Just a typical morning in an apartment block at UP\u2019s Diliman\ncampus,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Where Mom and Pops graduated, their alma mater, not far from\nthe bustling city of Manila,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lived in a building at the end of a long driveway, beyond\nour front door a small, paved walkway,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Overlooked by a tall, forbidding gate, behind it a dirt road\nwhere street kids liked to play, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every day without fail, even during weekends come sun, wind\nand rain,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The peddlers are on time, always, going about their trade\nwithout fail,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During the mornings it\u2019s the puto<\/em> vendor, an old-timer in his 60s or 70s,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Skin brown and leathery, voice rendered gravelly, likely,\nfrom years of smoking ciggies,<\/p>\n\n\n\n A wide sombrero atop that dome, two baskets\u2019 worth of\nconfections hanging off his carrying pole,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slung across his shoulders, he\u2019s out there looking like a\nwalking scarecrow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Traipsing up and down the walkway, lined with small gardens\nand flowers in buckets,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some on hanging baskets, adding color to the greyness,<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPuto!<\/em> I have puto!<\/em> Who wants puto!\u201d<\/em> he\u2019s calling just as the block is waking,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not many seem eager, it\u2019s still nine-thirty in the morning,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some kids and their parents come out to greet him, clearly\nearly risers,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Might have already had their breakfast so might as well get\n\u2018em some desserts,<\/p>\n\n\n\n No alarm clock needed while he\u2019s grinding, that early\nmorning call as loud as a rooster crowing,<\/p>\n\n\n\n The gruff exterior hid a gentle nature, naturally kids and\ntheir parents take a liking to him,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then off he goes, hanging \u2018round that walkway, in case other\nfamilies are waking,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Admiring front gardens in the process, put away the side-eye\nhe\u2019s just chilling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Behind that aforementioned gate, a dirt road spreads behind\nthe complex,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Barrels and old construction equipment lie abandoned beneath\nthe building, a gated stone home staring directly across it,<\/p>\n\n\n\n A shanty town lines the end of the road, chaos reigns as\nstreet kids and stray animals are mingling,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rough play the order of the day, this well-off city boy willingly\njoined the fray,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Differences in social standings inconsequential, just out\nthere running, tackling and enjoying it,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once mid-day arrives it happens, that near-mythical being\nappears from out of nowhere,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two tins of his precious cargo dangled from a carrying pole\nslung across his shoulders,<\/p>\n\n\n\n That would be taho, <\/em>that\nsweet, sweet Filipino dessert,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tofu, arnibal <\/em>and\nsago pearls, comfort food for the general population,<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Taho!!! Taho!!!\u2019 <\/em>he\u2019s\ncalling from atop his lungs and heart, the voice nowhere as hoarse as his puto-<\/em>selling counterpart, they\u2019re\nrunning several decades apart,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Playtime is halted, suddenly, kids rush towards him,\nexcitedly,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Can only look on in amazement, he\u2019s like a real-life version\nof the pied piper,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Felt like the odd one out, couldn\u2019t have any said the\nparents,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Street snacks ain\u2019t safe for eating, there\u2019s no telling what\ncould be in it,<\/p>\n\n\n\n So back to the apartment I go, lunchtime\u2019s right \u2018round the\ncorner, rough play with the lads will just have to resume a little later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Been more than 30 years, time sure does fly quickly,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Never knew their names yet they still exist vividly within\nmy memory,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Still think about \u2018em up to now, after all this time,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Certainly one of \u2018em\u2019s already crossed over to the other\nside,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Similar thoughts \u2018bout those kids with whom I used to play,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Had they found a way out or stayed stuck in place?<\/p>\n\n\n\n For the record, Dear Reader, that apartment complex is still\nstanding,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nestled among trees within Mom and Pops’ alma mater,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Through a child\u2019s eyes the \u2018hood seemed so much larger,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Such thoughts come easily when one\u2019s universe is confined to\none area,<\/p>\n\n\n\n In a grown man\u2019s shoes it seems shrunken, like homes had\ndownsized and roads narrowed,<\/p>\n\n\n\n At times got me feeling like Gulliver returning to his old\nsuburb,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just a piece of my childhood that I\u2019m sharing with y\u2019all, a\nwindow into a time long gone,<\/p>\n\n\n\n Took two different vendors to pry it open, the ones loudly\nselling what they\u2019re bearing on their carrying poles. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Just a typical morning in an apartment block at UP\u2019s Diliman campus, Where Mom and Pops graduated, their alma mater, not far from the bustling city of Manila, Lived in a building at the end of a long driveway, beyond our front door a small, paved walkway, Overlooked by a tall, forbidding gate, behind it … <\/p>\n