A sweet ’n sour invasion

The table was set and I impatiently waited for our host to say grace before I lifted my fork to dig into the delicious food. One particular dish stood out in the sumptuous dinner spread and it was a large platter of “sweet and sour fish” that elicited a salivary deluge. 

The restaurant - the Grand Emerald Seafood Garden, is a Cantonese joint that has been serving yummy food since my younger years - many decades back, and the sweet and sour grouper was my all-time favorite. We were invited by some cousins on our short visit home from Bangkok and when Cindy mentioned that the Grand Emerald was the place, I was most certain that this dish won’t be missed. In no time we were smacking our lips and gobbling down the delicious food. The dinner ended and I was overly satiated and satisfied with my mind fondly savoring the tasty grouper.

On our drive home I overheard my wife and her mom talking about their plans for a Christmas dinner before we returned to Bangkok, and sure enough they had the yummy sweet and sour from Emerald in their list. When the day came, I was tasked to drive to the resto to get the food that they had ordered by phone and that was when my appetite for the sweet and sour was dashed to pieces. I was told by the lady at the counter that the tasty fish in our order was "Dory," not Lapu-lapu (vernacular for grouper). She said that they actually tell the customer ordering the dish that the fish is Dory.

I have been around fish ponds in Thailand and the Mekong river that mass-produce this fish - Pangasius hypophthalamus, and I am well aware about the issues that hound the raising, processing and shipping of this fish, which have made me decide many years back to stay away from store-bought, processed Dory. Catching it myself in a pond that is clearly free from contaminants and pollutants is a totally different story.

Driving home with the packed sweet and sour dish on the seat beside me, my mind slowly took hold of the sad truth that the grouper fish has become too scarce and expensive for regular dinner dishes in the local restaurants that the Dory has conveniently taken over it's place. I couldn't think of a Dory-producing region in the Philippines so I came to the realization that the tasty fish that I just recently devoured apparently was a product of the polluted ponds of Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand that I abhorred and detested, and that this low-priced, controversial fish has finally invaded the dining tables of my homeland islands.

the sweet and sour dish from the Grand

Emerald's website

that's the Pangasius hypohpthalamus or Dory. A species

of catfish without scales and is certainly not kosher.

at a processing plant

 

filleted and ready for packing

the grouper caught in a recent fishing trip

Dancing Aliwagwag and sleepy Cateel

Two contrasting moods at one location in the island of Mindanao have managed to avoid this blogger's interest through all his years as a resident of the same island. Notwithstanding his adventurous spirit, this writer failed to travel to the east coast due to a lack of knowledge about the beauty and grandeur that lies therein. That is now a thing of the past, and "mesmerized" and "in love" describe his sentiments for this place.

Cateel has the best advantage for a town to develop considering a big river and the limitless ocean resources at its feet. The perceived disadvantage lies in the rugged mountain range that keeps it isolated and beyond comfortable reach. A weather-beaten streamer on one side of the road welcomes visitors to Cateel's 114th founding anniversary, which shows that in spite of the length of time that it has been organized, Cateel's growth is much less than the development of another town - Bagangga, that lies a little distance towards the south. Politics and competition may have been some factors aside from the topography, and yet all in all, the present condition of Cateel unwittingly stands out as a gem for the adventurous spirit.

Even if the engineers had no other option, but to build a highway right across the heart of the Aliwagwag, there is wisdom in the location of the bridge. Persons with disabilities can now view its grandeur and appreciate the ease by which it can be reached. 

One thing that struck this writer even as he waited at the Lyrah bus station in Davao City, was the friendly and honest spirit of the Cateeleños who were aboard the same bus. Not only did they advise him on what to do and where to go - one unassuming guy even invited him to his house for a sumptuous meal of crabs and fresh fish - an invitation that could have been accepted if it were not for the stingy time constraints. Another exhibit of the natural and unadulterated spirit of Cateel was in a small road-side eatery where this writer enjoyed not only the simple, yet delicious food, but also the lively banter between the owner, and her unsolicited discount when he asked for his check. To top it all, another diner who overheard this writer's need for wifi connection invited him to his hardware store across the street for free use of the much needed internet service.

