.....has made it a bit difficult to post. I had wireless in our place in Quezon City, but here in Los Banos, it's much more provincial and I have had to trek my ass and laptop to a internet cafe and blah, blah, blah.
They've kept us super busy this whole time. I think my Tagalog is improving; my vocabulary is definitely growing. My cousins, Sheila, Ruth, and Kristel, took me out on Sunday night. They live about 20 minutes away in Kalawang so it's nice to know that I have family so close for the month that I am here. They were quizzing me all through lunch and dinner because I had a test on Monday. I think I did pretty well. I just messed up on some pronoun usage. Tagalog is hard, man.
I really love the language though. It feels natural in my mouth. It's weird to (re)learn a language I already know. Class triggers the funniest memories. The other day we went over some adjectives and when we went over the word, "matigas" meaning "hard," and I thought of my mother saying to me, "Matigas ang ulo mo" which means, "Your head is so hard" --calling me stubborn. Stuff like that happens about 12 times a day.
Other stuff we've been doing: Filipino History (the pre-Spanish indigenous history is SO interesting. We learned to write our names in baybayin which is a form of "Filipino" (in quotes, because the word and identity of "Filipino" didn't even exist yet) written script. It looks like indigenous hieroglyphics of some kind. Lots of curves, lots of symbols, etc. It's pretty intricate and tough to describe without drawing it. It's beautiful. I think I've found my tattoo. I think (when I get back to the States) I am going to get my last name (which I am keeping forever, no matter what), on my right foot/ankle (since that is the foot I step first with...get it? get it?).
Today was awesome. We went to the Philippines High School for the Arts. Think FAME, but instead of NYC, this school is for the whole country and on top of a gorgeous mountain. The kids were amazing. They are incredibly talented: 11 year olds playing classic concertos and dancing like professionals (The school is for kids from 11 to 16--college in the Philippines starts at like 17...it's a different system). I was in the group that visited the dance classes and we learned a Filipino folk dance called Sayaw sa Banka, which means the Dance on the Bench :). It was hard. You do a lot of intricate dancing and jumps on a tiny little bench. I'll try to post pics. Oh, the pics I had before with the Bird Dance were taught to us by an indigenous man, Dindo :) who was the sweetest man EVER, of the T'boli tribe.
Oh, back to the school. Imelda Marcos started the school. Susan, the program director, said it was probably the only good thing Imelda Marcos did for the country. Wiki Imelda if you don't know who she is. SHE is the Devil. Wearing Prada, actually. She became superfamous in the world for her insane and ridiculous shoe collection (like thousands and thousands of shoes), but she should be famous for being an extorter and despot. Her and her husband, Ferdinand Marcos, ensured the Philippines' status as a third world country.
And......
I am going to FUCKING MEET HER tomorrow.
She is going to be at concert at that school tomorrow. I feel kinda funny about it; even though she is an evil despot (Martial Law, thousands of Filipinos imprisoned, killed and tortured, etc, etc), I want a picture with her. I want to prove I met her. I almost need to know that she actually exists. I want to wear a People Power shirt when I meet her. But, I also don't want her to kill me (she still has a lot of influence here, which is even more disgusting). If you don't know what the hell I am talking about (People Power, Marcos, etc)--learn about it. I'm not teaching this summer.
J.K.
Oh. Also: they keep feeding us TOO WELL HERE. Before I came to the Philippines, I had this delusion that I may lose weight being here. Ha! If people give you food here (particularly if you are with family or if you're with a guest...well, actually, ANYTIME), you have to eat it. People are literally hungry and without food to eat, so you can't be a snobby Fil-Am on a diet who says no, can you? Absolutely not. And really, another reason you can't say no: everything is fucking delicious. AND you don't eat 3 times a day here. You eat: breakfast, miryenda, lunch, miryenda, dinner...and probs another miryenda. Granted the miryendas (this is spelled the Filipino way) are small, but still. Oh and white rice is served with EVERYTHING. So, the delusion is gone. I, at this point, only want to break even and not be FATTER going back to the States. So, I've been walk/running for 45 min to an hour every morning. Hopefully that will stem the fat tide.
What else? Oh, I am going to go hike up Mount Banahaw on Friday and Saturday. Should be awesome. It's so beautiful here. It's amazing to see tropical flowers and trees within mountainous, rugged terrain. I am used to mountains having different foliage.
Thing are going well. I am glad that I am here. I should probably go study.
Tagalog, Tagalog, Tagalog. I have yet to dream in it. I can't wait.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
A multimedia post!!!!!
