Peeling Banana Yoshimoto

The first time I encountered Banana Yoshimoto through her book, NP, I thought she was simply weird.

Now, after two years and 366 pages of Amrita – her lengthiest novel I assume, I find with some amusement her weirdness gradually seeping under my skin. Now, she’s no longer weird, just different.

It’s like meeting an old classmate who you hastily branded as a freak before just because he wore thick glasses and suspenders. And then, about seven years later, you meet at an office or something, and your work forces you to spend more time with each other.

You discover there’s more to him than thick glasses and suspenders. You explore other sides of him and find something disturbingly familiar. He echoes something in your own soul. For an instant, it makes you wonder if you’re a freak as well. But this time, you understand him. You realize that underneath it all, you’re woven from the same thread. And then, before you know it, just as children who’ve learned to play a game together, you become friends.

I imagine bumping into Banana Yoshimoto at a coffee shop. We probably wouldn’t stay long. I’d be itching to take her someplace where the air is clear and the colors are calm, just like at a beach maybe.

You see, reading Banana Yoshimoto is somehow like swimming in the great blue sea.

You float in a sea of emotions, aware that there is a certain depth that allows you to do so. Buoyed by the water, everything is in slow motion. You begin to entertain thoughts that, on land, are easily drowned out by city noise. Thoughts flow one after the other, seemingly disorganized, at random, but all connected somehow.

In the water, the song is different. The silence, the crashing waves, or the gentle splash of the sea makes its own musical genre. Even the sky is a different blue from when you’re on land.

You float and bask in the sensation of water lapping against your skin. You love it. You realize that the experience is lost when you rush, so it’s best done on a lazy afternoon or early morning.

When you think about it, there’s a bit of irony in the saltiness of the water and the sweetness of the air, yet it makes sense somehow. Once in a while, a fish, a seaweed, or seashell jars you to a biting reality.

You get used to bobbing in the water so much that you hate to go. But as you turn the last page, you return to dry land once more.

And then, just as the sun licks the last few droplets of seawater on your skin, it all becomes only a distant memory. Looking back at the sea, you’re never sure exactly what happened.

Only the sensation of something beautiful remains.

Wine O’ Whine

On a free night, with the air still warm from bodies left over a week after the jam packed Sinulog grand festival, four friends huddle in the cold comfort of the dimly-lit Wineshop.

One is rugged, one casual, another in a dress, and still another scantily clad. One is a guy, one female bisexual, and the two straight gals. Their outlooks and their intangible baggage are as varied as the drinks at the bar. But they’ve been friends a long time and though sometimes they don’t hear each other, they speak the same language.

Their fresh young faces accented with loud voices draw the eye of some regular patrons who, numbed with wine, are tolerant but curious.

An old white man rudely stares from the bar, half-listening to his barely dressed companion. A brown finger a couple of tables away taps a neighbor and points to the skinniest and loudest of the four.

She is C. And because it’s her 27th birthday, she gets to choose the color of wine. It’s white, this time.

The almost empty bottle of Don Barroso lies chilled in a bucket of melted ice. As the glasses meet and clink for the nth time, they become more and more oblivious to anyone but themselves.

C: (half-drunk and half-out of her chair) Hear, hear! Let’s raise our glasses. I propose a toast … a toast to…to… what do we toast to?
B: Love!
(Three pairs of eyes turn to glare at him)
D: Get that sappy grin off your face. You make me sick.
B: Look who’s jealous! Can I help it if I’ve found a girl? Now, after a long time, I’ve finally ---
A: Hurry up, C, my arm’s aching.
C: To friendship, then.
(Three tongues say, “Again?!!”)
C: (glares) Can you think of a better one?

