Category: Travel, travels



The whole plan involved 2 cruises. One off the Rhine River and the next aboard MSC sailing out of Barcelona. At the last minute, the Rhine Cruise was cancelled, leaving us “stranded” in Strasbourg. Thank goodness we had booked a 2nd cruise with MSC and that pushed through as scheduled. We tweaked our travel schedule so we can stay longer in our Strasbourg hotel and booked extra nights in another Barcelona hotel prior to the MSC Mediterranean cruise. Just 7 nights but with lovely ports of call one can dream of.

Inside the MSC World Europa

First port was in Marseilles in the south of France. Think panisses and bouillabaisse — Marseille’s signature seafood stew and chickpea flour fritters. We booked a walking tour here and decided on a lunch recommended by our guide. In Genoa — our 2nd port of call — we winged it on our own and heard Sunday Mass in the beautiful Cathedral of San Lorenzo, just a stone’s throw from the Chiesa del Gesu. More photos and details here.

Marseille

Genoa

Notre Dame Marseille & Vieux Port
It’s all about Focaccia in Genoa

In the past, we’d just breeze through Napoli and instead spend time in Positano, Sorrento and Capri. The Amalfi Coast is so breathtaking while Naples has gained quite a bad rap. I wasn’t confident to check out the city on my own but having crafted our own walking tour, we got off the boat and took a cab all the way to the Chiesa del Gesú Nuovo which is just a stone’s throw from the Monasterio delle Santa Chiara. Both churches run along the Spaccanapoli. We walked all the way back to the cruise terminal without any incident. Have a read.

Napoli, Italia

Taormina, Sicily

Galleria Umberto in Naples

Taormina

By the time we docked in Valletta, Malta, we were almost sad it’s our last port of call. It was a near perfect ship itinerary. From the south of France down south off Italy, with a day at sea to sail back up to Barcelona. But Malta is super impressive. It’s so small but soooo packed with history and culture. We wonder how the streets look and the vistas off the cliff after sundown when the swarming cruisers have gone back to boat.

Valletta, Malta 🇲🇹

Look at those iconic wooden closed balconies!

I spent my birthday at sea. So happened it’s the last whole day (on the boat) before disembarking in Barcelona. What a fun way to celebrate as the boat and its crew drummed up the beat before seeing us all off. Champagne and dancing all around. So much energy. Just perfect!


It’s been on my bucket list for the longest time. Malta and the southern part of Italy (Sicily). Have read up quite a bit on Malta and it didn’t disappoint. And that applies only to Valletta. There isn’t time for ferry rides or further exploration to sites like Mdina or the Three Cities. For sure, I’d be back with more days to spend here. One of the few times I promise myself that I will repeat and enhance the experience. Malta has that effect on you. And I just know that it is one place where the visit cannot, should not be rushed. It needs to be digested slowly. (Besides, the uphill climbs are no joke 🥲). With few hours to spare, we joined the swarm of midday cruisers but did the best we could.

Around the Parliament.
Office of the Prime Minister

Signed up for a walking tour and we put those leg muscles to good use. From the boat, we walked for 8 minutes along the waterfront promenade which was thankfully flat. Against the bastion walls, we found the Barraka lift, paid a measly €1 to take us up to the historic city center which sits beautifully on a cliff offering a panoramic view of the harbor. Stepping out of the Barraka lift, passing the lovely colonnaded gardens, we headed towards the Parliament or Freedom Square. A short and easy stroll, really. Flat and paved. On our way, we passed the baroque building housing the office of the Prime Minister as well as the Church. The capital’s main thoroughfare — Republique Street — runs from the Triton Fountain all the way to Fort St. Elmo. The star-shaped fort is where the National War Museum is (which we missed!). It is also the site of the historic great siege of 1565 and bore heavy bombardment during the Second World War.

Triton Fountain
St. John’s Co Cathedral

I do have one major regret here. We should have booked visits to the St. John’s Co Cathedral — a solid fortress-like structure designed by a military architect that looks simple, even austere, and quite commanding. Why? It houses two Caravaggio masterpieces which were painted during the Italian Baroque Master’s wild fugitive days in Malta. The “Beheading of Saint John Baptist” is regarded as one of the greatest works of this other Michelangelo (Merisi da Caravaggio) — a priceless work of art which incidentally is the only work he signed. While this masterpiece hangs in the Oratory, the other piece “St Jerome Writing” hangs in a dedicated Caravaggio Wing inside the cathedral. Trivia: this piece was stolen in 1984, later ransomed and recovered in 1986. There was a long line the day we visited. Sigh 🥲

Across St. John’s Co Cathedral
MUŻA. The National Community Art Museum.