Sorry. They got cut off. You have to click on them.
My Tito Rofel telling me about Manila from the roof of his high rise in Makati.
Another view.
A passing glance of jeepneys from a tricycle.
In Laguna (were I will be living for 6 weeks and where my dad's family is from).
More Laguna.
This is the name of the restaurant. Seriously. Check the Filipino flag.
The group.
The Bird Dance. More on this later.
The entrance to Intramuros.
One wall of Intramuros. (They are 10 meters THICK!)
The River Pasig, from Intramuros.
On guard at Intramuros.
Jose Rizal and I have the same shoe size.
Fish market in Quiapo.
I will actually write later. Supes busy. xoxoxoxxo.
My Tito Rofel telling me about Manila from the roof of his high rise in Makati.
Another view.
A passing glance of jeepneys from a tricycle.
In Laguna (were I will be living for 6 weeks and where my dad's family is from).
More Laguna.
This is the name of the restaurant. Seriously. Check the Filipino flag.
The group.
The Bird Dance. More on this later.
The entrance to Intramuros.
One wall of Intramuros. (They are 10 meters THICK!)
The River Pasig, from Intramuros.
On guard at Intramuros.
Jose Rizal and I have the same shoe size.
Fish market in Quiapo.
I will actually write later. Supes busy. xoxoxoxxo.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
ALSO: comments
Clay emailed me and told me he couldn't post comments. I think I fixed that. SO: everyone please leave comments so I feel like I am writing to someone. Someones. Special. Special someones.
BLAH!
Monday, June 25, 2007
OK, so I thought I had really written a lot more. I hadn’t. It’s been a jampacked couple of days. OMG, OMG, OMG. I am so happy I am this program. The people are great. The teachers are awesome. The Philippines is amazing. It’s hard for me to be more specific than that because so much has happened and I am so tired and my internet access is limited.
The program began on Saturday morning; it’s been intense. My Tagalog is improving rapidly; the first 3 days of the language curriculum is—they told us— equivalent to a semester at NYU. I totally believe them. Today we had Tagalog class from 8 to 12:30 and then 1:30 to 4. And then we were taught a couple of indigenous (there are, I am finding out, many different tribes in the Philippines; I only knew of a couple).
I have only know the people in the program for a couple days now and already there is a comfortable bond. We all want to be here. We all want to learn the language; we all want to know more about what it means to be Filipino-America; we all like to go out ☺; we all like to eat (uh, we’re Filipino).
Some goals I’ve set for myself here, in terms of the language:
I want to write an essay in Tagalog.
I want to write a letter to my mom in Tagalog—I think it would make her really happy and she’d probably cry and I may cry writing it.
I want to write poetry in Tagalog—not just use Tagalog words in my poetry.
It hasn’t gotten intense emotionally yet (not really, really—although, when Susan, the head and director of the program, told her story of why she started TOS and her life story, my eyes welled up a bit. More on that later), but I have a feeling it will.
Just being here is a bit overwhelming—my senses are assailed in everyway. There are so many smells, sounds, textures, and tastes here. Also, being able to see ONLY Filipinos is overwhelming in and of itself. Filipino people are beautiful to me. Even the ugly ones.
I just reread that and it seems like I am exoticizing my own people; but, the sight of some many different Filipinos is remarkable and humbling to me. I am beginning to be able to differentiate different “kinds” (for lack of a better word) of Filipinos. There are Filipinos with indigenous faces, with Chinese faces, with Malay faces, with Spanish faces, with Japanese faces. Filipinos are such a mix of so many cultures, features, words, sounds, foods…but we are uniquely Filipino.
I am bordering on cheesy here, but I am awestruck and excited and happy and proud and nostalgic and sad and incredulous and … I don’t know. I’m feeling a lot here. I’m learning a lot here. And—it’s been 3.5 days since the program began.
No one here knows about my dad, yet.
My dad. I have actually been thinking a lot about him on this trip. I keep trying to imagine what I would say to him if I could call him at home, like I call my mom. I keep trying to imagine what he might say to me. I want to know more about what it was like for him growing up here. My mom was kind of s square growing up (she didn’t really have a choice, being female) and didn’t go out or have a barkada (Tagalog for “gang” or “group of friends”). But I know my dad did. My dad was the youngest of 11 children. His family was full of drama. I mean full. Like crazy loco crazy full. As my Tito Rofel told me—my dad was a good kid, who didn't really do anything infamous or extraordinary. So he was often overlooked and unseen with brothers and sisters who were extreme achievers or extreme, for lack of a better word, fuckups. To me, it’s unimaginable that my dad could’ve been an overlooked personality. In my mind he is such a large figure: charismatic, loud, funny, flamboyant. Everyone who came to his funeral had something to say that reflected this big personality; the cafeteria ladies from Saturn came to pay their respects and tell us how kind and happy my father always was, even though they admitted they didn't really know him.
