Good Food Makes You Sleepy

When in the islands, eat like the islanders... Home cooked barbecue and fish and octopus kelaguin by Aris, Spam and eggs at King's (I ordered this plate both times I ate there), sashimi (twice! At two different restaurants), grilled jerk ribs at Jamaica Grill (I went there twice too!), grilled beef and chicken at L.A. Korean BBQ & Tofu, and a take-out plate of spicy beef from a little hole in the wall called Santo Papa Café next to the bank in Agaña. The security guard at the bank actually highly recommended the café. He said "Oh man! Their food is goooood! When I eat there I just wanna go to sleep after. That's how you know it's the best!"

Okay...? [Scratch my head.]

Take-out, just like the old days, at my old stomping grounds.

Well, after eating the local fare for breakfast, lunch and dinner for five straight days, my gut started complaining. So I gave myself a break with a salad. No, not the plain and boring salad from Jamaica Grill. That's just lettuce doused in vinegar and salt.

I scoured Yelp for the fancy restaurants in Tumon, and found Dusit Thani. First of all, I got lost trying to find the entrance to the hotel! And when I finally got there, it was as if I entered a new world, like it wasn't Guam anymore! So fancy! Even the soldiers moseying around the lobby and halls had an air of decorum about them – unlike their counterparts at my common hotel. (See Reef vs. Dusit Thani.) Oh thank goodness I wore a decent t-shirt.

                                   

There it was, the elusive salad!

The Green Papaya Salad with prawns. Oh. My. Goodness. It was prom night in my mouth! So formal, so delicate, so enchanting! 

My server was Lala (pronounced "lah'-luh). She, befitting the atmosphere of this high class establishment, gingerly suggested the Crispy Banana Rolls / Thong Moung Kuey Banana Cream Caramel Sauce. "Is it turon [banana lumpia]?" I asked.

"Oh no!" Lala reassured me. "It's creamed banana! Not too sweet, and very refreshing especially on a hot day – unlike turon." 

Indeed! It was like a walk through the spritzers on a Vegas sidewalk in the middle of August. Thank you, Lala!

By the way, Dusit Thani is so fancy, that even your purses or take-home bags have their own seat at the table.

I walked in the pouring rain, back to my common hotel, feeling oh so satisfied with dinner!

I resolved to try another fancy restaurant for my last dinner on Guam, one that my Army General Cousin and her husband dined at. "It's pricey," she had told me. [I expected therefore, that the price of a room there would be exorbitant.]

The go-to non-carbonated "healthy" beverage in Guam (a staple and an oldie, nothing like the new-age mocha caramel latte macchiato iced coffees that's all the rage now) is King Car Lemon Tea, simply King Car. I used to drink gallons of this stuff! But this time, as I was enthusiastically anticipating that first hit of freshness to bathe my mouth, I was met instead with a metallic chalky taste... I left the 3 other bottles, unopened, in Cousin Kim's fridge. Ugh! 

Which brings me to my last dinner on the island of Guam. To drink, I opted for red wine with my steak dinner, preceded by yet another tastebud blowing salad! 

                     

Lala, the lovely server from Soi, was, to my pleasant surprise, my server again! She recommended the Brussels Sprouts side in lieu of the Caesar salad. "The dressing is a tarragon emotion, so subtle yet very flavorful!" she explained. 

Was it her island accent? Did she mean "doggone emotion"...? [Scratch my head.]

Brussels Sprouts with Tarragon EMULSON and Candied Nuts 

Oh boy! That tarragon emulsion stirred up my emotions for sure! It was romantic! It was seductive! It was to Brussels sprouts what Juliet was to Romeo! I just about died from the love coursing through my tastebuds! Baby, give me that cabernet sauvignon to sober me up from this emotional maelstrom!

Of course, I had dessert, recommended by Lala. But don't ask me what it was. It was shaped like a hiccup – excuse me, hockey puck. The wine made me forget the – hiccup – name. Whatever it was, it was oh, so good! It was cold, and it disintegrated as soon as it hit my – hiccup –  tongue. But of course, it was good! 

Yeah, I think I need to go to sleep now... Maybe that security guard is on to something about the after-effects of really good food... [Scratch my head!]

 

And so, I stumbled back to my common hotel, flushed with inebriation, walking a zig-zag line as if dodging invisible waves lapping at the dry sugar-fine sand. 

[Hiccup!]

 

Last Letter to Dodong

Dodong and I grew up together in Truk. He is a permanent fixture in my memories, as far back as they begin. Our late Lolo Cen used to force feed us – well, me at least, as I loathed it! – V8 from the little can, and made us take naps in his 2nd story quarters at Christopher Inn. As soon as he left, we got into mischief. Once, we tried to moon the neighborhood kids down below through the high window by jumping as high as we could on the bed. Of all the times to get caught, that was the day! I wasn't as nimble as Dodong was, so Lolo discovered us "sleeping" unnaturally straight and rigid on the bed, me with my pants at my ankles. 

Once, his family took some neighborhood kids swimming at the jetty in Tunnuk. I watched in horror as his dad flung him far into the deep water. Flailing like a sinking dog, Dodong splashed his way back to the rocks, and proudly announced "I can swim!"

The last memory I have of him in Truk was in our tweens, at the airport, climbing the flame trees at the Japanese stone memorial. I had just started my hobby of photography, and took pictures of everybody. I had cousin Inday snap a photo of me with the tree in the background. In those days, I had to send the 35mm roll out to be developed. I was aghast to find that Dodong photo-bombed my solo, jumping out from behind the trunk of the tree with his arms extended high, face contorted in a silent scream, as if to scare me. 

