As a child growing up in Manila, Philippines I lived with my parents. But they were away working a lot, so my sisters and I spent most of the time under the care of my grandparents, especially my grandmother. I loved spending time with my grandmother and was always her shadow, following her around wherever she went.

My grandmother was a great cook and did all the cooking, not only for us, but also for her elderly father. She also did all the housekeeping and everything else, so I’d try to help her as much as I could.

I remember, one time, when I was around 9-10 years old, my grandmother was preparing to cook and chopping garlic, so I asked if I could help. Not everyone would want to do that, including my sisters, because they didn’t like the smell of garlic. The two of us would sit at the small kitchen table where she did all of her chopping. She’d get everything prepared around 11am before she went to the dirty kitchen to cook lunch, the main meal of the day.

In the Philippines we have the kitchen and the dirty kitchen. The dirty kitchen is always outdoors with better ventilation. That’s where the cooking is done. We just prepare the food in the kitchen and then eat in the dining room. I didn’t really go to the dirty kitchen because I didn’t like cooking.

I always sat with my grandmother as she was preparing everything so I could eat some of the food. I’d be right next to her, looking, as she was chopping and preparing the ingredients. I would ask her, what can I do? What can I eat? She would tell me “You’re such a smart girl because you always sit beside me. You get to eat whatever I’m cooking.“

My grandmother always made sure I ate a lot because I was so thin growing up. She fed me more than the rest of my sisters. She would say how happy she was when she saw me eating well. She loved how I ate deliciously. She loved to see that I enjoyed all of her food. She would tell me that when she was young she wasn’t given much food. I really enjoyed hearing her stories. It was always while sitting at that table, chopping the garlic, that she would tell me the stories of her life.

My grandmother is a second-generation Chinese living in the Philippines. In her generation, the women weren’t allowed to study so she never went to school. Instead, she was raised as a homemaker. Her family was pretty well off because my great grandfather owned a mini shopping center, but still she was a female and women at that time didn't get as much opportunity for education as her brothers did. In fact, all of her brothers were college graduates, but she wasn’t. Even when it came to food, she wasn’t allowed to get equal portions of food because she was a girl. She told me her grandmother would sneak fruits in to her at night so nobody would know that she was eating something.

My grandmother’s mother died early due to complications from giving birth to one of the brothers, so she was raised by her father. She would tell me she was never sent to school by her father because the women were meant to take care of the family. Maybe it was also because she was the only girl in the family, and her mother had passed, so it became her obligation to be the homemaker.

She would tell me how she had to work secretly and take in laundry jobs from her neighbors so she could earn a few cents. She ended up saving enough to send herself to a tailoring school to learn how to sew. She did so well. She was the top of her class. Hearing her stories made me really diligent as a student.

One day, my grandmother said I could help her peel and chop the garlic for the first time. In the Filipino culture we use a lot of garlic, so it’s in every food. Of course, the juices from the garlic got all over my fingers and it smelled a lot, but I really enjoyed smelling it on my fingers. In fact, the next day the skin of my fingers actually peeled because the garlic was so strong. I remember my grandmother poking fun at me saying “You’re such a princess. You have onion skin that peels.”

I peeled the garlic with my fingers one-by-one. My grandmother would smile and say, “You’re so slow!” She had this fast way of doing it where she pounded the garlic with a butcher’s knife and that lets you easily peel it off. I didn’t like doing that because it made the work faster. I liked doing it slowly and having all the juices on my fingers. I still do it that way to this day. Everyone else hated the chore of preparing the garlic because they didn’t like the smell sticking on their fingers. But not me.

It’s an exotic, very pungent and sharp odor and I love it! It’s invigorating for me. Philippine garlic is stronger and has more punch than Chinese garlic. But it’s also smaller and stinkier. Even 3-4 days later the smell can still be on your fingers. Everyone else would say that it stinks. But for me it’s a positive thing that gives me life. I relish that smell.

Just the other day I was preparing guacamole and I had the smell of garlic on my fingers. I thought, oh wow, this makes me feel so happy. It makes me excited. It uplifts me and immediately takes me back to my grandmother. It’s impossible for me to chop garlic and not think of my grandmother. Every time I do that activity, I think of my grandmother, no matter how old I get. For me, if I ever have a bad day, I’ll chop garlic.

Now I’m older and I don’t live with my grandmother anymore. I live 20km away, but I try to visit her as often as I can. She has dementia, so when I visit her I bring her flowers from my garden. She loves flowers and they bring her wonderful memories.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? A fun, uplifting, melodic piano piece.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? Orange.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? Velvet or cashmere.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? Get to know your grandparents. Spend more time with them. Hear their stories because it’s very wonderful. When you spend time with them, it makes them feel good, and you learn from them. It’s one of those memories that you’ll cherish forever.