First, I just want to share what I found while re-reading Robert Fulghum's It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It earlier. The author was quoting Horace.
"Quid rides? Mutato nomine, de te fabuls narratur."
Translated, it reads: "Why do you laugh? Change the name, and the story is told of you."
I like that.
Early Saturday morning, my mom and I had left for Zambales along with her sister, Tita Sitang and my cousin Nemnem. We were to visit my maternal grandparents graves, clean the place up a bit, and beat the November 1st crowd. Plus it was my very first time to visit the place where my mom grew up.
I haven't seen Nemnem in ages, so when we were at the bus terminal, we were chatting up a storm, even though she hadn't had any sleep yet.
Man oh man, the last time I sat so long inside a vehicle was 4 years ago, and every couple of hours, I'd always have to flex my legs because my left knee always hurts if I sit too long.
By the time we got to Tita Medy and Tito Nick's place, I was starving, hahaha. And I finally got to see our cousin Jing again. My goodness, she was just this little kid with a bowl cut years ago when she had first visited us in Manila, and now she's a teenager with this long curly hair.
Anyway, after a really late lunch, we went to visit the cemetery to my granparents' graves, swept up the place, then we went to the market so Mom and Tita Sitang can shop for food for dinner. Then back to Tita Medy's house, sat and watched TV, talked, and basically just hung around. Hahaha, then during dinner Tito Nick challenged me with all these crazy questions. He thought he could outsmart me, but those were all old jokes, ahahaha.
The following day, technically yesterday, my mom woke me up early so we could hear Mass with Tita Medy. Went to St. Michael's Parish in town, then after the Mass, my mom introduced me to a couple of her high school friends. Mom and I even had breakfast at Tita Mila's, who was also one of her close friends in high school. Man, those two were hilarious. They hadn't seen each other since they graduated high school, and I could finally see my mom's crazy side. While we were all seated at the breakfast table, she did admit that she didn't show much of that at home except when she's feeling really wacky.
What was frustrating during the entire visit was that everyone was mostly talking in their native dialect. I couldn't understand a word, unlike when my aunts from my dad's side speak Cuyuonin.
Anyway, after fixing our stuff back at Tita Medy's house, it was back to the cemetery. Cleaned the place up more, and one of the workers even came by and re-painted the writing on the headstones. AFter an hour, Mom and I had to go back to Tita Medy's and fly to the bus terminal to catch the 10am bus. Ahehehe, Mom kept saying that we'll be leaving at 10 in the morning so I made plans to catch AC's showcase that night in CCP. But alas, when we got to the terminal, the bus had just left, so we had to wait by a waiting shed for the next one that was to leave an hour later, rawr. But we even got to chat for a few moments with another one of Mom's old high school friends, Tita Gloria. Hehe, we were standing outside her house when the bus had pulled up.
Mom and I reached the terminal near UST with lotsa time to spare. Hailed a cab and she let me get off at CCP so she can head straight home. Met up with Tin at the LT lobby then we hung around outside the Conference Room until open house.
First play was The Maids, which featured Tad, Joel and Nicco. Ahahaha, they were great. And they were all donned in ladies' clothes. Oh my, Nicco, why oh why did you have to look so pretty? HAHAHAHA! Those girls, er, guys, rock!
Next up was Besame Muchos. There was Wenah, Marj, Chromewell and Randy. Hahaha, everytime Randy would rise up from behind that upright piano, everyone would chuckle and laugh. He looked so freaky that first time he rose. And oh my, there was a shirtless Chromewell in one scene.
Too sleepy to critique the two plays. Maybe tomorrow, er, later when I get back home from work. I gotta get some sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment