Musical Chairs of Epicurean Goodness

The Hindus believe in the Law of Karma. "What goes around, comes around."

And although the ancient Greeks were mostly pagans, this reciprocity concept was a common principle in their philosophy as well. "What you wish your neighbors to be to you, such be also to them."

Within Christian circles, this is known as The Golden Rule. Luke 6:31 reads, "Do unto others as what you would have them do unto you."

Being the recipient myself of quite a few favors from generous, good-hearted neighbors and friends. I found my list of people to thank growing longer day by day....

1. There's my next door neighbor, a young mom herself, who knows of my fondness for watercress and thoughtfully remembers to provide me almost a weekly supply of it. And as if that weren't enough, she generously shared with me her treasured and tested recipes to add to my limited, but now steadily growing kitchen reportoire. Thanks Sarah!

2. Two pre-school co-parents who know how C and I both love Bicol's hottest (literally!) delicacies and brought back home the infamous Bicol Express and Pinangat as pasalubong from a recent Bicol trip. Both your versions were yummy, Helen and Tes!

3. A soccer mom who gives me good company during the kids' soccer drills and scrimmage every weekends. You make the one and a half hour wait more enjoyable, Ting!

It is with this ethic of reciprocity that I found myself with the desire to share something back to these wonderful ladies. And so one day last week, I found myself in the kitchen as early as 8am, earnestly frosting the cinnamon rolls that I baked the day before.

Done with that, I proceeded to prepare mini-apple pies to go with the rolls.

Mid-day, there were several boxes of rolls and pies waiting to be given away.

No sooner had the boxes been given out and I found myself, again, the recipient of more benevolence and largesse - still of the epicurean kind. What's inside my goodie bag? A chocoholic's heaven!

A sinfully big tray of Ferrero Rocher. I just love these decadent li'l balls with whole roasted hazelnut in the center and surrounded by a smooth chocolate. Hmmm... some Ferrero Rocher cupcakes, perhaps? I could use my moist chocolate cupcake recipe. Bake as directed. Let cool. Poke a hole in the middle. Add crushed Ferrero inside the hole. Top with chocolate hazelnut ganache. I would love to try that!

Spun golden hexagonal boxes hiding delectable Toblerone bars inside. I can already imagine myself in front of a fondue pot, with the melted Toblerone inside the pot; the potent mixture of chocolate, honey and nougat simmering on low heat. Among friends, surrounded by platters of pound cake, biscotti, grapes, strawberries and dried apricots waiting to be skewered and dipped. The ultimate indulgence!

The lip-smacking, finger-licking marriage of chocolate and hazelnuts in a jar, Nutella. I already have the perfect recipe for this. I have archived a recipe for chocolate flavored French macaron with Nutella frosting. I have long wanted to try this, but have always found myself daunted with macarons. It could be because of the laborious process of drying the egg whites, or the back-breaking task of making sure that each macaron is piped in equal proportions at a certain height above the baking sheet to ensure the "perfect foot." But with these gorgeous chocolate tubs, I find myself having the courage to go beyond my comfort zone and face my French macaron challenge head-on.

Macarons are C and J's absolute faves. It is costly at P35 a pop in Bizu, especially since a dozen is easily not enough between the two of them. Hopefully, it will be my own creations you will see here soon!

Bizu Macarons by chotda on flickr

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Funeral for a Fish

I found myself a hesitant pet owner when R brought home a fighting fish as a kiddie party give away early this year. A few days later, we were again the recipient of two more fighting fish, still another party give-away from another event. For the next few weeks, the kids were the eager pet owners, constantly brooding over the fish bowls and over-feeding the fishes.

As expected, their interest began to wane as months passed. The fishes slowly began to be neglected to a short shake of the fish bowl during lunch or dinner, on their way to the dining table. Still at a later date, even feeding the fishes were forgotten completely.

One day in early summer, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I heard a loud shriek coming from the living room. I rushed to where the sound came from and I saw B and R huddled in one corner. B crying inconsolably and R holding up a fish bowl. "B's fish is dead." he said, half sad and half gloating for being the first one to discover the fish immobile at the bottom of the bowl.



