Where`s the Patis?

          Yo..!I`m Maria Janice C. Jarito,nice for short,but of course you can only call me that if we`re friends ...ano close tayo...weee di nga.?okay sige na nga...friends na tayo..tae..ang bait ko kasi..XD..hehe.Anyway last meeting our english teacher gave us an assignment where in we are going to provide a summary and reflection of what we had read..what is summary by the way???ahahaja...okay reminder muna pala si ako..:.ppPTSSSS!!!.walang gaya2x ng assignment huh?pakain ko kayo sa buwaya niyan eh....this is it...!

"WHERE`S THE PATIS?"

by Carmen Guerrero Nakpil

Travel has become the great Filipino dream. In the same way that an American dreams of becoming a millionaire or an English boy dreams of going to one of the great universities, the Filipino dreams of going abroad. His most constant vision is that of himself as tourist.

To visit Hongkong, Tokyo and other cities of Asia, perchance, to catch a glimpse of Rome, Paris or London and to go to America (even if only for a week in a fly-specked motel in California) is the sum of all delights.

Yet having left the Manila International Airport in a pink cloud of despedidas and sampaguita garlands and pabilin, the dream turns into a nightmare very quickly. But why? Because the first bastion of the Filipino spirit is the palate. And in all the palaces and fleshpots and skyscrapers of that magic world called "abroad" there is no patis to be had.

Consider the Pinoy abroad. He has discarded barong tagalong or "polo" for a sleek, dark Western suit. He takes to the habiliments from Hongkong, Brooks Brothers or Savile Row with the greatest of ease. He has also shed the casual informality of manner that is characteristically Filipino. He gives himself the airs of a cosmopolite to the credit-card born. He is extravagantly courteous (specially in a borrowed language) and has taken to hand-kissing and to plenty of American "D'you minds?"

He hardly misses the heat, the native accents of Tagalog or Ilongo or the company of his brown-skinned cheerful compatriots. He takes, like a duck to water, to the skyscrapers, the temperate climate, the strange landscape and the fabled refinements of another world. How nice, after all, to be away from good old R.P. for a change!

But as he sits down to meal, no matter how sumptuous, his heart sinks. His stomach juices, he discovers, are much less neither as apahap nor lapu-lapu. Tournedos is meat done in a barbarian way, thick and barely cooked with red juices still oozing out. The safest choice is a steak. If the Pinoy can get it well done enough and sliced thinly enough, it might remind him of tapa.

If the waiter only knew enough about Philippine cuisine, he might suggest venison which is really something like tapang usa, or escargots which the unstylish poor on Philippine beaches know as snails. Or even frog legs which are a Pampango delight.

But this is the crux of the problem  where is the rice? A sliver tray offers varieties of bread: slices of crusty French bread, soft yellow rolls, rye bread, crescents studded with sesame seeds. There are also potatoes in every conceivable manner, fried, mashed, boiled, buttered. But no rice.

The Pinoy learns that rice is considered a vegetable in Europe and America. The staff of life a vegetable!

And when it comes  a special order which takes at least half an hour  the grains are large, oval and foreign-looking and what's more, yellow with butter. And oh horrors! - one must shove it with a fork or pile it with one's knife on the back of another fork.

After a few days of these debacles, the Pinoy, sick with longing, decides to comb the strange city for a Chinese restaurant, the closest thing to the beloved gastronomic county. There, in the company of other Asian exiles, he will put his nose finally in a bowl of rice and find it more fragrant than an English rose garden, more exciting than a castle on the Rhine and more delicious than pink champagne.

To go with the rice there is siopao (not so rich as at Salazar) pancit guisado reeking with garlic (but never so good as any that can be had on the sidewalks of Quiapo) fried lumpia with the incorrect sauce, and even mami (but nothing like the down-town wanton)

Better than a Chinese restaurant is the kitchen of a kababayan. When in a foreign city, a Pinoy searches every busy sidewalk, theatre, restaurant for the well-remembered golden features of a fellow-pinoy. But make it no mistake.

Where`s the Patis?

         Nga pala do you have any idea why this was entitled where`s the patis?Sus!for sure wala `yaN..joke!Bueno I had an idea...di ba nga patis is a unique Filipino ingredient? ...di yata yan uso sa states noh?and bingo...korek ateh !it`s  just a clue or parang figure of speech kumbaga that the story talks about the Filipino cuisines that every true Filipino will miss if they are in an alien country.Gets n`yo nah?well it`s just look like that to me...but on deeper thoughts it doesn`t really only talk about food but the reality every Filipino gone through including the transformations and their evolutions like pikachu to raichu whenever napapadpad sila in the foreign places...tabil ko noh?ahijiji...!BTW pwede n`yo narin `tong iconsider as my reflection...pero may iba pa kasi akong reflection sa baba eh...raming idea noh?sana may makasdiscover sa `kin...ahehehehefifteenpurpleshades.blogspot.comfifteenpurpleshades.blogspot.com!

Summary:(hey!datz my summary `kay?alawng basagan ng pirt!!!)

           Where`s the Patis is a story of a Filipino who travels  abroad and in the process is influence and westernize in many ways, in the mode of dressing,delivery of accents and even a change in language patriotism,attitudes and values.But as he seats down for meal, he still misses and longs for Filipino cuisines that makes his mouth waters.Poor Juan tries to search for these foods and wishes in every restaurant he bump in `if only the waiter knew enough about Philippine cuisines`.So with sick longing he decided to settle with the  company of other exile Asian Restaurants instead as a closest thing to the beloved gastronomic country.In a foreign city,poor Juan is still in search for golden features of a fellow-pinoy in every places he gone by.

Reflection:

           Many Filipinos gamble to go abroad for many reasons,and among these is the dream of  finding a good paying jobs to provide and uplift their families welfare.But no matter how these dreams seems to be wonderfully perfect some just turn into Que horror...a nightmare!Even so ,there are those Filipinos that no matter how hard things may seem, still , able to smile and lend their helping hands to others.And that`s what makes a "FILIPINO worth dying for"!I`m so proud of them...and I`m so proud to say that I`m one of those Filipinos across the globe that are worth dying for...And before I end this ,all I can say is that there is really no place like home,wherein you could just be yourself and be what you really are...!

.XD;lolzzz..

Note:
Sir Ket, alam ko na meaning ng web address mo...ayeiiiii.!!!....kaya naman pala may no.15 eh noh?...no. pala `yan ng crush mo..sayang !sana nagkatuluyan nalang kayo sir...ahaha..