We did have a chance to visit MUŻA. The museum is housed in a knight’s palace and features contemporary Maltese art and Baroque masterpieces . But then again, there isn’t time to explore. Frankly, I can’t believe there is so much in Valletta, the smallest capital in the European Union. For a place with only 6,000 residents, it is home to over 300 official monuments. No wonder the entire capital is declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site given the abundance of historic and heritage sites packed into its small walled grid. Evidently, so much wealth must have funded Valletta’s architecture like the stone bastions, palaces, fortifications and monuments. One story goes that the founders of Valletta — the Knights of Saint John also known as Knights Hospitaller — “inherited” the wealth amassed by the Knights Templar in the 13th century. As decreed by the then Pope, the order was abolished in 1312. But it took more than 200 years before Valletta was founded by the Grandmaster of the Knights of Saint John — Jean de Vallette — in 1566 following the Great Siege of Malta. As the knights defended Malta against the Ottomans, the knights were elevated in legendary status. The second story goes that after the siege, many monarchs gave significant financial contributions to the Knights for defending Malta against the Ottoman advances.

Whatever and however the story goes, Malta impresses. It deserves the UNESCO Heritage Site every bit of the way. And then there are the Maltese Balconies called gallariji. These closed wooden balconies originated from the 17th century during the Order of Saint John, and now are the cultural symbols of Malta. They are typically painted in vibrant hues from bold reds, deep blues or forest greens. Quite similar to their Moorish, Arabic and North African counterparts.

The iconic wooden balconies are called “gallariji” with North African and Arabic influences.
Inside the Church of Our Lady of Victory

I do feel “bitin” with Valletta. Or Malta for that matter. I have not had the chance to even try Maltese cuisine beyond the Ftira which was actually ordered by a friend for lunch. It looks like an ordinary sourdough sandwich packed with tuna. Would love to try other dishes which reportedly are influenced by Arabic, North African and Sicilian culinary traditions. Well, it looks like I’d have to wait for the next trip to fully explore Malta!


I don’t understand why this city gets a bad rap. All the time we were here, I never felt unsafe or threatened. Yes, the cab drivers just outside the cruise terminal were bullies without exception but we knew better and walked away. A young taxi driver then politely asked us where we’re going and we negotiated a fixed €20 cab ride with him. He drove us all the way to the front steps of Gesù Nuovo to admire its distinctive striped facade and entered the church before it closed at 1pm. Soon after, we walked a few steps to the nearby Santa Chiara but didn’t have enough time to check out its lovely tiled cloisters. Like Gesù Nuovo, it closed at 1pm. As we exited its gate, we tracked our way towards Museo Capella Sansevero on the off chance somebody cancelled a timed admission to view the Veiled Christ sculpture (Cristo Velato). Tickets were fully sold for the next 2 weeks and we can only sigh in despair we didn’t book early enough. Serves us a good excuse to head back to Naples!

Inside Gesu Nuovo
Santa Chiara

The very street straddling both Gesu Nuovo and Santa Chiara is the Spaccanapoli. We wandered the historic street, browsed the little shops and simply enjoyed the atmosphere around Piazza San Domenico Maggiore. We even found a candy store where a kindly old signore offered us his risotto, even spoon feeding us! Like good children, we opened our mouths and thanked him for the Italian rice dish. Back on the Spaccanapoli, we walked back towards Via Toledo and found an old pizzeria that has been in operation since 1833. Lunch was a Pizza Margherita and fritto mixto in this ristorante called Pizzeria Mattozzi. In operation since 1833, it stands among Napoli’s most historic culinary institutions.