I guess he became this person because he was overlooked as a child and as a young man living in the Philippines. I wonder what would’ve happened to him and who he would’ve become if he had stayed. I try to remember our visit to the Philippines when I was 13 and he was still alive. I want to ask him now what he thought then. How did he feel seeing some of his brothers and sisters living squalor after having been in the States for 20 some odd years? What was it like to come back and see San Pablo? I don’t even know which of his siblings her was close to; I think it was maybe my titas in Michigan, but I think they only became close after they were all already in the States.
I wish I could speak to my father in Tagalog. I am sure he’d get a big kick out of it. He’d probably laugh and maybe try to teach me bad words or see if I knew them already. I hope he’d say he was proud. I think he would be.
OK, so I thought I had really written a lot more. I hadn’t. It’s been a jampacked couple of days. OMG, OMG, OMG. I am so happy I am this program. The people are great. The teachers are awesome. The Philippines is amazing. It’s hard for me to be more specific than that because so much has happened and I am so tired and my internet access is limited.
The program began on Saturday morning; it’s been intense. My Tagalog is improving rapidly; the first 3 days of the language curriculum is—they told us— equivalent to a semester at NYU. I totally believe them. Today we had Tagalog class from 8 to 12:30 and then 1:30 to 4. And then we were taught a couple of indigenous (there are, I am finding out, many different tribes in the Philippines; I only knew of a couple).
I have only know the people in the program for a couple days now and already there is a comfortable bond. We all want to be here. We all want to learn the language; we all want to know more about what it means to be Filipino-America; we all like to go out ☺; we all like to eat (uh, we’re Filipino).
Some goals I’ve set for myself here, in terms of the language:
I want to write an essay in Tagalog.
I want to write a letter to my mom in Tagalog—I think it would make her really happy and she’d probably cry and I may cry writing it.
I want to write poetry in Tagalog—not just use Tagalog words in my poetry.
It hasn’t gotten intense emotionally yet (not really, really—although, when Susan, the head and director of the program, told her story of why she started TOS and her life story, my eyes welled up a bit. More on that later), but I have a feeling it will.
Just being here is a bit overwhelming—my senses are assailed in everyway. There are so many smells, sounds, textures, and tastes here. Also, being able to see ONLY Filipinos is overwhelming in and of itself. Filipino people are beautiful to me. Even the ugly ones.
I just reread that and it seems like I am exoticizing my own people; but, the sight of some many different Filipinos is remarkable and humbling to me. I am beginning to be able to differentiate different “kinds” (for lack of a better word) of Filipinos. There are Filipinos with indigenous faces, with Chinese faces, with Malay faces, with Spanish faces, with Japanese faces. Filipinos are such a mix of so many cultures, features, words, sounds, foods…but we are uniquely Filipino.
I am bordering on cheesy here, but I am awestruck and excited and happy and proud and nostalgic and sad and incredulous and … I don’t know. I’m feeling a lot here. I’m learning a lot here. And—it’s been 3.5 days since the program began.
No one here knows about my dad, yet.
My dad. I have actually been thinking a lot about him on this trip. I keep trying to imagine what I would say to him if I could call him at home, like I call my mom. I keep trying to imagine what he might say to me. I want to know more about what it was like for him growing up here. My mom was kind of s square growing up (she didn’t really have a choice, being female) and didn’t go out or have a barkada (Tagalog for “gang” or “group of friends”). But I know my dad did. My dad was the youngest of 11 children. His family was full of drama. I mean full. Like crazy loco crazy full. As my Tito Rofel told me—my dad was a good kid, who didn't really do anything infamous or extraordinary. So he was often overlooked and unseen with brothers and sisters who were extreme achievers or extreme, for lack of a better word, fuckups. To me, it’s unimaginable that my dad could’ve been an overlooked personality. In my mind he is such a large figure: charismatic, loud, funny, flamboyant. Everyone who came to his funeral had something to say that reflected this big personality; the cafeteria ladies from Saturn came to pay their respects and tell us how kind and happy my father always was, even though they admitted they didn't really know him.
