To The Beach We Go And Eat

Punta Vilar Beach, Surigao City

I was in Surigao for a big family reunion last week. I only realized how big a reunion it was when we reserved the entire Punta Vilar Beach for the party! Unbelievable.

We had the entire resort to ourselves but we brought our own food. Whenever I’m out of bad Manila (the best places in the Philippines are beyond Manila, take it from me), I get really excited about the fresh food that I’ll get to try out. I’m not a vegetarian, but I do like to eat healthy. Let me give you the breakdown of where food comes from in the country. Up north (say Baguio), you’ve got fresh fruits and vegetables. When typhoon Ondoy (international name Ketsana) hit, the prices of the limited fresh produce in the markets in the capital soared up. Way up. Farmlands were destroyed as well as roads.

South of the Philippines, like Surigao del Norte, you find the freshest seafood. Those available in the supermarkets here are way expensive and probably wouldn’t even be served on dinner tables down south because they’re super-small. Seafood like lobster, prawns, and oysters, to name a few, while not exactly dirt-cheap are, nevertheless, priced very reasonably. So I stocked up on these. No lobster, though (wah) or oysters (double wah). What I ate a lot of were shrimps and kinilaw.

Kinilaw! *to the tune of “Tequila!” That bottle with the orange-y substance is a special kind of vinegar called pinakurat. The smell is really strong but it’s good. Very good.

Kinilaw is our answer to sashimi. So it’s raw fish (tangigue or mackerel) and, depending on the region, mixed with coconut milk (like in Dumaguete, and best enjoyed with beer, in my opinon) or vinegar. Throw in onions, chillies, ginger and it’s just yum. The kinilaw I ate is the more traditional version with the vinegar and other spices. I practically ate nothing but this during my stay.

Here’s my Uncle William preparing kinilaw. In my family, the men do the cooking. I’m sure they can make all the Iron Chefs cry. No special training for them, just inborn genius.

I wasn’t able to test the waters of Punta Vilar due to an injury. Much of the beach and the water are all rocks and coral. Still, the water is clear, so you can probably snorkel when you’re a good distance away from all these. Best that you wear slippers. Constant bombardment of saltwater has made the rocks and corals that have washed up smooth but you can’t be too careful.

A souvenir from my visit to this beach is a huge purple bruise on my knee when I fell. Courtesy of these danged rocks. Ah. Memories.

At some point during the afternoon, one of my nephews ventured far from the shore and came back with these.

Sea urchins!

They’re not as scary-looking as the ones with the lethal spikes. I think their colors are pretty. I didn’t touch them, though. The last time I touched a sea creature that I thought was pretty, I got stung pretty bad. On the plus side, the men I was with on that trip, including the guide, eagerly offered to pee on me. Wait. That’s not exactly a good thing…

 

 

 

Who’s Gonna Drive Me Home? I AM!

So today it begins, the first of the many adventures that will be coming with driving. Why am I suddenly learning how to drive when I’m such an ardent commuter? Necessity. Aside from my birth certificate and my passport, I’ve no other government-issued ID (PRC IDs are for special licenses). Not good enough, especially when it’s time to renew my passport, which would be late this year. I’m hoping that between that time and now, I’m able to hit driving school and learn stuff like shifting, ‘hanging’, and why the hell I’m gonna cause serious damage to the clutch being a first-time driver.

But them drivers don’t look like this. Suffice it to say that it would be much better for all if they just kept the windows rolled up and darkly tinted. Like, very dark.

It scares me, actually. The Philippines is home to stunt drivers. Those car maneuvers you’ve seen in The Fast and the Furious movies and Speed and probably even Speed Racer happen here on a daily basis, hence the high incidence of accidents. Traffic lights are mere suggestions and road police, at best, are just guys in uniforms crowding traffic space. Honestly, they’ve no idea how to direct traffic.

I don’t have a car yet. But it would be handy to know how to drive one say, if one of these days I wind up as a contestant in the Amazing Race. That’s one skill out of the way.

When I’m done driving, I’m hitting the pool next. Yep. I don’t know how to swim. Seriously? you ask. Seriously.

 

Surigao City First Stop: Day-Asan Floating Village

Normally, I don’t like diving into vacation without even just a little planning. When you’re going to be in a place for only a couple of days, you want to maximize your time there so you really have to plan.

I was in Surigao City for a big (and I mean big, as in Big Fat Greek Wedding-big family reunion that we had to wear color-coded shirts just so we knew from which family the other belonged) family reunion for four days. It was only my second visit, the first being when I was only ten. There isn’t much that I remember from then, only that we lived in the family home at the foot of the mountain (which we never got to visit this time around). I remember visiting the beach with my cousins, all of us crammed in the multi-cab. Some twenty years and many inches taller later, we hit the beach riding a van. It’s the only way to accommodate all of us, along with my cousins’ children.

We went to the beach only on the second day. On the first day, we checked out Day-Asan Floating Village.

Day-Asan is a fishing village. When I first saw the houses on stilts, the cynical Manilena in me braced herself for the olfactory assault of garbage and other unsightly stuff in the water. There’s nothing. Nothing! The water is so clear, the air is really fresh.

Since it’s water all around, you have to cross footbridges such as these to get from one point to the next. This is the first of the many.

The actual village is comprised of some really lovely, rustic houses on stilts. I thought about checking out one from the inside but as I had half of my family with me (along with their children!), it didn’t happen. This is my favorite:

I like this, but that narrow bridge would be a challenge to walk on since I’m clumsy. Not to mention that I’d have to give up my four-inch heels just to make it from end to end. I know it looks dilapidated but I think it’s got some charm.

I don’t know where exactly these stairs lead to. Probably to a school, as there’s one nearby. Wouldn’t it be lovely to be climbing up these steps everyday? They’re straight out of a children’s fantasy novel!

Leading to Hogwarts, maybe?

To see more of the village, we hired a motorized boat. I advise anyone taking these to be careful. Since these boats spend most of the time wet, the wood isn’t as sturdy. My sister made a misstep and her foot slipped right through–and she missed a knife tucked upright under the floor by just a couple of inches! She’s fine. Better her than my cousin who was right behind her–who happens to be four months pregnant!

From the boat, I saw these:

Mangroves. Mangroves alternate with the houses on stilts in the water. Textbooks that I’ve read back in school were all unanimous in saying that mangroves smell. I didn’t smell anything bad or unpleasant, just a very slight hint of salt. I wonder if these mangroves also have tamilok?

Day-Asan hauls in lobsters and fish, I was told. We didn’t spy any fresh catch since we got there late in the afternoon already. Argh. I didn’t get to eat lobster!

Right after I took this photo, I saw some jumping shrimp! See how clear the water is?

A gentle sunset.

I took a picture of a residence of a former government official who was pretty famous in the early 2000s. Don’t know if I should post it since the other blogs I checked out that featured Day-Asan didn’t mention the house nor the owner. The guy didn’t do anything bad (I think he’s one of the very few who knows what integrity is) but he does deserve his privacy. Too bad. It’s a lovely house and a great photo too.

How to get to Day-Asan:

We hired a van to drive us around during our stay. If you’re just going to remain within city limits, there’s no need to hire private transport because there are tricycles and multi-cabs (the equivalent of our jeepneys here in Manila). No taxis, though.

If you’re going to Day-Asan or any other place just outside of the city, hire a private van/car. Don’t worry about the prohibitive cost because it isn’t. Surigaonons are very friendly and accommodating. Hell, I’m half that so I do know what I’m talking about!

I leave you with this shot. If yours was a typical Filipino childhood, you have probably tortured (the things children do!) a mariposa, a giant brown moth. Things that scared you as a kid become a thing of beauty when you’re older, don’t they?

I thought this was a giant moth. It’s only a dried leaf. Cool, no?

 

 

 

E.Y. Pension House: You Do Get What You Pay For

When traveling, I’m okay with roughing it. I’ve slept on airport floors, I’ve gotten a room right next to what appears to be a drug den, complete with choking cigarette smoke, sleazy men looking at me with suspicion whenever the door opens and I happen to be in the hallway fumbling for my key and the smell of suspicious substances (but then again, it might just be incense, or not, nope, definitely not). I’ve no complaints having to sleep in less than ideal conditions, primarily because I’m often game and, hey, the place never presented itself as the The Ritz. Props for honesty.

What would annoy me greatly is when the establishment appears to be nicer than you’ve expected only for its staff kick you in the nuts (not that I have any) with their crappy, crappy service.

Thus, welcome to E.Y. Pension House.

Here’s what happened:

1. They did not set up the extra bed/mattress as requested when the reservation was made a week ago. To think an advance payment was made for three persons to guarantee the booking!

