<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974</id><updated>2012-01-30T13:05:38.741+11:00</updated><category term='Childhood Playmates'/><category term='Kids of the 80&apos;s'/><category term='Native Toys'/><category term='Summer Vacation'/><category term='My Hometown'/><category term='Supersitions'/><category term='Children&apos;s Parties'/><category term='New Year'/><category term='Komiks'/><category term='Supernatural Beings'/><category term='Street Games'/><category term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Sari Sari Stories</title><subtitle type='html'>A collection of stories about growing up in the Philippines</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-8815527975757962833</id><published>2007-11-22T07:42:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:10:15.340+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I miss celebrating Christmas in the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Philippines&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. The usual “Pasko na Sinta Ko” (It’s Christmas, my love) and the one from Jose Mari Chan, ‘Christmas in our Hearts” would already start playing around September. You could already feel the exciting Christmas breeze similar as to having butterflies in your stomach which would make you look forward to wearing a sweater and pretend there was snow outside. I remember my family’s routine every year during Christmas Eve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Since my relatives lived in a compound, cooking would start with kids and adults congregating in the backyard to prepare for some ”halaya” (ube – a kind of purple dessert). It would take three hours to get it to its right consistency but it was all worth the wait especially if eaten with “macapuno” (sweetened coconut strips.) Leche flan, morcon, lumpia, macaroni salad would always be on the menu. My grandma’s sister would always visit us bringing a bilao of sapin sapin and kutsinta – native Filipino delicacies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Around 6pm, my dad and my uncles would start with their drinking sessions and barbeque. Kids would be the main entertainers by singing Christmas carols, asking money in return,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You’d also hear group of kids around the neigbourhood doing their rounds sometimes only having to sing the first line “Ang pasko ay sumapit” until the owner of the house would be forced to give them peso coins. They would have cymbals made up of flattened bottle cups and a tin can with a plastic on top as a drum. From time to time, you’d get the real carolers from the church singing a list of classic Filipino Christmas songs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Dinner was not served until exactly 12 midnight where we sat down as family to have our Noche Buena, the meal on Christmas Eve. So, we played parlour games – newspaper dance, stop dance, pass the parcel etc Then it was time for the &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;much-awaited event of the night - exchange gifts – monita monito – kris kringle – whatever you call it --- You bring a gift , put a number on it and put it up on a raffle. You pick a number and get the gift with the same number so at the end of the day, everyone gets something! Of course there were your presents from your loads of uncles and aunts, aguinaldo (money) from your Ninangs (godmothers) and (Ninongs) godfathers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;The party and gift-giving would continue the next day. We’d dress up in new clothes and go to the morning mass. The rest of the day was spent going from house to house (apparently they were all related to us) to give our respect, share stories over a meal and be given aguinaldo (if you were a kid!). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;At a very early age, I have come to know that Christmas is a time for gift-giving. Now that I have “inaanak” (goddaughters) and a niece of my own, it’s my time share the blessing and make someone else feel that they also a part of the same family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;MALIGAYANG PASKO (Merry Christmas)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-8815527975757962833?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/8815527975757962833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=8815527975757962833' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/8815527975757962833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/8815527975757962833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-258790818057158948</id><published>2007-11-22T07:41:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:10:26.786+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Year'/><title type='text'>New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I miss celebrating the New Year in the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Philippines&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; at the time when firecrackers were still legal. My uncle used to sell them so we’d have all the hard core “paputok” (fire works) – “pla pla” (named after a fish because of its shape) also called a triangle, “sintron ni Judas” (Judas’ belt), “labintador” etc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I was so oblivious of its danger for everyone was doing it. For the kids it was “lusis” and “watusi”! Smoke, noise, sparks of light --- it was not a war zone but the street around 10 to 12 midnight greeting the New Year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;“Media Noche”, the meal on New Year’s Eve was a time for my family to celebrate with all our relatives from my father’s side. A bowl of round fruits (symbolising life and prosperity) was always at the centre of the table – filled with the usual dishes, Leche Flan, pink gelatin, paella, suman, sweat and sour fish, pancit and a punch! As kids, it was like celebrating Christmas again for we’d receive another batch of gifts from our relatives from my father’s side. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;The first day of the year was dedicated for our family reunion. It was a big party indeed with each family coming together as if teams in a corporate function! It was very organised that we even had a program with performers lined up, a raffle, games for kids and for adults, introduction for each family, picture taking, luncheon, singing and dancing. For a time when I was a bit older, we did not have family reunions like this anymore – of course some moved out, worked and lived at different countries, some loved ones were gone forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MANIGONG BAGONG TAON (Happy New Year)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-258790818057158948?