Wow, just wow! Cateel, you have captured my heart, and to borrow the words of the uniformed dude who strutted the beach in Leyte, let me declare, "I shall return!"

The Inyam tree

At the start of the second half of the 20th century, an American missionary was sent to Mindanao to scout for a place to build a school based on a 16-point list, which included isolation in the country far from the city, the presence of sufficient arable land and abundant water supply among others. With several colleagues he motored to the heart of the island of Mindanao, and with some locals guiding them, the group found themselves on top of a hill. They checked the area and realized that it satisfied the guidelines in the list. With the realization that they had found the exact spot for the school, the group knelt on that grassy, windswept plateau, under a lone inyam tree and poured out their thanks to God. Never in their wildest dreams would they realize that many years later, in the same spot where they prayed, some unusual events would transpire.

The wild inyam tree that was witness to the first prayer on this hilltop, in about two decades, succumbed to the elements, wilted and died, and so another one was planted in its place. This one was more robust and it boasted a thick foliage even if the configuration of the branches didn't mimic the first one. This was when stories about this inyam tree were spun to the point that it became one compelling reason for some SDA folk from faraway places to come to MVC. These stories were also used in the proselytizing activities of some unscrupulous workers of this sect to prove the authenticity of the connection of their church to divine providence. A method that was deemed effective and fruitful with at least one retired teacher testifying that a dream about a cave sealed her decision to be baptized even when she made a vow not to abandon her Catholic faith before setting foot in the campus.

One story that they say was based on a dream by Mr. Mariano Abesta (a member of the original pioneer group), was about a huge cave that is located under this mountainous area that could hold an unlimited number of SDA church members. This cave they said is supplied with food stuff and water and all the amenities of a temporary refuge to keep this sect safe and fed until after the "time of tribulation," which they claim is the persecution of the SDA church by the Knights of Columbus of the Roman Catholic Church and other Protestant sects. 

As a sun-burnt and hyperactive kid growing up here, I was really fascinated by this story. Much of my unoccupied moments were spent with some friends in search for the opening to this mysterious cave. We had each gully, cliff, crevasse and rocky outcrop mapped out and inspected. We practically knew every nook and cranny of this 1,200-hectare hilly land in the search for the cave. On one occasion we even met Mr. Abesta on his horse in one remote section who warned us about the dangers of encountering snakes among the boulders nearby. His cautionary advice only added kindling to our imagination that indeed his dream was true.

So where does the Inyam tree come in? Well, while the second inyam tree was being planted, some guys decided to add some granite boulders beside it to give it a rugged frontier look. So a couple of large rocks were taken from a different location to complete the landscaping of the inyam pioneer memorial. 

One night in the early 2,000s, during one of those meetings when thousands of SDA church members converge in MVC, I received word that some delegates where planning to meet at the site of the inyam tree. As overall accommodations coordinator for this huge affair I was curious about the plans of this small group so I decided to join them incognito. At about 3:00, in the predawn darkness, people started arriving at the site, all clad in thick clothing since it was cold. When a good-sized crowd had gathered, a man started speaking and he rumbled through the 'history' of the inyam tree and the cave and declared that they were actually standing at the entrance of the cave. He claimed that the rocks were permanent structures here and that previous attempts to move them failed, because each time the blade of the bulldozer touched the rocks the engine would shut off. At that point I could not hold my indignation any longer and so I interrupted his speech and introduced myself while stating that my parents were pioneers and that I grew up here. He tried to argue, but stopped short when I said that originally there were no rocks here, but that they were just hauled from a different location to beautify the place. I then ordered them back to their tents so as not to rouse the other campers who wanted to sleep in peace, to which they grudgingly obliged.

Sixteen years from that encounter the second inyam tree started showing signs of disease and slowly followed the plight of the original tree. To keep the icon of the pioneering spirit alive on that site, three inyam saplings were planted amid elaborate religious fanfare with the participants dressed in their best formal clothes. There is no doubt that prayers for the lasting health of the three trees were said and that the small park would forever retain its significance as an icon of the pioneering spirit, and yet I am tempted to wonder; does the mystery cave and persecution mentality have anything to do with the religious activity that was attached to the planting of this three inyam trees? Why don your finest barong and kneel around in prayer just to plant a tree? Why are so many Filipino SDAs from far-flung places building their retirement homes in the surrounding communities?