Their reason: the mattress was “extra charge.”

Fine by me. Of course. Duh. As the unfortunate third, where the hell was I supposed to sleep? The floor? But, we forgave the error. We left instructions for the bed be set up when we return.

2. They were perfectly content to leave our suitcases lying around in the lobby where anyone could just walk in and grab them. I did not overload my luggage so it was pretty light. We asked if they could be stored behind the front desk since we’ve already checked in and all, and they were still setting up the extra bed. All we got was a nod and then the people, which included two manning the front desk and two who appeared to be part of the cleaning crew, went on with their inane chatter.

They had to be reminded about this. Three times. But, again, we forgave it.

3. “Setting up the bed” for them meant having the mattress leaning against the wall with only a  bed sheet. No pillow. No blanket. I didn’t even get a towel. Why?

Their favorite answer: “Extra charge.”

Okay, I get it that when people stay in a pension house, they are on a budget. But being that we’ve made the advance payment for three people, common sense, which is proving to be so elusive these days, should have told them that of course the third person needs a pillow, blanket and a towel. And of course they carry an extra charge. We didn’t mind. Because we understand stuff like “extra charge.” Why couldn’t they tell us about this right away? We practically had to beg for these. Why didn’t they offer these?

When we asked exactly how much these “extra charge” bullshit were, we were given a figure so laughably cheap that it was really ridiculous how they were holding them hostage. Unbelievable.

4. They didn’t clean our room on our third day because we didn’t tell them. On the second day, they cleaned our room without us having to give them any specific instructions about it. Strike one against the pension house.

Strike two was when we made the call telling them how the room wasn’t cleaned and this front desk person dared to say that “they cleaned it.” Yeah right. Overflowing trash bins indicate that cleaning personnel have gone in and done their job.

What really pissed me off was that after five minutes, nobody from the staff came knocking on our door. So I walked the twenty steps to the lobby and informed the personnel there about the state of our room. One of them insisted again that they cleaned it and I shot back, “No, you didn’t. Why don’t you come to our room and see.” Then the same person started saying how “we didn’t leave instructions for the room to be cleaned.”

I went ballistic. “Were we supposed to? You didn’t tell us anything about having to personally instruct you about cleaning our room each time we leave. You didn’t say anything when we checked in, whenever we’d leave the key with you. You never said anything. There isn’t even a sign. You’re lying.”

At this point, the owners intervened and I brought them to our room. The proof was in the unmade beds, and again, the overflowing trash bins. One of the owners, trying to placate us, tried to laugh it off by saying, “It’s her first day,” (referring to the front desk person–I don’t know who and I was beyond caring).

I hate it when people try to diffuse a tense situation by resorting to humor. It’s condescending and it’s insulting.  I said, “If it’s her first day and she’s messing up like this, she should be fired. Shouldn’t you make a good impression on your first day?”

They don’t clean rooms, apparently, because a guest (yep, one guest) complained before about probably losing some personal items. If this is the pension house rule, they should tell their guests about it upon checking in or, if they are vocally-challenged, put up a sign or a discreet tent card in the room as a reminder.

5. Number Four happened after a long day. We were tired and wanted to rest for a few hours before another long night. Eventually, after much protestation, the E.Y. staff started tidying up the room. Strike three. Hello, they were going to clean the room while we were in it–when we’re supposed to be resting! And they were stepping on the mattress I was sleeping on! And the owner was right there–and he only told them off about it after my sister told them off about it.

If you’re going to Surigao City, I advise you against staying at E.Y. Pension House. No. No. No. Better that you just stay in a nice hotel because there’s only a little difference in terms of price. Not to mention that the service are light-years apart. You don’t want to deal with staff who always asks if you’re checking out just because you’re leaving them your room key with the ginormous key chain (it’s practically the size of my foot and I wear a size nine).

You’re on vacation. You have the right to splurge and you deserve nothing but the best service.

As for E.Y. Pension House, give your staff proper training.

Up next: a cheery post on my Surigao vacation. I’m getting hungry just remembering it.

 

Goodbye, At Last

It took me more than ten years collectively but it’s done, finally.

My grandparents. I’ve said my goodbyes but this is the first time I’ve visited their graves. I hope it isn’t the last.

