Cherry and Boyet came to Netherlands

Francois and I met Cherry and Boyet at Schipol airport, 19 august on a Wednesday evening. Their plane arrived some 15 minutes earlier than scheduled. Luckily we were there earlier. Rebecca stayed behind in Haarlem.

On the way back to Haarlem with the auto, fortunately there no traffic files. The two were not affected by jet-lag. Theirs were second time in Europe, but first in Netherlands. Curious along the way, they were impressed by the smoothness of the road that one can easily drive more than 100kph without feeling the bumps along the way.

So they arrived in Haarlem. Rebecca greeted them. Their baggages were brought upstairs.

Thus began the pleasantries. Lively it was as you can see in the picture.


Dinner was already prepared by Rebecca. She prepared escabeche with codfish filet and sauteed eggplants with tomatoes and of course steamed basmati rice.

I was given a present of sea salt, a small Romana peanut brittle, while Rebecca and Francois were given dilis in different flavors. And then I don't remember what had we for desert. Maybe nothing at all because the guests have eaten already during their flight. All I remember was I was eating the Romana peanut brittle.

We went all to bed at eleven in the evening.

Next day we got up early. Rebecca and Francois had to go to their work at 8 in the morning. Cherry was surprised to see Francois and Rebecca using their bike on their way to station or to work. Cherry took a picture of Rebecca readying her bike on her way to the creche.
We took our breakfast late. We had a typical dutch repast. Coffee, cornbread, brownbread, raisinbread, butter, cheese, ham and jams.

Then we went to two typical dutch supermarkets, Aldi and Vouwmarkt, a discount and a non-discount supermarket. On the way we saw this bike unusually decorated with colorful feathers. We took a picture of that.

In the supermarket Boyet wanted to get ingredients for a special recipe (spaghetti, corned beef, cream of mais, tomatoes, breadcrumbs and garlic). Aside from these, they also interested in cornbread, salmon filet, cashew nuts and cheddar cheese. I bought them Spanish crackers and kaiserbrood. They were surprised at how fast customers went through the cashiers. Yet there were no baggers at cashier's end to help you out. So one has to be quick to stuff what is bought to the wagons again and go elsewhere to make way for other customers. There are no free plastic sacks here, so we stuffed our things in our backpacks. A plastic sack can cost one 25 eurocent or 17 pesos if one buys.

Later after depositing what we bought back at the house, we went to the city center. On the way, we passed by a pond with ducks. I took a piece of Spanish torta and gave it to Cherry to entice-feeding the ducks. They came near her as she threw the crumbs into the pond.

We were about to cross a busy street when they saw, thousands of bikes park at the station. Sometimes they were parked two-high, that is, one below and one above. On the way to work, most dutch people use the bike instead of the auto. And then if their work is far away, they prefer to bike to the station and park their bike and then take the train. Often they have another bike parked at the destination station to be used to go to their workplace.

Thus we reached the city center dominated by St. Bavo church, which was formerly a Roman Catholic church but now a Dutch Reformed Church. Vehicular traffic are not allowed during the day at city centers in Netherlands. So people walk. One is not even allowed to bike. One has to walk one's bike.

Boyet wanted to treat me to lunch. We searched for an affordable place to eat french fries, but to no avail. It was already nearing one o'clock and they have to be at the hotel for practice. So we took a bus going to the hotel. Fortunately it was only one stop away from the city center.

Busses came every 7 minutes, so we did not wait for long when a bus arrived. I asked the driver to stop where Hotel van der Valk was. The driver was friendly. We had a short pleasantries as I told that my companions were visiting Netherlands. As the bus stopped, the driver pointed us the way to the hotel and bade us good-bye.

It was good they brought corn bread and cheese to share with others. So they ate their lunch in one of the hotel rooms. Their companions were also able to buy provisions in a supermarket nearby. I did not eat with them, knowing the provisions were limited. Instead I just drank water and ate only one-half torta which was also my baon.

I left them in the hotel while they were practicing and went home walking. I went back again at the hotel at 5:40 in the afternoon. Their group was still practicing and I just waited outside to have a rest. It was a warm day, about 30 degrees centigrade with almost no wind and the sky was clear and the sun shined strongly still.

