Good to be Home

It has always been said that home is where the heart is. I know now that home is where your bed is, with your favorite sheets on; where your bathroom is, personal toiletries lined up in a row. Home is where you wash and ride your own car, where you know that your groceries by heart, you know where the bread aisle is but maybe not the aisle number.

We just came from Manila for an unexpected vacation. A great bonus, in fact, to attend my father-in-law's lavish 80th birthday bash. And lavish it was--we checked in the Mandarin Manila, where the event was held, with a sit-down dinner of beef carpaccio salad, roast-beef, a lime ice sherbet in between to clean the palate and the loveliest mango panna cotta before an open bar. There was dancing, dance-instructors, local sensation and violinist Jay Cayuca serenaded the guests, decked out in formal wear. I was astonished by the glitterati.

The next morning, we had breakfast in the coffee shop where the buffet spread was encompassing: from delicate breads and pastries to crepe-pancakes (the best!) eggs the way you want it and omelettes, fruit and cheese, and wonderful fresh fruit shakes (I almost forgot how good the watermelon, mango and dalandan were!). The buffet cost about $20 a head, steep for our standards, especially if you convert to peso. But what the heck, dad-in-law is the most generous man in the world.

Mandarin Hotel Coffee Shop

After breakfast was swimming in the 5-star hotel pool and then lunch at the posh Tin Hau Chinese (and seemingly imperial) resto.


Just the first day of our stay confused my children about our current standards here in good ol' Antioch, CA, prompting them to ask, "Mom, are we rich in Philippines?" (They say that because we never eat in a hotel here and for special occasions, we go to Wongs, our local Chinese take-out).

Manila is the place to hang out. Friends always have time to see you. There's always time to catch up over lunch and coffee until 5 p.m., sometimes, you have to double-book and catch up with someone over dinner. Days can be spent lounging around, making kuwento (stories) and eating in and out. I was "talked out" this trip, not used to talking to someone or listening to other people's stories as I have no friends here who have time to chat, thus this blog.

This is what they call outstanding quality of life, for though the Filipinos may not be wealthy in terms of money, they are wealthy in terms of enjoying life, creativity, time (and food!)

We even squeezed out a day at Kawayan Cove, Batangas.

My friend said that since there are 85 million Filipinos, and 15 percent have the capacity to eat out, new restaurants sprout every week. If you do the math, you will figure out why they still make money. And why not, you can get the best Razon's halo-halo, with heavenly macapuno, sweetened saba, and leche flan for $3 anytime you want--so eat out it is. . .


Inspite of that wonderful lifestyle of hanging out and enjoying the sunset, I was kinda eager to get home to the US. That feels weird, calling the US "home." We are probably the only citizens who ask, "Uuwi ka ba?" prompting the kids to ask why going home can mean Manila.

But then I got tired of sleeping in my mother-in-law's room and living out of a suitcase. And even if all our clothes (underwear included!) came back immaculately ironed, I missed my bed, my room, my little workplace, my school-bus routine, the life I complain of--the life we have carved this past 3 years.

This bonus vacation gave me more than fun times. It gave me new perspective on what we have now. And it is good.

I realized home is where the heart is and that is exactly that. Home is a place INSIDE of you, and you can take it wherever you go. I realized home may not be a physical place, rather, it is a state of mind. It is where your family is, where your kids smile, where you take them to school. It is where you are master of your own home, where you chart your own schedules, where you draw out your life's dreams. So home can be Manila, Antioch, boondocks, lakeside, hilltop--or wherever you carve it out to be.

Our little lot in Tagaytay