We reconnected in Guam. It was a common sight for him to smear camouflage wax on his face, and done Army green fatigues with a heavy pack of survival gear on his back. "If you don't have a can opener, just rub the can hard on a surface of concrete until you can pry the lid open with your knife," he offered. 

He and I made it on a page in the Pacific Daily News once. We were wading in the low tide in Agat, and he found a grenade! We called the Police. The news crew showed up shortly as well. During the interview he pulled me next to him for the picture, and declared "WE found it." (My foot could have been within an inch of it, and all I would have seen was a fist-sized rock.) I never saw or read the article. 

When I moved stateside, we corresponded by pen on paper. He composed with such eloquence and grace, many times covering the front and back of 5 sheets of paper. 

[Kimmie, I wonder if you might find any of my letters and the PDN article amongst his belongings?]

The dawn of Facebook ended our letters. Time and distance came between us. Then, in a manner of euphemism, he left. I imagine that he knew I was coming. 

I composed my last letter to Dodong, and placed it in his right hand. I am nowhere near as eloquent a writer as he was, but I hope it honors him fully.

Dear Dodong,

          What irony to compose my last letter to 

you on a church leaflet, IN church!  The Church 

was never your choice for a place to seek solace, 

peace, or encouragement. The last time we 

prayed together was in song, as we laid in the 

forward hull of the Mary Jane, Lolo Toto’s boat, 

motoring through the lagoon toward Fonukuk, 

“Jones Island”, as Lolo Toto called it. Deep and 

Wide was the song that stands out to me. The 

only other time you mentioned religion in 

my presence was when we ran into each other at 

Circus Bruno in Paseo; you actually sang to me 

this snippet

 

        That's me in the corner

        That's me in the spotlight

        Losing my religion

        Trying to keep up with you

        And I don't know if I can do it

        Oh no, I've said too much

        I haven't said enough

        –R.E.M., 1991

 

If you sought God’s company, you found Him 

elsewhere. In the ocean. In the jungle. In the 

nighttime sky. 

            I relish the memories of our childhood 

together. How glad I am that we shared that 

most impressionable part of our lives. When I 

miss you, I read your letters that spanned 

four years of correspondences. You wrote of 

unrequited love, unaccomplished goals, and 

unreachable dreams. But always, you closed 

with undying hope and positive affirmation. 

For this, I admired you so! Your trust in me 

gave me solace, knowing that I was your 

anchor. Your attention in me gave me peace, 

reminding me that I was important to you. 

Your faith in me gave me encouragement, 

feeling that I too, could take punches.

            Go! Glide into the ocean. Take rest in the 

shade of the jungles! Fly amongst the stars in 

heaven. 

            Go! Be the soldier you wanted to be.

            Know, wherever you are, that I always felt 

your adoration, your loyalty, and your blessing.

 

 

                                Always,

                                Your Loving Cousin in Mischief, 

          and in Adventure!

 

Click Link to Watch Dodong Wendell Kenneth Labella Alba  

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Staying Young With An Old Timer

It has been years since I last saw Aris, maybe even more than a decade. I spent the latter 4 of my teenage years in Guam, and he was here (I am in Guam as I write this) with me. A lifetime later, he is still here, and is the same Aris that I grew fond of over those years. He is lean, strong, fearless, loyal, independent, and transparent when he has something to say. And for the record, I have never heard anything bad about anyone from him. For instance, last night he overheard our cousin Van get into a verbal confrontation with one of the tenants at their compound. When I asked him how bad it was, he answered simply, "Well, I guess one has to be drunk to say and act that way." He meant the tenant.

"You can use my truck!" was the first thing he said to me when we met. How about a neighborhood tour from you instead? So we started out with a walk with Micha around the block. Micha was his sister Arlyn's dog; she left her to Aris when she and her family transplanted Stateside. 

Then we took a drive to Santa Rita to see Auntie Paz's house. If he weren't with me, there was no way I would have found my way through the neighborhood! That's how much I've suppressed it from my memory. 

Then we went to Nimitz Beach to see our old swimming hole at the marina. It was a whole new world over there! Sea vessels from the size of yachts to 12' dingies took up moorage from one end of the marina to the other. And, there was a restaurant there!

We ran into a couple of old timers hanging around their pick-up truck. "Those are my friends," Aris announced. "We hang out all the time. It looks like they have octopus..." So we stopped. 

At first they haggled over price. But in the end, the old timer said to Aris "I'll buy this for you," and handed over two octopi, ink still coursing iridescently under their skin. And the other old timer piped up "You know, Aris, he'll be here waiting for you when you come back from a fishing trip. He'll want some yellow fin!" 

And that's how friends conduct business in the fishing co-op!

Aris cooked the octopus immediately. "You don't add anything to it. It will water up on its own, and you turn off the heat when the water has dried up." Then he mixed together lemons, limes, salt, red onions, scallions, lemon powder, and doni. 

"How hot do you like your kelaguin?" he asked me. 

I'll eat whatever you make!

He chopped up a half cup of the peppers he'd picked earlier that day, and mixed it in with the marinade. He looked at the mixture. He looked at me. He looked at the half cup left of doni. Then he chopped the rest of it up, and tossed it in with the octopus kelaguin. 

He made the same marinade for a slab of yellow fin tuna, and another slab of wahu. 

He made a mixture of Mamacita sauce and powder packet for a marinade for some pork ribs and shishkebobs. His son Terion and Terion's friend Xavier showed up with Bud Light, and we ate and talked through the night. 

Aris and I have never stayed in touch. But this reunion was as if we'd never been apart. We picked up right where we left off. Aaaaah! I felt like I was 18 again! 

"I won't live long," Aris said. "I don't want to be old and helpless." 

Well, Aris, here's to youth and staying young forever!