One of the attractions (and challenges) of being a Peace Corps Volunteer is living in and adapting to a culture entirely different from the one in which Volunteers have been raised. This holds true for the Philippines. While there are similarities with American culture, there are also big differences. One of these differences has impacted me from the moment I arrived here: the belief that a woman's most important societal role, despite anything else she might do in her life, is to get married and raise a family. Sure, having educated, professional women is important, but ultimately a woman's job is to have a family. When Filipinos find out how old I am (30! *GASP*) the question that immediately follows is, "Are you married?" When I say "no" a slightly pitying look comes over their faces and some variation of, "Oh, you better find someone to marry soon!" is directed at me. I smile and nod, saying that I'll devote all my time and energy to finding a suitable mate once I'm done with the Peace Corps ("but by that time you'll be 31! *GASP*"). At least once a day someone mentions how I need to get married soon if I ever want to have children.
Don't get me wrong, I understand where they're coming from. Filipinos graduate from high school at age 16 and the majority do not go on to college. Thus, the next step for many is to get married and start a family at a very young age. Even those who go to college graduate by the time they're twenty or twenty-one, and the women at this point are expected to get married. I think parental pressure is very strong on daughters to have a family. Of course there are exceptions, but this is true for many women, particularly in the rural areas (which are much more extensive than the urban areas). Apart from outside societal pressures, women themselves seem to feel this is their ultimate female duty. I remember one conversation I had with my counterpart, with whom I'm quite close. She is 39 and has four children, the oldest of which is 17. We were discussing marriage and children and she said that I must have children because a woman is not complete without children. I've always thought I'd have children at some point, but I've never felt that I'm an incomplete woman without them. Often, I have to remind myself that people are not saying this to me to give me a hard time, but they are genuinely concerned for me. One time I was talking to a different teacher who asked why I'm not married. I said something about wanting to accomplish my own personal goals before starting a family, and she nearly yelled at me, "DO YOU WANT TO DIE ALONE?!?!" I think this is one of the most striking examples of the different cultural perspectives: in the U.S. it is desirable for a woman to have a family, but in the Philippines it is a woman's obligation to do so, preferably at a youngish age.
Before coming to the Philippines I never felt any pressure to get married. I have lots of single friends my age (and older), and yes, of course I'd like to fall in love and get married, but it'll happen when it happens. But after coming here...whew. Some days after numerous comments about my need to find a man I actually get a little freaked out that I will end up dying alone. But then I remember that this is just the Philippines effect. Given the cultural context here, I understand why they see a 30-year-old single woman as an abnormality. People here just aren't single at thirty. Sometimes the teachers like to play the "how many children did I have by the time I was your age" game. The most is five. Most days I'm fine with the comments and conversation - it's something I've become accustomed to hearing. Like the comments I always get about how I'm REALLY BIGGGGGG and how I have nice white skin (no...I'm tan! I'M TAN!!). But the other day something happened that made me seriously consider getting married - to the first man off the street...tall, short, fat, idiotic, peg-legged...whatever. My counterpart and I were teaching our first class of the day and she was introducing new vocabulary words to the students. One of the words was "bachelor." None of the students knew the definition so she wrote it on the board: an unmarried man. Then she asked the class if they knew what an unmarried woman is called. I was thinking, "duh, a bachelorette" when all of a sudden she says, "a spinster - like what Ma'am Britt is!" I think the look on my face adequately conveyed my emotions at that moment. First of all, I don't think "spinster" is the female equivalent of "bachelor." Second of all, "spinster" is an antiquated term and I would much prefer the more modern label of "crazy cat lady." Third of all, if you're going to call someone a spinster, do it behind her back, not to her face. Fourth of all, I'M ONLY 30!!!!
I'd like to think that my being called a spinster was the product of the "lost in translation" problem - her not entirely understanding what "spinster" means in English (and the connotations of being called one....ouch!). But I'm not so sure. I've already adopted one cat here and am responsible for feeding two others, so maybe I am a crazy cat lady. But a spinster?? I just can't own up to that.
So, my dear readers, if you know of any peg-legged, slightly idiotic bachelors, feel free to give them my contact info. Send all letters to the attention of Britt "30-Year-Old Spinster" Hubbard.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Personal Growth
Believe it or not, August 21st marked the one-year anniversary of my arrival in the Philippines. In honor of that auspicious date, I'd like to devote this post to reflecting on some of the things I've learned over the past year.
Raid is for cowards.
In previous posts I've mentioned the sense of omnipotence one feels while holding a can of Raid over an unsuspecting pest. Many a spider, ant, mosquito, and Filipino mega-cricket have fallen victim to its steady, deadly spray. But recently I've realized that Raid is the ultimate form of passive-aggressive confrontation. I spray poison from a safe distance away while the pest hops around dying a slow, torturous death. This is not only cowardly, it's cruel. (Not to mention the somewhat serious side-effect of poisoning myself, which in the heat of battle seems a small price to pay for vanquishing my enemy, but afterwards makes me think I've knocked five years off my life.)
