back to tarlac.

Being in the house where my mother grew up is pretty surreal. It has changed a lot since she lived there as a girl, but I still like roaming its halls & the surrounding land, wondering if my mom had walked where I was walking, what she had been doing, what she was thinking. Did she know that one day she’d be living in the United States? That she’d get married & have two daughters? That she’d have a successful career in Special Education, in spite of her college studies in Biology & Fisheries? If my mom had stayed in the Philippines, I wonder if she would have been a biologist instead, wearing lab coats and doing research behind goggles & microscopes.

I also often wonder, especially now, being here, how different my life would have been had my parents decided to stay in the Philippines. I’m sure I would have been just as happy in the context of that life, but as someone who has grown up in the western world it’s admittedly a difficult thing to imagine. Don’t get me wrong. I do love and appreciate the life & culture here very much. There’s a happy simplicity to it that I am yet to encounter anywhere else. It’s just that western traditions & life have left such a deep impression in my mind & I don’t think I could ever completely be rid of it. It invites constant comparisons & longing for the States, which is not necessarily because things are better in the west (there are pros and cons for both places) but because of the simple fact that it’s what I grew up with, it’s what I know.

Being in Tarlac again, looking around I realized that this is what my mother grew up with, this is what she knew. And still knows, really. After all these years living in the states, the house still sparks her memory & she can recall moments from her childhood with startling clarity as if she were reliving them. And I guess in a way she is. Last December, our entire extended family (save for one first cousin- LAME FRED!) traveled to the Philippines, all reunited for the first time EVER. I spent a lot of my first day in Tarlac with my mom, walking around with her, listening to stories & memories. She would point to something and tell me what it used to look like before, or a room would inspire a story about my grandfather and his black, thick-framed glasses. As she did this, I could see her as a child and a young woman. & I think she could see that too, for she would occasionally lapse into thoughtful silences with a faraway look on her face.

The property used to be a poultry farm and the wooden skeletons of coops still linger. They’re now used as storage & shelves for potted herbs & plants, as my Auntie Wena has recently opened a quaint garden café called Good Earth, accordingly transforming the property into a dining area, kitchen, vegetable garden, & green house. It’s a darling eatery with a relaxing & welcoming atmosphere. All the dishes are prepared with fresh, organically grown ingredients, some of which are gathered right from the garden. I got to sample their best selling dishes, including tanglad chicken, pineapple-basil smoothie, focaccia bread, and a pan of freshly baked pizza. It was all absolutely delicious! But what I really love about this restaurant, in addition to the food of course, is how much of a family collaborative effort it’s been and continues to be. All of the sisters have contributed to it, whether financially, creatively, physically, or all of the above. & all with so much love & support! I love being a part of this family!