“However, a spokeswoman for Fairfax Media today told Mumbrella that the original data three months ago was wrong – rather than releasing a monthly average, the three months had been mistakenly added together and that page views on the platform had in fact grown this time round.”

http://mumbrella.com.au/fairfax-admits-accidentally-overstating-its-numbers-on-app-usage-91684

Last month I went back to the Philippines and retraced the steps from some of my best childhood memories: the almost four years I spent in primary school at V&G De La Cruz  Memorial School, a small suburban school in Tacloban City, south of the Philippines.

I was really looking forward to it, not least because it will be a chance for me to meet my first ever set of close friends, my first set of crushes (hah!) and pretty much just reconnect with everybody from way back when. We were Batch ‘87 and it’s our 25th year reunion.

The reunion didn’t disappoint. It was great to see everyone and the eating, singing and dancing started at 9am and didn’t stop until the wee hours of the night. I left at midnight but I was told that the rest of the party had an afterparty by going to a club and pretty much not heading home till 4am or 5am in the morning.

Wearing our batch '87 tshirts. Reunion at Darcy's place.

We had exactly the same picture 25 years ago. I wish I can find the old pic!

The celebration lasted until the wee hours of the night.

Big thanks to Liz and Ronald for organising the catch-up (the reunion wouldn’t have been possible without you both!), to everyone who donated food and for the teachers who came to say hi to their students. Special thanks to Darcy for hosting the reunion and to her husband and kids for being gracious since we spent the whole day at their place.

Hopefully the next one will be bigger, and we will certainly have more time to organise it. But between glasses of soft drinks and alcohol, between plates of lechon and pancit palabok, between so many rounds of karaoke (so much so that the karaoke machine gave up!), I got to reconnect with all my good friends.

Special mention of course to Ate Lang-Lang. I remember her big smile and her big hair on my first year in school. As the new girl, she came to my rescue, taking me under her wing. She is just as big-hearted today as she was back then and I thank God that some things remain constant.

To Mylin, you’re still a stunner and Dimples is gorgeous. To Judy, your smile still lights up the room. You’re even more beautiful now than I remember. To Ronald, I wish I knew you more when we were just kids. To Frieda, I wish you stayed longer so we could have talked. To Florida, don’t forget us when you’re a big shot principal (haha!), to Timothy, I know you’re Charles now but you’ll always be Tabay to me . To Gigi, bless your heart, you’ve got a great voice. To Jhun, thank you for the duet! (haha).  To Art and Jason, you guys said you’d come back but you didn’t – I’ll remember that for the next reunion, make sure you guys stay.

To Mrs Castracion, you were always my favourite English teacher. Thank you for dropping by despite your busy schedule that day. To Mrs Dermil, sorry we snuck into the Home Economics room without you knowing!

To everyone who came, you know who you are, thank you for the memories:

Christina – I hope you’ll be there next time!
Novie Joy  – You’re a great singer – why did you keep it a secret? It was good to see you again.
Chris – haha, who knew you’re the dancer of our batch? Keep dancing and thank you for providing additional entertainment. Haha
Jason – next time you have to bring your camera and stay longer! It was good you made it to our coffee catch up the next day.
Tyrone – hmm, we have to watch out for you. You’re trouble!
Art – next time, more karaoke songs from you!
Darwin – It was great to chat to you. That conversation went philosophical and serious for a minute!
Kenneth -  Okay, I’m running out of words now but see you at the next reunion!

I’m sure I’ve forgotten somebody but please blame it on the fact that I’m getting old and forgetful! Haha. To those who couldn’t make it, I hope to see you next time.

On a serious note, I look forward to our next reunion. Till we meet again.

The best way to master Filipino cuisine is to dive straight into the deep end: gatecrash a Filipino party, preferably a fiesta.

It is only in the middle of it all, with your plate in hand, staring at a long buffet table of meat dishes, and a much longer table for desserts, that you will discover a Filipino truism: there’s no such thing as too much meat or too much dessert.

Once you’ve overcome the cultural shock of seeing guests eat their mains and desserts at the same time, go ahead and approach the buffet table. Go for the food tray that looks almost empty – it is guaranteed the same tray only minutes ago had adobo, kare kare or bistek.

