A DOUBLE LUNCH IN NARA

There was a former colleague from Narra in Palawan who always got drunk in bars with heavy narra accessories, a premium hardwood that is the national tree of the Philippines.

And two train rides away from Kyoto is Nara, Japan's first permanent capital that hosts a number of UNESCO-listed World Heritage Sites including the Kofuku-ji Temple that ws established in 669 as a wife's plea for her husband's recovery from an illness.

Our 3-day Kansai Railway Pass encountered a glitch for the first time as we entered Nara, perhaps because our prayer for protection from illness at the Kofuku-ji Temple was done in reverse order: offering incense, alerting the Buddha with a bell prior to our prayers, then going through the purification ritual that should have been the first procedure.

We intended to have this rectified at the Todai-ji Temple (circa 738 and also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site) but none of us would fit through the nostril of the Nara Daibatsu (circa 743 and the world's largest bronze Buddha statue) so we invoked his protection against epidemics by earnestly praying amidst the curious throng  for enlightenment, good luck, and health.

I needed to pee because a Japanese version of Angel Locsin played with some of the 1,400 bowing deers at Nara Park but an entrance fee is required to access the toilets of the Isuien Garden.

The Yoshikien Garden was more accommodating as not only does it have a free clean toilet, it also showcases traditional Japanese landscaping. 

It was after that when the first bullshit lunch of paper-thin meat slices in huge plates hit us at the central bus station. 

We were so disappointed and rueful that we decided to grant Balong's donburi craving before boarding the train back to Kyoto. 

That was our revenge second lunch within a span of an hour: a centerpiece unadon with cold soba, a bowl each of gyudon and katsudon, and the wife's second dango, steamed and not grilled which she prefers.

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Nara was short and sweet, and heavy too because of the double lunch.  

Since we have time, we decided to lighten the next day's packed Kyoto itinerary by stopping at the Fushimi Inari-taisha Shrine (circa 711) to count its estimated 10,00 torris,

We did not finish because I can't resist the sake shot offer by a cutie who can be Imee Marcos in her younger years before her days as a bullshit presidential sister.

We still have time so we decided to go geisha hunting at Hanamikoji Street.

There was a lot of traffic enforcers and and exclusive traditional teahouses but only saw two hurrying geishas. 

Dinner was soba and udon.

I had my usual beer and highball.

Balong finished his doriyaki from Nara, Bulan shared his box of Papa Beard's from the Fushimi-Inari Station.

23 IN OSAKA (The Kitchen of Japan)

I stayed in Osaka for a week-long induction as a visiting JICA fellow 20 years ago.

Back then, my knack for adventuring was just evolving so the farthest I ventured was to the train station nearest to the JICA Center with the intention of visiting the Osaka Castle.  

That failed excursion haunted me so 20 years after, I led Pugad Baboy to a revenge tour of the Osaka Castle (circa 1583), scaling all its 8 floors for a panoramic view of Japan's 3rd largest city where he image of two oversized samurais from Bakal 2 were imprinted as eki stamps.

It was there where the wife fell for the dango. 

Before Osaka, the uncertainty in the Strait of Hormuz jeopardized our carefully curated trip to Japan.

It was not until Bulan passed through the gates of Kansai International Airport after his declaration was interrogated twice that the trains to Tengachiyaya, Tenjimbasisuji Rokuchome, Awaji, and Omiya delivered us to a  blonde Thai receptionist and her welcome pack of passport covers and the key to the hotel's sole famiy room with a balcony. 

Having registered as Boy Ramen, we were next led to a small shop whose young chef demonstrated the preparation of their signature cihicken paitan ramen --- our first authentic "Made in Japan" meal.

From Kyoto, we went back to Osaka to celebrate Balong's 23 years, reporting first to a ticket inspector of the Osaka Castle before the enticing smells of a grilled Wagyu beef skewer, a slice of sweet cantaloupe, and pan-fried tokiyaki, obanyaki, and okonomiyaki reeled us to the Kuromon Market where Balong hosted a birthday lunch of unagi, sukiyaki, yakitori, sashimi, kare, and Wagyu steak.

I mostly paid for the trip so I also got a shot of sake and a mug of highball. 

These were the starters for an aperitif of extra cold Asahi Super Dry, a Pilsner Urquell, and a Peroni at the  Asahi Beer Museum, just compensations for going through a high tech interactive recap of the brewery's history. 

But Balong's aspiration for a donburi dinner in the madhouse known as Dotonburi failed to materialize depsite our prayers at a Shinto shrine and the purchase of the first weird Kitkat flavors we intend to bring home. 

So we closed the day in Kyoto, in a crowded izakaya where with the help of Google Translate, we correctly ordered tempura, grilled mackerel, a plate of assorted sashimi, a bowl of ginger beef, and a slimy okra-based Japanese salad.

The boys had ginger ale, I had a beer and a highball. 

THE PHNOM PENH DELEGATION

Community, equality, inclusion.

Thus is the culmination of a reluctant trip to Phnom Penh within a 7-day spread that started as a pop-in to those who cease to sleep in the Science City of Munoz, they who spoke about the day of the moon through three consecutive conclaves.

On Day 1 of the Phnom Penh Workshop, such context was confirmed by the Garbage Man from a reunion in San Miguel, the last pilates session deferred as PR 2621 took off from an avalanche of Chilean red wine and Filipino beer.

Gems of wisdom and magic recapitulated Day 2 of the Phnom Penh Workshop --- rainbows of colorful fruits and rice pastries reflecting in the afternoon sky, domed to protect a Khmer beef steak and cold Angkor beer from the deathly embrace of summer.

The donor is a warm morning whose innocence elevated a consultant procurement into contract signing through a catch-up Georgian lunch that turned out to be thunderously heavy platters of khinkali and khachapuri, and loud as the traffic of  craft beer pints near Bassac Lane.

Love and marriage? 

The Bali Workshop intervened but a lovely Pakistani lunch of mutton biryani, nan bread, an array of bowled curry, and a tall mango lassi was wedded with a sky bar dinner of Khmer beef steaks, fried rice and corn, vegetables, and fish before vociferous Chinese pasengers were herded to Shanghai by PR 2622. 

The streets of Phnom Penh smelled of burning meat and docusigned requests that were guaranteed by The Divine Madman whose phallic amulet repelled demons, malicious gossip, and the evil eye that hounded the nubile clientele of the Salcedo Saturday Market.

In Bakal 2, the delegation concluded with the liberation of time by the Son of God, by hikers under the patronage of San Sebastian, and a cache of cold beer a day before fleeing to  Osaka...