Childhood

Here are five things I remember from my childhood:

Cartoons – They showed them every 5 pm, one hour after the kids in the elementary grade get off from school.  My favorite was Voltes V.  I can still feel my anticipation for their leader to yell “Let’s! Volt! In!”  Signaling the five ships to connect and form the robot hero.  Ta-ran-tan-tanan-tan-tan!   Ta-ran-tan-tanan-tan-tan!   Then we will all sing along with the theme tune, which was in Japanese.  Well, we pretended to sing along for we didn’t even know what any of the words meant.  We all have our own favorite weapon of Voltes V.  Some liked the Voltes Bazooka where the robot would transform one of his hands into a canon.  Some preferred the Chain Knuckle where the amazing machine converts his knuckles into spikes and pummels the enemy robot with spiked fists by shooting them and retracting them using chains attached to them (thus the name).  But my favorite was the Ultramagnetic Topppppppp!!!!   Yeaaaaaaaah!!!  He will retrieve his gigantic belt and from a hole in his belt buckle comes two enormous steel tops with huge spikes spinning so fast it will cut any surface.  He will them manipulate these two tops with the steel belt and whips them towards the enemy robot and they will cut through its body and limbs.  And now the best part of the show: Laser Swordddddddddd!!!!    From the V on our hero’s chest comes a flaming giant sword and he will use this to end the enemy robot.  He will cut from one shoulder burying the sword into the belly diagonally and then cuts upward coming out into the other shoulder.  After exploding, a light in the shape of a V will linger in the sky for a minute.  Victory my friends, victory!  We will then rise from our seats and celebrate the day’s victory of our favorite robot hero.

Rain – I always loved the rain.  It triggers fond memories of the carefree days of my childhood.  During those days (and I hope they still do), whenever it rains children would come out of the streets and play in the rain.  We would sing, dance, jump, slide, and soak ourselves with God’s sprinkles of blessing.  We would look for fruits blown by the wind from its tree and enjoy its flavor, while quenching our thirst with the rain. 

Sherbet Ice Cream – Ice cream vendors called sorbeteros sell these in the streets pushing carts containing canisters of ice cream in three flavors: coconut, ube (purple yam) and cheese.  My eyes sparkle as I remember those three scoops (one white, one purple, and one yellow) on top of each other.  My mouth waters as I remember licking the ice cream as it melts under the sweltering sun.  Mmmmmmm.

Kite Fighting – you read it right, it’s not kite flying, kite fighting.  Here’s what we do:  We make our kites using bamboo sticks and colorful, translucent Chinese paper.  The kites are shaped like diamonds and usually have a tail.  Then we take some bottles and smash them and grind them until they turn into very fine grains of glass.  The grains are so fine its almost like powder and you could strain them through a piece of cloth.  Then we add these grains into a mixture of glue and water.  We then take a long, sturdy nylon thread and soak it in the mixture.  After the thread is dried, we use it to fly the kite.  Then we look for other kites and challenge them to a fight (there are certain kite maneuvers to signal this).  If the other kite flyer agrees, you will then fly your kites close to each other so that your kite strings touch each other and rubs each other.  As you can imagine, the other kite flyer’s thread is also “armed” so one of the strings will get cut eventually(sometimes both are cut but it rarely happens).  The winner of course is the one whose kite remains flying.

Riding bicycles – Most of my friends are older than me and some of them were already working when I was a child.  I remember admiring their fancy bikes with their aluminum rims and alloy parts.  I remember myself dreaming of having a bike with multiple gears that you can shift depending on the demands of the terrain.  I had the clunkiest bike among our group and it looked so weird I wouldn’t even attempt to describe it here.  I wouldn’t do it not because I’m ashamed of it but because I don’t want to stain the great memories I have of it.  This is the bike my father used to take me and my sisters to school.  This is the bike he taught us to ride without training wheels.  This is the bike I used to go places with my friends.  This is the bike I gave my first crush a ride (she later became my first girlfriend).  This bike wasn’t just a family possession; this bike was a part of the family.