Case in point: You may recall one of my last posts about the Filipino mega-cricket infestation I suffered from a few months ago. While the mega-crickets have never again returned in such force, I do get one or two flying around every week. But do I run to get my can of Raid? No (and pay attention here - I think this is the best example of my personal growth), I run to get my flip flop. Did you think I was going to say I leave it in peace to live out the rest of its 2-week life cycle? Let's not get crazy, I'm no Mother Teresa. But I do face it, human to pest, and give it a nice quick death with a slap of my flip flop. (And I'd like to point out how this is more dangerous for me as I must get much closer to the cricket and actually risk missing my target, thereby enraging him and having him try to hop on me.) No slow, painful death by poison. And I have the satisfaction of knowing I conquered my fear of the Filipino mega-cricket. (The mega-spider is another matter entirely. If I ever see one of those in my apartment I'll just transfer the lease to him and get him a nice housewarming gift on my way out.)
Reading expands your vocabulary.
Okay, so I've always known that reading expands one's vocabulary. But reading fifty-one books in the past nine months has turned me into quite the wordsmith. (Truly, fifty-one books - I'm keeping track. And not all of those are picture books, either.) I mean, auspicious and omnipotence?! Sure I've known the meaning of those words for some time, but never before would I have dared use them in a blog post! Some new words I've learned recently: sinecure (n., a position requiring little or no work but giving the holder status or financial benefit); venal (adj., showing a susceptibility to bribery); cozen (v., to trick or deceive); vainglorious (adj., showing and inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements; excessive vanity); calumny (n., a false or slanderous statement).*
*An interesting note: I was trying to think of example sentences for these five words and realized that you can probably work "Sarah Palin" into each of them. Try it, it's fun.**
** An apology to Sarah Palin supporters: Please feel free to substitute the name of your most-detested liberal instead.
Spiders less than 3" in diameter aren't worth my time.
Ah, I remember the days before I came to the Philippines - when I was young and naive, believing that Santa Clause brought presents to all the good girls and boys and that daddy long-legs spiders were scary. Then I got to the Philippines and realized that if Santa tried to deliver presents here his reindeer would spontaneously combust and his sensitive North Pole skin would suffer third-degree sunburn. Oh, and spiders? Daddy long-legs aren't spiders. Daddy long-legs are a cool breeze on a hot day. Daddy long-legs are that first sip of water after trekking 100 miles through the desert. These days I kill daddy long-legs with my bare hands while eating a pb & j sandwich and watching Vampire Diaries. I've been eye to beady eye with a real spider, and he eats daddy long-legs for lunch (literally). So yeah, maybe I'm still mortally afraid of the Filipino mega-spider, but lesser spiders no longer have any power over me. If I worried about every little spider that crossed my path I'd never leave my force field...ehem...mosquito net.
Just because I can speak English doesn't mean I can teach it.
What's that saying? "Those who can't do, teach." Ha! Whoever came up with that little nugget of bullcrap was clearly a bitter, wannabe teacher who failed out of teacher's college after his first semester. I've always been proud of my English skills. I think I speak and write well and I always got high grades in my English and writing classes. And yes, I pride myself on my knowledge of grammar. I mean, I know the proper usage of prepositions, nouns, adjectives, adverbs, and even gerunds and the like. And yes, I understand that "I go" and "they go," but that "she goes." Unfortunately I often find myself unable to figure out how to teach these things. "Because it sounds right" isn't really a rule that helps students who have no idea how it should sound. It has truly been a challenge teaching English. It goes to show that just because you can do, doesn't mean you can teach!
Apart from the difficulty of teaching the substance, the physical act of teaching is exhausting. (Not to mention the effort it takes to avoid being captured by the students' camera phones mid-lecture. C'mon, students, no one likes a sneaky photographer.) Luckily I have a long lunch break so I can go home and nap in between classes. Teachers work hard. They work nights. They work weekends. They get through their classes without employing corporal punishment...or murder. I've grown to believe that a good non-lethal stab wound to the arm or abdomen would do wonders for discipline, but I had trouble getting support for that proposal at the last PTA meeting.
You can live in a tropical climate for a year and still be pasty white.
And yes, I'm referring to me. Sad but true, I'm significantly pastier than when I left the States a year ago. How can this be, you ask. Well, I'd never truly realized it before, but the sun is hot. Really hot. And when you live in a climate where the only seasons are hot, hotter, and core-of-the-sun hot, the last thing you want to do is be in the sun. So I've found that I get less sun here than I did when I was living in the States. I'm inside more than I've ever been, and when I'm outside I'm underneath an umbrella. And if I ever dare to go outside without my umbrella, there's always someone there to force me to share theirs. "I'm trying to get a tan" is not an acceptable reason to be without an umbrella. At least I'll fit in when I return to the States in the middle of the winter.
