Maximum occupancy

Palazzo Plazo reached maximum occupancy this summer with the arrival of not one, not two, nope not even three, but five guests!

My friends' post-wedding visit to Amsterdam was a huge deal to me and something I'd been looking forward to for months. It just so happened that during the week they were slated to visit, my sister ended her year-long assignment in Oslo and needed a place to rest and regroup before embarking on a new adventure in Portugal. 

Marlon and I had never hosted such a big number, and I'll admit I freaked out a bit at the beginning. Did we have enough bedsheets, towels, blankets, pillows, cutlery, plates and glasses for everyone? (Yes to everything except the glasses, a shortage solved by a quick trip to the nearest Blokker.) What would we cook and how could we make all the meals affordable? I was squeamish about asking everyone to contribute towards the grocery expenses; eventually I got over the discomfort of "charging" my friends by just having to accept that Marlon and I couldn't afford to feed everyone gratis.

We arrived from Mimi's wedding and went straight into a frenzy of cleaning and organizing—moving boxes upstairs, bringing down the spare mattresses from the attic, even fixing up the mess that is our hallway coat closet so it could accommodate the shoes we used to keep in the guest room. When we were done, I was pretty pleased with the way our house looked. We took a few minutes to just sit in the living room and enjoy it. 

This deluge of guests made me really appreciate all the hosts we had on our various Glee Club tours. It is not easy, and to think I was already hosting people who are quite close to me. To take on hosting duties for total strangers, while juggling kids and work, is nothing short of heroic.

It also made me realize how much extra space our home has. Space over location was a conscious decision we made when me chose the apartment and now I feel that our choice has been justified. We're lucky to have it! #blessed

The calm before the storm.

By the way, that's our new Nest beanbag from Sukha. I was terrified that Rogue was going to scratch it into oblivion, but she actually seemed scared of it. I suspect it's because the wool of the yarn may smell strongly of animal to her. It's taken her almost a month to even just sit on it, so I'm happy with its chances of survival.

My sister got first dibs on the daybed! We were able to borrow an extra air mattress from a colleague of Marlon's to complete the girls' "dormitory." All the suitcases were stored outside in the hallway.

On the day of their arrival, I was lucky to have an able assistant (a.k.a. sister) to pop lunch into the oven (and turn it over!) while I went to collect Pia, Jonel, Trina and Cathy at Schiphol. At the airport, we met up with Charlie, a Glee Club alum who's lived in The Hague for 13 (!!!) years and is now working as a chef. He lent them his spare OV-chipkaartjes, the reloadable passes that are used on buses, trains and trams.

Palazzo Plazo's welcome lunch consisted of chicken marinated in milk, lemon zest and herbs, with a Parmesan herb breading.

After lunch, we gathered in the living room to plan the next few days. At this point in their travels, my friends were tired from a rather punishing determined sightseeing schedule. While we tossed around quite a few ideas for outings and even out-of-the-country day trips, a lot more time was spent at home just chilling and taking it slow. This seems to happen to all my guests. It's the Amsterdam effect!



A stay at Palazzo Plazo is not complete without a meal by its resident chef.

For our one big sit-down dinner together at home, Marlon made a crackin' chili con carne, which we served with sangria, salsa (both homemade) and tortilla chips. It was the first time we had seven people seated at the dining table! Thankfully, there was enough food (and chairs) for everyone.

After getting used to living, shopping and cooking for two, it was a definite eye-opener to have lots of people at home. I told Marlon that my epiphany for the week was that I would be perfectly happy with a very small family, thank you very much! Haha.

But with lots of people comes lots of fun and laughter, and that's what made everything worth it. Not a single day passed without peals of loud, you-know-it's-Filipino laughter ringing out into our quiet street. Thankfully all my guests are considerate, responsible grown-ups trained over many Glee Club tours in the art of being gracious guests. And that gets a thumbs up from Palazzo Plazo!

It was wonderful having you guys over. Sa uulitin!

Ancient stone, flowing water

With temperatures soaring to 32℃ and our friends flying off to Rome, Marlon and I knew exactly what we wanted to do the day after Mimi and Pete's wedding: take it slow and go swimming. We had the option of driving an hour from Caissargues to the nearest beach, or to drive 20 minutes to see the Pont du Gard, a UNESCO World Heritage site. 

All it took was for me to see "swimming" among the list of activities allowed at this ancient Roman aqueduct, to decide. Pont du Gard it was!

Aside from being an incredibly picturesque sight, Pont du Gard is an architectural marvel. (Wondering what an aqueduct is? Read here). Built between 40 and 60 AD, this aqueduct was as a pathway down which 40 million liters of water a day flowed from a water source in Uzes to the Roman town of Nimes, 50 kilometers away. 

Thanks to the simple physics of gravity, homes, public baths and fountains in Nimes were assured a steady, efficient supply of water—something which the Romans enjoyed in 60 AD, but citizens of Paranaque did not until the 21st century. 

Today, the Pont du Gard is a major tourist attraction as well as a public recreation area used for kayaking and (most importantly for Marlon and myself) swimming.

