and send me back into battle, Sarge!  I had a little giggle imagining the two of us showing up to class with her on crutches and me in a neck brace -people might think Salsa dancing is too dangerous?

Of course, Beatriz talks some sense into me, I sat on the sofa for a while and considered other options besides a neck brace. That's when I thought "What about Tuesday, I can't cook with one hand supporting my neck! Shit!  Damn, I may have to cancel my shift - where's my phone? Aha here it is. AAAAGhhh! What the fuck! The mere movement of picking up my phone and looking at it sent pain signals that took me by surprise, yet led me to the most amazingly obvious conclusion:  The reason I have the stiff neck in the first place is due to smartphone neck . 

Now that I know what it is, I can treat it like any muscle strain. Rest and ice. By nighttime, I discovered I cannot lie down in the normal way which is to sit on the bed and lie back until horizontal.  I had to support my neck and crawl on all fours before dropping one side to roll on my back.  Took it easy yesterday and found it easier to lie down last night so I'm feeling ready to work today. 

Except for all the heavy labour, I didn't look forward to that. During the first hour we transported 2 heavy ovens, 2 gas burners, gas bottles, all the food, giant pots and trays, gastronomes, crockery, glasses and cutlery. Halfway through carting 4 crates of heavy plates I was ready to doubt if I can actually last the rest of the shift.  I remembered to take my ibuprofen and soldiered on.

My first job was to tray up all the chicken breasts, then Chef Krys got me to set up the two gas stoves outside the kitchen to cook the desert sauce and the mushroom sauce. Yes, I can do this!  There was a bit of a lull as we await the go ahead to start sending out 285 hot meals. I was at the head of one pass: first the mash is spooned onto the plate, chicken goes on top, green veg arranged next to it before I get to nap sauce onto the dish and make sure the plate is clean before letting the waiters whisk it away. I was responsible for half of every plate that hit the tables.

As the service was winding to a close, I'm not usually expecting some freebie left-overs for take home, although I have worked for other outfits that do not mind if staff take home left-overs. It was still a shock when I was told to just throw out so much left-overs.  I do get it, Chef  has already chosen which left-overs to take home and salvage, the rest is waste. He employs contract staff for functions like this, so if one staff gets to take home, then all the staff should be allowed.  Not good business to employ staff to squabble  about  how much left over they are allowed to take home.  I get it.

I shed a tear as I binned the surplus mushroom sauce and dessert sauce.  To help me take the edge off this yucky feeling, I chose to celebrate something else I did today that was not wasteful. I helped a couple of the waiters splash the left over drinking water from the jugs into the gardens and lawn.

Yes, I suppose I can still say I'm a chef. Now get off your screen and save your neck for chrissakes!

Star Wars Day 2018

So today is May the 4th (Star Wars Day) and I feel like a Padawan catching a glimpse of the power of The Force. 

Sometimes, I just have to learn to let go of my plans.

Two weeks ago I had no idea that I would be cast in a film shoot for a government health campaign. Actually, a month ago I thought by today I  would be caring for Beatriz as she recuperates from knee surgery.  Due to a lingering throat infection, the surgery didn't happen. This made Beatriz available for an opportunity to be part of a TV commercial about healthy ageing.

The shoot went so well, that after dancing to only 5 salsa tracks, the director yelled cut and told the dancers we were done for the day.  And  just like that, the crew got up and started re-rigging the camera, lights and the set, preparing for the next shot on the list.

Feeling happy after a lucrative afternoon's work we were literally on our homeward drive when we stopped at the intersection awaiting the traffic lights. The plan was to turn right and head directly home via Marrickville Road. As I waited I noticed that some cars had queued up behind us also waiting to cross the intersection, I made a quick calculation looking at the bank of cars on the other side waiting to cross to our side. If I insist on turning right, no one else from my side of the intersection can get across on this phase of green, so I asked Beatriz if we can go straight to go home? She said yes, that will also get us on an alternate route home. As we weren't in any hurry, I decided to be kind to the motorists behind me and went straight ahead when lights turned green.

Because we were now on an alternate route, it led us through another suburb. which made us think of our dear friend Fred, who lived there, and we haven't seen for a while. We rang him, he was home, and we dropped in for a visit. 

