HOMECOMING
(An Introduction)

Join me on my journey
as I take THE LONG WAY HOME
to 87 Gentle Street,
cradle of my memories...


A few months ago, I announced that I would be overhauling my (other) blog's overall image, foregoing ponderous prose, (if that is at all possible), and coming out with a new format that is shorter, lighter, and truer to it's title, "The Long Way Home".

Since I was prone to long, rambling reminiscences anyway, I figured I'd channel all that long-windedness and enthusiasm into answering some seemingly simple questions which are actually quite complex: "What, exactly, is HOME?", "Where is it located?" and "What are the things that bring you back there?"

Indeed, the more I think of it, the more I come to realize that my concept of home was transient way before I even left 87 Gentle Street to get married, some 14 years ago. Indeed, when I was still growing up, HOME for me and my sisters would sometimes shift to my grandparent's houses in Mindanao, where we spent our long lazy summers with my Lolo Pinong and Lola Luz.

And while "The Long Way Home" is a personal journey that eventually leads me to where it all began, (my childhood home at 87 Gentle Street), there are a host of other places along the way that were also HOME to me, at one time or another.

There's that tiny overpriced Westwood apartment in West L.A., my first home here in the U.S., and Lower Penthouse 12 at the Bay Club in North Miami Beach, FL, where I took my first-born son home. I would later take two more sons home, (although this time with a different husband), to a two-bedroom townhouse (also overpriced) in Milpitas, CA which we rented before buying our present home in Modesto.

And then there's that ranch-style house in Indian Hill, OH, where that first-born son frolicked in his playpen much like my first-born daughter does now, eleven years later, in a similar playpen, in that same house in Modesto we took her home to just twelve months ago.

Home was also the Sheraton in Toronto and the Forte Crest Apollo in Amsterdam, for the few months it took us to find real homes, in Yorkminster Rd. and Prins Mauritslaan, Haarlem respectively.

Back in the Philippines, there was the cavernous Persian Suite at the Mandarin Oriental in Makati, which my family occupied for two years, and cozy Suite 1702 at Traders Hotel in Manila, which I would call home for 478 days after that. We even occupied the Mandarin Suite, the Mandarin Oriental's Presidential Suite, for a few months. These suites were more like condo units than hotel rooms (except the Mandarin Suite, with its swimming pool and atrium, which was in a class by itself), and, given the length of time we stayed there, took on our personalities just like any real home would.

Last, and closest to my heart, is our love nest at Marbella 2 in Malate, 16 floors above Roxas Boulevard, overlooking Manila Bay on one side and the Makati and Ortigas skylines on the other. Where you could look out the balcony into rush-hour traffic and still feel serene and untouched by the urban sprawl, mesmerized by the wide expanse of beautiful Manila Bay.

At night, you could stay out there and feel the cool breeze while looking out at the harbor lights, listening to the sounds of the sea, now audible without traffic's extaneous noises, your reverie broken by the occasional roar of the big cats at Manila Zoo, just a kitty corner away (pun intended).

Of all the places I called home, I would like to go back there the most.

So, without further ado, I present to you "The Long Way Home". A collection of vignettes on the many sights, sounds, songs and recollections which bring me back to the many HOMES which were once mine.

You're invited to take the ride with me, now boarding at 87 Gentle Street.

Our first stop: Luneta Park. Our first date? Luneta Park!

All aboard!


(Taken from "The Prada Mama Chronicles", May 31, 2005 entry.)