Adobo served at Isdaan restaurant in Tarlac

Of course any big occasion calls for spit roast pork or lechon. If you want to impress Filipinos with your culinary knowledge, try the line: “I love lechon!”

You can say this to them anywhere – in bus stops, at the local café or at church.

And now for the mains, which is the desserts. You must try the Filipino fruit salad. With this dessert, fruit is an afterthought. Instead you will come to enjoy heaven made of slivers of young coconut, palm jellies, heavy cream and sweetened milk.

But don’t overdo it, save some space for the important stuff: biko, puto kutsinta, bibingka, maja blanca, leche flan and turon. As many Filipinos would attest, it is possible to eat all of it in one sitting.

But on that basic question: ‘what is Filipino food?’, do not expect a definitive answer.

An acceptable but still vague way to describe Filipino cuisine is to say it embraces many cuisines, with some serious Spanish, Indo-Malay and Chinese influences.

Filipino dishes are not spicy or light in the stomach like most Asian dishes nor are they too buttery or heavy in the stomach like most European dishes. It floats between the two, adopting the best of both East and West flavours.

If that answer is not good enough, don’t expect an explanation from your Filipino friends. They are too busy eating.

I feel bad that the chef might think that I didn’t like my meal – started off with portobello mushrooms then to angel pasta with crab meat, prawn and lobster (I think). But the truth was, the meals were so generous and were sized for men about to go play in the field or till the land, not a small Asian woman! But they were delish and the brulee tart with vanilla gelato (and espresso) to finish off were just as yummy. Alas, so much food but not enough time. It was the sign of the times certainly that we left at the respectable time of 2.30pm, hardly a long lunch.

A few days back I had coffee with another friend at Fratelli Fresh on Bridge Street. Again I’ve never been to the place but everyone’s been raving about it since it opened late last year. I swear for a second I thought I was in Melbourne. The vibe was definitely there and with the selection of wine they have? I’ll definitely be back.

Another person from the industry asked me how I feel about the idea that being based in Australia, many of my relatives back in the Philippines see me as a breadwinner, someone they can rely on for funds specially when work is scarce back home and many live a kayod-tuka (v poor) existence.

Wow, that’s the first time anyone’s ever asked me that. I told him I feel blessed that I’m the one giving. That I am fortunate enough to be the person who has the opportunity to give and that, in the past, I’ve struggled with it but have now come to terms with it. Sometimes I wish I can buy all the designer clothes or designer bags or designer shoes I want – but instead that money goes back to the Phils. But who needs another extra pair of shoes anyway, right? So I let that selfish thought of accumulating more (unnecessary) material things pass through my mind for a second, savour the idea of owning yet another new item, then I move on and share the money instead with those who need them for basic needs, not for frivolity.

So anyway, I read from this book that one South American tribe have a different concept of numbers. They can only count up to five! That’s why when an anthropologist (?) visited them and stayed with them, he got used to this measuring system and on his return to America, struggled to quantify time and money when the right number is more than five.

I think there’d be less inequity in the world if we adopt this simpler numbering system. Imagine what it would be like when the passage of time, the measure of wealth and the measure of happiness can be assessed from a scale of 1 to 5?

Imagine what it would be like when infinity can be described as having more than five pairs of shoes!

But conviction comes with confidence that you are absolutely right. That what you’re saying is the right thing. But what if, what if you think you haven’t exhausted all the options? all the possibilities? And that even if you’re right, what if thinking differently about the topic is better than perpetuating the discussion on the same question simply because you’ve become an expert on it? What if, all you want to do is observe and chronicle events as they unfold and not have to be one of the million others who voice their own opinion, most of which they probably didn’t dwell on too much and had they had more time, their opinion would be otherwise? What if coming to the right conclusion is not as good as coming up with the next question?

So having high conviction is not something I can do because I think there are experts around the world that know more about a lot of the key issues being discussed out there and that I really can’t say anything with a lot of conviction unless I give it due thought and research, which you can’t do in Twitterverse.

I guess that’s why Twitter is a ’social’ media. I particularly like the jokes, the a-ha moments and the random thoughts. But when it comes to reason, there’s a lot of noise. A lot of half-thoughts. A lot of heart but not a lot of mind.

