Kinda Chinese

Food
I suspect that I have more than a drop of Chinese blood (yes, there’s a drop in here) running through my veins. For how else could I explain my huge appetite for Chinese food—siopao, sweet and sour pork, tofu, mami, kikiam, yang chow and (drumroll please) siomai? For the rest of my life, I can survive not eating another serving of Italian pizza, American cheeseburger, Mexican taco, Mediterranean shawarma or Japanese maki. But please pass me my siomai with soy and chili.

My fascination for Chinese food extends to the glutinous kind: tikoy. During the most recent Chinese New Year week, I ate fried tikoy almost everyday. While I was still chewing a forkful in my mouth, my mind was already thinking of who will feed me my next tikoy. On hindsight, I should have sung Lionel Richie’s Stuck on You while eating it.

Next year, Chinese friends, I will remember to greet you “Kung Hei Fat Choy!” Just give me some tikoy.

Fashion
I bought a Chinese-inspired blouse from UK in Baguio yesterday. It’s a ¾ sleeved aqua blue blouse with pink piping on its sleeves and around the neck. The last time I UK-ayed, I bought a silk mint green one that I occasionally wear to work. The last time I wore it was Chinese New Year’s day (occasionally nga kasi).

My collection of Chinese clothes is growing so fast that Rosebud, threatened I’ll take her place, is putting me under surveillance.

Friends
Many years ago, fresh from college, I insisted that Terry, my fellow mover at UST-CCC, take me to their house. Reason: She’s Chinese and I wanted to see an authentic Chinese house (as if I was expecting to find a relic from the Chi dynasty or a welcome mat in Chinese characters). She obliged and graciously led me around the streets of Divisoria, the alleys leading to Melchor Cano and the rooms of their house that was actually a multi-story building housing two families.

I can still recall the stack of imported goods near the door (they have a dry goods stall in Divisoria), the huge sepia photograph of her mother on the wall, the ubiquitous old piano she and her sister Yasmin can play.

Though Terry and I regularly ran into each other during our four-year CCC involvement, it was only after we’ve walked away from UST that we became more than batchmates. After college, our unlikely friendship (we had different interests), rooted in our shared faith, was watered by constant togetherness (at one time we even became officemates), and was nurtured under the shade of understanding and acceptance.

Through the years, we’ve shared countless meals—from sandwiches to siomais, in Jolibee and Le Ching and many other restaurants. Between the two of us, many jobs, heartaches, birthdays and other occasions have come and gone. Yet it’s funny what all these years did to me. For instance, I have ceased to notice that Terry’s eyes are narrower than mine, her skin fairer and that she could speak Fukien. To me, she’s now just “Terry,” period. I might be able to bring to mind her qualities as a Chinese but her nationality has become secondary to me.

When I think of her I remember happenings—the time we weaved our way in Quiapo on our way to the LRT station, our late-night viewing of The Wedding Singer at SM North Edsa, our Christmas afternoon in a second-rate carnival in Las Pinas. Good and (a few) not-so-good times, we had our share of these.

At first I was just interested in seeing an authentic Chinese house. Little did I know my heart would find a home.
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Today, Aleks, another Chinese friend, is celebrating his birthday. He’s a walking jukebox (but no need to feed him coins, he sings for free!), caffeine-dependent (in almost all its forms: coke, coffee, tea), chocoholic (if Esau sold his birthright for stew, maybe Aleks will sell his for chocolate), a techie (my PDA consultant). A tall package of delight, he can impress you with his wit, tickle you with his humor, warm you with his words, and blind you with his neon orange polo shirt. He speaks with his mind, writes with his heart, tap dances with his fingers.

Silly and serious you, God must have been smiling when He created you.