It was raining when we left home. Halfway to Padre Burgos, however, the sun was out. It did not come out, mind you: there was no rain at all, and we could see right across Sogod Bay to the other side of the mainland (it is curved, hence the bay) and Panaon Island next to it. Beautiful.
I am fortunate to call this place home. True, Southern Leyte is among the most economically depressed provinces in the country. Because we have no malls or amusement parks, locals pass the time at the town plaza, along the seashore, beside the road. Days are long, the nights longer, especially when you’re in an area the mobile companies can not reach (there are still many), and then you actually have to talk to each other. There is a Jollibee — in Maasin, the capital — but if you want to see and be seen, head over to McDo — the barbecue plaza/strip, so-called because of the way one has to bend over to eat (dukô) — and gorge on cheap barbecue. Bring along your own (pot of) rice if you want to stretch your budget.
For this trip, we brought a jar of ginamós in a styrofoam box in the trunk of the car. We were hoping to come across some unripe bananas in one of the stalls along the road — forgetting it was a Sunday. Instead we ended up at Weng’s in Candatag, near the border with Malitbog. The sign said it was a “videoke and restobar by the bay.” We seated ourselves outside, near the water.
“Sir, the kitchen won’t be open ’til 11,” said our server.
Fine; we could wait.
“And we don’t have seafood.”
Disappointing, but totally understandable — it was that time of the month. (Around the full moon, I mean.) We ordered beef steak, grilled pork chops, chop suey, pancit bihon.
Ma was preoccupied with something else. “Is she wearing a pajama?”
“Look,” I said. “Dogs!”
A big pack of Munchies later, the beef arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief (my father was along for the trip). The meat looked properly seared, well-marinated, and turned out to be both. But what I thought to be golden fat drippings revealed itself to be… Star margarine! Fail? Hardly: I love Star — it’s just that I hardly cook with it. Or with butter all that much. Maybe I was simply famished, but I relished that fat drizzled over rice; that I can’t deny. Also, the beef was tender. I should’ve asked what cut they used and where they bought it. Another fact of provincial life is that we only get fresh beef on Saturdays.
After that steak (“We should have ordered two,” Ma said), the other dishes were rather disappointing, each a bit more than the one that came before. Not bad, actually, but I guess if you’re at Weng’s to sing your tonsils raw in between drafts of beer, I don’t really expect you to mind much. Yes, it was indeed a pajama our server had on. Yes, there were dogs — three of them — and they finished what we could not of the pork chops (but not because we ordered a lot). And yes, we arrived back home to more rain.
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