This is where it got real. Before leaving Fred, he asked us if we still gave clothing for the homeless, he had a few items he wanted to give away. Beatriz accepted it with the intention of passing it on to a particular homeless person she knew.   Maybe the only homeless person I knew that she knew -a fellow named  Luigi (not his real name). At the time, I was thinking we'd end up holding on to those clothes until next time we see Luigi. Do you know how hard it is to find a specific homeless person?  Unlike wildlife migrations that are at least predictable, the homeless seem to move around all the time just to keep moving,  

We spotted Luigi on our street corner as we arrived home, Beatriz called out to him.The Force had used us to conduct Fred's charity to Luigi. 

Just to give you an inkling of how improbable the timing of this was, we were also stopped for police RBT (random breath test) on our way home. That must have added an extra 3 minutes to our regular journey. Also, we haven't seen Luigi in months, and frankly I wasn't sure if we'd ever see him again.  

• If we were late by another 30 seconds we would have missed him entirely. 
• If I insisted on turning right at Marrickville, we wouldn't have seen Fred.

I had this mental image of an impetuous Anakin casually stepping off a flying car only to land perfectly on another passing vehicle.

We let go of our plans, and The Force guided us along the rest of our day.

It kinda reminds me of the title of this blog.

Take Your Child to Work Day

Sometimes I try to pick up a memory based on a theme like say Christmas 1990 and then wander around the halls of my memories of all Christmases past. Well we're not going there today. Instead I stumbled onto a journey of "Take your Child to Work Day".

My earliest memories were of being whisked (usually classes getting cancelled due to incoming typhoon) from school by my father and I have to spend the rest of the day at his office. I have fond childhood memories of my Papa's office

The first thing is the smell of air-conditioning, which later as an adult I would describe as stale cigarette smoke but very cold. And then there were those marble floors and walls at reception, and those modern elevators that have softly illuminated touch sensitive buttons instead of the usual clunky black Bakelite buttons of older models. Even the soft ding announcing its arrival had a richness to it. Perhaps because it was an actual chime being triggered by an electric  relay. It was the modern office of its time, it had to be, it was the offices of IBM Philippines.

I also have memories of my mother taking me to work at her office in Escolta. I was very young, maybe four? I remember a lot of walking "downtown" as it was referred to back then. I also recall a Philippine government office my mother worked in for a while, it was an old building maybe built just after the war, and it had no air-conditioning. As I try to stitch it all together in my personal  memories playlist, I realise that it didn't really stop even after I've grown up into adulthood. I still visited him to maybe catch a lift, or just because I was in the neighborhood.  The one consistent thing is that my parents were always proud of me when they presented me to their colleagues.

Fast forward to today, when I woke up accepting that it will be a challenging day of back to back Salsa 4 Seniors classes #B2BS4S.  But wait a minute, today is also the last day of radiation treatment for Beatriz! It is also today that she had to speak before a legal panel deciding the outcome of a high rise development next to our local school.  Yeah, big day for all. We have been looking forward to today and it has arrived.

I could do with some support today. Luckily, my daughter Alexandra said she was going to "see" if she could accompany me on my classes today. Over the last few years  I have cultivated an attitude of zen when it comes to getting facetime with Alex. Let's just say that I wish I could see her more.   I will take every chance I can get to spend even a little bit of time with her even if it's just 12 minutes at a train platform before we go catch our respective trains. The idea of sharing a day with her is huge.

I send Alex a quick text message just in case she forgot and there is still a chance to make it. My phone rings and it's her, She just got up. She forgot. She'll catch the bus to Chiswick. I message her the bus route.

My heart suddenly feels lighter. I make my way to Chiswick class but now getting really excited about having facetime with Alex. And  I could also use her as my teaching assistant, oh what fun that will be. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face when Alex walked through that door at the start of class.

I was a proud father when I introduced Alex to my students. And then it occured to me.

This is "Take Your Child to Work Day"  [adult child edition].

I was instantly drawn back into a vortex of countless memories of the times I took her to work as she was growing up. How strange it must be for her to witness my changing career choices. From offices at North Ryde and Rhodes, to teaching dance in community halls.  Until now, I bet she's unsure how big a part she's played into making my life what it is today.

Alex: You reminded me how to live in trust rather than in fear of our future. Today, this perfect day, and many different things contributed to making it perfect. Today is made possible with you convincing me that it will all turn out great in the end. You were right.

I took my child to work today and I hope she is proud of me as I am proud to be her father.

Happy Mother's Day

I'm roused by Saffira coming into the bedroom announcing "Happy Mother's Day Mummy!"  I thought SHIT I'm supposed to do breakfast in bed. I'm still in bed. So as the obligatory hugs and kisses exchange happens I managed to hustle Saffira out of the room and back into the kids bedroom to go fetch Vida.  My desperate plan was to convince the girls to let Mummy have a little sleep in to buy me enough time to knock up breakfast in bed.

