Boracay, Boracay.

Pictures just can't capture how blue (clear) the water is!

Mom and I by our boat that took us island hopping.

Swimming in one of the caves!

During our island hopping trip...

Doing my floating meditation on our practically private beach...I'm convinced the floating meditation is the only time it is ever quiet here in the Philippines.

Cute kids wanting their picture taken!!

We spotted a dog on the beach...no wait, we saw a spotted dog on the beach.

Filipino food - pizza? Delicious.

Sunset in Boracay

View of the water from our resort

Welcome to Bantayan Island!

This is where we stayed...talk about being right on the water!

I'm trying to convince Mom to start a tricycle business at home...


Just kidding...we stayed here!

Alan climbed a tree to get a young coconut, so my mom could try fresh buko juice!


"Refreshing," she said.

Our amazing hut on the beach.

On the way to the ferry...

Me, Mom, Angela, and Alan

Sunset in Bantayan, beautiful.

Just lounging around...

A Much Awaited Visit.

My mom arrived in the Philippines last week, and her visit has taken us all over. I asked her if she would like to contribute a posting to my blog, and she gladly obliged. It is great to see the country and culture I live in through a fresh pair of eyes. Enjoy!!

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Lynn asked me to write some reflections of my visit to the Philippines. Although I don’t write as eloquently as she does, I told her I’d give it a try.

After my initial flight from Chicago to Seattle, getting on the plane for the next leg of the flight had me a little apprehensive knowing I would be in another culture when I get off. Luckily all the flights were on time and I had a group of people at the airport waiting for me at midnight. Lynn and her host family came with their catering jeepney to take me back to their home that will be my “hotel” periodically throughout the week I’m there. As Lynn gave instructions on “How to Ride a Jeepney” a few blogs earlier, I did read it, but I failed the test when I put it to use. The first thing I did when getting into their jeepney was bump my head on the ceiling of it! (Experience #1).

Lynn, as my tour guide for the week, did a great job. It sure helped to know the language and ropes on getting around. Our first day we stayed in Cebu and Lynn gave me a tour of her work site, sections of the city, and a mall. I experienced the hectic and chaotic lifestyle of a city of 2 million people through jeepney, taxi cab riding and walking, WOW!! There are people everywhere on the streets on scooters, trikes, jeepneys, taxis, cars, buses, trucks all in a hurry to get somewhere with very little order of traffic pattern. There is a center of the road, but they use it to take the next split second to pass the next vehicle they come upon. I would be dead trying to drive in this mass transit. (Experience #2) Now I understand why Lynn has not ridden her bike much since she bought it.

From hectic to calm, we spent the weekend on Bantayan Island. As we traveled there, I thought of the movie “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles” as we got there by “Taxi, Bus, Ferry, and Trike – a taxi ride to the bus station, a 3-hour bus ride, an hour ferry boat ride, and a 10-minute trike ride to our accommodations for the weekend. All this travel for less than $10 for the both of us. This was a great way to see more of the city and the countryside once we got out of the city.

Once on Bantayan Island, it was a whole different world of calm and laid back, beautiful aqua ocean, and very local culture. Two of Lynn’s friends came along and we had a hut right on the beach as accommodations. We could walk right out our door onto the beach. Pictures will say a lot but doesn’t bring out the full beauty of the aqua water. We settled in immediately with our beach clothes, Wisconsin cheese and cherry beer. See pictures of that as well. The next two days were spent like this - walk by 6:00 am, read, get wet, read, eat, get wet, sleep, read, get wet, etc. repeating throughout the day. Of course sun was included. The nearby hammock was a change of pace once in a while. We went out to eat to a few local restaurants at night. San Miguel beer was the specialty drink.

After the calmness of that island, back to Cebu for Monday night to regroup and repack for Boracay Island where we spent Tuesday through Friday. Monday night, however, we went out with her friends in Cebu. It was a nice night, but, of course, hectic in the city again. I also almost panicked when my ATM card did not work after trying 2 ATM machines. I was trying to then figure out how I would pay for the rest of the week with the dwindling cash on hand. Then one of Lynn’s friends asked if we tried an international ATM. We really didn’t know, but she told us where one was. Once trying that one, it worked. That was a relief and I learned something about ATM machines. (Experience #3).

Tuesday am we headed for Boracay Island. There again was “taxi, plane, trike, ferry, trike” to get there. It was a beautiful hour flight as Boracay is a small island off the coast of another main island north of Cebu Island. You would have to look on a map to see what I mean, but trust me, you can’t get there very directly by other transportation. We got there by noon, checked into our resort and immediately converted again to beach clothes. Very nice golf resort with private beaches even clearer and cleaner than Bantayan Island. We were off the beaten path of the main White Sand beach that attracts the vacationers to this island, but a shuttle from the resort made it easy to get to that beach.

