blackouts.

On Saturday night, my sister and I took a jeepney down to Olongapo City “proper” (a.k.a. the heart of the city).  From the jeepney transfer station we took a trike down to a small dive-like bar where a small reggae cover band was playing.  The place actually reminded me of my favorite college bar- The Joynt.  As we were listening, singing, relaxing and enjoying a Red Horse, suddenly the cool, tranquil atmosphere of the bar went black.  It was my first blackout.

The entire street was out, and unlike the U.S., generators are practically non-existent.  Despite my dazed bewilderment, time for the blackout veterans continued on.  Soon, the band members turned on their phones and we all entered mock “rave” mode.  People flickered the lights on and off from their phones creating a facade of strobe lights bouncing against the walls. So as we rocked back and forth to the pulsing lights from our cellphones and the beat boxing band, workers circled around the sidelines to light candles.

And the show went on.

Minsan Lang Kita Iibigan.

is my host mother’s favorite telenovela.  The first night I arrived in Olongapo City, she invited me to watch her beloved show with her.  Naturally I accepted her invitation- bonding time, right?!  This “bonding time” however led to the expectation that I too feel in love with the show and that I would watch it every night with her from that day forward.

I’m sure we’ve all experienced a bad soap opera or two in our day- perhaps your grandma would turn them on as she washed the dishes, your daycare provider watched them religiously, your aunt would gossip about her theory on “so-and-so’s baby switching scheme” or you’ve simply seen one of the god awful commercials. Either way, its common knowledge that soap operas encompass all that is terrible acting, elevator music and plot lines.  But let me assure you- Filipino telenovelas are far worse than anything you’ve seen.

Every night at 8pm, she will turn on the canteen’s television just in time to hear the sappy theme song coming to a close. This is the theme song that will haunt my days- it gets stuck in my head, I hum it- Jesus, I’ve even caught myself singing this song.  The entire show is in tagalog which makes their fast paced, catty and dramatic dialogue even more difficult to follow. Furthermore, the acting is far worse than you could ever imagine. You could make a strong argument that they have never looked over their lines prior to filming. Yet with each cheesy line, and awkward movement, my host mother will clutch to hear chest and look at me with teary eyes and sigh, “if you could understand tagalog…it so beautiful!” But the thing is, I don’t need to understand the words- I could predict the outcome of the story as well as assume the entire plot of the episodes leading up to this one based on the terrible acting and story line I had seen in the first 13 minutes. It. Is. Awful.

Last night, my host brother came into the living room carrying a bottle of wine.  A half hour, four bags of Filipino imitation Fritos, and a bottle of wine later, we all sat, empty glass in hand with our eyes glued to the TV.  My mom looked over at me “you understand?” observing the tears rolling out of my eyes.

“Not at all!” I finally erupted with laughter. The lead actor was wearing Crocs.
Cue canned laughter. Camera four- zoom out. Cue theme song. End scene.

hand washing…

blows.

but it makes me feel really bad ass. A few days ago I grabbed my small pile of laundry and headed over to my host sister’s house.  I had absolutely no idea what I was doing- which was quite humorous to her.  Soak, wash, scrub, scrub, scrub, soak, rinse, wring, rinse, wring, rinse, wring, rinse, wring, rinse, wring, hang. No joke- it drives you insane how many times you need to keep rinsing and wringing them out.
We made the best of our time though, by watching the Filipino Most Wanted Awards and chica-chicaing.

After around 4 hours, I had washed about 20 pieces of clothes.  Greeeeaaaat.

…and a somewhat embarrassing side note, I defs woke up with sore arms the next day.

I want to ride my tricycle, I want to ride my trike…

Like most children from my generation, I loved playing Mario Kart.  I was also the typical player who would sway my controller, lean into the turns and hop out of my seat as I went off a jump.  My imagination would run wild (especially in Rainbow Cup, holla!) as I drove through the “coooool” the tracks.  I. loved. Mario Kart. period.
This however, caused some problems: unrealistic driving standards.  Cars were boring. Where were the balloons?! What- no lightening bolt?! Driving was lame.
Real life solution: Pinoy Trikes.

Don’t let them fool you- they pack a powerful punch. My first experience in one of these was entertaining to say the least.  A neighbor offered to drive me home after a videoke fiesta at his house, and I gladly accepted. Leaving a neighbor’s house isn’t easy though.  The entire household will see you out which typically leads to many children accompanying you on your ride home.  So while my Filipino neighbor drove the motorcycle, three small children jumped on the front and back of the seat.  Meanwhile, in the side cart, myself, another volunteer and two more children crammed into a space the size of a toy chest.