I guess he became this person because he was overlooked as a child and as a young man living in the Philippines. I wonder what would’ve happened to him and who he would’ve become if he had stayed. I try to remember our visit to the Philippines when I was 13 and he was still alive. I want to ask him now what he thought then. How did he feel seeing some of his brothers and sisters living squalor after having been in the States for 20 some odd years? What was it like to come back and see San Pablo? I don’t even know which of his siblings her was close to; I think it was maybe my titas in Michigan, but I think they only became close after they were all already in the States.
I wish I could speak to my father in Tagalog. I am sure he’d get a big kick out of it. He’d probably laugh and maybe try to teach me bad words or see if I knew them already. I hope he’d say he was proud. I think he would be.
Tokyo to Manila (From June 19th)
June 19, 2007
[note: I am typing these entries on my laptop as they happen, but I will probably be posting them all together whenever I have internet access]
I’m in the Tokyo Narita airport. The 12 hour flight from Chicago to here was pretty hellacious. I watched the same episodes of The Office and How I Met Your Mother. Twice. I had never really watched The Office before. I love Jim. I love him. I do.
I tried to sleep. I tried to read. But I was just damn uncomfortable most of the flight. I took two Dramamine and down one of those little bottles of wine; so, I was feeling hazy and sleepy but didn’t really get any sleep.
I was on the end of the aisle sitting next to a large, older white man who wore a “Baptist Church” fanny pack with a heart on it. Next to him was a guy who was reading/referring to a Bible while writing what looked to be a sermon. Yeah. We didn’t really talk. AND, every time it seemed like I finally found a comfy second and was beginning to fall asleep, one of them would have to go to the potty. Right then.
I’m hearing Eminem come from some older Filipino man’s laptop right now. I think that’s where it’s coming from. Ah. Globalism. Aaliyah was playing in the Duty Free Shop.
It’s so quiet and clean in this airport. AND there is a smoking lounge. I bought a pack of crazy Japanese cigarettes. The box is pink (reason #1 why I bought it) and has little diamond/fake jewel stickers on it (reason #2). Not bad. Menthols, but that’s OK. They were $2.65 US. That’s like, almost free, right?
So I get into the Philippines tonight at 9ish. So, I will really be able to take a peek at things on Wednesday. I am staying with my Tito Rofel in Makati, which is (I think) a nice part, bourgeoisie part of Manila. He has a pool in his apartment complex. Woot!
I supposed that’s it for now. I am exhausted.
[note: I am typing these entries on my laptop as they happen, but I will probably be posting them all together whenever I have internet access]
I’m in the Tokyo Narita airport. The 12 hour flight from Chicago to here was pretty hellacious. I watched the same episodes of The Office and How I Met Your Mother. Twice. I had never really watched The Office before. I love Jim. I love him. I do.
I tried to sleep. I tried to read. But I was just damn uncomfortable most of the flight. I took two Dramamine and down one of those little bottles of wine; so, I was feeling hazy and sleepy but didn’t really get any sleep.
I was on the end of the aisle sitting next to a large, older white man who wore a “Baptist Church” fanny pack with a heart on it. Next to him was a guy who was reading/referring to a Bible while writing what looked to be a sermon. Yeah. We didn’t really talk. AND, every time it seemed like I finally found a comfy second and was beginning to fall asleep, one of them would have to go to the potty. Right then.
I’m hearing Eminem come from some older Filipino man’s laptop right now. I think that’s where it’s coming from. Ah. Globalism. Aaliyah was playing in the Duty Free Shop.
It’s so quiet and clean in this airport. AND there is a smoking lounge. I bought a pack of crazy Japanese cigarettes. The box is pink (reason #1 why I bought it) and has little diamond/fake jewel stickers on it (reason #2). Not bad. Menthols, but that’s OK. They were $2.65 US. That’s like, almost free, right?
So I get into the Philippines tonight at 9ish. So, I will really be able to take a peek at things on Wednesday. I am staying with my Tito Rofel in Makati, which is (I think) a nice part, bourgeoisie part of Manila. He has a pool in his apartment complex. Woot!
I supposed that’s it for now. I am exhausted.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Here! Present! Over here!
I'm HERE!
Internet access has been a bit spotty and I don't want to pull a "I'm having such a great time abroad let me spend all my time in internet cafes telling people at home about it" so, I've been creating posts on my laptop and planing to load them up via jump drive. But, of course, now that I have internet access, I don't have my jump drive. So, there's going to be some back tracking the next time I post.
