No.9: The One With the Best Pho

The best Pho soup in the world was bought for 3500 Vietnames dong (about Php 7.00). That is a ridiculously negligible amount for the flavour and the punch of that pho.

The best Pho in the world was bought from a street vendor who set up tiny tables and chairs at the curbside, screamed at passing customers to persuade them to eat at her shop. It had small tubs filled with steel chopsticks; and did I tell you already that the tables and chairs were really tiny? I was practically squatting at the table.

The best Pho in the world had the best noodles in them : firm, a bit salty, a bit grainy. It had the best soup too. I can tell that the beef broth was made from actual beef boiled for hours, if not days, and not whipped up with Knorr cubes.

This Pho was eaten in tandem with unidentifiable viands. We had no idea what we ordered, truly. Thank God the language barrier can be overcome just by the simple act of pointing at the stuff you wanted to eat. I have to say you have to have an adventurous tummy because sometimes, you have no idea what you're pointing at or how they're going to prepare the dish. It's always handy to have a glass of water within reach, just in case you choke on the spices.

We were eating the Pho in full ambiance of the Old French Quarter, which is a strange mix of new and old, some streets crowded like Divisoria, some streets like ghost towns. Unlike in Singapore, where you are most likely to hear somebody speaking in Filipino every 2 minutes or so, Vietnam speaks Vietnamese, almost exclusively. Most of the time, you will only need the most rudimentary of English and a LOT of hand signals and acting, not so different from Charades. And I loved it. I let the foreign, indecipherable chatter wash over me as I mulled over my pho. I swear, it made the experience feel richer, the broth tastier, the memory lovelier.

I had the best Pho in the world with a colleague, who in the end turned out to be a good friend. Someone I can look up to and emulate, if I can. The best food in the world only turns out that way if you like the company you had while savoring it. That's why most of the time, I like eating alone. But that time, I was more than grateful for the company. I felt safe, and everything felt authentic.

The best Pho in the world is just an ordinary pho. But it was the compendium of experiences that made it the best.  Someday, I plan to go back to Vietnam, and find another best Pho and make new memories out of it.

#8 - The One Where My Whole Family Sleeps

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. I already spent way too much time inside my room and realized I have neglected my family for almost the whole weekend. I was strange like that. I could stay inside my room and read books forever, disjointed from the world. Looking back at it now, I am still happy how the books I have read has enriched my life. But I wish I spent more time with my family even if they were not doing anything. Even if it was just sleeping.

When I went downstairs, my parents' "light of their hearts" daughter (which is my little sister who used to be such a chatterbox when she was younger) were discussing some trivial matter, the details of which eludes me now. They were piled up on a twin-sized bed, just lounging around and chatting without much purpose. I remember still holding a book, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the bed (because there was certainly no space for me there). I was there, but I was not there because I was lost in a book. It was some time when I noticed the silence --- it was the quiet before the storm.

In my family, we are all snorers. So you can imagine the colorful symphony my three family members made that drowsy afternoon. My first thought was to go upstairs, back to my own bed where the music of their naptime won't bother my reading. But I had one of those moments I call "angel moments" where something taps you on your brain and tells you to pay attention. And I am glad I did.

10 years since then, and it is still my favorite memory of my family. I would have taken a photo, but back then, cameras were a fussy thing not found on cellphones. So I imprinted it on my mind instead. I remember thinking how lucky I am, truly. I have outstanding parents who have given me nothing but love. I have a sister who clearly adores me even if she is a pain in the neck some (most) times. But we were together, and I could not be richer and more satisfied.

I also remember thinking, someday I will lose this. And it just made me imprint the moment more desperately.

And now thinking about it, I am realizing that moment is a definitive one in my history. I am so affected by it that I can still paint it if I needed to. But there never was a need to. All I have to do is close my eyes and the image is there. Perhaps, why it affects me so much means something. Perhaps, my favorite moment on earth is trying to tell me that my purpose in life may be hidden locked in that moment and I just need to decode it.

If I could build a family as beautiful as the one in my memory, perhaps my purpose in life will be achieved.