 

 

 

Re-Packing and Getting Effed By The Minute

Among my top favorite things to do is traveling. I love how my heart still gets that extra jolt when the plane begins to roll in the runway, and how my stomach gets all fluttery and my legs turn to jelly at liftoff. I’m not a picky eater, and have had my share of exotic (read: things that were still crawling) cuisine (on a side note, Asian belly is the best there is, we can eat anything). The same goes for my temporary address. I’m fine with cheap rooms but I draw the line at communal bathrooms.

What’s difficult for me with travel is the packing process. I’m so paranoid that it goes beyond the over-packing frenzy! I have a so-called paranoid pack! You name it, it’s there: an extra face towel, baby wipes, toilet paper, underwear,t-shirt, hand sanitizer, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, no-dizzy pills..basically, the contents can fill up a studio apartment.

So when traveling, I hit the crazy button and empty out my underwear drawer into my suitcase, toss in lots of t-shirts, jeans, shorts, socks, a nice blouse or two, a couple of dresses that can be worn day or night. I know there are 7-Eleven stores everywhere but it’s such a huge hassle detouring from your plans to get that emergency disposable underwear pack. I don’t mind spending on souvenirs but I’m a grouch when forced to pull out a couple of bills for these things. To give myself peace of mind and to spend my time checking out the place instead of looking for a convenience store, I over-pack. So far I haven’t gone over the limit.Tomorrow…we shall see.

Besides, I’ve become an expert on sitting on my suitcase or straddling it until I’m finally able to zip it shut. Yesterday I had pizza and today, pasta and potato chips. The extra poundage should make the job easier than usual.

I don’t get homesick when on the road. I like moving around, seeing the world whirl past before it’s a microscopic speck of color blots in the rearview mirror, or shrunk into Monopoly-sized pieces once I’m sailing over the clouds. I’ve never been tired from traveling. In fact, I hate arriving at night because there’s sometimes nothing to see, everyone else is asleep. I like to check in, stash my suitcase in the room then hit the streets pronto. I’m always paranoid about missing something.

****

I’m off to Surigao del Norte for a major family reunion. It’s only my second visit. The last time I was there, I was only ten years and my grandparents were still alive. We stayed in their house built on stilts at the foot of a mountain–the same mountain where they hid during the Japanese Occupation.

Perhaps one of the things I regrets is how I wasn’t more persistent in asking them about life during the war. I’ve read it in books like Cecilia Manguerra-Brainard‘s When The Rainbow Goddess Wept (also published as Song of Yvonne) and Gilda Cordero-Fernando‘s A Wilderness of Sweets and People In The War. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always enjoyed history. But when you’re a kid with all these questions, it’s annoying. You have to grow up, collect at least ten years before people can call you inquisitive and probing.

My grandparents have been dead for more than ten years and the house abandoned ever since. Probably taken back by the mountains, overwrought with vines and plants and trees now. To see that would be sad. What’s sadder is knowing that there are pieces of a history that you will never know, pieces of a history that, in that wonderful, mysterious magic of the world, brought you to the present. Maybe some things ought to remain a secret. The past does have a way of crippling you from the future.

 

Dessert Surpise

Nina and I were craving dessert after our awesome Burger Project binge. It was still too hot to be walking around and hanging out by the smoke fumes of our next food stop. Nina wanted churros and suggested the dessert place next door.

If you’ve still got room in your tummy after the burger gorge at Burger Project, then hop over to Sancho’s next door.

Wasn’t able to get photos of the place because the moment we stepped in, in came this troop for a birthday celebration. I couldn’t shoot without any one of them figuring in the photo.  Nina and I basically attacked the churros too and I only remembered to take out my camera right after I’d gobbled up the last stick.

So I have this.

A cream puff!

Fine. I had that huge-ass burger and then half of five churros and then this. As Jack Black said in School of Rock, “I like to eat!”

The churros were served toasty warm and melted in the mouth at first bite. The Spanish tsokolate was rich but without the thirst-inducing sweetness that’s tripled (quadrupled, even) by the heat. There was no umay. Churros goes for Php 85.

I said that I liked to eat, right? Well, I also had a cream puff. There’s something about cream puff that makes me clap my hands and go, “Whee!” I think it’s because the name strikes me as funny, in a good way, and I think of the pastry as a puff of cloud touched ever so lightly by the sun. You also don’t have to work your way through that pastry shell to get to the good stuff. The cream’s right there, ready to be licked and enjoyed.

