What can a little old lady do? Visit the mall all the week through! The mall is to exercise in, buy groceries and fresh comestibles from, get a massage, a mani-pedi. It is where you can buy the best discounted items, from a transparent plastic chair, to a colored enamel kettle, to the prettiest set of drinking glasses, to a wicker magazine basket.
I have favorite malls in my vicinity. The nearest is the sparkling new Fisher Mall on Quezon Avenue. It is the only one that is wholly Filipino owned—by a Navotas fishing magnate. Hence it carries a steady supply of jumping shrimps, live fish in tanks and fresh frozen seafood. The mall also has the other amenities that I enjoy, all this within crossing distance from my house.
Comfy fast-food area
Robinson’s Magnolia, which is another of my favorites, has the most comfortable fast-food area. It is a favorite of Chinese residents in its neighborhood and has a sizable customership of senior citizens. I like to go there for their big variety of fresh salads for dining or take home.
Across the salads is everyone’s favorite French Baker with its inimitable breads. The only thing that offends me in Magnolia mall is the fact that the elevator girls are not provided a chair to sit on. What is the logic for such undeserved discomfort? To be able to load one passenger more?
I have a special place in my heart for the working class. The stash of packaged crackers in my bag is for giving to the unappreciated—the bus boys (only the waiters get tips), the elevator girls, the janitors, the girl who cleans the toilets (what more lowly job can there be?). When I have nothing to give, I am sure to toss a cheery compliment their way.
I feel for the street vendors zigzagging through the traffic to sell some stupid knick-knack. So I end up going home wearing a cap with a blinking antenna, a long balloon twisted into a dog, thin hand towels, a set of nodding dogs, flower-shaped basahan and sampaguita garlands galore, paper masks and hats and funny spectacles.
I have not yet succumbed to a fishing rod or that awful nickel stand being peddled as a clothes hanger but looks more like an accessory in a mortuary. I never bargain with street vendors. The poor guys make so little.
People go to the mall for different purposes. The mall is an excellent exercise place for a partly disabled person like me. The elevator classifies us as “Give priority to the elderly, disabled, pregnant.” (I like to classify myself as pregnant.) Since I can’t balance properly, I push a kariton, a stroller whose wheels help me walk. It can be turned around to double as a wheelchair when I am tired.
I walk several times around the particular floor I’ve chosen that day, with lots of interruptions. Coffee is good for combating Alzheimer’s; ice cream is good to cool the body; chicharon is good to give to my favorite masseur.
As for whichever maid accompanies me, she loves French fries with a choice of toppings. I stop my kariton at intervals to rest, reading the menus outside the eateries, watching people through the glassed-in shops getting “planted” with fake eyelashes.
Cheap burritos
There are lots of things to eat in the malls, but not great meals. (Certainly not a mile near an independent resto like Mari Relucio’s UNO, which has been our neighborhood’s favorite restaurant for 20 years). From the TriNoma cinema level I get my supply of the best sugar-free chocolates. Then I slink to Mexicali for a plate of cheap burritos, quesadillas, tortilla chips and their different sauces (current favorite). My carnivorous grandsons prefer Rub.
I look at what’s good in the department store—this time it’s all colors of sando. My alalay does not have to follow me around the mall. She can just eat her French fries while gazing down at the ballroom dancing below. When we go home, she will return to the mall and join the ballroom dancing with my cook—P200 an hour with DI.
If it is not holiday season, the mall is a great place for bargains. I like buying my gifts for Christmas or birthdays way before the date, because I can choose fantastic pieces with great knock-offs since I’m in the mall often. But you must be a quick decision-maker, or the item may be gone before your next round.
I like being massaged in the mall when I feel tired, lazy, lonely or bored. Or simply because I happen to stop in front of a massage place. When you’re old you’re no longer crazy about work.
Favorite massage place
Massage places in the mall are staffed by trained, visually impaired people. Some are totally blind, some only have night blindness. It is nice to see them going out the door in a single file, each pair of hands holding on to the shoulders of the one before him or her, snake-fashion. The blind male and female massagers are well-loved, and I hope get tips equivalent or more than the price of their service.
My favorite massage place in Fisher Mall is Power Touch, which is run by Tess Muñoz, whose husband is blind. The masseur of my choice is Gilfer (first because his name is a combination of my name!), and because he is gentle and funny. I was once assigned a tough guy who almost kneaded me to a pulp. I’ve never tried their girls. In the mall you can have a half-body massage on a chair where you lie face down and later face up on, or a bed massage. Maybe they like me because I’m not so fat, unlike some hulks I see registering at the counter.
The other massage venue in Fisher Mall is Vibes, which has a number of branches, also staffed by blind people. Since it was a bed massage I wanted that time, I asked for a female and got a pretty good one in their star, Ritchel.
The newspaper says, “Prepare for another scorching week.” It won’t be, not if you’re malling.