Diarrhea can become a daily topic of conversation.
When I first arrived here I remember hearing people say that discussions about bowel movements would soon become commonplace. I shuddered at the thought, quite sure that I would never be discussing my intestinal issues with anyone. And now here I am, blogging about them. If I tell my teachers I'm not feeling well they assume I'm having an LBM (loose bowel movement), and everyone contributes to the conversation on how I can firm those up. And yes, Volunteers will occasionally compare their diarrhea stories. I have my own story of how once, a couple of months ago, I almost pooped on a bus. I'll save you the gory details and just say that it got to the point where I was looking at the roadside ditches and thinking, "That one wouldn't be such a bad place to squat!"
So those are some of the lessons I've learned over the past year. I know what you're thinking: "Wow, Britt, you've certainly undergone a great deal of personal growth." I know. I consider my reduced fear of spiders and my new willingness to talk about diarrhea to be great personal accomplishments. I'm glad I could share them with you.
Raid is for cowards.
In previous posts I've mentioned the sense of omnipotence one feels while holding a can of Raid over an unsuspecting pest. Many a spider, ant, mosquito, and Filipino mega-cricket have fallen victim to its steady, deadly spray. But recently I've realized that Raid is the ultimate form of passive-aggressive confrontation. I spray poison from a safe distance away while the pest hops around dying a slow, torturous death. This is not only cowardly, it's cruel. (Not to mention the somewhat serious side-effect of poisoning myself, which in the heat of battle seems a small price to pay for vanquishing my enemy, but afterwards makes me think I've knocked five years off my life.)
Case in point: You may recall one of my last posts about the Filipino mega-cricket infestation I suffered from a few months ago. While the mega-crickets have never again returned in such force, I do get one or two flying around every week. But do I run to get my can of Raid? No (and pay attention here - I think this is the best example of my personal growth), I run to get my flip flop. Did you think I was going to say I leave it in peace to live out the rest of its 2-week life cycle? Let's not get crazy, I'm no Mother Teresa. But I do face it, human to pest, and give it a nice quick death with a slap of my flip flop. (And I'd like to point out how this is more dangerous for me as I must get much closer to the cricket and actually risk missing my target, thereby enraging him and having him try to hop on me.) No slow, painful death by poison. And I have the satisfaction of knowing I conquered my fear of the Filipino mega-cricket. (The mega-spider is another matter entirely. If I ever see one of those in my apartment I'll just transfer the lease to him and get him a nice housewarming gift on my way out.)
Reading expands your vocabulary.
Okay, so I've always known that reading expands one's vocabulary. But reading fifty-one books in the past nine months has turned me into quite the wordsmith. (Truly, fifty-one books - I'm keeping track. And not all of those are picture books, either.) I mean, auspicious and omnipotence?! Sure I've known the meaning of those words for some time, but never before would I have dared use them in a blog post! Some new words I've learned recently: sinecure (n., a position requiring little or no work but giving the holder status or financial benefit); venal (adj., showing a susceptibility to bribery); cozen (v., to trick or deceive); vainglorious (adj., showing and inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements; excessive vanity); calumny (n., a false or slanderous statement).*
*An interesting note: I was trying to think of example sentences for these five words and realized that you can probably work "Sarah Palin" into each of them. Try it, it's fun.**
** An apology to Sarah Palin supporters: Please feel free to substitute the name of your most-detested liberal instead.
Spiders less than 3" in diameter aren't worth my time.
Ah, I remember the days before I came to the Philippines - when I was young and naive, believing that Santa Clause brought presents to all the good girls and boys and that daddy long-legs spiders were scary. Then I got to the Philippines and realized that if Santa tried to deliver presents here his reindeer would spontaneously combust and his sensitive North Pole skin would suffer third-degree sunburn. Oh, and spiders? Daddy long-legs aren't spiders. Daddy long-legs are a cool breeze on a hot day. Daddy long-legs are that first sip of water after trekking 100 miles through the desert. These days I kill daddy long-legs with my bare hands while eating a pb & j sandwich and watching Vampire Diaries. I've been eye to beady eye with a real spider, and he eats daddy long-legs for lunch (literally). So yeah, maybe I'm still mortally afraid of the Filipino mega-spider, but lesser spiders no longer have any power over me. If I worried about every little spider that crossed my path I'd never leave my force field...ehem...mosquito net.
Just because I can speak English doesn't mean I can teach it.