White Sands beach has an atmosphere all its own. When the tide goes out in late afternoon, the beach transforms into dining and lounging areas, bars, and a wide walking area to stroll up and down for 2 miles. There are hotels, restaurants, and shops as far as you can see up and down. You can get sailboat rides, island boat rides, jet skis, etc. This island is also known for the best diving and snorkeling, so there are excursions for that as well. The sunset is also gorgeous as this is on the west coast of the island. Local kids are making sand art in the sand hoping for donations from the viewers. Other vendors are selling necklaces, watches, and other local crafts. Massages and tattoos are also done right on the beaches. Lynn had a 1-hour massage for just $7. What a deal. She wanted me to get a tattoo, but I declined her offer.

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Just one picture, enjoying the New Glarus beer and the cheddar cheese sent from home. More pictures to follow!

Ting-Init = Ting-Tuli.

When April arrived, it also brought with it Ting-Init, which is summer. It literally means “hot season”. Although it seems as if the Philippines is summer all year round, April and May seem to scorch through the skin and make a foreigner sweat enough to be able to run a small hydroelectric plant out of all the pores in the body.

Ting-Init also means a few other things—school vacation, Holy Week, summer camps, and circumcision. Yes, Ting-Init is also Ting-Tuli (circumcision season) here in the Philippines. All the kids are out of school, so there is no better time to snip that foreskin of 5-10 year old boys who are excited to join the ranks of men before them. Unlike in the United States (if circumcision is chosen by the parents), here the practice is to circumcise children once they are old enough to know the “meaning” of such a ritual.

Once it’s decided if a boy is going to be circumcised, the parents usually ask him if he’s “ready”. Knowing that this will bring him one step closer to full manhood (about which I could write a whole book in and of itself), the boy agrees that he’s ready. Before the operation takes place, some boys are very brave, while others show their fear on their sleeves. If this is the case, there are a few tactics utilized to further convince the boy that this horrific and painful little ceremony will benefit him in the long run. For instance, adults will convince the boy that if he does not get circumcised, he will not be able to grow taller, which of course all boys want to do. Other kids also tell him that he will be gay (or maybe he already is gay) if he chooses not to get circumcised (if he doesn’t “choose” it this year, he’ll “choose” it next year…it’s only a matter of time anyways). And of course, there is the strategy of lying to the child and telling him that it won’t hurt. Another tactic is to convince the boy that he will be the only one that is not circumcised, therefore further making him the center of embarrassment amongst his friends. At this point, (from my observations, at least), other kids and the adults are making fun of the boy so much anyway that it’s to the point where it will always be remembered—“Hey, remember when so-and-so cried about getting circumcised? He was soooo afraid.” It’s really a horrible little social ceremony to watch (not the circumcision itself, but rather the conversation that leads up to it if the boy is scared in the least bit).

While I sat with a boy who was 5-years-old, and he was bawling and gripping onto a pole so as not to get dragged away into the surgical room (aka the library, which was used as the central spot for circumcisions during a recent medical mission), I quietly rubbed his back and told him that yes, I would be afraid too. I would undoubtedly cry, and I would definitely be hanging onto something stationary. He was doing all the things that I would have. But while I was sitting with this boy and displaying what I saw as empathy and understanding, I was surrounded by children and adults that were doing all of the above—convincing, teasing, lying, etc. It made me wonder—was I making the situation better or worse? I was comforting this child who was simply scared of getting an important body part permanently altered—I was there for him when he needed someone to understand, which is exactly what a youth worker should be doing. At the same time though, I was mixing up these cultural lines and perhaps making it more difficult for the others to “convince” him to get the procedure done. Since I was there, saying I understand and that I would be scared too, I was perhaps blurring those lines. It occurred to me a few times that it may just be easier to walk away and let them do their cultural “thing”, but in the long run, I decided to stay and support him, just by sitting by him and helping him feel like someone was on his side, whether he chose to get circumcised or not.

The tough part is that I understand the whole “cultural tradition” thing—it’s just what is done, what has always been done, and what will probably continue to be done. Who am I to say what’s right and wrong? But sometimes it’s not so easy to just sit back and say, “It’s just cultural.” When I see a 5-year-old who is completely terrified about what is about to happen to him, it shows the human side of culture. And things don’t always have to be how they have always been. That little boy chose not to get circumcised yesterday. He’ll wait until next year, when he’ll be a bit older and perhaps wiser to make such a “choice”.