Or should I say breakfast part one?  As part of the day's festivities we will also be having brunch with their grandmother next door.  -All attended by their uncles, aunties and cousins. It was going to be a big day. But first our intimate little breakfast part one.

As soon as Vida awakes the first words out of her mouth were "We need to get my nothers day pwesents fwom downstairs." Alrighty then, I take the girls downstairs to retrieve the presents.
Vida had spent the week at childcare making a card with a photo and sparkles. Unfortunately Saffira had no present this year, so I enlisted her help to make a present by going to Big W and printing a photo to put in a frame.

We retrieved both presents, but I was frustrated in my attempts to convince them to let mummy have a sleep in. The little darlings couldn't wait to give their presents to Mummy. Switch to plan C (Plan A was getting up before the kids did)  What's Plan C? Follow the girls upstairs and film the event.

The girls climb on to bed with Mummy, and amidst all the hugs and kisses exchange, she still manages to ask me where was her breakfast in bed? I gulped and I apologised, I gestured toward the kids and begged that the day had already gotten away from me as soon as both girls were up. But if you give me a moment, darling, I might still conjure one up.

I stopped filming and slipped out of the room to start making some dulce de leche sandwiches and tea. I did manage to conjure up a tray with sandwiches, tea, and an orchid in a champagne glass. Right after she had already gotten up, gone downstairs and gone back up again to make the bed. Does that still count?

Where did all this stress and over expectation come from? Why don't we just celebrate mothers day as often as we want and whenever we want? Do we really need to out-do last year or the year before ? When we share on social media, should we remind ourselves that it's not a competition?

All I am teaching my kids is to take time to honour and thank the person who is their longest relationship, their first influence. She who brought each of us unto existence.  Thank you Mother.

Dreamer Dreamer

Have you ever experienced the perfect moment? It's one of those moments in your life when you realise THIS {whatever is happening at the time} is better than you could have imagined. But as soon as you acknowledge the moment, it is gone. Just as you know it would.

Tonight I found myself in that moment. I've got Earl Klugh's Like a Lover playing in the house. The sisters, Saffira and Vida are happily playing up and down the living room punctuating the house with giggles and squeals. My lovely wife is filming the girls on her phone while I'm preparing the best bowl of buttered green beans to serve for our family dinner.

We've just moved house 3 weekends ago and there are still some boxes of stuff that haven't yet found a home in our new home. I looked over at our dining table, it was full of stuff. The coffee table? Full of stuff. I asked Bea if she could perhaps clear the coffee table when she suggested why not have a picnic on the kitchen floor? I nearly said no. I'm glad I didn't.

As a chef I pride myself in clever cooking under strict budgets of material, time or equipment. I can jazz up a 2 minute noodle with egg, extra veg, and slices of leftovers, special seasoning and if available -garnish. Tonight was "Couldn't we just have something simple please?"  So that meant leftover basmati rice with tinned tuna,  boiled eggs, and green beans tossed in butter.

Looking around the picnic rug  watching the family dine simply while listening to my mood music was the perfect moment. I suddenly remembered a moment way back when I was 17. I was in our stylish Pok Fu Lam flat in Hong Kong overlooking the sea. I remember day dreaming how cool it would be to be listening to Earl Klugh in my own funky place with my hot wife and a couple of kiddies running around.  That 20th century day dream pale against the vividness of its 21st century reality. Without realising, it seems every choice I have made in the last 33 years have finally led to a fulfilment.

I wonder what other dreams have I forgotten or dismissed as impossible are on the way still?

Eulogy for Antonio Clores Mencias

In 2009 my father visited Sydney, he told us it would be his last time because after turning 70 he would be required to undergo medical clearance to be issued a visa. He didn't want to be subjected to that kind of scrutiny, also he already knew there was going to be cause for rejection.

He was already starting his decline,  That year he didn't have the energy to go anywhere on his own. On previous visits he would not stay home during the day while I went to work. He would take the train to the city and walk around. His favourite place to go to was an oversized chess set in Hyde Park and he would spend hours playing and watching matches.

He always liked playing chess. He played in IBM, he played in the plaza at Pilar Village. He enjoyed matching wits with an opponent on a level playing field governed by discrete rules. Those times that I watched, he usually won. Those times I played him, he usually won. Except when he played my sister Eileen, she once hustled him by playing for money and he ended up owing her hundreds of pesos when he kept trying to win back his losses. He never played her for money again.