The original inyam tree. It is very clear here that there are
no rocks in the vicinity. (photo courtesy of coach Kenji)

The second inyam tree. the rocks are now present (photo by Michael C.)

Bible reading and prayer while planting the third tree.

Note the big rock and the dried up trunk of the second tree.
(photo by coach Kenji)

Three inyam saplings! now this story is taking a new twist.
Why three? ensured survival... representation of the Trinity...
third planting... etc??

Old school memories: MedSch fraternity

A few weeks into our life as freshman in medical school, the class was taken over momentarily by some guys in the higher years who introduced themselves as a fraternity and they extolled the benefits that we could have if we joined them. After they left someone in the class stood up and asked the class what they thought about the invitation. Some nodded their heads and said that it was a good idea, but there were others who wanted to know how it fared with the classmates of these frat guys who didn't join them. It was like we wanted to check on their identities and background. In a few days the idea came out that it would be better for us to organize another fraternity/sorority with some guys in the batch ahead of us, and the rest is history.

My medical school class - 1983, was the third batch of students in the newly founded medical school of Ateneo de Davao University. Our school's name was and still is Davao Medical School Foundation, and in the first years of its existence classes were held in the rooms of an old wooden building behind the San Pedro Hospital while the buildings of a new school in a campus at Bacaca was being constructed. Our teachers were a motley bunch of doctors from all the hospitals in Davao city and we discovered later that they were the cream of the medical practitioners in Davao city then.

With the goal to organize another fraternity beckoning, we had to devote some precious time for brainstorming and planning. There were some fratmen in our midst and a lot of wisecracks, which guaranteed that our plans would come to fruitage, and in a few weeks we had the name and a rudimentary constitution.

Hazing was an unforgettable experience for all of us. We divided ourselves into two groups and then devoted one day for each group hazing the other. This was held in the vacant house on the hills by the diversion road near the present crocodile park in Maa. A carabao wallowing hole was conveniently situated in the same lot and it was the scene of some gruesome activity.

This fraternity would eventually lead in scholastic and extra-curricular activities while multiplying with additional batches every new school year. However, with the incidents of hazing deaths in the universities nationwide and the subsequent order of the government to ban fraternity activities, this fraternity wrapped up on itself and stopped growing.

The most cherished and endearing moments in medical school were made with these friends and there is no doubt that life in those difficult years was made easier with the support of the fraternity. 

The original and pioneer batch of Socci Omnium Medicorum confraternity

during one of the hazing sorties in a coconut plantation by the Times Beach. 

The hillbilly is the guy in shorts in the foreground.

Childhood dreams: Why a doctor?

The community where I grew up was served by an American who was a medical doctor and a pilot. Dr. William C. Richli was in and out of MVC during my pre-school and primary school years. He had a yellow piper cub airplane (if I remember it right) that could seat 2 people and I was told back then that he had frequent crashes, but still managed to salvage and rebuild the plane and of course his body as well.

He spoke with a deep drawl and sometimes I found it difficult to understand him. He dressed like he needed some ironing and tidying up with an occasional greasy spot on the elbow or chin and a mismatched button to buttonhole, and I was more attracted to him as a pilot than as a doctor. At that age I was dreaming of having my own wings and soaring across the sky. I wanted to be a pilot and frequently bugged my mom about my plans of being one. She was adamant about my following in the footsteps of her brother who was a pilot for Menzi corporation, but died in a crash, and she insisted that I would make a good doctor instead. I don’t know if she had anything to do with Dr. Richli trying to persuade me to be a doctor, but what I could remember is Dr. Richli passing by our house in a few instances and instructing me to get dressed so I could accompany him to the clinic.

When we got into the clinic he would place me on a high chair right in front of him and he would start his surgery on the many native patients who trekked to the campus when he was around. Goiter and breast surgeries were the ones that I could remember and seeing the sharp knife cut into the skin looked pretty cool for me at that age.

I don’t know what my parents and their colleagues were into in those days, but it turned out many years later that almost every family in that community produced at least one doctor. Was it a status symbol or prestige or maybe some sort of competition among their ranks? Or again was it Dr. Richli's influence in our lives?