What's that saying? "Those who can't do, teach." Ha! Whoever came up with that little nugget of bullcrap was clearly a bitter, wannabe teacher who failed out of teacher's college after his first semester. I've always been proud of my English skills. I think I speak and write well and I always got high grades in my English and writing classes. And yes, I pride myself on my knowledge of grammar. I mean, I know the proper usage of prepositions, nouns, adjectives, adverbs, and even gerunds and the like. And yes, I understand that "I go" and "they go," but that "she goes." Unfortunately I often find myself unable to figure out how to teach these things. "Because it sounds right" isn't really a rule that helps students who have no idea how it should sound. It has truly been a challenge teaching English. It goes to show that just because you can do, doesn't mean you can teach!
Apart from the difficulty of teaching the substance, the physical act of teaching is exhausting. (Not to mention the effort it takes to avoid being captured by the students' camera phones mid-lecture. C'mon, students, no one likes a sneaky photographer.) Luckily I have a long lunch break so I can go home and nap in between classes. Teachers work hard. They work nights. They work weekends. They get through their classes without employing corporal punishment...or murder. I've grown to believe that a good non-lethal stab wound to the arm or abdomen would do wonders for discipline, but I had trouble getting support for that proposal at the last PTA meeting.
You can live in a tropical climate for a year and still be pasty white.
And yes, I'm referring to me. Sad but true, I'm significantly pastier than when I left the States a year ago. How can this be, you ask. Well, I'd never truly realized it before, but the sun is hot. Really hot. And when you live in a climate where the only seasons are hot, hotter, and core-of-the-sun hot, the last thing you want to do is be in the sun. So I've found that I get less sun here than I did when I was living in the States. I'm inside more than I've ever been, and when I'm outside I'm underneath an umbrella. And if I ever dare to go outside without my umbrella, there's always someone there to force me to share theirs. "I'm trying to get a tan" is not an acceptable reason to be without an umbrella. At least I'll fit in when I return to the States in the middle of the winter.
Diarrhea can become a daily topic of conversation.
When I first arrived here I remember hearing people say that discussions about bowel movements would soon become commonplace. I shuddered at the thought, quite sure that I would never be discussing my intestinal issues with anyone. And now here I am, blogging about them. If I tell my teachers I'm not feeling well they assume I'm having an LBM (loose bowel movement), and everyone contributes to the conversation on how I can firm those up. And yes, Volunteers will occasionally compare their diarrhea stories. I have my own story of how once, a couple of months ago, I almost pooped on a bus. I'll save you the gory details and just say that it got to the point where I was looking at the roadside ditches and thinking, "That one wouldn't be such a bad place to squat!"
So those are some of the lessons I've learned over the past year. I know what you're thinking: "Wow, Britt, you've certainly undergone a great deal of personal growth." I know. I consider my reduced fear of spiders and my new willingness to talk about diarrhea to be great personal accomplishments. I'm glad I could share them with you.
Monday, August 29, 2011
A Day in the Life
Friday, August 26, 2011. Sual, Pangasinan, Philippines.
5:49 a.m. - My alarm goes off. Its muffled sound comes from under my pillow and works its way into my dream; I always manage to wedge it under my pillow sometime during the night. My subconscious letting me know how it feels about waking up at 5:49 a.m., undoubtedly.
5:54 a.m. - I get out of bed to heat water in my electric kettle. There'll be no bucket bath for me without first heating up some water. (It's rare for houses to have hot water from the tap here.) I've grown soft in my old age - when I first arrived in the Philippines I took bucket baths every morning without heated water. But now that I'm accustomed to warm water, there's no going back. Imagine my dread last week when I woke up and discovered the power was out. No power = no electric kettle = no hot water. Let's just say I went to school a little dirtier than usual that day.
5:56 a.m. - I get back into bed to wait for my electric kettle to work its magic.
6:03 a.m. - My electric kettle automatically switches off, the magic completed, the water hot.
6:10 a.m. - I consider getting up.
6:11 a.m. - I seriously consider getting up.
6:12 a.m. - I tell myself that unless I get up right now I'm going to be rushed and end up leaving late for school, which means I'll have to walk fast, which will result in me arriving at school dripping with sweat. And I'll have to reheat my water.
6:15 a.m. - I sit up......I lie down.
6:16 a.m. - I open one eye, decide that's more than enough vision to get me successfully to the bathroom, get out of bed, get my hot-ish water, and dump it into my bucket. Ahhhh...warm-ish water.
6:17 - 7:04 a.m. - Beautification time. (Which apparently is ineffective. See my 4:10 p.m. conversation, below.)
7:05 - 7:11 a.m. - I walk to school. As predicted, I leave late, so now I'm walking at a pace that causes me to break into a sweat. (Okay, you caught me - any physical activity causes me to break into a sweat: breathing, blinking, thinking too hard, etc.) By the time I get to school I'm trying to daintily wipe my lip, neck, and arm (yes, arm) sweat while still maintaining my "exotic blond American" air.
