Traditionally, the cousins come together and plan her birthday surprise (which is never really a surprise, I suppose, because Panet has come to "expect" it). We usually hold a special dinner in one of the Metro restaurants, and was even crazy enough to plan a lunch birthday party at McDo Fort once just to throw Panet off our usual birthday surprise track. This year (and this is a much delayed post--2 years delayed, I think, haha), Lolo Art kindly offered to arrange it with the Tagaytay Royale clubhouse and simply have the cousins foot the bill. Go. =)
Now, I've always liked roadtrips, but this one, in my mind was special. I don't go on roadtrips very often with my parents, and really wish now that I could. During the Wander Years, I was too independent-minded, and I suppose with much to prove, I would much rather go through things alone or with my, uh, other friends who also felt the need to prove that they were finally adults. Not so these days. More settled and with nothing more to prove on both sides, my relationship with Father and Mother has evolved to include easy friendship.
It was a particularly crisp February morning, and as soon as we got through the Rotonda, we decided to shut off the car aircon and roll down the windows instead. It was early enough; no car fumes yet on the usually busy thoroughfare. Just as well. We don't get "fresh air" that often in Manila, and Mother really prefers fresh air to the aircon. Father was wearing a crazy grin. As usual, I suppose he is just happy to be on a car going somewhere. I highly suspect I inherited my highly-developed wanderlust from him. Haha. =)
It was just Hubby Sweet, Mother, Father and myself in the car this time. Sister Pusjing and family--who usually rides with us on roadtrips--has decided to celebrate her own birthday in advance by spending the night in Tagaytay. We will just be meeting them there.
When you go on a roadtrip with Mother though, you have to be prepared to leave early. She hates traffic, and really, in everything, she'd rather be an hour early than 10 minutes late. (I realize now that I inherited my highly-developed need for punctuality from her! Haha. =)) Which is why, before 11:00 am, we were already in Tagaytay, much too early for Panet's birthday feast. No biggie.
"I suppose we can just have coffee somewhere," I suggested.
"Bag of Beans?" Hubby Sweet asked. It was almost our default coffee place in Tagaytay.
"Yup," I nodded.
Father's grin grew wider. =)
I discovered Bag of Beans years ago. BFF Marts and her then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ introduced me to it. We were a group of about 6 or 8, and had just come from a volunteer Habitat-for-Humanity housebuilding activity. We were all young and single, and in no real hurry to get home. I remember going down a flight of stairs into a garden, illuminated by candles--an attempt to help dispel the darkness that will soon follow dusk. I fell in love with the garden then; it was enchanting. The coffee was good. Their own home-baked bread even better. The image of BFF Marts fighting with the resident monkey who took revenge by throwing nuts (I think) at then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ still makes me laugh to this day.
A few years ago, on another roadtrip, I introduced then-BF-now-Hubby Sweet to it. That was my best visit ever to Bag of Beans. It was early morning. The garden, even without the twinkling candles, was just as enchanting. I was just set to have coffee, bread and butter then, but when we walked in, we found a buffet table laid out with beef tapa, tocino, fried fish, rolls of every-kind, coffee, tsokolate-eh, etc., etc.! P250 per person, the waiter said. Sold! Haha. (Click here and here to read my past blogs on it. =))
The buffet has since been discontinued. Just as well. We were not here for the buffet this time anyway. I just thought Bag of Beans would be the perfect place to take my parents to. Father loves coffee. Mother loves gardens. Bag of Beans is all about having coffee in a beautiful garden. =)
We walked down the stairs, under a canopy of floral ivy. Mother smiled. She likes gardens, and usually picks a thing or two to apply to her own in House Better.
The cabana were Hubby Sweet and I usually sit was already occupied. We looked around and decided to stay under one of the "umbrella-covered" tables in the middle of the garden.
"Pa'no ginagawa yung leaf imprints?" Mother asked as we sat down, clearly referring to the leaf marks embedded on the walkway.
"I'm not sure, but I saw it on TV once," I replied, "I think they press real leaves on concrete that is relatively stiff, but not yet fully settled. Then once the concrete hardens, they just take out the leaf and the imprint stays on the concrete. Then they paint."
"Oh," she said, smiling, an idea clearly forming in her head.
"Eh yung mga nakasabit na lamps, sa'n kaya nila nabibili?" she asked.
"I think they sell it in the country store next to the bake shop. We can check it out later," I replied.
"Sige," she said. (NOTE: We did, but it was still sadly closed when we got out.)
"They actually sell the plants," I volunteered, thinking that she might want to bring some back home to Manila.
"Nah," she said, shaking their head. "These kinds of plants thrive here dahil malamig. Sa Manila, malalanta lang sila. Or kailangan silang i-water several times a day. Eh, sa atin pa..." she trailed off, referring to the fact that in Paranaque, water from the regular pipes is scarce, and people have actually made a good living out of delivering water to homes.
The waiter approached us, menu in hand.
"I'm not hungry," Father said.
"Ako din," Mother seconded.
"We can just get coffee or hot choco," I suggested, "and bread. You have to try their bread!"
"Kuya, dalawang kapeng barako," I ordered, "Chaka bread basket with butter and marmalade."
"Hot choco sa'kin," Hubby Sweet piped up.
"Orange juice lang ako," Mother said.
The waiter nodded and smiled, then turned around back to the kitchen. He was back in no time with our mugs, and quietly set the bread basket in the middle. It was freshly-baked, crusty but soft. It still felt warm through the cloth bread basket liner.
We all dug in. The butter melted as it was spread on the warm bread. The marmalade spread just as easily on top of it.
Father took out the newspaper he had brought along for the trip. Mother continued to survey the garden from where she sat. It was a scene right out of House Better, actually, except that we were in another enchanting garden, about an hour away.
Regular life is often complicated and chaotic. Not so that day.
It was a crisp, easy Sunday morning with family.
Hot drinks on hand.
Warm bread on the side.
In its utter simplicity, I found perfection.
I would be so lucky just to have more days like these.
*Sigh. =)*
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