Back to Basics.

Last Friday, I found myself inside the Quiapo Church, Home of the Black Nazarene. We almost didn't find our way - thanks to the almost twenty five years' absence from the Philippines.

The roads leading to Quiapo didn't change much: it's the way the traffic flow was re-routed that caused the confusion.

The sudden urge to pray before the Nazarene was precipitated by the previous week's Jan.9 Grand procession, the Feast of the Black Nazarene. After all, I grew up worshipping at the Quiapo Church every Friday afternoon, courtesy of my Aunt, who thought that bringing along a six year old tot in her "lakad paluhod" would cure him of his asthma and attitude.

There was absolutely no parking spot that Friday at Quiapo. So, we parked right in front of Plaza Miranda, leaving Plary to mind the car. We braved the sea of people listening to the mass from outside the church, and were able to get at the tail end of the aisle.

It was almost the end of the Mass. We were just in time for the blessing of statues and icons, missals and other religious objects.

On the way out, a layman was blessing the crowd with holy water and we caught lots of it unintentionally, as the others busily jostled for the perfect position. It was a blessing, I guess, a sign that good things are to come.

Afterwards, we walked behind the Church with the intention of finding Wa Nam, my favorite childhood Chinese panciteria. But the huge crowd and throng of merchandisers dampened our hungry spirit. Instead, we canvassed for the Image of the Black Nazarene, and haggled with the vendors, until we found one with the "soulful" face that appealed to us. It cost 600 pesos.

When we got to our parking spot, the car was nowhere to be found. We saw cops manning the traffic and thought rightly that Plary had been shooed away. We walked towards Quinta Market and found the car parked outside a pay parking lot.

We ended up having lunch at Tropical Hut, past the Santa Mesa Church, in a small shopping arcade. I immediately ordered the Classic Burger, a favorite of mine way back in the late '70s. But it was a total dissappointment.

Not only did it take at least fifteen minutes for the burger to arrive, but the tomatoes and cucumber looked soggy
and the lettuce, like the car, was nowhere to be found. I brought it to the counter and asked the clerk what happened to the lettuce. "Oh, here it is," I said, after digging underneath the sandwich.

About two minutes into my sandwich, a clerk brought me a small plate of fresh lettuce.