When they were finished practicing their songs, I asked them if they have the energy to walked to the center. It will only take us 30 minutes, I said, slow walking. They agreed to walked.So we passed by these bridge straddling across the Spaarne river.

On the banks are many floating houses moored. People lived in these houses. Electricity, water and sewage system for these houses are all connected to the city system as we walked along the banks.

It was already past 7 p.m. when we arrived in the city center.
They were surprise the sun did not still went down when it was supposed to be under the horizon by now. See the clock on the church spire. Enlarge the photo.

Boyet and Cherry ate ice cream by a gelateria. Then they saw also their colleagues who came on foot. Cherry had her photo taken with them. I let them there to look for a place where they serve french fries at affordable prices. The Vlaamse friture was closed. Finally I found one Pakistani friture shop.
The three of us ate there. We ordered french fries and hotdog for Boyet, french fries and kroket for Cherry. Me, I had only french fries with mayonaise. We gulped these with one-a-half liter coke.

Boyet paid more than 13 euro (900 pesos approximately) for a measly meal. I suspect the Pakistani cashier overcharged us by two euros. I felt a little bit guilty I didn't asked for a breakdown. Well that was his treat for me. No fine dining, otherwise it will cost us 3 times more for simple meals at the very least.

It was darkening already when we walked back to house. We took another route. We came across a small street overhanged by a grape vine. Luckily my camera, Fuji F50, was sensitive enough. So I was able to shoot without flash this photo.

We took a pause at the train station to let the visitors' legs rest for the moment. They were a bit tired with walking. Good for them at least they were able to see the trains stopping and going.

We reached housed at past 10 p.m. Francois and Rebecca arrived at 11 p.m. from their appointment. After less than an hour we all went to sleep.

Next day, the three of us went to an open market. Boyet was not able to buy what he was looking for, a sort razor apparatus. Then we went to another non-discount supermarket Albert Heijn. After that we went back to the house to unload what we bought. We went again to Aldi supermarket and Vouwmarkt to buy some more provisions. Cherry bought a dozen of Danish blue cheese to bring back home.

We just stayed the whole afternoon in the house. After dinner of Boyet's special recipe cooked by Cherry, we sipped white wine. After an hour we went out to eat ice cream. It was
a famous gelateria so the locals say. We ordered our favorites in ice cream cones. I had mine. Always pistachio. Two balls.
we licked the favorites by the terrace.

On return, we passed another route. It was dark already 10 p.m. I took a shot of them still without flash. The picture was noisy. I wondered if I could improve further.

The following day, we had a usual dutch breakfast at the low table. I took a picture with a self-timer shot. I was not satisfied with the shot. Still lots to learn.

They received an sms message to be back at the hotel at 9 a.m. At the hotel we were informed that their colleagues were only sound testing and we can still have till 3 p.m. free time.

So we went to the city center. Francois parked the car in an underground parking lot which would cost him later 4 euro parking fee.

As we were out, we found ourselves nearby St. Bavo basilica. We went inside. The entrance fee was 2 euro each. This is what they saw inside:They were amazed what they found in old gothic cathedral. The church was about 700 years old. With its very ceilings, people look small as they gawked above. There was one classical painting I saw in a museum here that was made 500 years ago showing the high ceilings and people below talking to each other or wandering.

At a column, we found markings of the tallest and shortest person found in Haarlem. Their heights were marked. The tallest was 264 cm. and shortest was 84 cm.Enlarge the picture and you will the markings (dark lines on the columns).

There were interesting stories about the church. Mozart once played the church organ as an 8 year-old. On the floors of the church lie buried rich and famous people. The expression "the rich stink" is not without foundation. For they did stink when they were buried here. Thus there is something to the expression "stinking rich".

Finally, we were out of the church and into the plaza. In one of the souvenir shop was a pair of very large wooden shoe. Cherry tried it for size. It just didn't fit.

Then we went to the beach (Zandvoort aan Zee) to eat brunch in one of the cafes. first we were in the terrace outside but it was windy and a little bit cold. So we transferred inside the cafe. After our brunching we rode elsewhere to see the countryside.

It was almost 3 p.m. when we returned to the hotel. We finally bade good-bye to each other. So just was the 42 hours with them is over.

Rizal Boys in the Times of Pre-puberty

A moment in Camudmud beach, Samal island. Recalling our mischievous past.