Sancho’s cream puff did its job. It avoided  the oft-made disaster of making the caramel glaze so sticky that it drags and stretches from the pastry as you pull it in, like tangled strings of mozzarella that follow in the wake of a pizza pulled from the pan.It snapped off at first bite. The cream puff also had a very generous dollop of the cream.  My one argument with it is it wasn’t warm, so the bun was on the rock-hard side instead of that cushion-soft center.. The cream puff goes for Php 30.

Up next: isaw trip!

 

Make My Burger Bleu Buffalo

In an earlier post, I wailed how that first visit to Burger Project had ruined other burgers for me. I mean, a burger’s a burger, right. You grill the round animal cutouts, you slap it over the first bun then dump mayonnaise and mustard and pickles on it, lettuce and tomatoes before you finish it off with the second bun and ta-da. Burgers are a party basic, they’re a go-to sandwich. Between two buns are protein, fiber and fat. It’s a meal. A real burger falls apart and has to held by two hands. Forget about all you’ve learned in charm school about taking small bites and taking care that no food juice drips down the side of your mouth. A burger has to be devoured.

Any burger from Burger Project requires a lot more than just mere, happy-sloppy eating. You have to dive in and open your mouth wide, practically unhinging your jaw to accommodate a meal that’s the size of your face. You chew, you lick, you try to talk and go, “umm..” all at once. There isn’t a name for this act but it happens in Burger Project and only in Burger Project.

The Bleau Buffalo Burger says, "Hello!"

Aside from all-out juiciness, Burger Project gives a new experience to eating a disc of meat between two flat pieces of bread simply by giving customers the option to not just pick whatever goes in the burger of their dreams but also name it. That’s right. You can name your burger too.  I’ve never tried designing my own burger as I’m often too lazy to think but any first-time visitor to the place would definitely get a kick out of it. They even have potato buns. Oatmeal buns. From there,you can also choose the meat and the toppings.

For the lazy customer, there’s the designer burgers, ready-to-be-wolfed down original Burger Project renditions such as the one pictured above, Bleu Buffalo Burger. It’s got blue cheese, onion rings, and buffalo sauce, tomatoes, lettuce and pickles. I skipped the pickles and upgraded my regular beef patty to one fat piece of Angus Beef. Uh-huh. For just a small additional payment, you can upgrade to Angus Beef. Figured that since I eat meat so rarely, I could deal with one cow ghost mooing at me later tonight (I expect several animal ghosts to storm my bedside one of these days since I ate stuff like lengua at my cousin’s wedding too). And I don’t care. You have got to try out Burger Project’s offerings because each is guaranteed to make your eyes roll to the back of your head from sheer pleasure. That’s if you don’t manage to shove the entire thing in your mouth first.

I played around with adding a plate of onion rings to my order but thought to wait until my friend Nina showed up (she arrived while I was in the restroom and as it always went with great minds in synchronicity, she ordered the onion rings, yeah!). Instead, I rounded up my order with a glass of chocolate peanut butter milkshake.

It may not look like much but trust me, you won't be disappointed.

The milkshake wasn’t available during my last visit. I’m not a big peanut butter fan. It’s hard to swallow (licked from a spoon or even when in a sandwich) and the flavor is overwhelming when combined with others. Peanut butter tends to dominate, so I often avoid it too. But Burger Project’s peanut butter chocolate milkshake was practically a dream.

There was a nice balance between the richness of chocolate and the heaviness of the peanut butter that’s rarely achieved. The peanut butter is in no way watered down, but it’s there with every sip. The chocolate isn’t too sweet either. I wasn’t very thirsty when I finished with it. With the burger in one hand and the milkshake in the other, Burger Project was one such experience that I forgot about the burning heat outside.

The cupboards have a blackboard surface, giving a dash of unusual and fun functionality.

Look at the wall to know how you want your burger! Well, not really. You're given a checklist upon coming in and you just tick off items there. Still, isn't this wall fun?

My bill for the burger (with the Angus beef upgrade) and the milkshake was Php 345. Very, very worth the price. The service was pretty fast too, taking between only five to seven minutes tops.

Next stop: dessert! Stay tuned.

Burger Project is in Maginhawa Street, and is past Mini-Stop and the basketball court. Just keep on going until you see the Bayantel Building. This is your landmark. Burger Project is right after it. Burger Project makes deliveries via the 2121212 service. Supposedly, there should be a delivery but when I tried one time, I was told that they couldn’t assure me about the time of the food’s arrival.

 

All That Glitters..Is Mine!

