Weekends

Lately, P. and I have been spending weekends just lazing around and watching t.v. or surfing the net. I find myself looking for stuff to do and just wandering about aimlessly. I miss the weekends that I've had when I was younger, when streets were safe places to play in and when there were still interesting places to visit, aside from the mall.

When my siblings and I were kids, we were really scrawny and I think that our skinny-ness worried our parents a little. We had to drink 3 different types of vitamin syrup, all in the hopes of putting some more meat in our bodies. One of the tactics our parents employed was to send us off to our maternal grandparents' house in a nearby enclosed subdivision, as our family house is situated by a minor passage road and surrounded by all sort of houses with kids who'll play with us in the streets all day. Weekends at our grandparents' house would always be such a treat -- our Lolo Papa and Mama had a mini-grocery store in the local market and food and goodies were always on hand at their house. They had this sprawling house in Pasig, in which the backyard would lead to a busy highway behind the subdivision and the front gate would open to a sedate and very, very quiet neighborhood.

We would play all day with our cousins in the confines of the front yard and climb the guava trees that led to the first floor roof by the 2nd floor bedroom windows. We'd sneak into the bodega, a cavernous storage area filled with sacks of rice, boxes of Maggi Rich Mami noodles, cans of Milo and other grocery items. My siblings, cousins and I all loved snacking on Milo fudge; a little mountain of Milo sprinkled with just enough water to make the malted chocolate goodness clump together to make a gooey, sticky fudgy but delicious mess. Mama would lightly chide us for getting one small can each, but Lolo Papa, as what any grandfather would do, would let us enjoy our treats and condone the bodega raid.

Mornings would be a quiet affair, as Mama and Lolo Papa would wake up early to tend to the store, so it would be our aunt who'd fix breakfast for all of us kids, usually bowls of Quaker Oatmeal with milk. After breakfast, we'd rush off into the back garden and play by the grotto, turning on the water jet connected to a concrete statue of a little boy peeing. With the water jet turned on, a stream of water flows out of the statue's teeny penis and goes straight into the koi pond beneath it. We'd bravely step on the raised circular stones (about 3 stones) above the pond water to examine the alcove that holds a statue of Mary. How a koi pond, a naked peeing boy statue and a Mary icon go together is beyond me. I guess design was weird back then.

It would be by lunchtime that our grandparents would come home from the store and Mama would cook a simple meal for us. She'd force us to take a nap, which we grudgingly did, and wake up to a hearty merienda (mid-afternoon snack). Merienda was an elaborate affair -- a big pot of Guinataang Bilo-bilo (thick, sweet soup of coconut milk with chunks of sweet potato, ube, plantains and glutinous rice balls), each bilo-bilo (glutinous rice balls) handrolled by Mama; Sago't Gulaman still warm from the just-made pandan arnibal (sugar syrup infused with pandan and banana essence), ready to be covered with crushed ice and sometimes, Pancit Luglug (rice noodles with shrimp sauce). We'd stuff ourselves with the afternoon treats and run out of the dining area to play some more until the sunset.

Sundays would be the day when Lolo Papa would deliver sacks of rice to customers who have placed their orders during the week. He'd have his houseboy load the sacks of rice in his trusty Owner-type jeep and we'd all come along for the ride. We'd squeeze ourselves in the loaded jeep and hold on for dear life as Lolo Papa made his deliveries. Always, always, when we return from the deliveries, our parents would be at the house, ready to bring us back home for another week of school and active play in the streets of Marikina. Mommy and Daddy would always comment on how much we've gained weight since the last time they saw us (which was 2 days) and they'd promise to bring us back to Pasig the following weekend. Before boarding the car, we'd give one last mano, which was the cue for Lolo Papa to give each of us a Php 10 bill, which we'd joyfully pocket.

As the years passed, we spent lesser and lesser weekends in Pasig until we stopped sleeping over.

It's been 12 years since Lolo Papa passed on and 2 years since Mama's death, but I still remember how much fun we'd had back then.

I still sorely miss my Lolo Papa and Mama.