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/258790818057158948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=258790818057158948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/258790818057158948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/258790818057158948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-year.html' title='New Year'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-4205031709922587204</id><published>2007-11-22T07:40:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:10:41.606+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Children&apos;s Parties'/><title type='text'>Children's Parties</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Being invited to a birthday party was like a rite of passage. It was our first social encounters usually with our mums and dads coming in later just to pick us up so basically it was our first time to be on our own. It was not a problem in a Filipino birthday party for everyone would probably be a cousin or a playmate from your neighbourhood. No Filipino party would be complete without serving spaghetti mixed with ketchup and hotdog or pancit (noodles for long life)! Dessert was usually Magnolia ice cream served with a slice of cake from Goldilocks. I’d always make it a point that I got a flower! Almost always there would be a group to perform the latest dance craze or sing the latest pop song hit. Dress code was acid wash jeans, mini skirt or shorts with knee-high socks, espadrilles, Mighty kid rubber shoes. My younger sisters, though they weren’t twins, used to have matching clothes but in different colours. My older sister and I went through the same phase, I just snapped out of it one day!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Just before we blew the candle, kids would gather around and stand underneath a thing called “pabitin” – a structure with toys and candies hanging from it. Another one is the “paluan ng palayok” (break the pot) - a Filipino version of the pinyata! The goal was to hit the earthern ware filled with goodies while you were blind folded. So if you hit, you could just imagine how popular you would be with the rest of the kids at the party.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I don’t remember having a birthday party of my own for I was a painfully shy kid and dreaded the idea of inviting kids (yes, including boys) to my house. I remember attending a party though and there was this mascot from an ice cream factory. I got so scarred I had to run to our house and hide in my room. Until now, I still get this creepy feeling every time I see a mascot walking towards me!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-4205031709922587204?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/4205031709922587204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=4205031709922587204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4205031709922587204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4205031709922587204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/childrens-parties.html' title='Children&apos;s Parties'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-4498705476741562807</id><published>2007-11-17T19:37:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:12:26.434+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kids of the 80&apos;s'/><title type='text'>Kids of the 80's</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" &gt;You Know You're a Kid of the 80's if...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Compiled by Filipinos around the world)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                                                                                                                                                                                              &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 150%;font-size:10;" &gt;1.) You have scars on your knees and elbows.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) You owned a bike.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) You had a barkada around your neighborhood (all of you had bikes).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) You loved climbing on your house's roof (and your neighbor's roof as well).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) You went inside an abandoned house in your neighborhood just to see what it looks like inside.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) You ate all the aratilis in your neighborhood.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.) You plucked all the gumamelas in the area for soap bubbles.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.) Your parents forced you to take afternoon siestas with the threat that you will not be allowed to play outside.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.) You are never found in your house in the afternoon. You are often found playing in the street with your neighborhood friends.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.) You loved exploring vacant lots for hidden knick-knacks.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.) You just can't resist jumping in a sandpile.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.) You know all the street games (patintero, agawan base, langit-lupa, etc.).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.) You owned a Nintendo Family Computer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.) Your hand-to-eye coordination is terrific due to this Nintendo Family Computer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.) You'd rather go outdoors in the afternoon than play Nintendo Family Computer.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.) You gleefully boast that games today are so easy because of the character's life bar. (Remember when we used to play Mario? We die the minute a Goomba hit us.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.) You know this code by heart:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UP-UP-DOWN-DOWN-LEFT-RIGHT-LEFT-RIGHT-B-A-B-A-START (SELECT-START for 2 players)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.) You owned a superhero costume (especially a Superman costume).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.) For the girls: You dressed up like Punky Brewster, Madonna and Debbie Gibson. For the boys: You dressed up like David Hasselhoff's Knight Rider, David Bowie or had Clarke &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Kent&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;'s little bangs. And now you think that the 80's had the shittiest dress sense.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.) You had a denim jacket.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21.) You had a sticker book especially that Age of Dinosaurs sticker book.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22.) You were addicted to Rainbow Brite, Carebears, My Little Pony and Friends, Thundercats, Bioman, Voltes V, Mazinger Z, Daimos, etc.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.) You played PC Games like Tapper, Moonbugs, Alley Cat and Prince of Persia.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.) MS Word did not exist in your vocabulary but Wordstar did.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.) You love 80's music even if you don't want to admit it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26.) You've climbed up mango trees to catch salagubang, tie a sting around its neck and let it fly around in frenzy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27.) You've spent hours in the afternoon catching tutubi. Yellow-green was the easiest to catch, blue being finicky, and red being a rare breed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28.) You used to take Flinstones vitamins (which you didn't mind 'cause it was yummy) and Scott's liver oil.