(Their eyes roll but they clink their glasses anyway)

D: Listen, what do I do now? Who do I choose? I love the boy, but I can’t dump the girl either.
C: Shyeeett. It’s 10 PM and he still hasn’t greeted me.
A: (flipping through a mag) So you call and tell him to greet you.
C: Are you out of your mind? I can’t do that. It’s over between us. He’s got another girl now (sobs)
D: (Reaches for C’s cell phone) Give me that.
C: What are you doing?
D: Texting him. (C lunges for her) Aww, easy there. Haven’t sent it yet. If you don’t want to take action, then nothing’s ever going to happen. Stop whining about it. Can we focus on me now please?
A: (lifts the magazine) Look, cool heels, huh? I’m gonna buy one tomorrow.
D: (wails) You’re not paying attention.
A: What? I heard you. I just don’t like your problem. You’re whining about two lovers when I’m batting zero now.
D: Is it my fault you prefer long-distance flings? So what, you’re not gonna help me anymore?
A: Look, isn’t that the same issue we’ve been talking about since three years ago? Can you imagine how many cups of coffee we’ve consumed over that already? Now, we’ve shifted drinks and still that? Puhleezz, make up your mind already and stick to it. (glances at the bucket beside C) Is there more wine?
C: (pours wine) I hate him. After all we’ve been through, he can’t even greet me on my birthday? The asshole. I’m gonna forget about him. Mark my words. I’m deleting his number right now. (deletes number) There.
D: Yeah, yeah, yeah
A: As if you haven’t memorized it yet.

(A & D laughs)

C: Here’s an answer to your question, D—stick to the girl. Men are scum.
D: What do you think, B? I need your expert male opinion. B? B? Earth to B!
C: You still texting her? You’ve been at it for an hour already.
D: Don’t you know it’s rude to talk to another girl when you’ve got three lovely ladies in front of you? (Bats her eyelash)
B: Yeah, right. Listen, she’s at the Village.
C: So you’re going?
B: Of course not.
A: What do you mean, ‘of course, not’? You like her don’t you? She’s out there. It’s your chance to make your move. Go!
B: It’s too early at this stage. I don’t want her to think I’m following her.

(Three girls roll their eyes)

A: I don’t understand men. You and your silly ideas. Ugh!
D: If I were you, I wouldn’t be here just texting her. I’d be out there talking to her right now.
C: Yeah. And while you’re at it, some flowers would be a nice touch.
A: Flowers are nice, but chocolates are even better. How about both? And then a restaurant, maybe, nothing fancy, mind you, but some place quiet –
C: Yeah, and—
B: Wait, wait, wait, who’s courting her? Me, or you?
A: (giggles) Us.

(The phone beeps)

C: (shrieks) It’s him, it’s him! (A & D shriek as well) My gosh, he actually texted! Do I text him back? What do I do? What do I do?
A: Cool it. Text him back.
C: What do I say?
D: Thanks or whatever…
A: How about: Thanks for remembering
C: Yes! Wait – do I text that with a period or ellipses?
B: Period
A: Ellipses
B: No, period.
A: No, ellipses.
B: You’re making it sound like there’s more to say when you’re just saying ‘Thanks’
A: Isn’t that the point?
B: I stick with period. Be done with it and move on.
D: You have a point there. But that’s not what C wants. You go crazy when you deny yourself. Keep him dangling. Go with ellipses, C.
C: Outvoted, B. Ellipses it is. Message sent.

Fifteen minutes later…

C: (wails) Why doesn’t he answer? Aaarggh
B: (reading his l8est msg) I think she’s getting tired. I better end it now.
D: Tell her “sweet dreams”
A: And don’t forget the (hic) tic… (hic) tic… keeerrrr.

(Everybody laughs)

B: Okay, “Take care” sent.
A: Hic! Is there more wine? Can we order the red one now please?
C: Uuulk! I think I’m gonna puke. I need to go to the restroom. (rushes to the restroom)
D: (calls after her) You need help?

(C shakes her head. D signals the waiter instead. The waiter approaches but the old white guy beats him to the table)

OWG: Hi, can I buy you a drink? May I get your number?
D: (drawls) Sorry, honey, but I’m in the mood for a woman right now.
OWG: (turns to A) How about you, sweetie?
B: Look, man, the girls are not interested.
OWG: I’m not asking you.
B: Don’t be rude. Go back to the bar.
OWG: Your loss, sugar. (swaggers off)
A: (sighs) Why couldn’t he be tall, dashing, and 20 years younger? Now, he’s totally ruined my appetite.
B: It’s time to go.