He also liked games of chance, pusoy, pusoy dos, tong-its, and mah-jong among many. I think these were his analogues for living life. There are times when your own talents and choices determine your outcomes, but there are times when you have to play the cards you've been dealt as best you can and leave the rest to luck.

He grew up not knowing his father, he was two years old when the war reached the Philippines and my grandmother gave him up to be raised by an uncle in Manila. It wasn't until the 1980s when the Mencias family reconnected.with Antonio and we got to know our uncles Dondi and Rob, aunties Cielo and Dolly.

As an enterprising young boy, he built himself a wooden shoe-shine box and stocked it with a small bottle of black dye, an old toothbrush to apply the dye, shoe polish, a cloth rag, and a horsehair brush. It had a carry handle that doubled as a stand for customers to rest their foot on as he worked on the shoe. He roamed the streets charging customers money for shoe shines, but he only tells the story of the one angry customer whose white shoes he ruined with black dye.

He went to high school at Jose Abad Santos in Binondo. It was a rough neighbourhood and he learned to hold his own in a fight, Tony was a popular one to have by your side if you ever got into a fight. His high school mates conferred him the title of Sargent-at-arms.

Working as a typist and other odd jobs he was able to put himself through college and obtain a degree in commerce major in Accounting from FEU. It was also in college where he met my mother Marcela. They were both working students and he offered to help with her studies as a handy excuse to spend more time with her.

By the time they married, Antonio was already supporting his cousins Tio Manding, Tita Cora, Tita Mona and putting them through school. Antonio and Marcela lost their first child in a tragic stillbirth, my Kuya Mar-Antonio in 1964. I was born the next year, my sister Eileen, 2 years 2 months later, Marlene another 2 years and 2 months later, and finally Chris 3 years and 3 months later. They took the phrase "Family Planning" and ran with it. We in turn provided 4 grandchildren Alexandra, Tala, Saffira and Vida Ligaya.

His career with IBM peaked when he was posted as an expat at the regional office in Hong Kong, and it hit a low with his subsequent retrenchment upon his return to the Philippines. He hit another career peak as a public servant directly reporting to the Secretary of the Department of Transportation and Communication during the Cory Aquino administration. He capped off his professional career as financial controller of RCS until his retirement in 2004.  After retirement he found use for his talent and experience serving three years as president of  BF Homes Homeowners Association.

It is unnerving when we first realise how frail our parents have become. All our lives they have been this towering figure of strength, wisdom and authority. And almost overnight they cross a threshhold and became old. And then the next instant, they are gone. 

Each life is a story, a narrative of events and relationships, starting with birth and ending in death. Each of us carry a chapter or two of  Antonio's story in our hearts and in our own personal life story. We have been changed by him and we have changed him in return. Over the last few days, we have met many of you and we thank you for sharing your anecdotes.  We take comfort in knowing that his spirit lives on as we live on and enrich each others lives.  Just as he had enriched ours.

Farewell Papa. See you on the other side.

Papi I need you

Bedtime routine for our two kids is a chore and a half. Ideally we would like them in bed and asleep by 8pm, but in reality it means they are in bed by 8pm but getting them to actually settle into sleep is another matter entirely. My primary tactic is to sit with them and try to bore them to sleep by prohibiting any further noise or engagement. However, the sneaky little buggers can see right through that and just make noises anyway; complain they can't sleep; can I have a drink? can I have my teddy bear? I want mummy, etc. I'm either shushing them or running errands for them and it's 930pm already and bloody hell why aren't these little rascals asleep yet!

Sometimes like tonight, I'd employ my secondary tactic which is to kiss them goodnight and leave the room. This is not much more effective than the primary tactic, as the kids just carry on chatting and giggling together until one of us checks the time and bloody hell it's 10pm already and why aren't those little rascals asleep yet?

Except tonight, Saffira had already drifted to sleep while little Vida's voice could be heard saying "Papi, I need you." over and over. Of course I come upstairs promptly lest she wakes up her sister. I sat on the floor next to her bed and gently asked her to go to sleep please. She reached out for my hand and kissed it, then snuggled with it. I watched her face as she looked me over and rubbed her tired eyes. Then it hit me, when was the last time something like this happened with me and my adult daughter? It was something I took for granted as back then I was too busy raising her that only now I realise we never really know when any loving task we cherish is done for the last time ever.

So I just ignored the urge to leave her for some other chore waiting downstairs and instead I just sat there for ages.  I relished watching her toss and turn in her bed until eventually she fell asleep. Who knows when will be the last time I ever get to watch these little rascals drift off to sleep?