7:12 a.m. - The students gather for the flag ceremony. Everyone sings the Philippine national anthem, Lupang Hinirang, and pledges allegiance to the Philippines. I join in on singing the anthem, but don't worry, America, I haven't yet pledged allegiance to the Philippines. And yes, I know the words to the national anthem. Well, most of them. Kind of like the Star Spangled Banner, actually.
7:30 - 10:40 a.m. - I co-teach three fourth-year English classes with my counterpart teacher. My 7:30 class is the top section of fourth-year students, so they're the least likely to look at me like I have three heads when I speak. Though they do have the habit of clapping after I say something, which makes me think they have no idea what I'm saying. I've gotten used to looks of concentration mixed with confusion whenever I speak. Apparently my proper pronunciation makes me nearly unintelligible. (No, I'm not bitter.)
Normally on Friday I would be teaching a remedial reading class to first-year students during an hour of this time, but today my other co-teacher canceled it. Not sure why. She just said that she "told the students not to come today" and then winked at me. I was a little perplexed given that I'm the one who prepared the lesson and I'll be the one teaching it. Oh well. I guess the students can wait until Monday to learn the difference between short and long vowel sounds.
11:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. - This is my non-teaching time, so I often use this time to correct students' work. Or I take a three-hour lunch break. Depends on how dedicated I'm feeling that day. There are approximately 60 students per class and I co-teach 5 classes, so there is a lot to correct. We give the students a paragraph dictation test, which is my co-teacher (not me, of course, given my unintelligible pronunciation) reading a paragraph to the students. They have to write the paragraph as she reads it. Every misspelling and incorrect word is counted wrong and the total number wrong is subtracted from the total number of words in the selection. This week's paragraph was on oceanographers. After correcting around 200 of these I have the paragraph memorized and never want to see the word "oceanographer" again. Or "osean hographer." Or "solar eyes cups." Can you guess that one? Yeah, it should be "polar ice caps."
2:00 - 4:00 p.m. - I teach my last two classes of the day. Students are less likely to come back to school after lunch (especially on a Friday), so these two classes generally have fewer students than my morning classes. Today my 3:00 class (which is the lowest fourth-year section) has seven students. Seven. Out of 57. Ouch. The teachers like to refer to this as "Friday sickness."
4:10 - 4:12 p.m. - A real conversation with a teacher:
Teacher: [Coming to my desk and staring at me intently.] What happened to your face?
Me: Ummm...
Teacher: [Pointing at the zit on my forehead.] Is that a mosquito bite?
Me: Oh, no, it's a zit...uh, you know, a pimple. Yeah, it's a big one... [Trailing off with nervous laughter.]
Teacher: Hm. When you came here you had nice skin. [Staring at my face even more intently.] Now you have spots...and freckles...and, hmm, acne. Why?
Me: Oh, well, uh...I don't know. I guess, well, my face sweats....sometimes...you know, because it's hot...so...I get pimples...occasionally...um... [Trailing off with nervous laughter.]
Teacher: And there, [pointing to/touching the side of my face], it looks like something happened there.
Me: Oh, really? Huh, well...maybe it's a...uh...rash? I guess I get those sometimes. Mystery rashes and all that...haha...ha... [Trailing off wondering how I could have missed the sudden appearance of acne, age spots, and leprosy in the mirror this morning.]
Teacher: Hmmm. You had such nice skin... [Walking away shaking her head.]
Me: ... [Planning an immediate trip to the mall to buy super-coverage foundation and concealer. Or maybe just a paper bag with two eye-holes cut out.]
4:30 p.m. - Time to walk home. Of course I never sweat on the walk home.
4:37 - 11:00 p.m. - My nights usually consist of fixing dinner then watching T.V., watching movies, and/or reading. I eat the same thing almost every night: spinach pasta with olive oil. Probably not great to eat pasta every night, but at least it's not rice! My fellow teachers are all amazed that I don't cook rice for myself. They offer to come over and cook it for me if I'm unable to do it myself, but I assure them that I survive just fine without it. I don't think they believe me. Tonight is a new episode of "Pretty Little Liars" on ETC, the one station that airs American TV shows. True, the shows are all aimed at 14-year-old girls, but luckily I'm easily entertained and have the emotional maturity of a 14-year-old girl. Other shows include "Gossip Girl," "America's Next Top Model," "Vampire Diaries," and "One Tree Hill." Oh, and "The Insider" and "Extra," so I'm up-to-date on my celebrity gossip. (Will and Jada Pinkett Smith separated?! I'm crushed!) I think Peace Corps should include that in its recruiting materials.
So another day is done! Because tomorrow's Saturday I'm planning to sleep until 7:30 (which is really late here), but the stray cats I've been feeding usually start demanding their breakfast by 6:30, so I'm not hopeful.
5:49 a.m. - My alarm goes off. Its muffled sound comes from under my pillow and works its way into my dream; I always manage to wedge it under my pillow sometime during the night. My subconscious letting me know how it feels about waking up at 5:49 a.m., undoubtedly.