(B asks waiter for the bill. C arrives)

C: I wrecked the Ladies’ Room. Don’t go there.
D: What! Yuuuck
A: It’s time to go anyway.

(Waiter brings the bill)

C: What! We're leaving? Nooo, he hasn’t texted me back yet.
B: Face it, girl, he never will.

So they left, none the wiser. But talks like this, my dear friends, is the reason I think wine tastes as it does.

Painting Me

I am the naked lass
Framed in a painting of midnight blue
Adorned with nothing but a half smile
And the glow of the pale moonlight

Abed my hair long glorious
I watch its wicked edges stream to the gushing brook
My bare foot glides and plucks a yellow rose
And considers the forgotten red stilettos

I dance with the stars in the night
To a song no one else hears
My sweet laughter fills the earth
My eyes half-closed yet alive

I see your hand gingerly raise
Trembling, the paint you caress
Like a whisper from the wind, I hear you ask:
Is she angel, witch, or enchantress?

Come, take my hand
To you, I bring a midnight boon
Take me out of the picture
And make me real.

La Leyte-Samar Sizzle

At last, I went east!

Go grab a map. Go, go, this can wait. Do you have it? Look right. See those two islands which look like they’re kissing each other? Apparently, you can already go around Leyte and Samar for three days or less if you wanted to. Imagine that.

Before my sis could finish asking me if I’d like to go with her on a low-budget weekend tour around Leyte and Samar, I was already mentally packing my travel bag. I thought, wow, talk about raging seas from the Pacific Ocean (never mind the storms), of Visca, the MacArthur landing, and… and… what else do I know of these islands?

Unfortunately, the Internet does not offer much info on Samar and Leyte, either. You go to the travel sites and rarely do you find these provinces mentioned. It even took me some time to get my hands on a reliable map. I gave up looking for a listing of hotels.

So what? It just makes it more of an adventure.

Day One

8:00 AM

We took the 6 AM SuperCat trip and landed in Ormoc City. The ticket cost around P580 pesos. Art (my sis’ honey) and his dark green Adventure met us at the terminal. First stop – guess. What else? Jollibee!

I didn’t see much of Ormoc City but from where we were, I could see that they have recovered well from the great flood. The town center looks like every other town center in the Philippines—there’s Jollibee, Mercury drug stores, bakeshops, the common sari-sari stores, old cinemas and more. I see no mall or a coffee shop, though. Bummer.

10:00 AM

Still in Ormoc, we went on to Lake Danao. You turn right from the main road and follow the off-beaten path. It was scenic enough but more, I was dazzled by the weather. You’d be amazed at how quickly it changes. It could be sunny, drizzling, or both. And the air was always cool.

Our first glimpse of Lake Danao was disappointing. This was it? My sis and I rolled our eyes. It took us a long time going there, and then this was it? The least it could have been was bigger. I’m gonna kill Henryl, I said. He told me it was nice so how could I not insist that we go?

Then we explored further. There’s a banca for rent for P50 an hour. We opted for the floating cottage instead at P75. We discovered it was worth it.

The lake is indeed bigger. You just have to look on the other side to see that it stretches way back to Lake Danao Elementary School. The view is fantastic. It’s so peaceful, it’s almost magical.

You see the majestic mountains up ahead covered with pine cones, banana trees and ferns. (By the way, there are edible ferns for sale at the side of the road). The twisting lake sparkles as the sun’s rays and raindrops hit the surface.

The water’s cold. It looks dark and is said be 75 meters deep at the center. Scary. Imagine sizzling lumot and what other creatures crawling down there. Makes me wonder if a cousin of the Loch Ness monster lives there, too.

But all in all, I’ll let Henryl live after all.

11:00 AM

We went back to the main road, sped down Kananga and stopped at Breakneck Ridge. If you’re not looking for it, chances are you’ll miss it. There are about 40 steps going up, some of which are already mossy from non-use.

The place used to be a Japanese stronghold, I’m told. Today, it’s a memorial. A few Japanese still go there to light a candle and pay homage to their ancestors.