Pizza Margherita and Fritto Mixto
Maradona in the Spanish Quarter

We pretty much covered our planned itinerary except for missing the Museo Capella Sansevero which was fully booked. But we chanced upon the centuries-old pizzeria that has been one of Napoli’s historic culinary institutions. This birthplace of pizza has pizzerias all over the place. And the Spanish Quarter has many tiny al fresco dining spots along narrow alleys with walls adorned by the image of the much-loved soccer legend Maradona. The numero 10 before my fav Messi. Along Via Toledo, and meandering around the narrow alleys of the Spanish Quarter, we walked back towards the cruise terminal. Passed by Galleria Umberto, a piazza and an opera house. Also the Castel Nuovo right across where our boat was docked. Don’t know much about this “new castle” but since we had time before boarding time, we dropped in and snapped some photos before bidding Napoli ciao.

Galleria Umberto
Castel Nuovo
My AI-generated Walking Map

I’ve always loved Italy and here we are prepping for Sunday Mass in Genoa, our 2nd port of call on this Mediterranean Cruise. After Marseille, we were hoping for no youth riots and some Sunday peace. We got it. We cabbed our way from the cruise terminal to Piazza Ferrari. It is just a short walk from this piazza to Palazzo Ducale near the Catedrale de San Lorenzo. Passed some interesting shops and focaccia stalls and promised ourselves we’d be enjoying some Genovese bread and pastries.

Piazza Ferrari

Palazzo Ducale aka Doge’s Palace

The Cathedral has a lot of history. A World War 2 bomb hit the church but did not detonate. Dropped by the British in 1941, the bomb damaged the roof but failed to explode. Lodged in the church roofing, it is so incredible that the bomb was disarmed and now on display inside the church as a reminder of this miracle. The Genoa Cathedral draws many tourists wishing to view this beautiful church with Gothic portals and centuries-old frescoes. Besides, kept inside the cathedral are the ashes of San Giovanni Battista (Saint John the Baptist) who is the patron saint of Genoa.

Catedrale de San Lorenzo

The “Miracle” Bomb

We tried entering the Museo del Tesoro adjoining the church but it was closed. It is an underground medieval museum actually with access from inside the church. Among the relics is Sacro Catino, a dish allegedly used by Jesus Christ in the Last Supper. Not too far from the Cathedral is another beautiful church — the Chiesa del Gesù. Just like all other Gesù churches, the outside architecture and the interiors are so elegantly beautiful.

Chiesa Del Gesù

We didn’t leave Genoa or Genova without trying the famous Genovese focaccia. We queued up to buy the Classic as well as the focaccia della chipolla. We ate them standing up, like locals 😋 and for good measure, snatched up a pan dolci pistachio e chocolato and torta di nonna (which was soooo good). We traced back our steps to Piazza Ferrari after those snacks, and cabbed our way back to the boat. Back to our floating crib. Our second port of call is over.

Focaccia e Dintorni

I was here not too long ago so I’d likely skip many must-do’s like the Sagrada Família, Casa Batlló, Casa Mila, Park Güell, Palau de Musica Catalana, Ciutadella Parque, even the Barceloneta. But I need a repeat of La Boqueria and the many dining spots around here. They say food is an integral part of one’s travels but I’m beginning to think u travel for the food. 🤣 Especially Spanish food! From desayunos to almuerzos and unforgettable dinners, España ranks up there in my book. From cafe cortado to churros con chocolate, from paellas to fideuas, from ham to jamones and many more.

La Boqueria
This is lunch. An assortment of seafood from sea bream, prawns, navajas, salmon, clams, mussels etc

From Barcelona Cathedral to Santa Maria Del Pi and Del Mar, we’ve had our hours of prayers in these majestic Iglesias. All within walking distance from our hotel in Barrio Gotic, the birthplace of Joan Miro. Just off the corner, there was Antic Tapas de Ferran where we had our first Catalan almuerzo of pulpo, paella, gambas, anchoas, and my favorite pimientos de padron! Completed the day with postres (desserts) of crema catalan y gelato in Plaça Reial where people watching is par for the course. Que sabroso!