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29.) You know the catoon show "Beverly Hills Teens."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30.) You know Kuya Bodgie from Batibot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31.) You watch Uncle Bob's Lucky Seven Club.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32.) You used AQUA NET to fashion your 4-inch-high bangs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33.) Your blouses had paddings.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34.) You owned wide-studded colorful belts.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35.) You watched some of your favorite shows on betamax or even UHF 17 (the channel from Clarke Air Base, or was it &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Subic&lt;/st1:place&gt;?).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36.) You collected and "swapped" perfumed stationeries with your classmates and friends, but followed the unwritten rule that you never write on them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37.) The only place you go to for summer vacation is &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Baguio&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38.) On that note, Camp John Hay served best ice cream.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39.) Most of us were brought to the EDSA Revolution.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40.) You remember what Ricky Martin used to look like back then.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41.) ...when you think that Julie Vega is a better actress that Judy Ann.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42.) You get confused playing Playstation because of all the buttons on the keypad (Nintendo only had the direction pad, A and B buttons, and the Start and Select keys).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43.) You know all the Bagets and Ninja Kids.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44.) You got to ride the train ride at &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Greenhills&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Shopping Center&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45.) Magic Johnson and Larry Bird were the players at the time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46.) ...when you know more 80's music than the song "Buttercup."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47.) You were allowed to bathe in the rain.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48.) You were taught to comb your hair one-sided.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49.) You've collected matangpusa and mongo beans so you can have ammunition for sumpit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50.) You knew who Madam Bola and Sitsiritsit and Alibangbang was.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51.) Every Christmas, you anticipate going to Big Bang sa Alabang - with the giant slide.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52.) You know the Ewoks.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53.) You had Mighty Kid shoes and Greg shoes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54.) You know what Time Space Warp means (and you know who Fuma Lae-Ar is).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55.) You and your playmates had a specific Bioman name.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56.) You shitted all the nectar from the santan plant, hence your mother got really pised at you for destroying the santan plant.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57.) You played with marbles and &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;tex&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; and you count cards like this: I-SA, DALA-WA, TAT-LO, A-PAT...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58.) For girls: You wore denim miniskirts with rubber shoes. For guys: You had those bitin na pantalon which you wore with high-top rubber shoes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59.) You loved Cheezels and Chickadees because of the great prizes it had. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60.) Puffy Cone still existed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Magnolia Drumstick.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62.) Twin Popsies were meant to be shared with a friend.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63.) Ice Drop was the cheapest treat.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64.) You have those Disney Bow Biters for your rubber shoes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65.) You know who Alf is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66.) You're familiar with the show "Perfect Strangers."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67.) McGyver is your idol.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68.) That's Entertainment is &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;"The Bomb" during those days.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;69.) You were considered a techie if you knew &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Wordstar and Lotus 1-2-3.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70.) Your phone numbers were just six digits back then.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71.) You only needed three 25 centavo coin to call from&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;a pay phone. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72.) Aiza used to be so cute in &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Eat Bulaga.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73.) Amado Pineda was the most popular weatherman.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74.) You drank chocolate milk from the Magnolia glass bottle which you kept for holding water in your ref.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75.) Brown Cow tasted better than Hersheys.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76.) Shake Rattle and Roll 1 was the most horrifying movie for you then.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;77.) The most comfortable shoes for you is still Sperry Topsiders.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78.) You used to wear &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Loafers as your dress shoes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79.) The best movies of all time are Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club, 6 Candles and Some Kind of Wonderful.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80.) You show off your pencil case which have hidden compartments that pop-out at the press of a button.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81.) You have Bensia pencils which are refillable.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;82.) Fiesta Carnival was the place to be (like &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Enchanted&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Kingdom&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in the 90's).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83.) You were afraid of the year 2000 because it would be the end of the world.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;84.) Goya and Serg's were your favourite.