The area’s really not that big. On one side you see the sea and on the other, you see the hills, the plains and the road leading to the camp. With the view, their soldiers were easily alerted to enemies trying to breach the territory they stole from us. There’s a hut with Japanese writings inside I do not understand. I just hope that whatever accolades they put there, they also remember the atrocities they did to our people and learn from it.

The place was eerie. I was afraid to take pictures there.

12:30 PM

Brought some home made cookies in Carigara. Yummy.

2:00 PM

Tacloban City. Well, it looks like Cagayan -- or almost like it. And they have Bo’s coffee (awraaytt!) Here, people already speak Waray and I was told not to ask for sili. (I wonder what happens if I do… hmmm)

As we munched on lunch in a place called Ocho, I decided that Leyte is indeed a sleepy province. People are laidback and seem to go about their business like they have all the time in the world. I kinda miss that kind of environment.

We passed by the Sto. Niño shrine, Price Mansion, and UP Tacloban (it’s big!). I scrutinized sculptural monuments such as the Crucified Christ with the map of Leyte at the back, as well as the topless Madonna of Japan. She’s beautiful and she looks Asian, I like it.

3:00 PM

While we were on our way to Palo, I realized that the Japanese and Americans are quite a big thing in the history of Leyte. Here, it seems, they go “Bad Japanese!” and “Hail Americans!”

I really can’t blame them. As I saw MacArthur and his troops frozen in that “I shall return” moment in a very elaborate park by the Pacific Ocean, I too was ready to shout “Hail, MacArthur!” Gosh, he managed to look so cute and so M-A-N at the same time, I think I had a momentary lapse of sanity and mooned over him a bit. Achoo!

4:00 PM

On to Samar. There it was -- the famous San Juanico Bridge! Methinks it’s really the nicest bridge I saw in my life. Aside from the unique L-S shape of the bridge, you’d be delighted by the little green islands accessorizing the blue sea. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to stop so I couldn’t take pictures.

The road to Catbalogan and then Calbayog, Samar is literally a pain in the ass. There are potholes everywhere on the twisted road. But somehow, the scenery makes you forget all that.

Seeing Leyte and now Samar, I realize where they get the term “Tropical Paradise”. You remember when you were a kid and were asked to draw a landscape? Typically, it goes with this mix -- the nipa hut, the plains, the mountains, and the setting/rising sun. Now I know that those early masterpieces were inspired by the beauty of these provinces.

The scenery looks like a cross between going to Baguio and Medellin. They’ve got wider plains though and more hills or mountains.

8:00 PM

Calbayog is a coastal town. One side is lined by the sea. In this town, we met my sister’s Chinese friend Alvin who apparently owns the town of Calbayog (hehehe, just kidding)

He took us to Kamayan sa Karayman where we had one of the best seafood meals in our lives. Over saucy fish, veggie omelet, crabs, fried shrimps, squid, and etc., I listened to them talk on and on about corrupt politics and how difficult it is to deal with businessmen in Samar. You’ve got to know how to play the game there.

Alvin checked us in at La Vista Pensionne. It’s said to be one of the better ones, but it still looked “horror” to me. Good thing I was told early on not to expect much from Samar hotels. Besides, I was too tired and sleepy by then to really care.


DAY 2

9:30 AM

Breakfast at Alvin’s place -- located at the 5th floor of his building. A typical Chinese, his family has a store below and a temple on the top floor.

The breakfast was wonderful. Thank you, Alvin, for that great hospitality. You’re the best!

As for Samar, well, let’s just say it’s a place I’m glad to have been to once in my life. But go back? It can wait for long.

11:00 AM

Onto the very looooong trip from Samar back to the other side of Leyte – Tacloban, Palo, Mayorga, Abuyog, and then Baybay.

6:00 PM

Wowowow! I’ve got to say that Baybay, Leyte is my favorite of them all. And I concede – VISCA, now known as LSU or Leyte State University, is the most beautiful campus I’ve seen. Yeah, even better looking than UP.

Where else can you find plantations with mosquito nets? Or a thriving mini zoo inside the campus? There’s a variety of cottage-like dorms up and down the hill. When you go up, there are the colleges with a great view of the sea, the majestic mountains and more. And it’s cold, I like it. Makes me wanna go back to school there just so I can bask in it everyday and write!