J suggested giving the fish a funeral. We couldn't think of a better place so off to the bathroom we went...



B was still howling with grief, and the extent of her reaction scared me quite a bit. To be sad, yes; but to bawl hysterically? over a fish?

R innocently asked me what's going to happen next to the poor fish. I couldn't think of any better answer than to say it is now in heaven. Eyes lighting up upon hearing that, "see B, your fish is in heaven now, you don't have to be sad." B bawled even louder, "but my fish (sob, sob, sob) is not in heaven (sob, sob, sob), it's in the potty!!! Waaaah!"

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Kiss Her Splash

She was really anxious the night before her first swimming competition, scared she might get off the starting block and dive with her feet going in the water first. She asked us to pray for her that night and asked to be cuddled as she slept on our bed.

During her first event, as she hesitated for a second before going in, she was left the last swimmer on the starting platform. For swimmers, how fast you get off the platform and how further out you go contributes a lot to your finish time.


Her self-doubt showed during the competition, and hampered her four events; although she finished respectably within the second and third quartile. Befitting her gentle nature, she doesn't say anything, but her face expressed disappointment when she saw the official race results as she usually clocks in a decent time during practices.

I didn't know what else to offer her except my encouragement and praise. It is her first competition, after all. That reason alone affords her such an enormous room for growth, I assured her. She just needed to put in more hours for practice. I asked her to go back in time to first grade when she had to learn to do the hula-hoop as part of a graded school activity. It took her weeks upon weeks upon weeks of trying. No matter what she did, that dang hula-hoop simply wouldn't stay where it was supposed to stay. It went down to the ground the moment her hands let go of it. So everyday, as soon as she was done with homework, she went outside to practice. I don't know how long it took her, but I remember my front door neighbor asking J if she still hasn't learned to do it after all the weeks of practice. It must've been that long for a spectator to get tired of watching the incessant practicing, think about what more for the one who was actually doing the practicing. One day, she simply just said that she could do it already!




She was still in a pensive mood as we walked to the ladies' locker. She was perhaps tired from the competition or disillusioned with her ending. We just held hands, and I allowed her this walk in silence. I gave her room to think; I know she needed this time to be with herself.

I comforted her saying "As with everything in life, it is not important to be the best, what is more essential is giving your best." Whenever, the kids would get frustrated with a task that's hard to do, I simply sing them a Barney song, "If you can't do it the first time, try and try again; if you can't do it the second time, don't give up my friend." That works most of the time.

She broke the silence, "Mom, I think I want to practice swimming everyday, even after I go back to school." I slowly breathe a sigh of relief. Now that is what makes her a winner in my book!

Be of good cheer. Do not think of today's failures, but of the success that may come tomorrow. You have set yourself a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere; and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles.

-Helen Keller

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Bee Watching, Be Careful

Ilog Maria Honeybee Farm has gotten me hooked that I have to have a post devoted to all things honey. I have been to the honeybee farm twice already, and that is just for this summer. On my last visit, I brought along my mother-in-law and sister-in-law with me. We filled our shopping baskets till they overflowed with homeopathic products which listed bee propolis as primary ingredient. I purchased a few more bottles of the Bee Propolis Spray as a reserved stock which I know would come in handy any time my throat starts itching again; Bee Propolis Linament Oil to be used for my next massage appointment; Bee Propolis and Honey Soap for when the kids’ get another dermatitis attacks; their Bee Propolis Ointment have worked wonders for my skin irritations.

For those of you unacquainted with bees, propolis is a substance produced by the honey bees, which they use to the seal their hives against predators and disease. It's made by collecting a sticky resinous substance collected from the buds and damaged bark of certain trees and mixing it with beeswax, pollen and saliva. Propolis does have proven antibiotic and antiseptic properties and may also have antiviral and anti-inflammatory effects. I consider it safe and useful as a home remedy. I highly recommend it as a remedy for mouth sores and irritations in the mouth.