After books, I love shopping for accessories next. You can be fat or thin and there will always be a pair of earrings for you, or a nice bracelet, a cute ring. With shoes, you can be fat or thin too, but as my feet are man-sized, shopping for them isn’t exactly thrilling. And what’s the point of shoe-shopping when there’s someone who designs shoes for me? Eat that, Carrie Bradshaw!

You can keep your Manolos, Carrie.

Jewelry are nice but I’m always paranoid about losing a pricey pair of earrings so I haven’t really invested in pearls or even a teeny diamond pendant. I have a pair of gold vintage hoops, pilfered from my mother’s jewelry box, and..that’s about it. The rest of my accessories are stall finds, and a few designed by my mother. When I get that itch to collect new accessories, I hie off to Wellmanson in Quiapo.

Aside from the church, Quiapo is also known for being wholesale beads city. From owl pendants to earring hooks to enameled bracelets and even special accessories paint, Quiapo offers them all. And you don’t even have to look hard because they’re just right there. Wellmanson is my favorite stop. Aside from ready-made accessories, they also offer the raw materials. Many, many raw materials.

Check out what I got today, along with their prices.

1. Rings.

Left, diamond-shaped ring with cat's eye stones and rhinestones, Php 52; Right, stack-style ring, Php 28. The bands are not adjustable.

I don’t really like rings but I’ve started wearing a few recently. It’s hard to find something that’s not too girlie and without flowers or anything that’s not too trendy. I like to keep things simple and classic, with just a hint of an edge.

2. Hoop earrings.

Copper rhinestone earrings, Php 58.

I have dozens of hoop earrings. Hoop earrings are instant sexiness, in my opinion. You can wear them day or night and they give your outfit just the right amount of flash and sparkle. No preppy pearls for me. Pearls make me feel like I should be having tea instead of coffee, and that I should be wearing a pencil skirt instead of jeans. Hoops are more me.

3. Tribal-inspired beaded hoop earrings.

Giant hoop earrings with layered beading, Php 72

Matching these earrings to an outfit may be a challenge because they are colorful and are attention-snatching. Pair them with either a black or white top/dress. Make sure that the only colors you’ll be wearing come from these earrings. I think they’re playful, no?

4. The ultimate girlie find–a butterfly bracelet!

Butterfly bracelet with rhinestones and detailed clasp (not seen in the photo), Php 148.

Remember when butterflies were the rage years ago?I think I still have a shirt with a butterfly emblazoned on it. I’m wasn’t, and I’m still not, crazy about butterflies. This bracelet is huge and is probably the most outrageous accessory I have to this date. But I got it because the rhinestones are monochromatic instead of overly colorful.

HOW TO GET THERE:

From Quezon City, take any public transportation that’s heading for Quiapo Ilalim. Get off at Quiapo Church. You’ll find Wellmanson on the left side of the church, a bit of a walk past the stalls selling fish, vegetables and fruits. Walk straight ahead, but keep an eye on the right side. The street is choked by stalls so you wouldn’t find the Wellmanson sign at all. Wellmanson is right behind the stall selling sponges, brushes and every bathroom cleaning instrument available. Don’t worry, it’s the only stall selling those items in the street.

 

My New Blog

Nope, I’m not abandoning Louella from Manila. But I’ve begun writing another blog–Turn A Page, Write On Paper. Over there, I talk about books and writing. I’m doing my thesis right now and in order to write my creative writing process essay, I have to answer the question of why I write the things I write.

I don’t exactly address the question in the new blog but it’s a way to get rid of what may be unnecessary information from creeping into my thesis! I have to do this blog to clear my head. I actually wrote five pages about how I hit the shower every time I’m stumped on how to make a story move forward. On the plus side, I’m so clean my skin squeaks at the lightest touch. Thesis-wise, are you kidding me?

The thesis panel will go Psycho on me if I push with the shower s***.

In no way am I professing to be an expert and neither am I anywhere near the likes of Milan Kundera or Gabriel Garcia Marquez or T.C. Boyle or Haruki Murakami. But I do talk about the writing process a bit there, you know, the stuff that aren’t likely to end up in my thesis. That and maybe you’ll be interested to know how a writer slowly goes insane as she tries to balance writing a thesis and teaching back-to-back three-hour summer classes and taking care of a sick cat and storming Zumba classes so she may zip up her gown, and running and paying the bills, then do check it out!