7:00 PM

We checked in at LSU Hostel, fronting the Camotes Sea. We found a few lovers by the beach. I was delighted to find non-aircon rooms good for two at only P300. The room is big, clean and definitely better looking than La Vista in Samar. If the cool air is not enough for you, there are also air-conditioned rooms at P600. If you want to add TV and a ref, rates vary at P1,000, P1,200, and P1,600.

Then we went to the port of Baybay at the town proper, where they reputedly have the best tasting barbecued chicken. Yeah, it was good – soft and tender, if you like. But San Pedro’s lechon manok is still the best.


DAY 3

6:30 AM

The drive to Hilongos while the sun was rising behind the mountains was definitely the best view I’ve seen so far. Especially when you see the trees and the colors of the light reflected in the watery plains.

You know how you sometimes throw in the word spectacular just to come up with an adjective though the subject really falls short of spectacular? Or how you use spectacular as a cliché though you really don’t mean it?

Well, this time, this is it – it’s really spectacular. Stunning-impressive-fantastic-fabulous spectacular. God’s truth, I fell in love with it. I was so quiet during the ride, I didn’t want to go.

In Hilongos, we purchased Oceanjet tickets at P500 each back to Cebu. We boarded at 8:00 AM. As I looked at the coast one last time, I only have one thought in my mind:

I shall return.

Sand Castle

To see the world in a grain of sand
-- (resaid) Lara Croft, Tombraider

In my parent’s home, my favorite part is the top deck. From there you can see the wild mini forest beyond the back fence, the gentle sea up front, and my mama’s blooming garden below.

When the air is cool and the sky a silvery blue, like now, it becomes the perfect place for dreaming, plotting mayhem, or simply thinking nothing at all. You can even risk lying on the cemented railing and float in the sky with the clouds when you feel like indulging those superwoman delusions.

The scatter of coconut trees -- some bent like old men with sacks full of stones -- remind me of the folklore, Juan Tamad -- the lazy man who lay beneath a tree with his mouth hanging open, simply waiting for fruit to fall down. Why he actually thought keeping his mouth open is less tiresome than climbing the tree, I have no idea. Try it for five minutes, okay 10, and you know what happens? Do you? I don’t. I’m not loony enough to try. But I can imagine. It makes me dizzy just thinking about it. Even in sleep, I bet you can’t manage to keep your mouth open long enough for the fruit to fall down. So tell me if I’m wrong -- I demand proof, a demonstration. Anyone? You? Eeek.

Anyway, let’s not waste our time on not-so-pretty sights. After all, there is my mother’s garden.

By the way, I’ll be bragging any minute now. If you feel you can’t take it, disconnect from my site already. Go! Bye, bye! Don’t come back, insecure people. Good riddance.

You still reading? Aw, shucks. You really love me, don’t you? I love you, too.

Now, where was I?

There is an inspiring story behind my mother’s garden.

Years ago, when my parents decided to leave the city for rural life, I wondered how my practical mother would manage. After all, all her friends, her babies (us and a lot more for she has this habit of adopting kids by heart), and her teaching career for what must have been a gazillion years, are all here in the city.

“I give her three months, half a year tops,” I told my sister. Good thing I didn’t bet on it.

My mother took to her new home like fish to water. “What do you do there?” we and other people kept asking.

“A lot – cooking, exploring, walking on the beach, arranging things, experimenting in the kitchen, cooking, and other household work,” she actually says this with a happy smile on her face. “And of course, there are my flowers.”

My mother took up this hobby -- raising flowers -- right after the house and her kitchen were settled. This was one thing she enjoyed doing as a child, she said, but she got busy with life and raising us that she didn’t have much time to indulge it. Besides, consider the city air, and the flowers here don’t get much of a chance.

“But mami, I didn’t know flowers grow on sand,” I told her.

“Of course not,” she chuckles. “That’s why most are potted.”

Every time my parents visit the city, my mother goes into “ka-ang (clay pot) madness”, as my father puts it. She buys them and dozens of potted plants in places here I do not even know and transports them up north via my popsy’s long suffering multicab fondly called “Sukie” (after Suzuki).