I have what the Chinese call a high internal body heat, and often suffer from sore throat as a result of this. But ever since I purchased my first Ilog Maria Bee Propolis Spray early this year, I have managed to keep my throat in good condition so far.

I also love Ilog Maria’s honey because their honey product is raw natural honey with all the rich ingredients that have not been removed by heat or pressure filtration. Unlike the commercially bottled ones I buy from the grocery, theirs has a unique taste that is both delicately sweet and refreshing. I know it sounds odd to have those two characteristics belong in the same sentence and be used to describe a singular thing, but that’s what it does for me. I enjoy it whipped with butter as a sweet topping for my breakfast pancakes, or simply blended with warm water as a relaxing night cap, and sometimes I just simply pour it on a big spoon and eat it pure - as a mid day indulgence. Ahh! The simple pleasures of life.

I can remember when I was a little girl living in Davao, a certain bee-keeper was a perennial house guest, bringing along with him fresh honeycomb with every visit. He would bring the cut honeycomb and squeeze the honey out of it using a cheesecloth. Another finer-sieved cheesecloth would then be used as a filter to make sure that the strained honey is free from wax and other debris. Finally, it is poured into the mouth of a funnel with a huge sterilized jar at the bottom. Jars of these dark-colored honey were a constant fixture in our family’s kitchen. My dad always ate them right off the spoon as a nutritional supplement.

On an earlier visit to the bee farm, we were delighted to be served fresh honey right off the comb. The owner’s son instructed us: “put out your pinkie finger and press the comb.” We did just that and we were greatly rewarded with sweet, golden honey oozing out of the combs.

Still, others couldn't get enough of this ambrosia, instead of putting out a finger, they stuck out the whole hand instead.

The Bible couldn't have said it better:

My son, eat honey, for it is good, Yes, the honey from the comb is sweet to your taste (Proverbs 24:13)

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Once a Farmer had a ....

Paradizoo in Tagaytay is one of R's must see places whenever we are in the vicinity. The last two visits to Tagaytay we have decided to skip this, much to R's dismay. So this time around he wasn't going to take any of our excuses; he put his foot down - and begged. :)

Unlike its' sister zoo located at the Residence Inn, this place has farm animals in attendance. We were assisted by a guide who took time to tell us about the animals in the zoo. He first took us to a minimally fenced acreage housing the llamas and alpacas. If, like us, it's your first time to hear the word alpaca, you might wonder what it means. An alpaca is an animal that looks very much like a llama. To the untrained eye, it would be hard to tell the difference. But our guide pointed out to us that it is actually very easy to spot the difference as the llama is roughly twice the size of the alpaca. In addition, the llama has longer hair, with a very coarse outer coat over a softer inner coat as opposed to the alpaca which has a darker, very fine, single coat. It is for this reason that the alpaca has been carefully bred for over 5000 years as a luxury fiber producing animal, while the llama has been bred for the same amount of time as a pack carrying animal.

In the photos below, the alpacas are the ones with the dark brown hair and the llama is the one with the light hair.




At the next enclosure we saw a freak of nature on display, a five legged cow.

Over at the next fence, the guide proudly showed us some Wagyu cattle.
Still on the opposite fence, we saw some local water buffaloes.

And turkeys roaming free


We also had the opportunity to visit the inside of the goat's nursery where they kept the newborn kids (up to two moths of age) close to the nursing does.


We passed by a flowering garden, and this sign grabbed my attention


There were a lot of hydrangeas in bloom, locally known as milflores.

R trying his hand at fishing.

... and B dipping her hand where it doesn't belong...

C and R are rewarded for their patience. Their first catch was a minuscule fish which we quickly threw back into the water after a quick photo-op.


. . . . . only to be gobbled up by the waiting ducks.

They got luckier with the second fish they caught


The guide allowed us to take a peek inside their mushroom house where trays and trays of oyster mushrooms are growing. They also had their own vermiculture nearby. R, who is my budding zoologist, was captivated by the creatures moving underground he had to be reminded to move along, otherwise he would've stayed there for a few hours.