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85.) You were able to get on a car without aircon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86.) You know the lyrics ng "Tinapang Bangus" at "Alagang-alaga Namin Si Puti" ng Batibot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87.) You know these commercials:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. YCBIKINIBRIEF - Remember this one? "Ycbikinibrief / Ycbikinibrief / Ycbikinibrief for the man who packs a wallop / YC had fashion / YC has style..."&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b. RA Homevision - those guys from Cash and Carry &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Makati&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; couldn't have done it better. Sports. Adventure. Cartoons. Award Winners and More. Featuring the voice talent of Frankie Evangelista. I will never forget the creepy hand at the start of the ad. Parang ET na nasa spaceship! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c. Arthur's Legaspi Towers - 'nuff said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;d. La Germania Mama Mia commercials - ditto!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88.) You bought , &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Texas&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt; or Bazooka Bubblegum, Tira-tira, at Tootsie Roll in a sari-sari store.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89.) You had held a flower-shaped 5-centavo coin.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90.) You're familiar with this song: "Si nena ay bata pa, kaya ang sabi niya ay um-ah-um-ah-ah... Hanggang patanda siya nang patanda...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-4498705476741562807?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/4498705476741562807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=4498705476741562807' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4498705476741562807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4498705476741562807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/80s.html' title='Kids of the 80&apos;s'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-8182973657480828437</id><published>2007-11-17T19:36:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:12:38.203+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood Playmates'/><title type='text'>Childhood Playmates</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I miss my playmates who lived right across the road and whom we also considered as some far-off cousins because the people in our neighbourhood were kind of related in one way or another! Some kids climbed trees, we ate aratilis fruits – sweet tasting berries found in every city garden. We also discovered that the nectar of the santan flower was just as sweet – of course we did not tell this to the grown-ups. I miss making our own bubbles with things found around the backyard - a tin can (where to mix things up), a stick (to mix things up with), gumamela- a native flower’s petals and leaves (the secret ingredient) a dash of detergent &amp;amp; some water (for some bubble action), a rock (to pound things with) and a wire (for your bubble blower). We also had our own version of a tea party – except we always had a feast “cooking” pebbles and leaves in miniature earthern ware pots and plates. We were careful of course not to step on the little creatures in the garden – you know them, the good elves hiding themselves among those branches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-8182973657480828437?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/8182973657480828437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=8182973657480828437' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/8182973657480828437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/8182973657480828437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/childhood-playmates.html' title='Childhood Playmates'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-482112688533454625</id><published>2007-11-17T19:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:12:57.607+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Komiks'/><title type='text'>Komiks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;My sister was a big fan of Niknok from Funny Komiks. She was a subscriber for many years – I’d borrow it from her and read it from cover to cover. For someone around 8 years old, I did find the&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mr &amp;amp; Mrs section really funny hee hee.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;But the ultimate subscription that we got was the MILO CLUB REPORTER. Yes, all of us in the family were members of the MILO CLUB – we used to go to their anniversary parties every year. We even used our MILO CLUB IDs for discounts for every sport lesson that we got during summer! My siblings and I would get a new issue monthly, one for each of us and we’d spend the rest of the month reading it everyday! I was always excited to see what would be on the cover because they were usually drawn or painted by children like us. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;“Pinoy Nga”, a comics section on the Philippine Daily Inquirer magazine is an old-time favourite of mine. I was only ten years old but reading the newspaper was already a part of my morning ritual. I wish there would be a compilation of all the works of Jess Abrera, the illustrator/writer for this section. He’s a genius in encapsulating the distinct characteristics of Filipinos putting them in very familiar settings. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;There are a lot of great artists and writers in the Filipino world of comics (komiks) – I haven’t even scratched the surface. But I’ll let the real fans of KOMIKS share their favourites to us … &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-482112688533454625?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/482112688533454625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=482112688533454625' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/482112688533454625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/482112688533454625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/komiks.html' title='Komiks'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-2276217936116376882</id><published>2007-11-17T19:26:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:13:18.938+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer Vacation'/><title type='text'>Summer Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;March, April, May are the much awaited months for most of the children in the Philippines because that’s the time when school is out and summer vacation is in!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;You’d know that it was summer when “halo-halo” (a mix of dessert with shaved ice and milk) stalls would start popping along every street corner not to mention stands for banana-que and camote-que (caramelised food on a stick). There would be kids holding ice-candy or ice-buko or just ice (frozen water in a plastic bag). There were also scramble (it was like Slurpee&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;with milk) and sorbetes (so-called dirty ice cream for they were sold on the street). Summer would not be complete without seeing the multi-coloured cart being pushed by “Mamang Sorbetero” – Ice Cream man and buying a three-scoop cone of cheese, ube, and chocolate-flavoured ice cream. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;We used to spend the whole March at my grandmother’s place. Summer vacation for me then was all about sleeping in, being in different places all the time, playing everyday with my cousins and escaping housework from home! Although sometimes I would think about school and ask how we had to stop going to class when we got all the time in our hands. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Holy Week would usually fall around April. Whilst it was a time when we would hear old ladies from our neighbourhood cry out “pasyon”, the life and passion of Christ for days, it was also a time when people were either at the beach or Baguio (the cold north). It was the only period that there would be no traffic in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Manila&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; for everyone would be out-of-town making the most out of the long weekend. It would always be the same aunt and her husband who’d take my sister and I for an adventure. We would either be in Batangas where we would stay in a big nipa hut with other families, get sunburnt and live the provincial way for a week; or we would be driving up north to Baguio for almost half a day (including traffic of course) to be welcomed by the coolest breeze in the whole of Philippines. It was the only time we could ever wear a jacket – without sweating! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;May would be a time for Santacruzan – a pilgrimage of the Holy Cross which was rather a time for girls to parade on the streets with the most elaborated gowns.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;I must confess, I was a “sagala” – one of the girls who was a part of the parade – and my whole family where there to light up a candle while we walked the whole night on the way to the church. My sister was chosen “Reyna Elena” or the queen which was supposed to be the highest honour – she wore a wedding gown for her costume! May, being the last month before the start of another school year, was also a busy time for my mum shopping for school supplies. It was sort of like Christmas all over again for we would get new stuff from shoes to pencil cases to lunch boxes. I couldn’t wait for the first day of school to try them all out! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;How did you use to spend your summer?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-2276217936116376882?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/2276217936116376882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=2276217936116376882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/2276217936116376882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/2276217936116376882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/summer-vacation.html' title='Summer Vacation'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-4617796661413386688</id><published>2007-11-17T19:25:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:11:49.890+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Native Toys'/><title type='text'>Native Toys</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I miss not going to class every time it rained so hard that schools got suspended. All we could do was to wear sweaters and socks we did not usually get to see ourselves wearing (because of the hot weather!) We would &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;just stay inside the house – eat on the bed – doodle on the floor – watch through the window how the water flowed from the roof to the side of the road. I miss wanting to go out with our handmade paper boats ready for racing. It did not matter who won. I miss taking a shower outside – feeling the cold drops of rainwater from the grayish sky, feeling good and old and bad at the same time even if it meant having a flu the next day.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-4617796661413386688?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/4617796661413386688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=4617796661413386688' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4617796661413386688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/4617796661413386688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/native-toys.html' title='Native Toys'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-6894640789878140782</id><published>2007-11-17T19:25:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:11:38.259+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Street Games'/><title type='text'>Street Games</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" &gt;I miss using the street as a playground where we would draw boxes and smiling suns with a piece of white chalk hoping that it would not rain. After just waking up from our afternoon siestas, all kids would come out and play all the outdoor games we could think of. There were games boys preferred to be playing with each other and it was the same for us girls who would usually be chanting girly rhymes and competing for the best hopscotch player!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" &gt; Sipa was for everyone! By improvising a rattan ball, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" &gt;a coin or lead washer was used wrapped in a piece of light cloth tied tightly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" &gt;It was kicked into the air as many times as possible without the "sipa" falling on the ground. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" &gt;Girls used the outside of their foot to kick it, while boys, often with rubber slippers worn around their arms used the inside. The street was a place for kicking and jumping and tagging and screaming but I always end up going home with a sprained ankle or a wounded knee – poor me!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-6894640789878140782?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/6894640789878140782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=6894640789878140782' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/6894640789878140782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/6894640789878140782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/street-games.html' title='Street Games'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-841923549310928265</id><published>2007-11-17T19:24:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:11:24.225+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Hometown'/><title type='text'>My Hometown</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;I grew up in Metro Manila. My parents and my grandparents grew up in the city as well so we did not have a native province to come home to every summer. What I remember about Manila though was the traffic, the floods, the streets and the street foods, the overcrowded malls, the jeepneys, the noise ---- I guess some of us who have moved to a different country would agree on me saying that we all MISS THE CHAOS!