You Got A Friend In Me

Envision yourself in a foreign country where the native tongue is a mystery and your location is undetermined and you're lost. Then some random stranger who is overly kind and helpful, leads you to your destination purely out of the kindness of their heart...not to receive money or to harm you, they help just because they want to help. Or perchance you and your neighbors live an impoverished life when a natural disaster strikes...the neighbor's situation is just bad as yours, but instead of taking care of their own house first, they help you and your family first. And in turn, the community all helps each other until normal life is restored. That, is what Filipinos do. Kindness and soft-hearts are consistent and well-known traits of the Filipino people.

In fact, ever since I've been in the Philippines there hasn't been a day thats passed where I've haven't been assisted in some way by a Filipino I know, or just some random stranger. Similar to the Thai and Cambodian people, Filipinos are there to help, but even more so. In the other countries I've visited during this trip (besides Vietnam), I've felt relatively safe; but here, I feel the safest and the most welcome. During a trip this weekend to Biliran Island, my fellow volunteers and I were showered with unexpected (kindness). After eating a delicious meal of lechon manok (roasted chicken), the owner of the restaurant began talking to us. Shortly after he learned of our hopes for visiting the nearby waterfalls and caves, he quickly formulated a plan for us to do just that. He let us use his pickup truck, driver, and even his nephew offered to act as our guide for the day, all for half the price we were quoted earlier by someone else. The day was perfect, and it was all a result of pure kindness, plain and simple.

Not only do Filipinos help each other regardless of what their own life is like, they also treat guests as their number one priority. Its important to them to make sure their guest has plenty of food and drink, is comfortable, and has their needs attended to. It can even be a bit awkward at times. I'm not used to the treatment I get here sometimes. As nice as it is, I long for the day where I am no longer a guest, but just a friend. But then I wonder, even then would the overt kindness end? Probably not.

The Bucket Challenge

Do you ever think about how much water we waste by simply taking showers? Not to mention those long hot showers taken either after a cold day outside, practice, or just cause; pleasure showers especially, waste a lot of water. And we can’t forget about how much water is wasted while allowing the shower to warm up to a suitable temperature. Basically, showers are a (waste). I’m not saying that we should all abandon the shower-taking practice and just go “natural”, I like to smell good just as much as the next person. And pungent body odors aren’t necessarily my favorite form of perfume. But what I am proposing is that we think about how much water we really are wasting and if its really necessary.

Here in the Philippines a large percentage of the population doesn’t have a shower or even running water. How then, do we bathe, you ask. Simple. The bucket method. In my neighborhood running water is a luxury. Instead we have to retreive water via a local water pump, bucket by bucket. Sometimes if we’re lucky, the water may occasionally trickle out of an ancient faucet in the CR (bathroom). Carrying buckets of water isn’t too difficult (its actually a pretty good workout) but when its a family of 5 plus two volunteers and fresh water is needed for cooking, cleaning, the toilet and the shower, that’s a lot of trips to the pump.

Back to the shower: Imagine a regular sized bucket, you know, the bucket you may use to mop the floors, wash your car with or even vomit in, that kind of bucket. Now fill it with water and don’t forget to acquire a little pale to use for dumping the cold water on your body. What? You didn’t think there was hot or even warm water available, did you? Once you’ve got your bucket and pale you are set, bathe! You’ll soon find out that carelessly dumping water on your body will result in an empty bucket before you are completely clean. It takes strategic pours of the pale to achieve the desired results. Can you do it? Now imagine using even less water, that’s a challenge.

The next time you preheat your shower, hop in, and have a leisurely bathing session, think twice, okay? The water you’re wasting could go a long long way in a place not your own.

"Education"

Many people assume that a person who goes to school, learns. Some more than others, but in an overall sense, all students are learners to some degree. But can a student really learn when their teacher doesn't even speak a language they can understand? Sometimes we run into this problem when we have a GSI or a professor who speaks limited English, but what I'm referring to is worse. Or what if you, yourself, barely knew your own language because it required lots of money and extra-effort by those around you to learn?

