Somewhere in the depths of Manila, down a street crowded with building, parked tricycles and people making their way to their day job, is a small non descript little cafe/store that we always stop by. It may have a name but I've never heard it and everyone I have seen stop by have always looked like a regular customer. They always know what they want and what there is to choose from.
The owners of the cafe cook up several pots of ulam which is a tagalog word for something that refers to a main dish eaten with rice. Of course there are a couple large pots of freshly steamed rice too. Workers come up in the early morning hours and after inspecting the pots, choose their ulam for their noon lunch. Scoops of rice are put in a plastic sack along with a scoop of the chosen ulam and the top tied shut. It is tucked into a pocket or a bag to be eaten hours later. Some will bring their own rice hoping to save a few pesos. Others will eat breakfast too. Occasionally someone will purchase one of the many items clips to wires overhead, mostly those necessities like laundry soap or a package of spices.
The owners of the establishment live next door in a cramped building accessed by an extremely narrow alley that I must turn a bit to prevent my shoulders from rubbing both sides simultaneously. Their residence is tiny and sparsely furnished but has the necessities of life and is immaculately clean. I stopped in there only once nearly two decades ago to give the owner a bottle of fine bourbon and haven't been inside again. But I do stop at the store whenever I am around.
Since I often stop on my way to the airport in the early hours of the morning, the owners will usually whip up a quick breakfast for my family to share. It is usually some sort of meat, a few fried eggs and a pile of white rice. We chat in the early morning hours catching up, only interrupted once in awhile by a customer needing lunch for later that day. Sometime if one of their many grandkids are around, I will sneak them a shiny U.S. dollar coin which will be a prized possession and a reminder of my presence on that day.
The last time I saw Julio was in December 2018 before all this Covid mess and though his mind was still as sharp as ever, his body was starting to fail. Years of diabetes that was never fully managed was taking it's toll. He was using a walker at the time but still in good spirits and happy to see us. Like always, his wife fixed us breakfast and I slipped dollar coins to grandkids.
Yesterday we received word that Julio had been short of breath and an ambulance was summoned to take him to the hospital. He never made it and died on route. Most likely, it was a case of Covid since the Philippines is still largely unvaccinated compared to most countries. He was my wife's paternal uncle. I will miss his presence. I'm not sure about the status of their little cafe on that non descript crowded street in Manila but if it is still there when I return, I still plan on stopping and slipping kids some more dollar coins while eating breakfast.
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