Lunch in Carrer Ferran, Barrio Gotic
Postres en Plaça Reial in Barrio Gotic

While we took eating real seriously, we paid equally serious attention to Catalan art and made it to Fundacio Joan Miro, Moco Museum and Picasso Museum. Fundacio Miro is a half hour Bus 55 ride from Plaça Catalonia to Montjuic Hill. The 2 museos in El Born is just a short walking distance from our Barrio Gotic crib. Did my souvenir shopping in the museos’ tiendas. That walk also meant passing this superb tortilla place called El Xampanyet recommended by our friend D. It has been around for nearly a century — since 1929. It’s a hole in the wall but long lines are the norm. We found a corner table near the tiny kitchen manned by a huge stocky Catalan who moved and cooked the tortillas so briskly it’s almost a spectacle. I also enjoyed a good tinto de verano here. Still good as it feels summery here than autumn-ish. Yes, at 24C!

Best tortilla in my book. El Xampanyet in El Born.
The collections from Fundacio Joan Miro

We’d be returning to Barcelona after our Mediterranean cruise so we’re not exactly in a rush to hit the Catalan attractions here. But the nearby Santa Maria del Pi has an ongoing exhibit — some art installations depicting “Childhood in Exile” and dwelt on sad and broken feelings of isolation and sufferings. Too heavy and I must say depressing. Before long, we stepped out of the Iglesia and walked towards Plaça Reial in search of an oyster place.

I’m not a shopper but there were good finds in Moco Museum Shop
“Childhood in Exile. Sacred Childhood”

Well, the oyster place wasn’t exactly what we dreamed of. I mean the oysters were good (you can’t mess with fresh oysters, anyway) but everything else is meh — fish soup, fideuas, berenjenas (eggplant) and sea bream . Can’t win them all but the service in Quinze Nits likewise sucks. Not ever will we head back. And this serves as a good lesson — the Plaça Reial is right next to our hotel so it was no sweat walking easily to find a place for some seafood stew and oysters. But it’s a square for the tourists in the Barrio Gotic area who are too lazy (like me us that night) to search for dining spots with good reviews. One hard lesson.

Albondigas, “Chicharon” and more pimientos at El Rincon de las Tapas

So on our last day in Barcelona before boarding our boat for the Mediterranean cruise, we dined in Asador de Aranda. An absolutely special lunch of lechal (suckling lamb) and hake carpaccio. Soooo good. I completely ignored the ribeye steak and totally enjoyed my lamb lunch. Hits a spot, for sure. Our Barcelona (Part 1) adventure ended on the right note despite some mishaps. And we hope to fully enjoy the second episode after our cruise.

Ribeye & Lechal

Right. So here’s what happened. We intended to stay just 3 nights in Strasbourg before boarding our boat for the Rhine Cruise. But we got word the cruise is cancelled because of the Rhine’s low water situation. Plan B set into motion, but not without complications. We’re staying 2 extra nights in Strasbourg and 3 extra nights in Barcelona before we board our boat for the Mediterranean cruise. As we spend our weekend here in Strasbourg, we are thinking of another day trip somewhere or maybe just stay put here to check out the weekend food market or maybe even ride a small boat around Petite France. There’s also many Alsatian dishes to try here near the border with Germany. 😋

Notre Dame Strasbourg
Inside Notre Dame

Being “stranded” in Strasbourg isn’t a bad idea. This charming corner of France with a very rich and vibrant Franco-German heritage offers many picturesque spots like scenic river walks, centuries-old half-timbered houses, a majestic cathedral, pretty bridges, cozy cafes and brasseries. Petite France looks straight out of a fairy tale, sitting pretty along the Ill River. The Grand Rue that runs along the water is kept busy with pedestrians checking out the cheese stores, boutiques, bistros and cafes. It’s been a good week now in France and after Paris, it is nice to just relax and take leisurely walks with hardly a plan except to eat well and snap a few lovely photos as souvenirs of the Alsace Region.

Petite France
Petite France
Petite France

I should be updating this blog as we go along. For the moment, we’re cooling our heels around here. The morning showers aren’t exactly welcome but perfect days aren’t the norm. So there. And yes, we’ve been eating well. Food is French-German and we’re loving it. Watch this page.

Le Tire Bouchon
Winstub La Vieille Enseigne

Never skipped a Montmartre visit whenever in Paris. Thick tourist crowd, yes, but beyond Place du Tertre, Sacre Ceour, Moulin Rouge there are still pockets of tranquility and beauty. Soon after rounding up the public square taken over by artists cum portraitists, an assortment of souvenir shops, cafes, creperies and gelato bars, the side streets and winding alleys are both interesting and challenging. Not exactly under the tourist radar, but we found these spots less crowded and somehow devoid of scammers and pickpockets.