The strawberry patch is a recent addition


We didn't notice that we took a long time, but as we ended the guided tour and looked at our watch, we realized that it was time to head back home. And R gave a sad farewell to his favorite place. We have been there countless of times already, but the zoo keeps on introducing new animals and activities that there are always new things to see every visit. Surely, we will be back soon.

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Of Bees, Buddha and Blackberries...

The long Labor Day weekend found the family in Tagaytay celebrating 2 wonderful occasions, my in-laws wedding anniversary and my niece’s 2^nd birthday. Family gatherings like these offer a wonderful way for the kids to bond with their cousins, and a great way too for the grown-ups to get away from the stress of city living.
The picture above shows us having lunch at T house. A new boutique hotel which also boasts of a gourmet restaurant and a spa.

We have been to this city countless of times yet there are always numerous places of interest sprouting, assuring us that each visit seems like the first. The first stop of the trip was at Ilog Maria Honeybee Farm, where we filled our shopping baskets till they overflowed with homeopathic products, all made with honeybee by-products.

We also visited a hydoponics farm slash Chinese arts museum. Yoki's Farm has to be one of the biggest lettuce farm South of Manila.

The vegetable farm also features a big structure housing numerous Chinese artifacts, mostly sculptures. The piece de resistance is a 30-foot statue of a smiling, golden Buddha which unfortunately was cut-off from the picture by the kids' nanny.

This three-masted Chinese junk ship boasts of intricate details and is carved out of a singular piece of jade. Jade statues this big usually commands top dollars, reaching up to US$2,000.00.

The differently hued flora found in the garden made for a colorful collage.

The different produce grown in the farm makes their way to the more well-known restaurants within Tagaytay.


My own harvest of blackberries...

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She Walks In Beauty

I started becoming conscious (read: started lying) about my age the year I turned thirty. There was nothing specific that happened which triggered my sensitivity towards aging, it was just one of the undesirable peculiarities that came with being me. At first C was perplexed, although tolerant, about my fixation with aging. He would laugh at me, and sometimes with me, as I go through this hopeless and self-indulgent travesty. He drew the line though when I started lying to my own kids about it. What, you don’t do that? Seriously? I frankly thought every woman over thirty does it. But since this post is not about the value of honesty let us move on then, shall we?
It does not help that we live in an age where 50 is the new 40, and 40 the new 30. We are unfortunate to be stuck in an era where women are caught in the physiological tug of war between youth and beauty. When I was in my mid-twenties, I remember reading in a magazine that dry skin causes more wrinkles than oily skin. I felt so relieved with that piece of information that for the first time in my life I felt that my oily skin had a redeeming factor, after all. What that article didn’t mention was that if the grease shining off your teen-aged face isn’t enough, then the enlarged pores in your thirties are there to finish the job. They conveniently forgot to mention that enlarged pores become larger as facial skin ages because of the loss of collagen and elastin.

Beauty is the first thing that nature gives women and, unfortunately, it is also the first thing it takes away. I have started using anti aging products the year I hit my big 3-0! I am averse to any procedure, cosmetic or otherwise, involving the needle, having had an appendectomy and 3 C-sections. Botox and other beauty injectibles are definitely not in my list of options, as well. And so in my quest to impede looking like anyone’s middle aged mom for as long as I can, I have incorporated these three steps into my beauty routine. First step: Use a deep moisturizer with the added benefit of a SPF 20 or higher; second step: exfoliate at least twice a week; third step: get enough sleep during the night and take power naps during the day.

I remember having a conversation with my daughter’s swimming coach a few months back. Everything was ok till up to the point he called me "tita". WTF! My mouth wanted to spit out profanities, but my mouth was left agape from shock after hearing this twenty-something call me tita. Who does he think he is? Or more importantly, what does he think of me?

A few well-meaning friends consoled me by saying they, too, have experienced cruelty of this sort. We all agree that after the initial reaction of shock wears off, what follows is a compelling penchant to whack the offender in the head so hard, enough to force them to shake off that insensitivity. To quote Miss Piggy: “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.”

