Visita Iglesia ala Driving Miss Daisy

Years back, many, many years back, we watched Driving Miss Daisy and I was so bored and wondered what it was all about as miss daisy and her driver drove on and on and on, talking sometimes.

Holy Thursday, we set out to do our Visita Iglesia in the Rizal towns. Since it was almost 12 noon, we decided to have lunch first. But it wasn't to be.

We stopped at Balaw-balaw to find it closed as did 2 other cars that arrived the same time we did. So we drove on, I thought in search of food. I namedropped Andok's lechon manok, but driver didn't react as he drove on. I glanced at the view around me to keep me entertained and succeeded. I ignored the churning I heard my tummy declare as I looked at houses on either side of the road and whatever there was to see. I sang along with the songs from husband's IPOD. Songs sung by the likes of Jam Morales, Joey Albert, Ric Segreto, Basil Valdez, Hajji Alejandro. You get the drift. Downloaded through Torrens (torrents?)

As we drove mostly along the highway we didn't see any churches. then we reached Binangonan. Saw a church but as husband was driving way too fast, instead of stopping at the church, he drove on and we reached the fish port. Beautiful sight. Very clean. Credit goes to whom? Governor Ynares? People boarded bancas or bigger, as did goods. Where were they headed? To some island? After the port, we merely followed the road, no questions asked, no answers forthcoming. Drive, drive, drive. Husband said the people seemed to be wondering why there was a car passing them by. And why not? Rather than cars we saw motorcycles, trikes, and a rare 4-wheeled vehicle. Finally, husband stopped to ask as son said "papa, dead end na ata." We were going the wrong way. I had said "stop and ask". He said "what will I ask?" Finally we did and were told to drive back past the port to reach the highway. It was almost 2 pm and my tummy had grown tired of rumbling, grumbling, whatever.

Finally, we saw a church: St. Jerome in _____. I can't recall. Lack of oxygen in the brain deprives one of memory, okay, leads to temporary amnesia. whose theory? A hungry tummy's.

As we approached the gate, a man told us we couldn't enter and to drive to the other side. So we headed for that direction. husband told another man long before we reached the gat there that I was in a wheelchair. He said, honest he did, "there are stairs in the other side." And take this, this was an oldish man. I don't think he had missed lunch because he was a local. possibly he lived close by. As we went to the area near the steps, it was apparently impossible for me to go to the church. So husband took another chance, approached the gate. This time, a young man, a teen with a hairband and a plastic bag with an orange drink approached us. Husband explained my predicament. He opened the gate (note second man had earlier said the gate was broken and couldn't be opened, leading me to wonder how a big bus got into the church grounds). As kind young man opened the gate which was apparently working, an old man told him not to. he explained my predicament and smiled at me. I prayed for blessings for him as we waited for the big bus to exit. It was a tourist bus with visita iglesia tourists. No, not Koreans.

After parking, we wheeled up to the church. I was impressed. There were so many "caros" of this or that scene from Jesus's passion and death. I'll post some pictures. I counted maybe more than 20 caros. And the church was spacious and clean. Stained glass windows and all.

After a while, we went back to the car and I thought, maybe we could find food na because at least we had gone to one church. Husband heard me mention Andok's after all, because he said "let's look for an Andok's." Instead we found Jollibee so he didn't stop. Driving Miss Daisy mode again. This time we stopped in Baras. this church holds memories. Maybe son was 3 or 4 years old when we last went there. I recall a picture of his sitting on the steps that had a few blades of grass on them alternating with barren soil. He was with his yaya and he was holding my stations of the cross missallette. So after they took pictures while I stayed in the car, I insisted that a picture of his be taken on the steps. Someday those two pictures will see each other. (Read: I'm too lazy to look for the old one.)

AFter the second church, husband said we'd stop and eat, Jollibee na kung Jollibee. Then I thought, Chow King kaya? Usually they're beside each other. This time they were across and there was a car backing out of CK so we decided to get food there and eat in the car. Siomai, siopao, their value meals. I wasn't choosy anymore. Hours earlier, I'd see people chewing and wanted to ask, "pwede makikain?" Or "ano ulam niyo?" Son went down to order, than husband followed. So he told son who wanted to go to the washroom to do so after son placed our orders. SOn left. Apparently, cashier asked husband to repeat son's orders. Son went back to me in the car.

waiting time was long, it would have been quicker in Jollibee. When our orders arrived, son's chao fan with spring roll was nowhere to be found. I told him to go back to CK and he did, only to grumpily return to the car to say the lines were too long. This was almost 3 pm. He decided to cross over to Jollibee, bought burger and fries and a drink. After he ate a little of that, he ate one of my kikiams and rice. (See, I didn't protest that the chicken I thought I had ordered was chicken kikiam, 3 pieces. I thought all along, steamed chicken like hainanese. asa pa ako.) But everything tasted so good (that's how hungry I was). I ate 4 pieces of siomai, one slice of kikiam, half a siopao and I even drank coke zero without protesting. Bait ko pala pag gutom basta may kaharap na na pagkain.