Soon enough, the garden grew. Like paint, it envelops the small lovely circular green house designed by my father. You turn around and you feel and see the garden exploding with colors that could compete with the flames of sunset.

Me, I don’t know much about flowers. I just like looking at them. But, here, let me try giving them to you…

There are the euphorbias – colorful, elegant, classy, and looks like something that could face the wind with no leaf or petal out of place.

There are the ground and hanging orchids – blue, violet, pink and white.

There are the flowers I do not know by name but which sleep by night and bloom by midday.

And then there’s this group of flowers which look like that spinning thing Harry Potter goes after when they’re playing air hockey. Really, it’s a silver ball with feathery arms, too.

Then there’s the cactus collection of many kinds and shapes – I see a rose, a sea urchin, a dick (shhhh! but really), a hairy spaceship, a gingerman cookie, and what else. You have to see them to believe it.

Then there are the ferns and San Francisco, the gumamelas and bougainvilleas.

Then there are the wild flowers from nowhere. They’re violet so can’t kill them or else my sister will go after me.

And then, to give it some pizzazz, these flowers are accompanied by trees strong enough to survive the sea breeze – coconut, papaya, guyabano, banana, wild guava, sili, malunggay, noni (yes, the one with that catchy song some years ago), and Palua Maria (Palm of Maria). Now the Palua Maria is amazing. It’s the local people’s herbal cure to every eye pain – sore eyes, blurry eyes, strained eyes, dirty eyes – you name it, it really works.

You learn a lot from watching mami nurture her garden. It entails hard work, a big dose of patience and familiarizing with icky stuff like urine, fertilizer, mud, and other elements I don’t care to know which she uses to create her own solution for plant spray.

I realize that gardening is really not my thing— the icky stuff and socializing with insects make me cringe. But I feel blessed and I appreciate the fact that there are people like her who keep the world beautiful for us.

As my mother’s garden expanded and grew even more beautiful, a lot of locals began dropping by to stare and covet. Soon enough, people began to ask my mother to sell some.

“Oh no, my flowers are not for sale. It’s just a hobby,” my mother said. And for a few more months, she kept on telling that to people who dropped by. But they just begged and begged and begged till my mother could not resist their cries to share these beautiful and glorious breathing specimens any longer. (See, I told you I’m gonna brag…)

So she began to sell the offshoots or “baby” plants while the original or parent remained off limits. More teachers, wives of fishermen, and oh, foreigners dropped in. That’s how I came to know that many white men have invaded the beaches of Medellin as well.

And then people from neighboring towns also heard of this great wonder garden (you’d be amazed at how fast rumor spreads in this part of the world) and came to travel the many meters to paradise.

Then one day, mami was amazed to find out that she actually made profit. She got all the money she invested in her garden back plus more. She is the perfect example that when you just follow your heart and love what you do, money will follow.

For her, though, it’s still not about the money. Always, the flowers come first. She still worries about her babies going to the wrong hands. And even though she has a potential big business at hand, she’s not rushing. She doesn’t like to be a seller, she says. It takes too much time from gardening and making her flowers bloom.

From my view at the top deck, I see color and life at the edge of an old, almost barren town. Looking at the house, the garden, the sea and the woods, I often stand amazed at how my parents managed to build their version of paradise, no matter how small, on sand.

There are greater places, I’m sure. But if you’re curious about this world I’m talking about, just look for the green house with the many flowers by the beach of Medellin.

From the town’s old church, go straight, pass by the public market, turn left on the first corner, go straight, pass by the cemetery, then go rickety-ta-ta on the road some more till you see the beach.

If you’re a friend of mine, follow the trail to the left until you reach the green gate. You won’t miss it.

If you’re just a moron pretending to be my friend or a stalker or a salesman, just go straight to the water and don’t stop till the fishes eat you alive. You won’t be missed.

And no, no, no, the house is still not for sale.

But there’s another beach lot in the area I can recommend. 600 square meters. Price negotiable. With a little imagination, you can build your own sand castle too.

If you’re interested, call me or post it here.