It's strange because as of right now, I have yet to have an "I'm on the other side of the world!" moment. I am (obviously) familiar with the culture, I've been with family, and nearly everyone speaks English and when they do speak Tagalog I can understand them. I am sure the fact that I am so far away from home with sink in at some point, but right now, I don't feel so far away.
Oh! Before I forget. I CAN get texts but not through my American cell. My uncle is lending me a Filipino cell. You can text me from the States at +639154337235. You may or may not have to use the +. I think it just depends on your cell phone carrier. I think it costs about 40 US cents or 15 more cents if you have unlimited texting.
I have some detailed entries on my computer, so I will just leave some enticing highlights and post the specifics later.
--Makati, Manila (lots of shopping--though I restrained myself and only bought sunglasses--lots of great restaurants, the "closest to New York you'll get to in the Philippines," says my Tito (Uncle) Rofel.
--I've learned so many things about my family that I didn't know (Tito Rofel has been filling me in on the drama that noone ever talks about).
--I've already procured several books and that was on my first day in the country.
--My family is so nice. They have been so generous. They are having a hard time speaking to me in Tagalog. They keep talking to me in English, which makes it hard for me to use my Tagalog. They also keep forgetting that I understand almost everything they say :)
--I am in Laguna now and I passed the University where I will be studying. I am in the country AND close to the International Rice Research Institute. Ah. The jokes are endless...
--I've been missing my dad. But it's been a good kind of missing. It's a sad sort of dull ache but I am happy to be feeling it.
Ok. More later. I am going to go swim! Ok, well, float and wade around.
Internet access has been a bit spotty and I don't want to pull a "I'm having such a great time abroad let me spend all my time in internet cafes telling people at home about it" so, I've been creating posts on my laptop and planing to load them up via jump drive. But, of course, now that I have internet access, I don't have my jump drive. So, there's going to be some back tracking the next time I post.
It's strange because as of right now, I have yet to have an "I'm on the other side of the world!" moment. I am (obviously) familiar with the culture, I've been with family, and nearly everyone speaks English and when they do speak Tagalog I can understand them. I am sure the fact that I am so far away from home with sink in at some point, but right now, I don't feel so far away.
Oh! Before I forget. I CAN get texts but not through my American cell. My uncle is lending me a Filipino cell. You can text me from the States at +639154337235. You may or may not have to use the +. I think it just depends on your cell phone carrier. I think it costs about 40 US cents or 15 more cents if you have unlimited texting.
I have some detailed entries on my computer, so I will just leave some enticing highlights and post the specifics later.
--Makati, Manila (lots of shopping--though I restrained myself and only bought sunglasses--lots of great restaurants, the "closest to New York you'll get to in the Philippines," says my Tito (Uncle) Rofel.
--I've learned so many things about my family that I didn't know (Tito Rofel has been filling me in on the drama that noone ever talks about).
--I've already procured several books and that was on my first day in the country.
--My family is so nice. They have been so generous. They are having a hard time speaking to me in Tagalog. They keep talking to me in English, which makes it hard for me to use my Tagalog. They also keep forgetting that I understand almost everything they say :)
--I am in Laguna now and I passed the University where I will be studying. I am in the country AND close to the International Rice Research Institute. Ah. The jokes are endless...
--I've been missing my dad. But it's been a good kind of missing. It's a sad sort of dull ache but I am happy to be feeling it.
Ok. More later. I am going to go swim! Ok, well, float and wade around.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Packing. Erm. Packed.
I fit everything into my red backpack.
Impressive, no?
I stuffed everything into smaller stuff sacks and managed to get my sleeping bag in there, too. AND I stuffed my hiking boots, Chacos (I know, I know--I swore I'd never wear them again, but they're only for hiking), flip-flops, and sneakers in between all of that.
And this is how I felt after I closed it:
Packing, apparently, has made me grow a mullet.
I also, to recognize my bag right away, tied leopard print ribbon to several parts of the outside. I am girly-travely-outdoorsy.
I promise this blog will be more interesting once I am actually IN the Philippines instead getting ready for it.
Impressive, no?
I stuffed everything into smaller stuff sacks and managed to get my sleeping bag in there, too. AND I stuffed my hiking boots, Chacos (I know, I know--I swore I'd never wear them again, but they're only for hiking), flip-flops, and sneakers in between all of that.
And this is how I felt after I closed it:
Packing, apparently, has made me grow a mullet.
I also, to recognize my bag right away, tied leopard print ribbon to several parts of the outside. I am girly-travely-outdoorsy.
I promise this blog will be more interesting once I am actually IN the Philippines instead getting ready for it.
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