Those where the days when Rizal St. was Rizal ext., was not a through street but closed at one end. The place was a playground to us.

In those days we say taga Rizal kami. Then people could easily associate where we came from and the circumstances. In my primary school days there a sawmill there called Apo Lumber. Our common play yard was filled with sawdust, dumped from time-to-time. In that time houses were made of wood. No houses were made of hollow-blocks or concrete. The houses were erected without plan. Many houses were actually build in the middle on the proposed extension of Rizal st.

There no fences then and so there were many back-alleys. From the original house, one can go to PC barracks passing through manggahan at the back of the house. From PC barracks we can proceed to Washington.

If one wants to go to Boulevard or the river, we just walk through the end of the street. And proceed further to the so-called kanipaan, which at that time was actually a nipa swamp. We walked upon a long board walk made of discarded lumber slabs. We then could finally reach Quezon boulevard. As we cross the street, tens of meters ahead we find ourselves on the banks of Davao River, in a place called "Triding". I suppose this was a corruption of the word trading. For this place was supposed to be a sort of berth for small trading boats to trade their wares.

In the nipa swamp, one can see gobi fishes (isdang tambasakan) jumping. Sometimes, people used nets to catch shrimps. When high tide comes, the water in the river and the nipa swamp becomes deeper. The swamp at high tide was not so deep. It had a muddy bottom. When we were learning how to swim, I used to dive to the bottom and get myself a sort of muddied moustache.


In time the boys became men and mostly left the place. But our bond remained strong through the years. Here we were reliving those boyish days. Reminiscing and laughing at our monkey business and the like.
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We were only about 300 meters from Davao River. Always almost everyday when we learned to swim, we went there to take a dip. The river was then not polluted. Now? Think of the piggery farms upriver.

The Apo Lumber sawmill was owned by the Goseco-Valencia family. Logs were dumped in the yard. Outside workhours, these became our playthings. There was also a sawmill called Gaston Lumber, some 200 meters going towards Bonifacio st. then called Cortes st.

As kids we played war-games. As pirates. As cowboy and indians. Of course, pintikay. We used balagon-kahoy. These are vines that grow wild in the swamp. We cut them into pieces, and used them as shots in our rubber slingshots. Then we group ourselves as Apo Lumber guys and fought against Gaston Lumber boys.

Of course, after school and during weekends we played tigso, siatong, patintero, beisbal, basketball, tumba-lata, takyan, trumpo, yoyo, dyolen, rubberbands, marbles with each other. Often we end up bulingon. And we get thrashing from mothers from being so dirty-looking.

The lumber yard, the logs, back alleys, Claveria st (Claro M. Recto st. now), the nipa swamp, the board walks over the nipa swamp, the river were our playground and playthings. We knew the shortcuts. Our curiousity as boys were fed by our surroundings. In Rizal st proper, on both side, was open drainage canals. Sometimes one can catch mudfish by draining a part of a canal. I have seen this method several times.

We were free to move so long as it was not yet lunch or dinner time. Then comes lunch or dinner, mothers would be calling the children to eat. Often calling the names of their sons, shouting, in order to be heard. As usual when we were late, we get the usual thrashing from harassed mothers.

Now fast forward to some 50 years and more later, we see this picture:
Well this is a reunion picture of Rizal boys in the time of pre-puberty. Taken in the year 2001, 30 December. Smart these guys to hold their reunion on Rizal Day. So the bulingon boys became grown-ups, became fathers and I suspect some of them became grandfathers as well. Some may have become well-off in life, some have not, or may even have retrogressed. But the feeling is there of boyhood memories.

My daughter, Rebecca, asked...

My daughter, Rebecca, asked me if I could write something about our childhood days before.

Here's what she wrote to me in FB: "Write your memories about your childhood...You don't have to publish but for the next generation so we can know what Davao was during your time...."

So I decided to set up a blog, being an appropriate manner to let people see readily what is written. For me, I don't have to write so many emails to a lot of people for that will be cumbersome. My hope is to really make something out this project. Writing is not my forte. But then there is always that practice, practice, practice. Just spill out your thoughts so I say to myself. OK then. Write something about the childhood days. Oh oh, not only that. But other things as well.