There is a small sandy area by the riverbank, as well as a few roofed sunbeds where we saw families  picnicking.



This was when I started feeling that I was really on vacation. Things began to slow down and take on a dreamy haze. To have this time to just lay in the sun, watch the sunshine turn the ripples of the river into so much gold and soak up the atmosphere felt like the ultimate luxury. Time is indeed gold.

Venturing into the river was like getting foot reflexology, which my mom was nuts about for a time (remember those painful, fugly slippers that were big in the 90s?) and which I absolutely abhor. In one word: pebbles. It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't move another step, and regretted leaving my faithful tsinelas at home. 

But once we got in deep enough to float... yahoo!

Yes, the water was cold. And no, river swimming has never really appealed to me. But how many times in my life can I swim in the shadow of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and let my body drift lazily under 20,000 years of history?

Not many, I would think. And that's what made this Sunday afternoon swim so unforgettable.

Once the sun started to set and the families around us began packing up, Marlon and I were left by ourselves, not wanting this day to end, waiting for the last rays of the sun to dry us off. It was suddenly so easy to picture a battalion of Roman soldiers clad in armor, stopping to let their horses drink from this cool river on a hot summer's day. I swear, I got goosebumps. And I know it wasn't the water.

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Check out more lovely photos of Pont du Gard at Apol's blog!

A little piece of Rome

Pete's hometown was just minutes away from Nimes, the town that gave denim its name (de Nimes) and the home of the world's best-preserved Roman coliseum. Yes, the Arena of Nimes, built between 90-120 AD, trumps even the one in Rome, of which it is a smaller copy... at least in terms of preservation. So we just couldn't miss it. 

A bronze statue of a matador in front of the Arena gives an indication of Nimes' Spanish-flavoured heritage, and of what the Arena is used for these days. (I also saw banners advertising the Arena's summer concert series, featuring the likes of Akon, Chemical Brothers, Portishead, Santana and Sting.) Check out the detail on that matador.

Looks like bullfighting is a serious workout, if this statue is anything to go by. Talk about buns of steel... or bronze.

Speaking of big and juicy, our cheapest meal of the whole trip was care of a small kiosk just a few steps from the Arena. An enthusiastic Pete brought us to Chez Lucette for killer sandwiches that were not only less than half of what you'd pay for a sandwich here in Amsterdam...

... but were also spectacular in terms of value for money. Each sandwich was a full foot long. Marlon asked for frites with his merguez (lamb sausage) baguette, thinking they'd be served on the side. Non—the thick-cut fries went inside the sandwich. Mon Dieu!

Where was I? Oh, yes. The Arena.

One of the most impressive things about the Arena was how was were built to enable a smooth flow of human traffic, create an efficient seating system. With its ingenious organization of entrances, corridors and staircases, the general public (a.k.a. the jologs) could go straight up to their nosebleed seats from the outside.



This was done so that the nobility didn't have to mix with the rabble, and so the masa couldn't steal their seats and wreak havoc among the chi-chi crowd. What the Romans mastered in 90 AD, Filipinos still cannot do in the 21st century. Case in point: Araneta Coliseum, a coliseum to shame all coliseums.

Ironically, the cheap seats also offered the most spectacular vantage point. The richest Romans sat right up front at the bottom of the Arena. But to me, this was the best view. I personally would not have wanted to get splattered by blood and guts. But what do I know? I'm not ancient Roman nobility. I'm just a lowly unemployed bum freelancer.

(By the way, I was slightly relieved to find the center of the arena set up for a concert. If not, you can bet your shapely matador pwet that the hubby would have wanted to stage some kind of long-held gladiator fantasy photo-op down there!)

They say everything is better with friends. I agree! Dear kiddies, do you remember scrambling like mad for sponsors and living for months on a dollar allowance in the mere three-digit range? Who would have known we would someday be spending our own money to travel to Europe? #whenyouwishuponastar

The combi ticket also included a screening of the heroes of Nimes at La Maison Carree, just a few blocks away. We didn't have time for that...

But we did have time for our own mini Vanity Fair photo shoot.

If it can't pass for Vanity Fair, can we at least be a poster for "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum"?

To market, to market

The morning of Mimi's wedding was free, so my friends and I decided to drive to the nearby town of Arles to see the Roman ruins, an idea that delighted the Asterix fan in me. There was a Dutch connection there, too—Vincent Van Gogh had lived there towards the end of his life, producing some of his most brilliant and intense work while living in Arles.

Entering Arles, we ran into awful traffic, and had to endure the electronic nagging of our GPS device as we kept deviating from its frenetically recalculated routes. I had set the voice controls to American English and hearing it slaughter the pronunciation of French street names was both maddening and hilarious. 

When we finally found parking, however, we discovered the reason for all the rerouted traffic... a Saturday farmer's market!

Marlon and I were instantly catapulted to heaven. We love markets, and it's rare to see such beautiful and abundant produce as we did that Saturday morning. Among the bounty were melons bigger than my head...

Fragrant, blushing garlic...

Luscious fruits and berries...