Moulin de la Galette sits under a historic windmill, a spot where a cabaret once stood too.
Moulin de la Galette at the corner of Rue Lepic and Rue Girardon

Moulin de la Galette offers outside seating where we enjoyed traditional French cuisine while passersby took photos of the historic windmill immortalized in Van Gogh’s The Guingette, A Cafe Terrace in Montmartre and The Moulin de la Galette. Other artists likewise painted these historical monuments including the cabaret crowd — A. Renoir, Henri de Toulouse-Latrec, Picasso. At the time, Montmartre was a village of wine growers, millers and cabaret owners. It is claimed the dance halls aka cabarets gave birth to the French cancan whose prominent stars allegedly had their debuts here. Since the 1900’s, many famous actors similarly frequented the area to enjoy their galettes with muscat wine. As for us, we enjoyed the landmark restaurant under a windmill’s moules fritte, French onion soup and Beouf with Bernaise Sauce.

Place Dalida
Marcel Ayme

Not too far from this corner is Place Dalida named after a famous French-Egyptian singer who once lived in the area. Dalida’s bust and square featured in some movies and tv series like Emily in Paris. The story goes that Dalida once had a brief romantic alliance with the famous French actor Alain Delon. At the time, both were unknown artists when they first met as struggling neighbors. While both gained prominence in their respective arts, Dalida became a musical icon, selling millions of records but unfortunately committed suicide in 1987 at age 54. Several of her former partners earlier committed suicide, including one ex-husband. What a sad life for beautiful and talented Dalida. Off some corner here is the interesting bronze sculpture of Marcel Ayme, a French short story writer, playwright, and essayist. Among his works is The Man Who Could Walk Through Walls. You can find this sculpture by Jean Marais at the intersection of Rue Girardon and Rue Norvins.

Cafe Deux Moulin
La Maison Rose aka Pink House

If you have watched and liked the classic French movie Amelie, you’d likely be interested to dine in Cafe des Deux Moulins along Rue Lepic on a downhill slope towards Moulin Rouge. Obviously, the cafe was named after Montmartre’s two famous and historical windmills — the Moulin Rouge and Moulin de la Galette. The character Amelie worked in this cafe, serving that very French creme brûlée with hot chocolate chaud. The movie’s massive international success featuring Audrey Taotou made this cafe very famous. She is the same French actress who appeared in Da Vinci Code (2006) and Coco Before Chanel (2009).

Walking around Montmartre means climbing a lot of stairs and struggling against uphill climbs.
Sacre Coeur

The La Maison Rose or Pink House is further up, nearer Sacre Coeur along the beautiful street Rue de Abreuvoir. Many tourists find this cafe very “instagrammable” as it sits in a corner serving classic French and Italian country cuisine. I’ve only had cafe allongé and a lemon tart here but they do serve a classic but limited menu. If you’re around this corner, do take an outside table across the Pink House and enjoy watching people passing, posing and snapping photos of the Maison. Quite an experience. You’d likely even be requested to take some of their pictures. 🤫


This wasn’t planned. On this trip, my travel mates booked an evening Seine cruise which I decided not to join. Took off on my own instead and checked in for a night of adoration at the Hôtellerie de la Basilique du Sacre Coeur de Montmartre. I never missed a visit to this lovely basilica up on a hill with every trip to Paris. No matter how tight the travel schedule is. I also try not to miss every First Friday Mass (and if possible, every Friday Mass) and novena to the sacred heart. When I learned the basilica allows vigils (from 11pm to 6am) and provides accommodation to volunteers at this guest house attached to the basilica, I readily signed up. Weekend vigils are almost always full but Mondays are relatively “lacking” in numbers. I booked a room — very spartan — and dinner prior to confession, mass, adoration and prepped myself for a night under the dome. At dinner, I met the staff and some volunteers. We were 15. So I assumed we can easily assign the adoration hours amongst us. It turned out more than half of the people around the table made up the staff. For a good hour, I think I was all alone inside the basilica. I could almost feel the echo of my laboured breathing and coughing. I stared at the lighted candles and mindlessly watched if the lights seemed to sway right or left. Wondered how the light flickered when there didn’t seem to be any wind blowing within the vast space. I didn’t trust myself to wander around under the big dome. I only managed to look behind me and panned the camera, hoping I won’t find any moving shadows. It was so eerily quiet. And very dark. Only the altar was lighted. Plus the candles. For a while, I wasn’t so sure about the passageway that connected the basilica to the hotellerie. Yay.