After the first failed attempt to start the trike, we jolted forward at the speed of light.  We were taken off guard and were thrown back into our seats- we were gonna have to hold on for this ride. We were kicking up dust. We sent old trash flying in the air and were out of sight before we could watch it fall to the ground. We splashed through every puddle and hit every pothole in the broken road…and we hadn’t even left their street.  Without more than a few second’s hesitation, our trike driver swerved onto the highway, cutting off the oncoming traffic (very common for Filipinos) and sending the adrenaline pumping to our veins.  There was fluidity to his chaotic driving as we weaved between jeepneys, motorcycles, other trikes and cars.  As we took a sharp turn in front of another vehicle I had to brace myself from flying out the open/non-existent door.  I looked over at the other volunteer who was sandwiched next to me; her mouth was ajar in a mixture of horror and bewilderment.  Suddenly, I broke out into a wholehearted laugh.  I slowly loosened my grip, sat back, and enjoyed our ride as we drove beneath a beautiful and clear Filipino sky.

Church.

It was nearing sundown as my mom and I pulled up to the church. People stood on the side of the road, drinking their cokes and fanning themselves.  The setting sun had begun casting that comforting auburn tint across the ground as it slowly sunk behind the small houses and buildings. A few stray dogs darted before and between my legs as my host mother greeted a clergyman.  We were late, and the service had already started.

The church was packed, which forced many of us to crowd around on the steps, the windows and the street.  Children were running around and pushing through the crowds to get a pew seat near their lola.  The heat was unbearable and each woman came armed with a fan to provide a breeze for themselves and their babies. Roosters were crowing during the Eucharist, dogs would bark during the hymns and birds continuously flew in and out of the building.  But it was beautiful.

As an old man pulled out a comb from his torn and work faded jeans to fix his hair, I saw yet another beautiful aspect of the Filipino life. The lives the people of Olongapo live are far from lavish, easy or luxurious.  Each day is spent thinking about how to survive the next.  Even a simple trip out of their province only occurs once in a lifetime for many.  Yet I recognized that there was beauty in the fact that they have something which we will never have- simplicity.  We spend our entire lifetimes working meaning less jobs- sacrificing time, relationships and sanity for something that doesn’t bring us true happiness. The privileges which have become a common part of our lives, are non-existent here, the people of this community live a truly humble life. Many of the people here have a sense of satisfaction in a life which we would see as unbearable by our standards. Although I could not identify with their feelings, I could see in their eyes the sense of fulfillment and hope they were given- just enough to make it through the next hard week.

Cheers to hoping that during this adventure I find that same simplicity they have found.

Sven.

Sven is a cockroach who lives in my room.

To be fair, I did move into his house, so I tried to be as courteous as possible. Sven however, is a terrible roommate.

Day 1:

I move into my new room. After unpacking, I spotted my new compadre. We didn’t exactly start off on the right foot (almost literally. I took my shoe off, threw it at him and missed). He seemed fairly harmless and kept to himself so I decided to leave him be.

Day 2:

My first night was spent waking up every few hours to see if Sven had moved. He hadn’t. Lucky me. He is a little messy though…he has already left a few clothes/old body parts on the floor.

Day 3:

AM: Sven has switched positions. Almost a 180.

PM: I return home to see that Sven has invited a friend over. This is not okay with me- I received no prior notice of this matter. This resulted in me yelling out loud “THAT BETTER BE A FUCKING EXOSKELETON, SVEN, OR I’M GONNA KILL HIM” This caused my host mom to knock on my door to make sure everything was okay. Needless to say, I kicked his friend to the curb.

Day 4:

AM: Apparently Sven’s misconduct has gotten the best of him. I can’t find him, I can only assume that he is extremely angry with me and has left.

PM: Sven is back and more aggressive than ever. He is now in the middle left hand corner of my wall. I can see his antennas twitch with each evil plan he plots. Tonight I will sacrifice two goats and burn the hair of lepers to win the protection of the gods.

SPECIAL UPDATE 11:13PM: SVEN IS GONE. HE’S GOING TO CRAWL ON ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND SCUTTLE ALL OVER MY FACE.  I HATE HIM WITH ALL MY BEING.

Day 5:

AM: Sven means business and ambushed me at approximately 6:40am. I however was expecting this. He flew from his corner and into my hair. I ran outside screaming like a girl where he finally let go. I ran back inside where he then squeezed under the door and hid under my bed. This is my personal 9/11.

hi-ho, Olongapo!

Sorry for the lack of updates, I am alive and safe! I searched in entire day to find this computer, so I’m thankful to say the least. I have the option of using an internet cafe but that means:

1. I have to expect 133934 children peering over my shoulder to watch every little thing I do

2. around 1293904 more adults come in and ask me who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m from, if I’m married…you get the idea

3. I can’t use my computer. No wi-fi, and also I clearly don’t want to be flashing out my fancy Macbook Pro in my new community.