Hah, but even now as I blog I’m doing it live. No edits. No drafts.

On authenticity, how do you appear authentic in front of an audience you don’t know? One person might get a joke, another person might not. What about the in-between dialogue. I feel like I’m always coming into a conversation half-way.

To be authentic you need to know yourself: you have an identity that you can then show to the universe. But most people live their life in silos. And sometimes it’s better to keep things separate. In a world that is so public, it’s good to keep some things in private. But if you keep some things locked out, it makes it’s very hard to be authentic.

What’s interesting is that a young person is more likely to be authentic and opinionated on Twitter. The world is just waiting to be conquered and the consequences are likely only going to affect you and you alone. Not the stockmarket. Not people’s savings. Not your family or friends.

So I’m still on that journey on how to be ‘real’ on Twitter. I’m sure I’m overthinking it. But when you’re happier observing what the world is doing, rather than sharing your thoughts every minute, it’s a struggle.

Not always in a bad way though. Twitter can be a window to someone’s soul. And some of the tweets crack me up.

But yes, to succeed on Twitter, you have to be real and authentic. I take my hats off to those already there.

For half an hour, the art gallery of nsw was turned into the musee national picasso, paris! How good to step into the art gallery today and see the masterpieces from the legendary artist himself.

Ten rooms in under half an hour. That’s all the time I got as Sydneysiders (and visitors) flocked to the gallery to see Picasso during the Art after Dark session of the gallery.

I love how Picasso’s work was split based on the different periods in his life and starting from the early 1900s as he was just evolving as a painter.

I particularly love the sketches, like the one where he sketched a hand in five different ways.

Sharon loved the Portrait of Dora Maar. And I’m not surprised why. It’s a beautiful painting with lots of detail and bright colours. And we both agreed that the “guitar” was a running theme in Picasso’s paintings. I’m sure if I google or wiki it, I’ll find out why!

If you were to ask me what my favourites are, it would have to be the two “Kiss” portraits and Seated Woman (1920). I also like The Reader for a host of reasons.

But if Picasso were alive and asked me to pick one of his paintings, I would take the one in Room 10, circa 1970s, just before his death. It’s his self-portrait titled ‘the young painter’. As a painting, it’s one of his simplest. Just a white canvas with a light brown (?) sketch of a young kid, resembling no one in particular, not least himself. But I can stare at that one for hours.

I loved the quote included in the brochure:

“When I was a child, I could draw like Raphael, but it took me a lifetime to learn to draw like a child.”

What a wonderful thing to say. It’s true though. As a writer, you want to write so people read you and say, ah, I love how he/she writes! But it’s only when a writer finds his own voice, and stops pretending to be someone else, that he gets it right.

Write like a child. Honest. Unapologetic. Free.

If you’re not from Sydney, or live near the CBD, you might not realise the importance of it – not seeing another car within 100 meters of your own car while driving on this main street. I think Newtown even looks different. Without the buzz it’s just another suburb.

But when the bars and restaurants are open along both sides of the road, when you can hear the conversation from one of the cafes right in the comfort of your own car, when people wearing anti-establishments outfits walk by, oh, how I envy their multi-coloured hair, their irreverence to convention, that air of “I-don’t-care”, and everything else in between.

So after much eating in the past couple of days, I went out last night, unplanned, just so I can party with a good friend who rarely goes out. She’s got two kids and running her own business. How she finds time to look super fabulous I don’t know. It must be in her genes.

We went to Red Room and partied with her friends and mine. The music was non-stop old-school RnB. Songs when I was young and had no bills to pay! good times! And we manage to get a corner lounge area to ourselves so it was all very civilised!

Then it was off to Liverpool Street at a joint where my friend’s hubby was MC’ing for the night. The crowd was definitely way too young (ok, maybe I’m too old, haha) but loved the birdcage and catwalk in the middle of the club plus a wall of flashing lights on the main stage just behind the DJ’s deck.

Still, my addiction to Homeland, despite the interruption of all-night-partying, rounds of tequila shots, vodka sunrise drinks and the rum and diet-cokes, I came home and turned to watch the sixth episode of Homeland. With half-closed eyes I kept watching.

Life is good. When you’re blessed with friends that enrich your life, everything else is just icing on the cake.

