Holiday hangovers

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house… every creature was stirring but no, not the mice. Because there were no mice at my husband’s daughter’s house. There was cochinillo, turkey, fabada cooked by her lawyer husband, two kinds of noodles, bacalao, callos, three salads, and a pistachio sans rival, plenty of wine, gin and tonic water. Six of his eight children, six of his grandchildren and the two of us were there to celebrate Noche Buena and the opening of gifts at midnight. It was the tradition in his family and this year it felt like I had become a real part of it.

Last Sunday I got together with two of my children, the ones who live here, two of my grandchildren from the US, one with his wife and the other who goes to college in New York but is home for his birthday and Christmas; my local grandson who was just fresh out of hospital; another local grandson with his girlfriend; and one of my only two granddaughters. We also had a big lunch at my son’s, the informal chef’s house. He had bought a misono table from his friend so we had top-of-the-line steaks, delicious tuna, scallops, chicken, fried rice, veggies, a chocolate and rosemary cake and an assortment of cookies. My husband couldn’t come because he wasn’t feeling well.

In point of fact, both of us have not been feeling very well recently but we rouse ourselves for the holidays. Soon enough, Dec. 30 came and we packed ourselves into a van with his children — a son driving and his wife and a sister beside him; another daughter and her son, who is 24, but was seated behind with the two little granddaughters, eight and four years old, and a nanny — and drove off to Anilao to join more of his children and another set of parents. We were spending the weekend there and coming back on Jan. 2, 2020. 

Once upon a time my holidays had fewer people — basically just my children and me. Then there was a time we added their husbands and children. Now it includes grandchildren and in my case their wives or girlfriends, a testimony to how families grow.

We went to Anilao because two of Loy’s children — oldest son Paton and third daughter Lala — love to windsurf. Anilao is their favorite place for their favorite sport. It’s the second time we’ve gone there for New Year’s Eve. I love to go to the wet market and buy seafood. This year I saw a squid that was about two feet long. What can one do with a squid that big? It must be very tough and rubbery. There were no crabs. I just bought prawns and added it to the lunch menu that was mainly lamb chops with mint sauce brought from Manila. I mixed soy sauce, vinegar, sliced green chilis and sesame oil, which I was delighted to find at the new grocery there, as a sauce for the prawns. 

Three or four times a days we ate superbly, forgetting about our figures or diabetic diets. All we did was sit and talk. I brought some knitting with me so, a few times, I could sit and knit. We stayed at a resort where Lala has a rented suite. Paton and April, who live and work in Singapore, rented rooms for us, April’s parents and another brother. The rest stayed at another resort that was like a Greek resort and spent the days in the swimming pool. However, all of us always got together for dinner.

There were other people there, all of them friends of Paton and Lala, who told me that they had been going there for 15 years. Once at Anilao they wore windsurfing clothes, bathing suits, no makeup. They stayed in them all day. On rare occasions they’d run into each other at some mall, Lala tells me, and hardly recognize each other because they’d be fully dressed. In Anilao Lala would cook breakfast, lunch and dinner in her bikini; sometimes she would put on a sleeveless shirt for the meal.

The advantage of windsurfing for two of my children is they have always stayed here. They all know each other. They form a convivial community, borrowing salt and pepper and ginger from each other, my husband says. 

I wish we would have some of that conviviality in the condominiums in which we live, in which I have lived. But no, there is not much friendliness there. Sometimes we converse quickly in the elevator but once we both get off, it’s over. We don’t see each other again. We might run into each other at the supermarket near us, we might exchange quick smiles, but we don’t get really friendly.

Maybe I can make some friends who are my neighbors in 2020. I hope I succeed.

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