After CK, Driving Miss Daisy again. Goal: Laguna, maybe two towns. Mabitac was our first stop. Oh, before reaching Mabitac, I saw Kawayan Farm that looked enticing - read, clean. And it had a sign that screamed "bulalo". Remember how posts back I was so disappointed we didn't eat in Josephine's tagaytay or any bulalo place? So I hinted and got no reaction again. I hinted again, silence. On to Mabitac after kilometers of beautiful scenery - lush trees, mangoes hanging on them. when we finally reached MAbitac, following the road that led to the church, the sign read "126 steps". What a laugh. How would an old priest deal with those steps? Or old parishoners?

we decided to follow the road and true enough, there was a way that was without steps. I decided to stay put in the car and took pictures. I'll post them later, I hope. Then I made friends with some young boys there who volunteered to watch the car. I asked if there was a gas station somewhere. See, the driving worried me - were we running low on gas? Half tank, husband assured. But I recalled our drive to Ilocos that was similar to this drive up Laguna in the sense that there were no gas stations around. Scary to say the least. Young boy said "meron, flying v" I asked if it was far. He assured it was near. I said "walang petron?" He said "meron." I was so relieved that I decided to give him some coins and my candies in my bag that brought a smile to his face and some companions running to him as we left.

Great, there was indeed a FLying V and before long, Petron. After Petron, it being past 4, we decided to head home. Husband asked, "where's the bulalo thing"? So I watched out for it and we stopped by! Hooray. But guess what? There was no more bulalo, their house specialty. They had run out as early as the morning. Arrgh. So we asked what else was available."Tinolang manok, native; caldereta; kare-kare; sisig; laing, etc." For takeout, I ordered tinola, caldereta (beef) and sisig. I was excited to try provincial food as we drove on. When we reached a certain junction, policemen pointed us to a certain street, no questions asked. I think they thought everyone wanted to go to the church in Antipolo because that's the direction to which we were headed without our meaning to. But it was late so we decided to move on. Except that we got lost. SO we asked and were told that instead of using the road that would pass Assumption, we should take Ortigas. we did. And it was Driving Miss Daisy again. such a long way but we saw people trekking up to Antipolo.

Finally we hit Libis and home.

Some observations: In the small towns we passed, life seemed to go on as usual - it didn't seem like Holy Week as markets were open selling the usual goods. Charcoal and firewood are available along the highway leading to and from Laguna. So are vinegar and some sweets.

My mind is wandering. I'll add some more if I remember anything.

A bLessed day - my cousin's ordination to the priesthood

Even the best laid out plans, or the most well laid out plans can go awry if God so wills it. Days ago, when my husband's ankle was swollen after he fell and sprained it, I called the Wheelmobile people to come this Saturday at 8 so that whether my husband's foot was good enough to allow him to carry me or not, he, my son and I would be able to go to Gesu for my cousin's ordination.

This morning, at around 7:30, the driver of the Wheelmobile texted: he'd be late because he was picking up his wife and child from the province. I didn't bother to ask how late was late because the last time he said he'd be late he later called to say he wouldn't be able to come. So why bother?

Luckily, my husband insisted he was way all right and so we went.

Again the most well laid out plan can go awry if God so wills it. While I was hoping we would be at Gesu by 8 a.m., at 8:15 we were still in the garage, waiting for son to come out. See, he had two gigs last night and was wide awake till around 3 a.m. I kept waking up and chiding him to sleep and he assured me he'd wake up. He did at 7:30 when I woke him up, but true to the proclivity of his father's family, he took his time. So we were able to leave the house at past 8:15.

Luckily for us, traffic was light, and luckily for us, there was a parking slot for the disabled at the admin section of Ateneo. But guess what, because of the long time it took us to leave the house, there was rain, not just a drizzle when we alighted from the car, so somehow we were not exactly drenched but wet enough. Scholastics smiled as they saw us enter the church because perhaps we looked like wet ducks, dripping a little. And possibly, the wheelchair I sat on was wet because after son brought it out in the rain, he went to hold the umbrella over his father's head. See, the wheelchair couldn't have been dry. But I didn't notice because down there, I cannot feel. Ignorance is indeed bliss.

The church was not that full yet, husband got two Monobloc chairs for him and son to sit on at the back close to the electric fans. I could hardly see what was happening out at the altar nor in the middle aisle because people obstructed my view. But I was happy enough to not fret. Six men were ordained to the Society of Jesus, I was there, feeling blessed at having been invited.

