After spending day after day in the brazen heat and humidity trying to get our new home furnished, our internet and phones installed, all the big appliances at different ends of the city, through the pollution and dust, we decided to take some time out and head to the mountains for fresh air. Only a few minutes from downtown by car or motorbike, the surroundings suddenly shift from concrete to lush, green, tropical vegetation. The air is suddenly fresher and cooler. We had a drink at Budoy on Tops, owned by Cebu popular artist and musician Budoy Marabiles, with an unparalleled view on the city.

The following day we headed down to the beach. We didn't really know where we were going, but I had seen a picture of a pretty sandbar with turquoise water on a tourist map of Cebu, and I wanted to go there. After a forty-five minute ride on the motorbike we ended up at a sort of deserted pier. A man came up to us and offered to take us across to an island on his boat. He said it was good for swimming, and that we could have some fish grilled and eat on his boat. After a quick haggle, we hopped in and enjoyed the half-hour ride on the banca, grateful to be on the ocean after three weeks on land.
We snorkelled a bit and saw a couple fishes but not much coral. Another man came and sold us a bunch of shellfish, which he grilled for us for lunch. We had the sea mantis which was like a little lobster and was very tasty.

Still, the highlight of our two days R&R remains for me the buko (young coconut) pie I had after the beach. This is one of my favorite Filipino desserts when done properly. Unfortunately most of the time it is a disappointment of cardboard-like pastry with barely a filling to speak of. It is a specialty of Laguna if I am not mistaken, South of Manila. This one was shipped from the town of Capiz, on the nearby island of Panay. It had perfectly flaky crust and a tender, luscious filling of young coconut and sweet cream. I can't wait to make one in my new oven!

The snatcher and the Angelus bells

We've had many adventures since we got here nearly three weeks ago, but none as unfortunate as today when my purse was snatched by a guy on a motorbike, and this only a few meters from our new house, in broad daylight. I went to the police station to make a statement and had to go to the City Hall in order to pay the 45 peso processing fee (about one US dollar). I asked the police guy if this was far and he said yes, but for a hundred pesos I can get someone to go for you so you don't have to wait in line. Okay... in the end this administrative step served no purpose whatsoever; there was no way they would find the thief.

Later today my husband and I were shopping at the mall and couldn't find the elevator. I saw a bunch of sales ladies sitting idly in a group as they are wont around here and walked over to them to ask for directions. Strangely they were not chatting or texting as usual, they were just sitting silently, with their head tilted downwards. I looked around and everyone was still, as if frozen. It was the strangest sight. Then I remembered... I checked the time and saw it was 6pm. I turned to my husband who was looking around, visibly perplexed, and told him it was prayer time... everyone stopped in their tracks to pray at this time everyday. Again, a gush of incredulity, as with the princess incident a few days earlier. I have to admit it was a strange sensation, everyone stopping in their tracks as the loud speakers chimed the Angelus bells. A few minutes later, everything went back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened.

The Filipina Princess

Last night my husband got a taste of Filipino culture that left him speechless at first and then completely outraged. We were enjoying some after dinner espresso and ice cream at an outdoor terrace, enjoying the view of the city by night. There were several large SUVs parked alongside the road. A group of young locals walked up to one of the cars and climbed into the vehicle, and the one who was presumably the owner got behind the wheel. We noticed a young girl who just stood by the front passenger seat, arms crossed. She looked like she was waiting, while everyone else was already in the car. I immediately knew what was happening… my husband caught up and said: “No… it can’t be… you’ve got to be kidding!” Sure enough the driver got out of the car and went to open the door for his girlfriend. My husband could not believe his eyes; in Europe this kind of gallantry no longer exists, at least not in France and Switzerland! I told him, beaming: "You think I'm a princess? That's a REAL Filipina princess!" 

Back when I was a freshman in university in Manila, following one year of utter freedom and independence in New York City, I got offended when guys wanted to carry my textbooks around campus. It also took me a while to understand why they kept shifting sides on the sidewalk, only to understand later that they were being chivalrous by acting as a human shield between the traffic and me, should anything happen. I won’t deny that after a few years I eventually got used to it! In terms of culture shock for my husband who has always lived in Geneva, this is only the beginning… a little sense of humor is definitely required!

As for my mock Bouillabaisse, it turned out okay, though I let the soup reduce too much and in the end there was hardly any left for second servings. I could not even poach the fish in the soup so ended up sautéing them in butter, as they did at Michelin-starred Table au Sud in Marseille where I did my first internship. The only issue was that I by the time I plated the dishes (croutons at the bottom, then the fish filets, shellfish, potatoes and finally the soup and rouille), I could no longer identify the different varieties for the guests, which was a bit frustrating, as I myself like to know what I am eating The rouille, which is a heady, garlicky mayonnaise-type sauce to be eaten alongside the fish, was a bit too strong for my taste, as the olive oil I used overpowered it. Unfortunately I was too anxious and excited at serving time to take a picture.

48 hours in Cebu

For my last day in Geneva, we had lunch at the in-laws and I requested home-made roesti, which is like a large round hash brown with larger cut potatoes (or a giant latke). She used raw potatoes unlike the recipes I had looked up which called for day-old boiled potatoes.

The result was divine, the cakes were crisp and perfectly seasoned (salt, no pepper). 

I also had foie gras not once but twice, on toast at Brasserie Lipp, one of my favorite restaurants there, and again over salad at Café Lyrique, across the opera house, a restaurant I had often seen but never ventured into. The Café boasts a pretty vaulted ceiling in its main dining room and is worth a visit. It is much more laid back that Lipp which is constantly packed, and has a laid-back, old-world feel to it, reminiscent of a Viennese café.

 My first breakfast in the Philippines about thirty hours later was native sausage with rice and fried egg. My husband cannot ingest anything upon waking up, least of all an egg, which I still find strange. He would rather have a smiley cake like these you can find at the mall.

My aunt has suggested I make a French dinner for six at her place this week, so today I checked out the produce at the supermarket and there was no duck or veal! I had thought of making a veal dish (lighter than beef) or perhaps duck. There was, on the other hand, a large array of different fish, but I wasn’t familiar with the names of any of them though some looked familiar… so maybe a Filipino version of Bouillabaisse is in order!