5:54 a.m. - I get out of bed to heat water in my electric kettle. There'll be no bucket bath for me without first heating up some water. (It's rare for houses to have hot water from the tap here.) I've grown soft in my old age - when I first arrived in the Philippines I took bucket baths every morning without heated water. But now that I'm accustomed to warm water, there's no going back. Imagine my dread last week when I woke up and discovered the power was out. No power = no electric kettle = no hot water. Let's just say I went to school a little dirtier than usual that day.
5:56 a.m. - I get back into bed to wait for my electric kettle to work its magic.
6:03 a.m. - My electric kettle automatically switches off, the magic completed, the water hot.
6:10 a.m. - I consider getting up.
6:11 a.m. - I seriously consider getting up.
6:12 a.m. - I tell myself that unless I get up right now I'm going to be rushed and end up leaving late for school, which means I'll have to walk fast, which will result in me arriving at school dripping with sweat. And I'll have to reheat my water.
6:15 a.m. - I sit up......I lie down.
6:16 a.m. - I open one eye, decide that's more than enough vision to get me successfully to the bathroom, get out of bed, get my hot-ish water, and dump it into my bucket. Ahhhh...warm-ish water.
6:17 - 7:04 a.m. - Beautification time. (Which apparently is ineffective. See my 4:10 p.m. conversation, below.)
7:05 - 7:11 a.m. - I walk to school. As predicted, I leave late, so now I'm walking at a pace that causes me to break into a sweat. (Okay, you caught me - any physical activity causes me to break into a sweat: breathing, blinking, thinking too hard, etc.) By the time I get to school I'm trying to daintily wipe my lip, neck, and arm (yes, arm) sweat while still maintaining my "exotic blond American" air.
7:12 a.m. - The students gather for the flag ceremony. Everyone sings the Philippine national anthem, Lupang Hinirang, and pledges allegiance to the Philippines. I join in on singing the anthem, but don't worry, America, I haven't yet pledged allegiance to the Philippines. And yes, I know the words to the national anthem. Well, most of them. Kind of like the Star Spangled Banner, actually.
7:30 - 10:40 a.m. - I co-teach three fourth-year English classes with my counterpart teacher. My 7:30 class is the top section of fourth-year students, so they're the least likely to look at me like I have three heads when I speak. Though they do have the habit of clapping after I say something, which makes me think they have no idea what I'm saying. I've gotten used to looks of concentration mixed with confusion whenever I speak. Apparently my proper pronunciation makes me nearly unintelligible. (No, I'm not bitter.)
Normally on Friday I would be teaching a remedial reading class to first-year students during an hour of this time, but today my other co-teacher canceled it. Not sure why. She just said that she "told the students not to come today" and then winked at me. I was a little perplexed given that I'm the one who prepared the lesson and I'll be the one teaching it. Oh well. I guess the students can wait until Monday to learn the difference between short and long vowel sounds.
11:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. - This is my non-teaching time, so I often use this time to correct students' work. Or I take a three-hour lunch break. Depends on how dedicated I'm feeling that day. There are approximately 60 students per class and I co-teach 5 classes, so there is a lot to correct. We give the students a paragraph dictation test, which is my co-teacher (not me, of course, given my unintelligible pronunciation) reading a paragraph to the students. They have to write the paragraph as she reads it. Every misspelling and incorrect word is counted wrong and the total number wrong is subtracted from the total number of words in the selection. This week's paragraph was on oceanographers. After correcting around 200 of these I have the paragraph memorized and never want to see the word "oceanographer" again. Or "osean hographer." Or "solar eyes cups." Can you guess that one? Yeah, it should be "polar ice caps."
2:00 - 4:00 p.m. - I teach my last two classes of the day. Students are less likely to come back to school after lunch (especially on a Friday), so these two classes generally have fewer students than my morning classes. Today my 3:00 class (which is the lowest fourth-year section) has seven students. Seven. Out of 57. Ouch. The teachers like to refer to this as "Friday sickness."
4:10 - 4:12 p.m. - A real conversation with a teacher:
Teacher: [Coming to my desk and staring at me intently.] What happened to your face?
Me: Ummm...
Teacher: [Pointing at the zit on my forehead.] Is that a mosquito bite?
Me: Oh, no, it's a zit...uh, you know, a pimple. Yeah, it's a big one... [Trailing off with nervous laughter.]
Teacher: Hm. When you came here you had nice skin. [Staring at my face even more intently.] Now you have spots...and freckles...and, hmm, acne. Why?
Me: Oh, well, uh...I don't know. I guess, well, my face sweats....sometimes...you know, because it's hot...so...I get pimples...occasionally...um... [Trailing off with nervous laughter.]