When I checked in at 4pm, I had time to rest in my room one level below ground. Very spartan. There was a window looking out to an empty space hemmed in by trees and a white statue of the sacred heart. Dinner was served one level lower. The bridgeway that connects to the basilica is one level above ground. So from my room, I needed to climb 2 flights of stairs. Around 8pm, the confessionals were kept busy. A priest must be taking his break, walking around the church. I approached him and asked if I can make a confession and he led me to his confessional box. Then the 10pm mass where this same father-confessor was the presiding priest. I stayed long after the mass. I initially counted 4 of us, maybe 5 as I detected a shadow behind me. Before long, all’s quiet and I felt alone. What a lovely time to pray. From the many church doors, I was trying to figure out which led to the bridgeway and prayed I won’t get lost. Oh, I admit I found a staircase beside the altar leading down and curious me took it. I climbed back up promptly when i sensed it was leading to a crypt. 😳

Every so often, I would travel with my family or friends and somehow manage to exclude myself from the group for some “me time”. This was my “me time” and I’m glad I was able to do this. It was kind of difficult to sleep as my senses were full on but it was a wonderful time to pray. Looking back, I wasn’t sure what I prayed about. I think I just sat there quietly and “listened”. And many happy thoughts wafted through my mind. The gratitude in my heart floated through, leaving me aware of how I actually ended up here. Nothing happens by accident. It appeared unplanned, but somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, I felt “chosen”. I couldn’t ask for more. I am grateful to feel the way I do now.

The following morning, I skipped the breakfast provided for the volunteers and instead walked around Montmartre. I love this bohemian neighborhood with all its quirky cafes, tiny museums, creperies and brasseries. I just don’t enjoy the sloping streets especially when going uphill. And that Rue Lepic which snaked down to Pigalle which threw off all my sense of direction. I’ve never seen a street corner of the same street! Like Rue Lepic lying perpendicular to another Rue Lepic. Oh well. I’m only too glad with the discovery even if it made me lose track of where to go. So, heading back to our Paris crib now . But not before breakfast. Will I do this again? Why ever not? 🙏🙏🙏


Touchdown, Paris. It’s a Sunday so we decided we’d be off to hear mass after dropping our bags in the hotel. Meant to hear the 1130 mass in Notre Dame but the wait from landing to going through passport control and arriving in our hotel ruined our plans. The streets around the hotel near Champ Elysees were so crowded with dog walkers and our hotel transfer wasted precious hours snaking around detours. By the time we were ready to leave the hotel, we couldn’t even hail a cab. Taxi ranks overtaken by “The Sausage Walk 2026”. Yay, this is Paris indeed. Dog walkers all over the place. So we decided to instead take the metro to Hotel de Ville across Notre Dame. From there we walked towards our chosen restaurant for our Sunday late lunch across the Seine. Au Bourguignon du Marais did not disappoint. Walking along Rue de Rivoli to reach this bourguignon place meant passing by (and dropping in) some shops along Rue de Rivoli, a very trendy street in Le Marais. Tempting to stop for some retail therapy, but after a long flight and muscles begging for a stretch, lunch is the 1st order of the day. And make that a traditional French lunch. A very French lunch.

Beef bourguignon was the bistro’s signature dish and we certainly enjoyed that. Magret de Canard did not really stand out but the dishes that were served before the main entree were truly frenchy good. Love the escargot, the French onion soup and the ouef mayonnaise. More than enough for the four of us. Not bad for our first French meal soon after touchdown. I skipped my inflight meal having decided to sleep through my connecting flight but no luck on catching some winks on these flights. Sob.

The yummy starters before the real deal.

