Elections is fiesta season in the Philippines. And if we truly are what we eat, then Filipino politicians are aptly symbolized by pork and grease.
The culinary theme is not green, yellow or orange, it’s cholesterol. Everything is deep-fried, served with fat and layered with oil. When politicians speak of the vote-rich L to L corridor, they actually mean liempo to lechon.
Grease is a main-stay in Philippine politics. Political affiliations shift – expect the entire Lakas machinery to go to Villar (ok, some are LP-bound) – but what isn’t going to change is grease. Once, in a sortie in Tarlac, the whole LP entourage went to the ancestral home of the Aquinos for lunch, which consisted of tocino, homemade corned beef swimming in oil, and fried hito. My face is the epicenter of oiliness, but these dishes make my face seem fresh and healthy.
If it isn’t homemade grease, it’s fastfood oil – with MSG. If the L sign means ‘Lechon’, then V is vetsin (or Vitter Villitants, but that’s another story). When meals are not hosted by local politicians, we get our regular dose of fat and MSG from Jollibee or McDonalds. Breakfast at McDonalds in SLEX, late-night post-sortie dinner in KFC NLEX. Gone were the days when you carry bags of local pasalubongs at the airport; I actually found myself carrying in Davao City’s airport McDo take-outs that we bought from a drive-thru in Gen San – and it didn’t feel absurd.
In a solo sortie in HK, what started as a silly wish – eating dimsum filled with broth – ended up becoming an obsession as the day began transforming into a classic monster. There was the usual high-energy activities, the small crises that required troubleshooting, coordinating with Manila for other events – everything was Multitasking 2.0. Eating dimsum became a rallying point, my own liberation day, and maybe a cry for help. But the chance to go to a dimsum house didn’t come. I remember having breakfast, lunch didn’t take place (there was some time for snacks, but that was it), and soon after, Risa and I were at the airport, tired, each nursing a cup of warm drink from Starbucks, sitting quietly while waiting for our flights. Dinner was out of the question, and dimsum was, well, a figment of my own chismis.
I was tired and hungry when I finally reached home a few hours later. But the moment I stepped inside my apartment, next day’s sortie was already there, waiting. I opened my laptop, googled McDonald’s, and, by opening a new document, started a new day.
(Epic fail for the that one-entry a day challenge. No excuses, but hey, it’s 15 days till election day. Next blog should be about preparing for debates. I’m blogging from Legaspi City, and we’re waiting for Ms. Kris for a sortie in Legaspi and Tabaco.)