Questions.

I know I haven’t updated my blog in a while—one thing I struggle with is finding topics that will be interesting to ya’ll. PLEASE feel free to email me or comment on here with any questions that you may have about the Philippines, the Peace Corps, my work, living with a host family, the experiences of culture shock, etc. I know you’re all PINING for more blog posts (if I haven’t lost you all already, oh faithful readers)! Much love.

Are the jeeps getting shorter, or I am getting taller and clumsier?

In November when I moved to my permanent site, I began to ride jeepneys on a regular basis around the city. Although much different than buses in the US, it’s a pretty easy system. But there is a process to riding a jeepney that makes it an art. First, maybe you should see a picture of a jeep.

There it is! Jeepneys in the Philippines began by taking old WWII jeeps and renovating them so that more people could fit in the back. Today, they’ve morphed into much more, being places to display artwork or advertisements.

So, back to the process (Mom, pay attention…you are going to have to do this!).

1. You must know where you want to go and which jeep you can take to get you there. Since I have a pretty awesome host family, I usually ask them if I’m going to a new place which jeep I can take. You can also ask the jeep driver or anyone standing alongside the road, such as a security guard. Also, I’m lucky to live in a city where the jeeps are numbered, thus making it easier to know whether or not you are getting onto the correct jeep.

2. Once you see the jeep that you need, you raise your arm to flag it down. If you don’t do this on time, though, it’s fine because the jeep will stop anyways thinking that they can convince you to get on. The driver might make kissy noises or yell “Heyyy” until you turn and look. Now, it’s important to not raise your hand like you would in the US to flag a cab. Put your arm at a 45 degree angle (usually the right arm, since that is the arm facing the road). Bend the wrist as if you have no control over what your hand is doing, and just flop the hand. It takes a while to get used to, but it’s actually a quite fun way to beckon someone.

3. Once the jeep sees the flopping hand (or just pulls over anyways), head to the back of the jeep to get in. There will usually be a conductor, who is in charge of making sure everyone is situated, has gotten rid of their personal bubble space, and pays the correct fare. If the jeep is crowded, the conductor will point to which side you should sit on or where you might find a small triangle of room for your hinder to fit into. Now, when you get in, make sure to hang onto your bag so that it doesn’t hit anyone in the face or throw you off balance while you are trying to get to your seat (in a jeep that is possibly in motion by this point). Also, watch where your feet are going, because if you step on someone’s foot, it could also throw your balance off and subsequently throw you face-first into the first available seat and/or all the passengers sitting there. Ladies, it is also important to hold the front of your shirt if it is at all low-cut, and the same goes for your lower back if it might reveal itself during entrance to the jeep. During all this, of course you must be crouching down and watching where your head is, because if you are 5’6” or taller, you will smack your head on the roof at least 50% of the time. If you’ve never succeeded at multi-tasking, give up and take a taxi.

4. If you do end up smacking your head, it often helps to give a small chuckle and a dramatic, “Aguy,” or, “Ouch.” This will help to determine the overall atmosphere of the jeep. If people stare at you as if you are an alien that just dropped out of the sky, put your sunglasses on and be prepared to mind your own business. Sometimes, however, others on the jeep will give you a pitied look or a look that says that they understand. One time, a friendly gentleman even commented on how tall I was. So if that happens, it helps to create a sense of community amongst the jeepney riders. For the rest of the ride, you should feel at home and comfortable.

5. Sometime during your ride, you will be responsible for paying your fare. Now, it usually depends on the person’s preference as to when you pay it. Some people enter a jeep and pay the conductor almost immediately, while others will wait until they are leaving. I usually take the advice of my host sister, who doesn’t pay until she’s almost to her destination. That way, if the jeep gets a flat tire or the driver decides to take a lunch break, you still have your fare to pay a different jeep. It’s best if you have exact change, but if you don’t, that’s okay too. Pass your money towards the back of the jeep (or towards the driver if there is no conductor—the driver will multitask and make change while driving busy roads, impressive). When others are passing in their fare down to the conductor, I usually stick out my hand to help—it’s seems to sometimes garner a bit of respect, since everyone is wondering why you are there anyways. If you don’t have exact change, you should tell the conductor where you are going and where you are coming from. He can then calculate the fare in his mind and pass back the correct change. Since you are a foreigner, though, chances are that at least 5% of your rides, you will have to actually ask for your change. You will sit patiently for a while, knowing that sometimes it does take a while for change to be handed back. However, when you notice that someone else who paid after you has received their change, at that point it’s okay to say, “Dong, wa pa ko’y sukli,” or “Young man, I don’t have my change yet.” Realizing that you speak the language and therefore know the correct jeepney fares, he’ll grudgingly pass you the two or three coins.

