I was just thinking how weird it is that some things remain constant. I still like the same things I enjoyed before. So I don’t watch Batibot-type shows anymore, and Voltes V has lost its novelty. And maybe my taste has become a bit more, should I say more sophisticated? For example, I finally gave up on my Topsiders (after I realized that the ’80s wasn’t going to come back for good, sigh!) and have now switched to bowling shoes (but then I learned that they’re going out of fashion as well, darn!). But despite these changes, I still like the same things. And you know what’s on top of my list of favorite things? Dirty ice cream!
I don’t know what in the world they put in "dirty ice cream" that makes it so addictive. (Note: I’m only using the words "dirty ice cream" because that’s what most people I know call it. I’m sure it’s not all that dirty, folks). I swear whenever I’m driving and I see those typical, yellow, dilapidated ice cream carts (which usually come with a sunburned sorbetero wearing a straw hat, ringing his little, rusty bell), I’m always tempted to immediately stop, park in the middle of the road, and go straight to the cart and buy one of those 10-scoopers: the sugar-sweetened cone topped with 10 little scoops of either chocolate, ube, macapuno, or cheese ice cream. There are other kinds like the one that comes with the unsweetened cone, as well as the "hamburger bun" ice cream (which is not something I’m too excited about).
My point is, I still love dirty ice cream after all these years. And it’s not just me; my wife could eat three cones in one sitting! And I know a lot of people, even those in the AB class, who love it. Whenever I attend one of those sosi children’s parties, there’s normally a dozen food booths to choose from: the cotton candy, the hotdog or the French fries booth, etc. But there’s only one booth that’s almost always being mobbed: the dirty ice cream booth. It’s really amusing. You see all these cute sosi moms giving a cone to their kids dressed in Osh Kosh B’gosh overalls. And then, as soon as the kid turns around to go with the other kids, the moms tell the sorbetero, "Manong, pahingi din. Dalawa ha!"
One is never enough, really. You just have to have at least two of those delicious little suckers to really have your fill.
Interestingly, every time I eat dirty ice cream, I always remember a certain era when cell phones were non-existent, when drinking water from the faucet was acceptable, and when women had less than two brands of cream for their faces. Somehow, dirty ice cream reminds me of the time when life was a lot simpler – and, in a lot of ways – better.
To me, there’s more to eating dirty ice cream than the obvious. It’s a time machine that transports me to my elementary days in Lourdes School in Mandaluyong. Ah yes, I can still remember going behind the school grounds still wearing my sweaty P.E. uniform into a semi-deserted street (which is now the bustling St. Francis Avenue). I would look around and check the merchandise being sold by a number of vendors. "Let’s see, I have 50 cents. What can I buy? Hmm...duckling, P1.50. Nope. Mazinger Z sticker, P2. Oh man! Fighting fish, P3.50. Sheesh! Wait a minute...ahh, dirty ice cream! How much? 25 cents. Cool! Boss, dalawa nga!"
Those were the only choices that I had to contend with back then. And oftentimes, because of my limited resources, I really didn’t have much of a choice. That’s why in some ways, I envy the kids today. They can choose from 70 plus channels on TV. They can rent a movie from the video store and have a gazillion choices. And they can get any kind of video game they want. Any. And how about us? Well, we had only five channels to choose from, and most were government-controlled. There were no TV shows in the morning except for Sunday Chinese Theater with people talking in Chinese and Chinese subtitles (how queer is that?). And the only video games we had were Pac Man and Space Invaders. Oh yeah, there was also Miss Pac Man. Hooray for that.
But in some ways, I don’t envy the kids nowadays. It’s my theory that having too much choices is unhealthy. Because even after you’ve chosen, you always feel miserable about the other options. Whereas if you didn’t have any other choice and you picked what was available, you don’t really know what you’re missing, and you go on with your life.
Admittedly, having a bevy of choices is actually what makes the world exciting. It will certainly be a boring world if we didn’t have any choices. The need for providing choices is, in fact, the crux of the world of business today. We know all about what man needs, and the basic needs are abundant. What makes business tick nowadays is not so much providing what we need – it’s providing what people want. And normally this means providing people a variety of choices in anything that they could acquire. From food to shelter to cars to electronic gadgets to clothes. We are besieged with choices. And sometimes it gets on my nerves.
Me: I’d like a burger please.
Waiter: Regular, medium or King Kong size?
Me: Medium.
Waiter: Rare, medium rare, medium well, well-done or straight from the fridge?
Me: Medium rare.
Waiter: With catsup, mayonnaise, mustard or tire black?
Me: Catsup.
Waiter: Grilled, fried or oven-washed?
Me: Aargh! Just give me the darn burger will you?
Waiter: For here, to go or delivered to your home?
If you find yourself besieged with options and choices, and you find yourself confused and can’t decide on certain things, and your mind seems ready to explode, try this: eat dirty ice cream. It may not help you make your choice but it will remind you that life is simple after all. And happiness doesn’t necessarily lie on the number of choices we have or the choice we will make, but on what we already have – right here, right now. And guess what? We have all the dirty ice cream in the world! What else can you ask for?
Manong, isa pa nga!