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I really enjoyed Iloilo last weekend. I don't recommend anyone going there cause there's close to nothing to do there except watch DVDs, see re-runs of Nacho Libre (which is too dam funny by the way) and drink with the family. 

But most of my relatives live there. They are heavyweights in the drinking game. You see a petite Ilongga praying the rosary? She probably outdrinks you.

There's a bar called Friends that my tita runs. It's practically full everynight. Full of farmers and families who simply cannot get enough of the lumpia there. Full of Aranetas and Valeras who occupy at least a couple of tables every time I visit. 

I enjoy not texting people to make kwento. This barrage of experiences I've had in the last couple of months is now shared amicably amongst my cousins who I haven't seen in a year. And thus starts the chismis machine. Suddenly a tita who just came in knows that I sprained my leg last summer. It moves fast here.

My titas aren't the typical definition of proper ladies. They want you to drink like it's some kind of birthright. They think you're weak if you don't. They shove Colt 45 down your lips and say that it fights cancer. 

My uncles are ageless. They make kwento the girls who had crushes on them during the "good old days" when their wives are sitting right beside them. They still ask how many girls I've fucked and they promise not to tell my dad. 

We have reunions where 60 people are in sandos, drinking and playing majong and tong-its. They bet in 5's and 10's. This is the family I have. And although I disappoint my titos and tell 'em I'm pretty much a gentleman towards "tsiks", I gotta say that being an Araneta does have its perks.