it’s 6:04 in the morning already. sun’s out. and i’ve been up since, i don’t know. 4:15? i’ve been having these insomniac episodes lately. falling in and out of sleep as restlessly as some people fall in and out of love.
i’m wrapped in this brown throw. it’s a cool morning. somewhat quiet, except for the birds chirping outside. then again, australia’s always kinda quiet. no motorcycle sounds; none of those chaotic humming of life buzzing in preparation for another day; no sound of fish vendors calling out your mom’s name for the freshest catch which your househelp cooks in a steaming bowl of fish soup which your dad wakes you and your sister up for breakfast for.
i don’t think it’s the locally grown tomatoes, ginger, and onions. i have those very same ingredients right here. but for some reason, tinuwa tastes so much different than i remember it back in cebu. i tell myself it’s the fish (you can’t beat the fresh ones back home) but i know it’s not about the dish itself as it is about the people on the table i was sharing it with.
all this emo-ness over a cebuano version of fish soup. maternal hormones can be a bitch. ha! my go-to scapegoat.