During my first week here I was assigned to work at the SPED center at the Santo Nino elementary school in Tacloban City. After a frustrating first day of chasing little Deaf kids around the yard instead of actually teaching, I figured things would get better. They didn't. I soon discovered that my class of first and second graders weren't in school, but rather daycare. The teacher in charge hardly knows any sign and basically shouts at the students when they don't listen...well no shit lady, they're Deaf. Banging on the podium isn't going to get their attention. The entire process is just one giant miscommunication. The teacher doesn't know sign language and the little sign that my students know made my attempts at communicating near ineffective. The parents of these students are paying a lot of money for a babysitter. Sure, the teacher goes about her lesson teaching basic math skills and English rules, but the absorption rate with the students has to be slim to none. What are these kids supposed to do?

The entire week last week I felt nothing but frustration and sadness. After speaking with several volunteer coordinators in the area, I discovered that this is just how it is here. Some of the wealthy kids can get tutors to enhance their learning, but the percentage of wealth here is very small. School isn't cheap. The families have to pay for the teacher, school supplies, uniforms and any other fees that may arise. Suffice it to say that I am now working at a high school with Deaf students that somehow made it past the rough elementary education I am sure they had to face. I found out that most of the Deaf population here have received no education at all, preventing them from fulfilling their potential.

Be grateful for the education you have received.

Chubby Pineapple

To be honest, I always thought it was a bit odd when people ordered "hawaiian pizzas", putting pineapple on pizza?! Are you out of your mind??? That was the past and this is the present, although I may not agree to pineapple on pizza, I do agree with the pineapple and pork combination. An even better combination is actually pineapple (or I'm sure most sweeter fruits would work) and *pure pork fat. Talk about turning pineapple dangerous. Here in the Philippines, people like their food fried; it doesn't matter what it is, it'll probably be fried. Now, they really are on to something...have you ever eaten something fried that wasn't delicious? Okay, fried crickets aren't my favorite, I'll admit it, but still...

For dinner tonight we had thinly sliced fried pork with every ounce of fat left on it. There was no meticulous trimming involved...why waste part of the animal? Oh no, when the Filipinos eat meat, they eat it all, ESPECIALLY the fat. The two pieces I was served were about 60% meat and 40% pure fat. I must admit, at first I strayed away from the fatty sides, but my host father insisted that I eat them. In an attempt to be respectful, I did. MMMMMMMM DELICIOUS! I was in pork heaven. Succulent strips of white fatty fried goodness awaited my trembling chews. But little did I know my next move would surprise my taste buds even more. Out of pure instinct I decided to add some of the pork fat to my slices of pineapple meant for dessert. Now THAT is the way to eat. There's something about the sugary and acidic pineapple mixed with the succulent fried to perfection fat that should be in every cookbook. It was like eating the most sweet AND savory dessert I've ever had. Don't knock it till you try it, or you'll be sorry.

To whomever invented the "Hawaiian" pizza, I commend you in your efforts, however you were close, but no cigar.

Up until now I always though that the American South had the only true knack for making fried chicken. Crispy yet airy, just the right amount of grease, and of course a well-raised chicken who's diet consisted of natural seed and grass, not that chemical stuff. Sure the English have had their attempts at perfecting one of America's all-time favorite foods, but they can never get it just right. BUT, as I am *almost embarrassed to say, the Filipinos got us beat. And they don't even use buttermilk! I dont know what their secret ingredient(s) is, but I'm determined to find out! The fried chicken here is OUT OF THIS WORLD. I don't even usually indulge in the cardiac arrest bird, but here, you have to. Fried chicken stands are everywhere you turn. There is no commercial giant controlling the fried chicken trade, but rather tiny little pop-up stands manned by one person serving out the best chicken you can get your hands on. What may have to do with it is that all of the chickens here are locally raised. Not to mention they're organic, like more than USDA organic, they're Tacloban organic (Portlandia anyone?). Now normally I'm a big crust fan, the more crispy outside the better. But here such crust doesn't exist, but its still very good!

Filipina Style

Here in the Philippines, things are different. That probably sounds redundant, but it bears repeating. The culture varies all throughout the Philippines with different dialects, ways of life and specific foods. But there are a plethora of things that remain the same; Filipino time (Filipinos move at their own pace, regardless of what the meeting time may be, they arrive when they want to arrive and they leave whenever they see fit), eating (Filipinos eat at least 5 times a day without fail, every aspect of their culture involves eating and drinking in some way, now what's wrong with that?), bluntness (they say whats on their mind or what they see, its not meant to be rude, but just the way they are. The other day the family and I talked about the virginity of all their family members, so openly like we were discussing the weather) and most importantly (there are plenty more), the love for music (karaoke is their jam, always singing and playing music) their open hearts and minds. It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, the Filipino people are willing to help you in any way and are more than willing to open their hearts and homes to you as well.

