Who would have thought that one could find comfort in a bottle of an ochre-colored fluid when suffering from homesickness in a strange and foreign land? There is no alcohol involved here; I just want to make that clear. The liquid in this topic is none other than the ubiquitous Patis, or fish sauce.
A few years back, two of my aunts and I were traveling in Europe gracing fourteen cities in five different countries, in a matter of two weeks. It was exciting, fun-filled and very, very exhausting. We can ooh and ahh only so much of the breath-taking sceneries and the grand and historical edifices. After a while, muscles would ache and all of a sudden we would realize we are in fact in a foreign country and we would start to yearn for something remotely familiar.
At one point, we found ourselves huddled in a small, cramped glass phone booth in hope to shelter our wet and cold selves from a sudden downpour somewhere in downtown Zurich, Switzerland. We were trying to contact a niece of a family friend who was to foster us in her home in Geneva. After a few tries, we managed to contact her. With luck on our side, we found ourselves dining at her table that evening. The food was great but for a minute I was confused. The only condiment on the table was a glass shaker bottle full of paprika. Her husband was from Africa. As if that was supposed to explain the presence of that annoying red spice. Luckily, her twin sister arrived in the middle of dinner and out came what I was looking for all along: a serving bottle of patis! Not only was dinner complete, but I also felt at home all of a sudden.
It was a while before I noticed the strange pattern. Whenever we would eat at restaurants or dine with our respective foster hosts, I couldn’t help but look for the condiment. If they are Filipino, chances are they have a bottle stashed away somewhere in their cupboard. At other times, iodized table salt will grudgingly have to do.
The fish sauce is nothing but a pungent, strong-smelling, salty liquid based on fermented fish that most non-Asians would find offensive to their olfactory senses. There are no racist implications here. That is simply the way it is. In some cases, it serves as a litmus test for interracial relationships. Honey, if you can stand the presence of that bottle in the kitchen, there is a chance for wedded bliss. For most of us, it serves as a reminder of Nanay’s lutong-bahay, or mom’s home-cooked meals.
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