In one of my recent conversations with friends about this topic, we ended up laughing till our bellies hurt when a friend narrated the following conversation that took place between two co-parents in her child’s prep level class. The older mom was protesting politely about being addressed as “auntie”. Hinting subtly that “achie” would be more appropriate, only to be undiplomatically rebuffed with,”oh, but auntie, I am really very young!” Touché!

After everything's been said and (desperately) done, what really makes us retain our youthful beauty is the smile on our face. Genuine contentment, happiness, and strength of character are the greatest beautifiers and preservers of youthful looks. 

That said, I leave you with one of my favorite bible verses: “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” (1 Peter 3:3-4)

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Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed....

I have been a happy home baker for quite some time already. My trusty Phillips hand mixer and I have called each other team partners for ten years. I didn't realize it was possible to be even happier till I added a new member on my kitchen team - a Kitchen Aid mixer! Life before Kitchen Aid was all about manual labor. I remember mixing those Swiss meringue buttercream to stiff peaks on my trusty handheld. How my arm muscles called for a respite as I continuously and furiously go round and round trying to make the egg whites firm up. And how I would call on the maid to stand by, just in case my arms go AWOL on me.

The pricey tag was the reason why I couldn't bring myself to buy it. The cost would've almost bought me a new monogram mini lin speedy handbag in brown. But I do admit I have made a few stolen glances from afar. Specifically as I shopped online at the Sephora store on the Amazon website for my Bare Escentuals mineral make-up. Just right after I click "pay now" at the Sephora store, I quickly type Kitchen Aid in my new product search, and read the hundreds upon hundreds of product testimonials. Sigh!

Then I realized I didn't have to do this anymore. My mom has a Kitchen Aid which has been lying around somewhere in her kitchen. Vintage and brand new, both at the same time. Did I hear you say oxymoron? Because it is! She bought it the year I was born (so for all intents and purpose, let's just agree and say its vintage twenty-eight years), but she has never, not even once, used it. We all completely forgot about it, till I had this momentary flash of briliance! Since no one among my unmarried siblings has any use for it, it has found a new home on my kitchen granite.


Since I have gotten this, I have temporarily given my handheld its much needed rest. I have found myself baking more often. Now I know why hardcore bakers list this as one of their ultimate kitchen must-have list. I know it's on mine.

Here are photos of my my cinnamon rolls. I have made three consecutive batches in a span of one week due to insistent demand from my kids.

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Project: Memory Book

I can now tell you why posts have been far and few between for the first few months of this year. A whole lot of my spare time was spent doing layouts for the memory book of J’s class.

I actually have quite a lot of time to spare, just not in one long stretch, but rather snippets of them scattered throughout the day. An hour or two mid-morning. A few more after lunch. But my early afternoon nap is an indulgent I do not wish to give up so that is an exception. Early evenings are hectic since this is the time when food is being prepared, kids need to be tutored, and dinner is to be served. By eight thirty in the evening when the kids are tucked in to bed, it is our couple time. So even if it does indeed fall under the category of spare time, it does not belong to MY spare time since technically speaking I share it with C. And if you have read this, you know how sacred we treat it. And so my photoshop projects are done intermittently throughout the day, which is not how I prefer to work. Being the photoshop amateur that I am, creative work is usually mixed up with tutorials as I try to teach myself new tricks. Work that could have been done in an hour easily extends to two – or more, as I try to do each step again and again.

Be that as it may, I am thankful that I volunteered just the same because the circumstance made me force myself to upgrade my skills - with emphasis on the word force. Photoshop has always been an interest but I am self-taught, and I am always either too busy or too lazy to be bothered with reading any tutorials. Surviving this, I am now armed with a semi-equipped arsenal of photoshop tricks I can whip out in a minute.

