Tapas at Terry’s tonight, and two nice memories of a Chateau Palmer

Tonight, in Manila living a Travelife, I had a very nice tapas dinner at Terry’s with some friends.

We talked nonstop and we basically closed the restaurant down.

If Terry’s had been open for more wine and perhaps more chocolate ganache and tea, we’d probably still be there right now, exchanging stories about Travel and Life.

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I was late in joining them, as I’d come from somewhere else.

When I arrived, they were already midway into the food and conversation. But before I started eating, I remembered to take some photos for this blog.

The guy seated on my left, who was visiting from abroad, looked at me questioningly. I was taking photos of half-eaten plates of food, as well as a rather forlorn-looking single tapas on my plate, after all.


So I felt I had to explain. I said: “This is for the Travelife blog.

Then I added: “Don’t worry. No names.”

I don’t usually identify the people because of the privacy thing. Or unless they’re public figures or I get their permission.

Sometimes people ask me who I’m referring to in a particular blog entry, for instance; but I’ve never identified any of my friends who make it to the blog anonymously.

Someone then asked: “Do you write something everyday?”

I smiled and said: “Basically.”

My life runs pretty much like clockwork, you see. And I find I’m almost always home by 11 PM and then my blogging time is between 1130 PM and 130 PM.


Then the guy on my left asked: “Isn’t it hard to find something to write about everyday?”

I almost sighed.

I wished I had more time in my never-endingly eventful Travelife to write about my never-endingly eventful Travelife.

But unfortunately I have a life to live, a million trips in my schedule, a lot of good dinners to go to, way too many cocktail parties to attend, and the best travel & lifestyle magazine in this part of the world to produce.

That’s a lot of work, on top of a daily blog.

But if I had more time, I would write three or four entries a day, because there’s really so much to write about everyday in my never-endingly eventful Travelife.


But the guy was still intrigued.

Pointing to the floor next to us, he kind of challenged me: “Can you write about this floor, for instance, and how it’s so shiny?

Piece of cake.

Fiction, I can almost never write unless I’m terribly inspired. I tried to write a short story recently, for instance, and I was stumped for weeks. But I sure can find a story out of almost anything real.

So I said: “Of course I can. I can even write about those ceiling lamps if I wanted to.


So the rest of the evening was dedicated to mainly finding things to blog about tonight.

There was no shortage, and you’d be reading this forever if I decided to write about everything we talked about tonight.


But perhaps the most interesting takeaway from tonight was a story this guy on my left told us, about a private dinner with the owners of the posh Chateau Palmer in their winery in Bordeaux, France.

They were 12 persons sitting down to a wonderful meal with great wines.

However, as with many rather old buildings in France, the door near them creaked incessantly as the evening went on.

Finally, the guy from Chateau Palmer said aloud to everyone and to no one in particular: “If anyone can get that door to stop creaking, I’m going into the cellar and opening a really good bottle of wine.

Four of the guys immediately stood up to try and get the door fixed, he said. And they were successful.

So, true to his word, the guy from Chateau Palmer reportedly opened an excellent (and very expensive) vintage from his cellar, which everyone enjoyed — all just because they’d gotten a creaking door to stop doing so.


That certainly beat my Chateau Palmer story, I thought.

Whenever someone brings up Chateau Palmer, or opens a bottle, I sometimes remember how a friend of mine brought a very good vintage of Chateau Palmer to dinner at my house to drink with some kare-kare I had cooked for him.

It was the strangest pairing I’d ever had with a Chateau Palmer.

But it was a pretty nice evening in my never-ending, and never-endingly eventful Travelife.