Soon the seats ran out and some people were standing. Son smiled at someone behind us and when I asked to whom, he looked back, looked to his side and pointed out his Filipino teacher a year ago. Not exactly old but older than he. I contemplated on asking him to give his chair to the teacher but was in a quandary. Son after all lacked sleep and one never knew. There was an old lady in front of us, also standing. She had a maid with her. Her companions had chairs but I sensed no move on their part to offer these to her. They looked younger than she.

Then, just before the homily, son whispered, "mama, I'll give her my chair ha." I nodded, touched at my son's gallantry/chivalry - whatever the apt word is. And the lady smiled. I was happy. Years back when I was still walking, I had done the same in the college chapel, and see, I've never wanted for a chair. God gave me a permanent one. In this case, though, I prayed to him not to give the same to my son.

As the ceremony proceeded, I was yawning no end, my husband's eyes were alternating between sleep and not. Son was nodding off. What a family. But really if you've been to an ordination, especially of six men, it's not a short ceremony. In fact, what started out at 8:30 promptly, finished at 11. Think about reciting the long litany of so many saints. THink of all the Jesuits lining up and hugging in welcome each of the six men. Perhaps there were a hundred Jesuits? If fewer, it seemed like a hundred. Were they more?

Saw some relatives after the ceremony. The congregation was asked to line up if we wished to receive the priestly blessings of the six. But we chatted on with some relatives who weren't lining up either. LAter, husband said, cousin was already blessing people. We thought he was merely chatting with the people who came to greet him. So we lined up. And finally reached him. ANd he blessed us. As we moved to get our umbrellas so we could leave for the reception, noticed that cousins were gone. They hadn't lined up for the blessing. It was past 12 by then and they had presumably left for the reception.

Our house being close by, husband felt inclined to change because he could still feel the dampness of his clothing. I didn't bother to alight from the car as I waited for him and son. I drank some water to refresh me. The noonday heat was draining me.

When we finally arrived at Ayala Hillside Estates, it so felt like Punta Fuego. Nice houses, son said one might be Regine's. He had been there months ago, not to Regine's house but to the clubhouse for his friend's debut.

the guard at the gate of the subdivision was very cordial. When son asked for exact directions, he drew out a map mounted in cardboard and covered with plastic. Then he smilingly pointed out the path we should take.

At the parking lot of the clubhouse, we looked for any sign of a ramp. None. But there were only two steps to the clubhouse, no, make that three. ANd so this time, with son and two men helping him, I in my wheelchair was lifted up the steps, and wheeled to the venue. There were only two tables empty. We took one of them and before long, 3 men and two ladies joined us after asking if they could.

Prior to reaching the clubhouse, a cousin texted to ask where we were. She said they had begun eating even without priest-cousin around. She raved about the food. Later I found out it was catered by City Grill which the sister of priest-cousin owns.

Indeed the food was great. Usually, catered food in such affairs are plentiful but ho-hum. This time, food was really good. There was a salad buffet - lettuce leaves, corn, ham and bacon bits, parmesan cheese and a choice of dressings. The main courses inlcuded barbecued pork ribs, chicken that had basil sauce, dory, shrimp pasta, Javanese rice.

After we were done with the lunch, I asked son to get me some dessert. By then, cousin who had texted me had joined us, seating behind and between son and me. She was frequenting the dessert tables and ate what she had on her plate as we talked. Son got me tocino del cielo and a thin slice of black and white jelly. Not knowing that son had done so, husband got me a bigger slice of the jelly.

Cousin had so many more choices on her plate. And she'd ask me if I wanted some and she'd stand up and get me some. Note that this cousin is maybe sixty plus but looks young and energetic. So she stood up to get me strawberries. Then she asked, want them dipped in chocolate? I said yes. She went back to the dessert table. She asked you want some pastillas? I said yes. But she came back empty-handed. They had run out. I can't remember what else she got for me but I was most appreciative of her solicitousness.

At 2, long after most of the guests had finished eating, priest-cousin arrived with a few companions. Applause greeted him and before he could settle down to eat, his dad or mom would bring him to a table of old ladies who wanted to be blessed. As he went through the rigors/motion, his smile was ever-present. When we sensed he didn't have too many people to greet (he was near the food table), we decided to say goodbye after a photo op, just one photo.As we waited our turn, his mom gave him some cash from an aunt and he said for her to keep first. His mom said, Okay, I'll list down everything but be sure to write thank you notes to everyone. Such motherly reminder made me smile. Here was a mom of a newly ordained priest possibly in his early 40s or late 30s, reminding her son to write thank you notes. A mother's job is never done. No matter what station a child has reached, his mother remains his mother and she'll never forget that nor allow her child to do so.

Congratulations/blessings, Robbie. May you be happy in the road you chose to travel, the path you chose to take, the road/load less traveled by. (This a.m., when I was writing the dedication on the card for our gift, I mistakenly wrote load instead of road and had to correct that error. But I thought, it was a good way of putting it as well, a serendipitous slip of the pen if one allowed it.)