6. Once you have your change, you can sit back and relax. Once you get close to your destination (if you don’t quite know where you’re going, tell the conductor and he will make sure that you get off at the right spot), you have a few choices. You can either yell, “Lugar lang,” which means literally, “Just this place.” You can also choose to make kissy noises to the driver or utilize coins to bang on the bars above. The other option is to knock on the roof to get the driver’s attention. They’ll pull over to the side of the road (or stop in the middle) so that you can get out. Follow the same guidelines as before—hang onto your bags, watch your feet, watch your head, hold your shirt, etc. Step down, and jump out.

7. Congrats! You’ve done it.

8. Some other things to keep in mind…always keep your bag on your lap with your arms over it…make sure you know what your neighbors are doing…get over the whole “personal bubble” thing, it doesn’t exist here…you might want to bring a handkerchief to cover your mouth in order to keep the exhaust out of your lungs…hang onto the upper bar, or you might go flying into your neighbor…and last but not least, be nice.

So that’s the jeepney experience in a nutshell! It takes a couple rides to get used to it, but eventually it’s just a normal, everyday activity. As much as I do love the jeeps, there are some days that I would trade one in for a nice, clean bus with big windows and comfortable seats that has specific stops and contributes much less air pollution to our atmosphere. But heck, being able to experience that again will come soon enough!

Living Without...

It was a tough day for this Peace Corps Volunteer today. I had to go without something that I’ve been able to enjoy every Wednesday and Thursday night for the last two months. Something that I look forward to, that I plan my evening around. Something that reminds me of the American Dream, and of how small this world really is. Have you guessed it yet? Well, tonight I had to spend my Wednesday night without being able to watch American Idol. Danny, Adam, Allison, Paula, Simon—they’re all a part of my routine every week. They come into my living room just as if we were old friends, like we hang out every week. Right now I’m in Manila, where there should be TVs upon TVs. With no place to watch at my pension house, I headed to the mall thinking I would for sure find something—I mean, TGI Friday’s had to have it on, right? Nothing. I even went to the large casino to see if it was playing in the bar/restaurant. Nope. I sadly walked home in the rain, knowing that I would be able to watch the results show tomorrow (back home at my site) but would feel a bit lost without having seen the performances.

I know. Pathetic, right? Here I am, in the Peace Corps, and I am so high-maintenance that I need to watch “my show” every week. Without it…well, watch out. This might be one cranky PCV. I especially baffle my own self with the development of this obsession. I have never been an Idol watcher before, and I never thought that I would be! But there is honestly something about being able to be that “close” to home that puts a spark in the relationship between Idol and me. There’s something about being able to log in to Facebook and to be on the same wavelength as all my friends at home. (Sidenote: I have learned, though, that Facebook is dangerous in terms of Idol. The show airs live in the US, but airs in the Philippines about 10 hours behind the live version. Therefore, I found out about Matt G.’s save much earlier than I would have liked, thanks to News Feed.)

Since our worlds seem so far apart on a daily basis, Idol is something that can unite me with my friends and family at home. For example, I might have had a day where I’ve encountered a married 16-year-old with her baby who is no longer attending school, bought an apple for a young boy who lives in the streets but stuck with me just long enough in conversation to exchange names and abbreviated life stories, or had to deal with being called “fat” much of the day because that’s just part of the culture. So at the end of that day, it’s difficult to Skype about all that’s happened or all that’s weighing down the heart, because it just won’t be understood by someone who hasn’t quite experienced it. But Skyping about Idol is easy, light, and uniting. It’s a central meeting point between PCV and family at home.

My time with Idol every week also serves as a bonding moment with my host family. Every Wednesday and Thursday, we gather on the chairs and couch in the living room to watch the performances and results. My younger sister Ruby has a slight crush on Adam, and over the last few weeks of his performances, I mean, who doesn’t? Every time Danny performs, well I get goose bumps, but my family always knows that he’s the one from Wisconsin. They love Allison for the fact that she’s only 16 (now 17) and her voice will blow you away. When Anoop was told he went from “zero to hero” a few weeks ago, Mama couldn’t stop imitating his excited fist swooshing through the air. It’s fun to see how much we invest each week into the results. And the shared experience and cultural exchange, in my opinion, is amazing.