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Manila, Manila --- the things that I thought I hate about this city are the very same reasons why I love it so much. I was immersed so much in the chaos growing up taking public transport and living in the most congested area in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Manila&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. I did not have much of a choice but to be soaked in the subculture of this eclectic city and I should say I have been a product of that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;When I was a kid, our Sundays were usually spent like this: We would leave the house early, walk or catch a tricycle (a form of public transport) to go to the church as a family. Along the street we would pass by a number of sari-sari stores (variety stores) and different stalls selling pineapples, cigarettes, tabloids, ihaw-ihaw (all types of barbequed meat) – you name it! There would still be vendors outside the church selling small guitars, balloons, chicks of different colours and cotton candy. We would usually be standing for the church was always packed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;Then just outside church, we would hail a cab going to my grandmother’s house, about forty minutes away. It would usually take us more than one hour if the traffic was terrible which would usually be all the time. I used to enjoy looking at massive painted billboards of Filipino movies --- they were not posters but hand-painted movie ads as wide as the building walls. Jeepneys would be all over the place – they used to be so colourful and fully-decorated with sound systems and everything. I find the stickers all over them very poetic and pretty much reflected the harsh living of the common people – the masses. Humour of course was a huge part of their appeal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;We would arrive at my grandmother’s house just before 12noon. Lunch would be a home-cooked meal to be shared by the rest of the clan with all of my cousins sitting at the long “kids’ table”. SM or Shoemart was just five minutes away so the rest of the afternoon, after all the playing and the cartoon marathons would be spend cooling down in the mall. “Merienda” or snacks would be a treat to Mcdonalds, or what most of the other kids would prefer, Jollibee – a famous Filipino fast food. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;My family would catch a cab again to go back home. The streets would be filled with a mix of candles, gas lamp, electric lights from stores and restaurants that would still be open til late. If it rained, for sure some streets would be flooded --- sometimes the water would go into the houses and subside the next day. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:10;" &gt;The streets seemed a lot smaller when I went back home last year but everything else were exactly the same – just the way I like it! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-841923549310928265?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/841923549310928265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=841923549310928265' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/841923549310928265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/841923549310928265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-hometown.html' title='My Hometown'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-2931483202203961651</id><published>2007-11-17T19:24:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:11:11.890+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Supernatural Beings'/><title type='text'>Supernatural Beings</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;I miss my grandmother’s voice. She used to sit at my bedside every night and tell me stories which would seem very hard to believe.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;My Grandmother once told me that uncle was being chased by a giant who lived in the shadows of old, tall trees similar to the ones in your backyard. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;One rainy night he was driving a calesa – a native coloured carriage being pulled by a horse, all by himself. Until he saw a glimpse of something big, hairy and scary following him. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;He pulled up and whipped his horse harder than before. They were moving really fast along the wet and bumpy road. Still at the corner of his eyes there was this thing effortlessly catching up with them. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;Like the horse running madly, with nowhere else to go but further down the road, my uncle drove up with eyes closed. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;It was not raining anymore. He decided to stop to give his horse a rest. He lied down in the carriage put his hat on his face and slept. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:11;" lang="EN-AU" &gt;Suddenly he heard his horse. Too tired to get up he just took off his hat from his face to check up with the horse. There was a very distinct smell of tobacco in the humid air. And there he saw the biggest eye he had ever seen – looking through the carriage. It was the giant alright! Too scared to even move his head, he put back his hat on his face and pretended to be sleeping. Through a slit he saw smoke coming out from the giant’s nose, he saw him walking around the carriage with legs as thick as trees, his messy hair covered his entire head.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:Arial;font-size:11;"  lang="EN-AU" &gt;Just when he was about to get up and cry out for help, he heard steps moving towards the woods. The tobacco smell was fading. Through the slits on his hat he saw light coming in. He heard a rooster crowed twice already – on its third time, he knew he was ready to go home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-2931483202203961651?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/2931483202203961651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=2931483202203961651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/2931483202203961651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/2931483202203961651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/supernatural-beings.html' title='Supernatural Beings'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1488245903265282974.post-3226807309822015752</id><published>2007-11-17T19:23:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T19:23:55.505+11:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Supersitions'/><title type='text'>Supersitions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1488245903265282974-3226807309822015752?l=sarisaristories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/feeds/3226807309822015752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1488245903265282974&amp;postID=3226807309822015752' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/3226807309822015752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1488245903265282974/posts/default/3226807309822015752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sarisaristories.blogspot.com/2007/11/supersitions.html' title='Supersitions'/><author><name>Athena</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15905644716243579698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