While walking down the street the other day, nearly every person I passed said hello and most of them wanted to engage in a conversation. I was greeted by smiles everywhere. What a nice feeling that is, to be instantly welcome, without prejudice or judgement. Keep in mind I've only just arrived here a few days ago but already the extended family of my home stay treats me like one of their own. Last night there was a birthday party for "baby boy" and despite my lack of Waray Waray (their dialect here), it was like I fit right in. They kept offering me food and drink, I've been invited to the family farm, and next week we're going to the beach! I couldn't have asked for a warmer welcome. I was quickly informed though, that this is how it is everywhere in the Philippines. It doesn't matter how much or how little money a family has, they'll give you what they have regardless. Which I must admit is a bit awkward feeling at times. Every time I'm given something, I want to give it back, or give something in return. The people in my Barangay (village) have nothing but they're the happiest people alive.

Agent Orange

I'm not sure how to begin this post other than to say it is in no way intended to be a political post of sorts, but rather a collection of thoughts on a highly political topic. Although in the US we as citizens tend to have the ability to make anything and everything political. If you haven't guessed yet, the picture above was taken during the Vietnam War...the picture itself is actually quite famous. Multiple books have been written about "the girl in the picture". What she's running from one of the frequent Napalm bombings in Southern Vietnam. Napalm is a thickening agent that sticks to the victims skin, burning them and making it near impossible to get off.

Saigon is home to the War Remnants Museum; a museum dedicated to Vietnam War and what its left behind. A top priority on the "must-see" lists of Saigon, the museum is actually quite cheap (about 75 cents to enter) and contains a significant amount of artifacts and information. Prior to visiting the museum I had been warned by several people that the information inside would be quite one-sided, and it was. Let me preface again by saying as of yet I do not have a strong stance on the events of the Vietnam War. I do not know enough to make any bold statements, so I wont. But regardless of what one's opinion is of the War, it is quite apparent that the Museum whole-heartedly points a finger at the US and only the US for everything that occurred during and after those 15 years of US involvement.

However that's not what I want to talk about...what affected me the most was the evidence presented concerning the after effects, mostly the exhibit dedicated to Agent Orange. "Agent Orange is the code name for one of the herbicides and defoliants used by the U.S. military as part of its herbicidal warfare program, Operation Ranch Hand, during the Vietnam War from 1961 to 1971. Vietnam estimates 400,000 people being killed or maimed, and 500,000 children born with birth defects.^{[1]" (}http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agent_Orange) The entire exhibit was filled with pictures and stories of victims affected by Agent Orange during the war and even as recent as 2001. The stories and pictures really got to me...I couldn't handle it. Cruelty at its finest. Why was that necessary? To maim and created "defected" children who have no chance at life even to this day? Why?

There were even preserved defected fetuses as well...the exhibit had everything, everything to make me feel incredibly difficult. I'm not sure why I felt so guilty. I wasn't there, I didn't make those executive decisions, yet I still felt responsible and just plain horrible. I kept apologizing in my head and even out loud sometimes, I couldn't help it.

The images and stories hurt so bad I had to leave. I'm not a person who usually gets shaken up, but today did it.

Rain Rain, Go Away

Shortly before leaving for my trip I found out that it was going to be MONSOON season in Southeast Asia during the exact time of my stay, awesome. Up until now I have yet to really experience the rain. But alas, it begins. Rain rain go away? Not a chance. In Saigon it rains everyday (starting about a few days ago and until September) from about 4 or 5pm until 10 or 11pm. Granted it doesn’t usually rain nonstop during that time, but it still seems like its always raining. Usually there will be two or three separate hours of downright downpour intermittenly through the evening.

I’ve learned that if you want to do something during the day, its best to get it done asap. I noticed something really funny today as well…as the rain picks up speed and transforms from a drizzle to a pour, at about the same time most of the motorbikes on the road will pull over onto the sidewalk and do one of two things: cover themselves, part of the bike, and a passenger if they have one, with this uniform sized poncho of sorts that everyone seems to have OR they pullover to a store location that has a decent awning to keep themselves and their bike, dry. Its almost like everyone just knows when its going to rain harder and when they need to make a move. They actually do it in shifts it seems like, one group pulls over, another leaves, weaving seamlessly back into hectic traffic.