Still, the last few days I discovered that I don’t think about Twitter nor think about tweeting. I can’t imagine my life without my phone or my laptop but I don’t see Twitter enriching my life. In fact when I am deep in Twitterverse I feel like I’m always trying to catch up. Always missing out on something. Never getting the full story. It’s a never-ending feed of news, opinions and a-ha moments.

I must admit that I was checking facebook though. Finding out how other people are celebrating their christmas. More of that later.

But today’s post is dedicated to my latest discovery: a US TV show called Homeland. I heard about it after reading a news article that Barack Obama watches it. Haha, and I had to check it as if watching the same TV show makes me any closer to the US President. I must say that in the past being a US president was the highest honour ever laid on a head of state in the world. But I think now the power lies in China. And the next great leader of China will have more influence on the shape of the world in the years to come. Imagine a Chinese leader with the sensitivities of the East and the aspirations of the West? The humility of the East and the boldness of the West? Honed by the ancient teachings of the East and the modern teachings of the West? Ah, I am envious of the future generations already.

It is 2pm and I have so far avoided the Boxing Day sale. I don’t really need anything so 70% off something is still 30% of spending on something I don’t need. Though it would be great to get a laptop at a discount for my mom.

Right now I’m off to enjoy my new guilty pleasure. Homeland it is.

The entree, which included deep-fried calamari, salmon and oysters were perfect finger food while having some light conversation. Then the thin-crust pizzas came in. From the king prawn pizza laid in front of me to the prosciutto on the other side of the table, and the chorizo and pumpkin pizzas for the other table, everyone had their mouth’s full with slices after another of the great Italian contribution to international cuisine.

The white wine was light and cool to the taste. The coffee (soy latte) wasn’t too strong as to offend anyone but it did come in as if it was sitting for a few minutes at the bar before someone remembered it and gave it to us, belatedly, and lukewarm.

But I can forgive that minor trespass for the great view, the great food and the piece de resistance, the dessert. You can’t go wrong with a chocolate tart, specially one where you can clearly tell that the base pastry was fresh.

Bring on next year’s Christmas party once again at this delightful venue. We’ll be back!

It wasn’t in the plan but I ended up passing by Kid Central to do my last-minute gift-shopping for my godchildren. That’s when I did a headcount … one, two, three, four, five … six … seven … EIGHT! I have EIGHT godchildren! Is it possible!?! My first two are around 8 years old now. In a way I am honoured that eight sets of parents chose me as the godmother to their first-born. I am a close/best friend/cousin/auntie to each and everyone of these kids and I do love them as much as if I were their real mom (though I can never match their real mom, of course!).

So Christmas is a time when I am reminded of my other life – my life as the absentee godmom. I only get to see them once a year, like a pilgrimage, come Christmas time. With one godchild, I promise her a day of my life. Two years ago I took her to Bondi Beach and we spent the entire day as she pleased – unlimited ice cream, cakes, sun, sand and the beach. She loved it so much all year it was all she could think of when her mom mentions me.

Today I did a double taping session of Radio Sandigan, the volunteer radio program I co-host once a week. I spent a few hours with two other women who I treasure most, my “second” mom (she doesn’t have any daughters and have adopted me and my other friend), and one of my soul-sistuhs. Every time she speaks the room lights up with her positivity! Anyway, so I adopted her two children as my godchildren, too, giving them little gifts here and there and thinking of their well-being.

So between my eight godchildren, my four other adopted ‘godchildren’ and the numerous cousins, nephews and nieces from the Philippines that I think of from time to time, I honestly think I can give Angelina a run for her money on the number of children stakes.

I think first and foremost Christmas should always be celebrated for the original cause of celebration – the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ (that sounds so odd living in a country that is not predominantly Catholic, but hey, I respect your faith, you respect mine). But for people like me who work in the often heartless, always money-focused world of financial services, Christmas is also a great reminder of the other roles that we play – mother, sister, granddaughter, auntie, friend – the titles that you never see on a business card, but are exactly the roles, that make every waking moment worth it *cue soundtrack here*.

Post-script: Less than 24 hours since writing this entry, another cousin just asked me to be the godmother to his second-born. I’m now the proud godmum to nine!