I arrived here, safely as planned on the 13th and met my host family. To say the least, they all are incredibly caring and hardworking people. I am extremely lucky to have them. These past few days have consisted of really getting to know or training site community and building genuine relationships with and between its member’s.

On Saturday, we facilitated our Participatory Analysis for Community Action program. I was lucky enough to work with the 7-12 sector of our community. Together we drew pictures, wrote and communicated through half broken Taglish (Tagalog-English, ya dummy). During our IO, the volunteers consistently reminded us to take pride in the small accomplishments we saw.  So as we began to present our projects, I couldn’t help but beam as one of the little girls in my group stepped up to the plate and presented her calendar to the entire room. She was incredibly proud, and we were too.

So many wonderful experiences have already happened. They’re currently swimming laps around my head : )  trike rides, videoke, Red Horse, spider fights…

“you’ll experience your highest of highs, and your lowest of lows”

we’ve been hit with some pretty heavy stuff these past few days. tears, excitement, enthusiasm, passion, hurt, anger- pretty much human emotion you can think of, we have been feeling non-stop. We’ve all been trying to keep our minds at peace by supporting one another and constructively reflecting on everything we’ve been taking in. To say the least, my mind is spinning.

tomorrow, we will be leaving Silang at 7:00am to head to our training site!  Olongapo City is about 5 hours away from our hostel at the IIRR, so we all should be able to get a few hours of studying Tagalog and sleeping in before we meet our host families.  Excitement with a splash of nerves on the rocks, pleaseeeee.

this is pretty common foliage here. green everrryyywheree, I dig.

 

lets go to the mall…today!

Filipinos love the mall. It’s like walking into a time machine, and being thrown back into the 80’s. Gaggles of teenagers are walking around arm in arm, American club music is blaring, families are pushing around shopping carts full of bags…its about as cliché as you can get.

It’s somewhat of a joke that Filipinos have a mall culture around a mall that they can’t afford anything in.  But nonetheless, its extremely popular to go to the mall “just to hang out” regardless of if they even need anything. This picture doesn’t do it justice- but earlier in the afternoon, people were everrryyywhere.

Walking around the mall is an entirely new experience, because for the first time in my life I am a minority.  Not only are we minorities, but everyone loves to point, laugh, and stare (literally EVERYONE does this) at us. It’s like walking through and parting the sea of Filipinos as they gawk.  One of our co-workers is 6′ 6”, so as we wandered around the mall, it was extremely entertaining to watch the reactions of the short natives.

While at a department store, I noticed a little girl staring at us.  I kneeled down and said the classic “Hiiiii!” to which she responded “I’m six!” “Oh, wow! What’s your name?” “I’m six!” This continued for quite some time. The little girl then continued to follow me around the entireeee store. Dipping behind store displays, and keeping a good 3 steps behind- she was pretty enthralled. She suddenly left and returned with a store worker who told me that “she wants you to know that she can’t understand anything you are saying.” nice.

I also got my first “Hi, Joe!” yesterday.  A group of young boys walked past by, shouted, saluted me and continued on their walk.  Apparently its something that has stuck since the U.S. military occupation.

other small note: they love bags. everything gets a bag- even my slice of pizza…

I want to love you, PCT.

get it? instead of PYT? right? because I’m a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee)?!

Anyway, I can now breathe easy.

1. Filipinos LOVE Spongebob Squarepants. Even better, it’s in Tagalog.  I’m definitely expecting many mornings of watching this with my host brothers and sisters.

2. they have Jalapeno Cheetos! I scoured the SM (supermarket, duh) yesterday in the hopes of finding their delicious goodness, and viola- thar she blow!

A few days ago, I discovered my training site! For three months, 16 other volunteers and I will be in Olongapo City! Apparently we’ll be within 10-15 minutes of the coast, too.

For the past two days, we have been exploring the various projects in the Manila area.  It has been both incredible and shocking to explore this area of the Philippines. Things that I read and saw while researching, do not pay justice to the severity of poverty or the beauty of this area.  The slums and shacks are literally everywhere. It is pretty common for us to pass by children rummaging through trash, people walking barefoot, dogs wandering rampant and crudely build shelters.

We have visited five organizations so far.  Most of them are rehabilitation centers for abandoned, neglected, abused, trafficked, and orphaned children. It was somewhat embarrassing to stand in front of these children who have undergone such hardships as an extremely privileged American who has the luxury of volunteering for others.

Another note: the trash is EVERYWHERE. It’s in the streets, in houses, forests, streams, water…everywhere. Since few have running water, it is incredibly scary to see children bathing, drinking and washing clothes in these facilities…