With our parents’ guidance and our exposure to the medical profession at an early age, it is not a surprise that I and my sister eventually turned out to be medical doctors.

The story of my life: Fun - Definition

How does a boy who is growing up in the mountains of Bukidnon during the late 1050s to the 1970s define fun? Kids of today would find it difficult to understanding our definition of play and fun back then, because apparently the fun that kids are obsessed with nowadays is done within the confines of the four walls of a room. Outings to the beach or theme parks do offer some fun and yet you’ll see a gadget in the kid’s hands while outside. All they have to do is swipe and touch and they can have fun.

If you’re out among the hills with some friends day in and day out, how could that be fun? In a few days with this given scenario a kid could get bored. So what did we do back then? How does a child with ADHD cope with these conditions up in the mountains back in the frontier years? We created fun, and apparently that spirit is what developed my definition of fun: Create your own fun, make yourself happy, think up ways to stay happy and interested. Invent, improvise... be ingenious.

A fun place in our community was the ranch - cows, horses, sheep and goats plus funny cowboys who knew a lot of tricks and never lacked in humor. Milking cows early in the morning so the milk can be served for breakfast in the cafeteria was fun. Each cow was given a name, which corresponded to the beautiful lady students that the cowboys admired, but would not dare approach. I made sure that there was no cow named Ethel (my sis), but I helped milk Jennifer, May Ann, Nely and Lani.

The orchard was another place. We had sweet oranges, pomelo, bananas, jackfruit, calamsi, guavas, and marang. Helping ourselves to the fruit was allowed as long as we first asked the manager of the farm. Sugar-making was also an industry that we had. Tira-tira was something we made ourselves while the sugarcane sap was boiling in the large vats.

There were two rivers and one stream around our community. In those days we could drink directly from the river, because there were no villages yet upstream. The river in the forest up behind the campus had a beautiful waterfall. On some boring day we would surprise our parents with wild orchids that we gathered in the forest. I had a .22 caliber rifle and hunting and trapping wild ducks and pigeons was one of our favorite pastimes.

The tennis, basketball and badminton courts were our regular fun places. Soccer and Table tennis were also some sports that we enjoyed. All of us were into sports - because there was nothing to keep us busy inside the house.

Apparently the ability to create my own fun stayed with me even as a father and a grandfather. Going places in tours that we ourselves designed, cycling through beautiful highways and backroads of the USA, Thailand, Nepal and Cambodia; scuba diving in Bali, Borneo, Thailand, Coron, Malapascua and other awesome sites were done all in the name of fun. It is no wonder that my kids and grandkid also manifest the same adventurous and fun-loving spirit.

The story of my life: Introduction

Before accelerating into of the story of my life, it is only proper that I introduce myself. I am the second child of Eleazar Alburo Moreno and Priscilla Rapacon Jimenez - Moreno. Eleazar was born in Pinamungajan, Cebu and Priscilla in Pasay City, Metro Manila. My mother was a teacher who was sent to the hinterlands of Mindanao - in those days, where she met her lover - a graduating student, at Mindanao Mission Academy in Manticao. Apparently the romance between teacher and student was tolerated in those days or their affair could have been illicit in nature.

I have a sister - only sibling, Ethel, who was born a year ahead of me, but our sibling ranking changed when she got into medical school two years behind me. Ever since that fateful day people thought that I was the older one.

My official name is Philip Eleazer J. Moreno. My dad's "A" in the "zar" of his name was apparently misspelled when the clerk typed my birth certificate so my name has an "E" instead. I was born in the second half of the 50th decade of the 20th century at Miller Sanitarium and Hospital in Cebu City.

I am also known as: ė-boy, sunny boy, sunni, doggie, ñor, doki, sir moring, doc mo and noah. I'm not aware if someone at one time or another addressed me as "love" or "honey," but I would love to be called as such.

I have one wife - Jo ann, and two kids: JP and Kukie. Ten years ago an adorable baby girl was added to my family - Kailee, my granddaughter. Nok - my son's wife, joined us too, just recently.

With the introduction said, please proceed to the next chapter at your own risk.

Thank you.