In one of my attempts to do a quotation word art, which you can see below, I found myself working on this dang file for over thirty minutes or maybe it's a little closer to an hour. I wanted to do the word art on a transparent background, but my saved jpeg file kept on reverting to the white background, no matter how many times I worked on it using a transparent one. After several failed efforts and a keyboard that's close to getting broken, a quick call to my brother solved my problem. I now know that jpeg doesn't save in transparent. Hence, I saved it in png format. What? You don't know that? Sorry, now we cannot be friends anymore. Lol.

Here are the three layouts that I made for the girls, the tiny one on the left shows you my first attempt, while the larger image on the right is the final output for printing:

Richie and I collaborated on the layouts for the group photos. But before I show you our work let me first tell you that Richie is one of the parents in our class, and the only dad, who volunteered his time and creative talent for this project. He joined us towards the tail end of the project so you can just imagine the cramming he had to do to finish all the layouts in two weeks, more or less. He was certainly a welcome addition to the group. He came on board just as I was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, (ok maybe slightly overwhelmed is not the correct term to use - it's more like I was in over my head) with all the templates that needed to be done vis a vis my limited photoshop knowledge, then put that against our self-imposed deadline to make sure the memory books get to the girls in time for the last day of classes. Ok. Now that I am writing down my thoughts like this, I now have a word for what I felt that time. Panic!

Here are our work: (You may click on the images to enlarge.)

My layout for Kinder Dahlia (while Richie helped with the photo clipping):

My Layout for Prep Lily:

Richie's spread for 1-Martha:

Richie's layout for 2-Scholastica:

Richie made a few more layouts for the book, and I am sure all the parents are with me in saying that he deserves a big thank you for his hard work, time, and for sharing his artistic talent. So here's a shout out of thanks to you, buddy! Here are the rest of Richie's work:

The other parents who helped behind the scenes and whose contibutions are as significant to the success of the project are:

• Arlyn, who generously offered her efficient office staff to do the tedious chore of clipping all the photos for the girls' pages.
• Doris, for collating all the photos and all the other text files, and for generously offering her house as our official headquarter during the initial stages of brainstorming (complete with merienda).
  
• Jenny, for patiently proofreading all the pages and for taking care of the logistics regarding the printer.
• Tes, in whose shoulders fell the tiresome task of collecting photos from busy parents.
  
• Mercy is of course the force who started it all, this is really her much loved project. We all know how much of a computer genius she is ( not! :) ), but her hand was on this project every step of the way. Thanks for your big-hearted and open-handed concern for our girls. We couldn't have gotten a better class rep!
  

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Tragedy at the Ateneo

We went to the Ateneo football field Sunday afternoon to watch a soccer match between the girls of British School Manila and Miriam College. With the game over and Miriam having won the match, it was still too early in the afternoon to start heading home so we headed off to the Bellarmine Field to run around a little. In the middle of the field we find several purple cloth with white crosses painted on them, right below them are numerous white candles, in all shapes and sizes. We can only assume that they are all lighted for the soul of the little boy who lost his life.

I read an extensive update on the story from the blog of Cathy, who is a co-counder of The Compassionate Friends, a grief support group for parents who lost a child. Here is part of her version:

My husband and I have just returned from his wake and I am shocked, stunned and restless over the circumstances surrounding his death. The Alcantara’s actually almost lost three children, and not just one.

Amiel, his 65-year old Yaya Tata (who has been with the family for 40 plus years), his 7 year old sister, and 13 year old brother Javi, together with the driver, were already so close to their car when the CRV driven by Teresa Torres, careened from behind and hit Amiel. Yaya Tata was able to push the youngest one and the elder boy out of the way but was too far to get to Amiel. Yaya Tata had herself suffered injuries and fractures and is set to have surgery next week. The most heart-wrenching thing about the whole thing is that it was the Alcantara’s driver and 13 year old Javi who had to extricate Amiel from beneath the van. The impact was so strong that three other vehicles were damaged in the process before the vehicle finally came to a stop. How does a 13 year old young boy cope with the image of seeing his younger brother that way?