Teacher: And there, [pointing to/touching the side of my face], it looks like something happened there.
Me: Oh, really? Huh, well...maybe it's a...uh...rash? I guess I get those sometimes. Mystery rashes and all that...haha...ha... [Trailing off wondering how I could have missed the sudden appearance of acne, age spots, and leprosy in the mirror this morning.]
Teacher: Hmmm. You had such nice skin... [Walking away shaking her head.]
Me: ... [Planning an immediate trip to the mall to buy super-coverage foundation and concealer. Or maybe just a paper bag with two eye-holes cut out.]
4:30 p.m. - Time to walk home. Of course I never sweat on the walk home.
4:37 - 11:00 p.m. - My nights usually consist of fixing dinner then watching T.V., watching movies, and/or reading. I eat the same thing almost every night: spinach pasta with olive oil. Probably not great to eat pasta every night, but at least it's not rice! My fellow teachers are all amazed that I don't cook rice for myself. They offer to come over and cook it for me if I'm unable to do it myself, but I assure them that I survive just fine without it. I don't think they believe me. Tonight is a new episode of "Pretty Little Liars" on ETC, the one station that airs American TV shows. True, the shows are all aimed at 14-year-old girls, but luckily I'm easily entertained and have the emotional maturity of a 14-year-old girl. Other shows include "Gossip Girl," "America's Next Top Model," "Vampire Diaries," and "One Tree Hill." Oh, and "The Insider" and "Extra," so I'm up-to-date on my celebrity gossip. (Will and Jada Pinkett Smith separated?! I'm crushed!) I think Peace Corps should include that in its recruiting materials.
So another day is done! Because tomorrow's Saturday I'm planning to sleep until 7:30 (which is really late here), but the stray cats I've been feeding usually start demanding their breakfast by 6:30, so I'm not hopeful.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Night of the Living Crickets
Since moving into my own apartment in February I've been enjoying a relatively pest-free living environment. True, I've had to deal with living amongst greater numbers of mosquitoes, but what's a little Dengue Fever risk compared to being roomies with mega-spiders, cockroaches, ants, or rats?! My days of avoiding mega-spiders and cockroaches appeared to be over. Did this make me a little smug at my good fortune? Did I get a little complacent? Did nature decide it was time to remind me where I'm living?
The evening started off normally enough. Lie on my bed, watch an episode of Vampire Diaries. Lie on my bed, watch a movie on my computer. Lie on my bed, play a game of hearts. Get off my bed to boil water for oatmeal. Lie on my bed, eat my oatmeal. Switch beds (yes, I have two twin beds, one of which I use for a "couch"). Lie on my "couch," play Angry Birds. Lie on my "couch," watch an episode of Glee. Switch beds. Lie on my bed...anyway, you get the idea. Typical night in Sual. But for some reason tonight I stayed up later than I normally do. (I guess it could have something to do with that four-hour nap I took from 12:30 to 4:30 this afternoon....) So the scene is this: It's 11:00 pm. The night has now progressed to a riveting game of computer solitaire. As I'm lying on my bed I spot something in my peripheral vision jump onto the table. I've heard that a person's reflexes slow as one gets older, but I can proudly say that I was off my bed, across my room, and crouched in a defensive position (i.e., cowering against the wall) in under a second. After I ascertain that nothing followed me, I slowly make my way to the table and see a HUGE cricket-like insect. Big, black, and quite menacing as it sits there rubbing its legs together. That's right, folks, I've encountered my first Filipino mega-cricket. Truthfully, I have no idea if it's really a cricket. I'm a lawyer/occasional teacher, not a...uh...one of those people who studies bugs. Zoologist? Entomologist? Naturalist? Whatever. The point is I have no idea what the thing is. But it resembles a cricket, and crickets are less scary than an unknown Filipino insect that has the ability to jump across the entire room (particularly in its death throes, but we'll get to that later). So as of now it's the Filipino mega-cricket.
Upon moving out on my own I discovered the most valuable, most necessary household item one can possess in the Philippines: a giant can of Raid. Normally I just use it to eradicate mosquitoes, but I figure it'll probably kill anything if I use enough of it (including me, but we'll get to that later, too). So just as I get my can of Raid the mega-cricket launches off the table onto the floor and skitters under my cabinet. Could it sense its own impending doom? Well, I sprayed about half the can of Raid under that cabinet, and if a hippo would've been in the room I'm pretty sure it'd be dead right now too. Do I feel bad about killing the mega-cricket? Yes. Despite all my stories of killing and maiming various insects and arachnids, I really take no enjoyment in it. If I could've escorted the mega-cricket outside, I would've done it. But the risk of his jumping on me was too great. So in my typical passive-aggressive confrontational style, I Raid-ed the bugger to death.
