20/05/2026
A Watwat Story
I was on the road in the Northern highlands last March when I spotted a roadside restaurant. I slowed down and parked in front of it. There were no other people around except the restaurant owners/employees. The first thing that caught my eye was the word “watwat” on the whiteboard.
Every watwat memory came rushing back. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I ate watwat. Involuntarily, my mind wandered. I think the first person who introduced me to watwat was my childhood friend, Don Dulay Tumpap, when we were just in grade school. The dude was a certified watwat hunter back in the day. Every time his radar picked up an occasion in the Old Town, he knew there would be servings of watwat and rice in banana trunk sheaths improvised as plates.
Naturally, he would fetch me from home, and we would join long lines just to have some watwat.
Hell, back in those days, Reynaldo was Batman and I was Robin. I went where he went. Did what he did.
Fast forward to my teenage years. I was with some other dudes in a particular sitio. The sun was blazing hot. We were all holding banana trunks sheaths loaded with the legendary watwat, rice, and strands of pansit bihon. Yep, folks out there had finally incorporated Pansit Bihon into the servings.
Anyway, I was ravaging the food like a madman. Another childhood friend, Kebeng, was beside me.
Bam! A chunk of watwat lodged itself down my throat. I was choking.
Naturally, I started making choking sounds. Constantine thought I was just hawking phlegm. The dude actually scolded me. Briefly lectured me on hygiene and ethical eating. All that sh*t. He had no idea I was fricking choking.
Fortunately, I managed to hack the chunk out of my poor throat.
And that, my friends, is the story of my dangerous encounter with watwat.