It was the driver who took Amiel to the New Era hospital and they were en route to the hospital in another Ateneo parent’s car when Amiel died in his arms. Amiel’s father, Pepe Alcantara, former chair of the UP Student Council in the 1980s, and his mother, Niann, were no longer able to see their youngest son alive. It is a tragedy of such great proportions.

The CRV that careened through the parking lot was around 25 meters away from where the kids were standing. Apparently, for some reasons that remain yet unclear, the driver had stepped heavily on the accelerator because a screeching sound, akin to those that you hear at drag races, was heard by several witnesses before the car sped and hit Amiel.

(The vehicle of Teresa Torres is actually a Toyota Hi-Ace, which hit the CRV in front of her)

The Ateneo parking accident was a very hot topic last week among parents. I read about it in the Philippine Star, while some of my friends saw it on the TV news. Last Friday while some friends and I were waiting for our kids during swimming practice, this subject matter came up again. What really appalled us was the fact that the driver, an Ateneo parent herself, did not sound apologetic at all, attributing everything to the fact that it was all an accident. Although it may be true to call it an accident, it also fair to say that it was an accident that happened because of HER negligence. And to be unapologetic about it, to just shrug her shoulder and say, "wala akong magagawa, aksidente ang nangyari, eh!" Let us remember that even Jesus needs for us to confess our sins and ask for His forgiveness before He is able to forgive us.

Here is part of the story of what happened when the dad of the victim met the driver. You can also read the whole Inquirer interview here

In his first face-to-face encounter with the woman who drove the van that had run over his son, all Jose Fernando Alcantara could say was, “Was it you?”

He added that he had just come from Arlington Memorial Chapels where he supervised the preparation of his son’s body, adding that it took six hours to reconstruct Amiel’s face and head to make it fit for viewing.

“I just wanted to see the face of the person who took away someone so precious,” he said. According to him, he was disappointed with the response he got from Ma. Theresa Torres, who has been detained at Camp Karingal since the accident.“Except for a shrug and ‘Wala akong magawa, aksidente yun eh (I couldn’t do anything, it was an accident)’, I did not hear anything more from the driver,” he narrated.

Alcantara, who described his son as like the “wind” because of his love for the outdoors, said he left without saying another word to Torres.

As a mother who picks up my kids from school everyday, I know the nuances of dismissal time parking and the stress it brings if you find yourself a few minutes late. You see parents fighting over parking, with manners and common courtesy flying out the window as every one makes a mad dash for that single available slot. Pick-up time is always the time when I try to instill in J some level of independence, while I make sure I am close by to ward off any untoward incident. I teach her how to cross the street, always reminding her to look both ways before crossing; to maintain a good distance between herself and the cars on the street; to stay at the innermost side of the curb while waking on the parking lot sidewalk. In my mind, I am sufficiently protecting her. But this accident gave me a reality check that no amount of safety precaution, preparation and protection can help our kids if there are mindless drivers out there who are driving and texting at the same time. Read the whole eye witness account here about how a cellphone contributed to the accident.

Eyewitnesses saw her texting with her cellphone. then people saw her unbuckle her seat belt and she stooped down to get something on the floor of the van, presumably she dropped her cellphone and bent down to get it from the floor. it is in that position that led her to mistakenly step on the gas accelerator rather than the brakes

This story makes a lot of sense as stooping down like that will make it easy for anyone to mistake the gas accelerator for the brakes. it looked like the hi-ace van has an automatic transmission. that way, your body gets disoriented as to what pedal is on the left and what is on the right.

The van must have been engaged on “drive” and she was stepping on the brakes. when she stooped down to get something on the floor, her foot must have been removed from the brakes. and to recover, she must have quickly stepped on a pedal thinking it was still the brakes but was actually the accelerator.

Wives whose husbands have died are called widows, likewise husbands whose wives have gone ahead are called widowers, children who have no parents left to care for them are called orphans. What do we call parents who bury their children? There is no word in any language for them. And this is because life is not designed this way. No parent should ever encounter grief of this magnitude.

The driver later on issued an apology, albeit a very delayed one. You can read about the response of the victim's family right here

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