Love in the Time of Vanity Fair

Chapter 8: Cosmopolitan

In a highly materialistic world, money can do wonders. Although some may argue that money cannot buy happiness, it can buy security, which may as well be the same thing. However, at the end of the day, holistic contentment cannot be measured by surface-level materialism.

Perhaps happiness, in its purest sense, is intangible and its intangibility is what makes it difficult to be attained. Or maybe we just tend to complicate things that are supposed to be really simple. Maybe the cruelty of this fast-paced world has blinded us of the beauty of simple affection. But despite that, it will show itself in the tiniest moments, fleeting but true nonetheless. Until we decide to anchor it ourselves.

And I might just do that.

...

We went back to Manila the day after the birthday celebration since businesses were not going to run themselves.

Ian was bound to fly to Ireland the following Wednesday so he insisted on accompanying me in my office on Monday afternoon. I had just finished my lectures when I felt hungry. My stomach grumbled and he stared at me teasingly.

"Hungry?" he broached.

I rolled my eyes at his smug smirk. "Stating the obvious much," I snarked and he laughed. But before he could suggest that we go somewhere fancy, I interrupted. "Samahan mo ko," I said and grabbed my purse.

"Where?" he asked and stood from the couch to open the door for me.

"To my favourite snack kiosk."

He looked curious but I didn't tell him anything more than that. I had a feeling that he was going to try something new today and might as well rope him into it before he could protest.

I pushed him into my car when we reached the parking lot before I slid behind the wheels, and drove to University across. It didn't take long until we reached the isawan. I pulled him out with me and he wasn't able to complain when I had him settle on a nook while I ordered a variety of food. His eyes widened when he saw the tray I was carrying the moment I placed it in front of him.

He scrutinizingly picked up a stick of isaw and looked at it weirdly. "What's this?" he asked, completely clueless, something which had me laughing.

I tamped down my laughter and told him matter factly. "It's isaw. Try it," I urged him.

His face contorted as he stared at the food hesitantly but he took a bite anyway and his immediate reaction was a cross between confusion and revulsion.

"This is weird," he exclaimed after one bite and put it down.

"What do you mean it's weird, it's the best tasting isaw in town!" I protested, trying to convince him to give the food another chance.

"What is isaw ba?" he asked, confusion written all over his face.

"Chicken intestine," I said casually and saw his face pale at the realization that he just ate chicken innards.

I couldn't even describe how ridiculous he looked as he grabbed a plastic cup filled with gulaman and downed it in one go and choked on the jellies he probably didn't know were in the drink.

I was torn between laughing and helping him out so he ended up buying his own bottled water while coughing madly.

"Not funny," he murmured between gulps but I couldn't help myself.

"So is," I clapped back at him and continued laughing.

He stared at me pointedly as I began to eat my fill. I offered him several other things but he was cautious. He asked what they were before even trying them.