We passed on desserts since we planned to indulge in Carette after this heavy lunch but Carette had to wait. Our random plan to visit Musee Carnavalet ended so uncomfortably warm and humid. Don’t misunderstand — Carnavalet is certainly worth a visit (and it’s free) but temps hiked after our late lunch and it was unbearably warm and humid. We didn’t stay too long and upon exit, dragged ourselves to the nearby square, the oldest in Paris. Place des Vosges. Carette and Maison Victor Hugo are both just around the square but after a long sleepless flight, the rising humidity and the thick Sunday crowd, we lost energy and decided to call it a day.

The taxi that brought us home had to deal with closed-off streets and detours. Upon reaching our Paris crib, we were wasted. Ready to hit the sack. But not before a glass of vino rouge.


Just another day staying home. A mid morning mass, a quick trip to the supermarket, an hour in the kitchen before claiming a spot in the couch to check out world news or my fav podcasts. Before long, I’m on the phone or social media touching base with family and friends or busy with my journals. The MO somehow shifts when I’m shuttled to my other living quarters further southwest of the city. My kin lives in 3 separate homes only 2 kilometers away from each other. That means I can actually walk from one home to the next without breaking a sweat. Like having breakfast in one house, moving to another for lunch and then heading to yet another for supper. And the route is quite interesting as it passes 2 parks where rows of maple trees line the roads. Saw them leaves turning from green to red to brown, till gone.

Autumn fading into early winter.

Life in the suburbs mean more get-togethers with family and long time friends. More playtime with the family pets too which include dogs and guinea pigs. Laundry includes open-air drying whenever the sun’s out and cooking for more than a single household. Lemons, oranges and calamansi picked from the trees in the backyard and the kitchen forever busy with someone baking, cooking or making jam or marmalade. Life may be simpler but it doesn’t necessarily mean quieter. The dogs never get tired of playtime and the kitchen sink is always filled with pots and pans to wash. Between my sister and I, we always have something to talk about and some stories begging to be retold. Papa and Mama gave us many childhood memories to amuse us no end and somehow, the laughter that accompanies each repeated story is always on cue.

No, we never settle for just one or 2 desserts.

Interestingly, I’ve been sleeping way earlier than my usual zzzzz hours here. And longer too. Sure I miss my bed back home but city sounds even at night are absent here in the OZ suburbs. So it’s nice and quiet. My sister says my improved zzzz’s could be because I get the sun regularly here when I walk between houses, or when I hang laundry on the backyard clothesline. Maybe. Walking is so pleasant at low temps and I don’t mind carrying groceries from the nearby supermarket wearing my favorite hooded sweatshirts. Plus there’s the dog begging for a walk to the park.

Ibises, which they call bin birds as they’re often found rummaging through trash.

Slower rhythms. Just doing mundane things sans distractions. Finding time to listen to a grandson playing a new piece on the piano, or teaching a 10-year old how to make a pseudo pizza using Lebanese bread as crust. My sister and I even relish those trips to Costco to buy our household supplies and eat those Au$2 hotdogs with soda. Not much to do yet time swiftly passes as we’ve somehow adopted a routine that seems to work for everyone. My wardrobe has been limited to 5 sets outside of 2 party wear, which I love. Amazing how liberating it is when we can do with much less. When I ask my grandson what he wants me to cook, his choices are invariably sinigang, adobo or fried chicken. Can it get simpler than that?

Is a dog’s life way simpler?

The past months, I’ve had very meaningful conversations with my sister, nephews and nieces. Even with the grandkids. Family is a very integral part of our life and I’m happy we’re able to spend precious time together. Not just to reminisce happy times in the past, but share what’s important to each of us. In so doing, we rediscover ourselves and appreciate life so much better. Without the material attachments, and with complete regard for how unique each one of us is. We remember our departed loved ones with so much fondness and wonder how the younger members of our family would remember us many years from now. Which shared moments would they remember? What lines or stories would they repeat with much amusement? As my sister’s dementia creeps in, I notice how some funny episodes in our childhood continue to draw laughter from her. Like there’s a couple of stories she would repeat at least thrice each time we’re together that result in exactly the same reaction. These are the moments that made a mark. The moments deeply etched in memories. There’s no saying which ones will be remembered. But that is not to say we cannot create more for the younger ones to remember long after we’re gone. Having said that, won’t you agree we’ve got work to do? I’m sure each of us would like to be remembered a certain way, so yeah, let’s get on with it.