Pilipinas Pasaporte

It's crazy how the brain stores things in tiny little boxes, and the faintest sound, aroma or tune can throw open the cover and let you re-live... "RE - LIVE". Those are precious moments when we realise how our brain never forgets.

For me, it all began at the immigration queue in Manila. The minute I saw "Pilipinas Pasaporte" and realised how many people indiscriminately pronounced words that had an "F" with a "P" sound (a bit like some Asians do with "R" and the "L"); hearing "M'am" and "Sir" pronounced Pinoy style; best of all: tasting my first bowl of steamed Philipino rice or pancit (noodles). This is when my head became flooded with very fond memories of un revisited since the age of 8. I grew up accompanied by Jenny, my beloved Pinoy nanny, who in her 20's went to live with my family in Spain. Jenny spoke no Spanish at first so I practised my English at home with her. She made pancit for us, and it quickly became a house favourite. And she used to take me to visit her friends some days, who would cook "adobo", "callos", "sinigang" and Pinoy steamed rice, that they brought from home. I suppose I had forgotten the Pinoy influence in my life until 22 years later I set foot in Philippines. I wish I knew what became of Jenny. She must be in her 50's by now, although I will always remember her in her 20's. The mind never forgets, it just stores ...for a while.