A number of varieties of perfectly plump tomatoes...

including some varieties that were completely new to us.

I love my life, my new city and its markets, but for the first time I actually felt like packing up and moving to France. I was positively green with envy. So much good food! And it's like this every Saturday?

The array of dry goods was also pretty spectacular. Lavender sachets being sold at souvenir shops for €8-10 were available for €2 apiece. All eight of us raided that stall like there was no tomorrow. Compare before...

A wedding in France

The highlight of my summer was a trip to the south of France for Mimi and Pete's wedding. They were married civilly in Manila more than a year ago, a simple but moving ceremony they thoughtfully put on live streaming for the benefit of family and friends abroad, such as myself. I was thrilled to receive the invitation from Mimi last year, after we found out we were moving to Europe. For friends flying in from Manila and Singapore, this trip was almost a year in the making!

Ever the tour organizer, super-efficient but amazingly relaxed bride Mimi welcomed us at the Etap hotel in Caissargues, Pete's hometown, with a card, a jar of locally made confitures, and a handful of brochures on the Languedoc-Roussillon region (and its popular neighbor, Aix-en-Provence). Can't start a proper Glee Club tour without a tour kit!

A tour wouldn't be complete without singing, which we were requested to do by Pete's relatives literally the moment we stepped into his mom's house. Pleased to realize we had a member of the original touring prod staff to take our photos (the original adventurer-turned-doctor Ross, who took a break from her residency in the States to attend the wedding), we launched into a bass-less rendition of (what else?) the tried-and-tested Rosas Pandan, a song I haven't sung in eons. Never fails to bring down the house!

Dinner was an al fresco meal care of the amazing Agbay women, Mimi's sister-doppelgangers May and Meng. Marlon and I were especially excited to see Filipino food on the table, complemented with the requisite French baguettes, or as Mimi's mom calls them, pambugbog.

After dinner, we rehearsed around the dinner table for the Mass, and did some light prep work like separating confetti and folding menu cards for the reception.

The day of the wedding was everything we sun-starved Netherlanders had hoped for: abundant sunshine and a temperature of 32℃. (As you can guess, the Manila contingent was not as happy.) We spent the morning in the charming town of Arles, with its gorgeous farmers' market and Roman ruins (more on which later). Then it was off to the hotel to prettify ourselves, and from there on to Eglise Saint-Sauveur, just a hop and skip away from Pete's mom's house, to rehearse.

Close to 5pm, Pete pulled up wearing his dapper gray suit and a huge smile, and guests began to trickle in, dressed in what would be considered shockingly casual clothing in Manila, but seemed just right for summer in the south of France. The Pinoys were definitely the dressier guests at this wedding. I was glad to finally debut a vintage floral-print maxi dress I got in San Francisco last year, with a polka-dot scarf from Uniqlo and tangerine wedges. God knows when I'm going to get to wear this again!

As soon as we stepped into the church, events took off at warp speed. I didn't take as many pictures as I would have liked (the choir never does!), but I can clearly remember my first glimpse of Mimi in her elegant bridal whites. She was holding her bouquet and her mom's hand, and crying openly all the way down the aisle. Naturally, I choked up. I think all the girls just stopped singing the wedding march (L'important c'est la rose), except for Trina who was not a girl, but a bass that day. Seeing wonderful things happen to the equally wonderful people who deserve them is one of the best feelings in the world.

And just like that, it was over: the Duhamels were kissing, people were cheering, and lavender and white confetti was falling everywhere, like a dream.

The not-so-newlyweds piled into an adorable yellow pickup truck, Pete's first car, to roar off to the reception with horns blaring all the way there. I don't know what was cuter, the truck itself or Mimi's giant skirt and petticoat sticking out of it.

Being so close to Spain (just three hours by car to Barcelona!), Spanish touches such as paella and bullfights have seeped into the unmistakable Frenchness of the region. Thus, a reception at a manade, or bull ranch.

It was such a picturesque place, with wide open grounds, tall grass, a lovely little plaza, of sorts grapevines hanging around trellises. The grapes looked so luscious that we all thought they were fake. Duh, south of France nga pala to, not some tacky restaurant in Manila. 

We felt very chi-chi with our champagne and canapes before dinner...



... while the French seem to have downed bottomless shots of Red Bull. Seriously, they danced their asses off in the three hours leading up to dinner. And then they kicked their chairs back and danced all the way up to FIVE FREAKING A.M. the next day. Spell S-A-B-I-K.

In the meantime, we were just happy to finally spend time with our beautiful bride, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over all the details of her dress, a labor of love by our friend (and my entourage designer!) Tria...

And of course, we were just happy to take lots of pictures. 

Lots of them. Sayang ang damit!

Especially when we went out into the ranch grounds in the setting sun, champagne flutes and DSLRs in hand, for our very own de buena familia/Emperador Brandy photo shoots. Based on these two print ads, whose wine would you buy: mine or Pia's?

The French may have had their dancing, but we Pinoys had our camwhoring. Kung saan ka masaya, suportahan ta ka. Ika nga nila, walang basagan ng trip!