Well, as with all my Filipino creature encounters, I tried to put this one out of my head as quickly as possible. So what happened? Fifteen minutes later ANOTHER mega-cricket appears, this time on the wall above my bed. Seriously? Seriously?!? And this one was bigger than the last. There seems to be a theme developing here: I kill one pest and within a few minutes a larger, meaner one appears above my bed. Taunting me. So I get my can of Raid and spray as if my life depended on it (which it may have, you can't prove it didn't!). I realize that the cloud of Raid hanging in the air is probably approaching toxic levels for humans, but if I'm going down at least the mega-cricket is going with me. My can of Raid now exhausted, I watch the mega-cricket on the wall. He's still hanging on, but he's frantically rubbing his legs together. He seems disoriented (c'mon, at this point I'm disoriented). He seems to be losing his grip on the wall. And then WHOOSH...he launches off the wall right at my head. I hit the floor. He lands on the rug and starts doing little hops back and forth. Hop...hop...hop...and then stillness. I get my broom to sweep him outside and HOPPPP! Once again I hit the floor. I'll say this for the Filipino mega-cricket - he doesn't need to fear extinction from a nuclear war. Anyway, he's stopped moving again. But this time I give him ten minutes to fully die and then sweep him outside. Whew. Definitely sleeping with my mosquito net tonight, I don't care how hot it is.
I know you're thinking, "Britt, I thought your blog was getting serious? You were teaching us Tagalog! I thought you were done relating your near-death insect experiences?" No, friends, this blog is back in all its un-intellectual glory. My atrophied brain cannot create repeated thought-provoking posts. And you know you love hearing about my battles with Filipino wildlife. If for no other reason than to sit back and say to yourself, "Man, I'm glad I live in America where over-urbanization has driven most species of animals and insects to extinction. Ain't America great!" Ah, how I miss it.
The evening started off normally enough. Lie on my bed, watch an episode of Vampire Diaries. Lie on my bed, watch a movie on my computer. Lie on my bed, play a game of hearts. Get off my bed to boil water for oatmeal. Lie on my bed, eat my oatmeal. Switch beds (yes, I have two twin beds, one of which I use for a "couch"). Lie on my "couch," play Angry Birds. Lie on my "couch," watch an episode of Glee. Switch beds. Lie on my bed...anyway, you get the idea. Typical night in Sual. But for some reason tonight I stayed up later than I normally do. (I guess it could have something to do with that four-hour nap I took from 12:30 to 4:30 this afternoon....) So the scene is this: It's 11:00 pm. The night has now progressed to a riveting game of computer solitaire. As I'm lying on my bed I spot something in my peripheral vision jump onto the table. I've heard that a person's reflexes slow as one gets older, but I can proudly say that I was off my bed, across my room, and crouched in a defensive position (i.e., cowering against the wall) in under a second. After I ascertain that nothing followed me, I slowly make my way to the table and see a HUGE cricket-like insect. Big, black, and quite menacing as it sits there rubbing its legs together. That's right, folks, I've encountered my first Filipino mega-cricket. Truthfully, I have no idea if it's really a cricket. I'm a lawyer/occasional teacher, not a...uh...one of those people who studies bugs. Zoologist? Entomologist? Naturalist? Whatever. The point is I have no idea what the thing is. But it resembles a cricket, and crickets are less scary than an unknown Filipino insect that has the ability to jump across the entire room (particularly in its death throes, but we'll get to that later). So as of now it's the Filipino mega-cricket.
Upon moving out on my own I discovered the most valuable, most necessary household item one can possess in the Philippines: a giant can of Raid. Normally I just use it to eradicate mosquitoes, but I figure it'll probably kill anything if I use enough of it (including me, but we'll get to that later, too). So just as I get my can of Raid the mega-cricket launches off the table onto the floor and skitters under my cabinet. Could it sense its own impending doom? Well, I sprayed about half the can of Raid under that cabinet, and if a hippo would've been in the room I'm pretty sure it'd be dead right now too. Do I feel bad about killing the mega-cricket? Yes. Despite all my stories of killing and maiming various insects and arachnids, I really take no enjoyment in it. If I could've escorted the mega-cricket outside, I would've done it. But the risk of his jumping on me was too great. So in my typical passive-aggressive confrontational style, I Raid-ed the bugger to death.
Well, as with all my Filipino creature encounters, I tried to put this one out of my head as quickly as possible. So what happened? Fifteen minutes later ANOTHER mega-cricket appears, this time on the wall above my bed. Seriously? Seriously?!? And this one was bigger than the last. There seems to be a theme developing here: I kill one pest and within a few minutes a larger, meaner one appears above my bed. Taunting me. So I get my can of Raid and spray as if my life depended on it (which it may have, you can't prove it didn't!). I realize that the cloud of Raid hanging in the air is probably approaching toxic levels for humans, but if I'm going down at least the mega-cricket is going with me. My can of Raid now exhausted, I watch the mega-cricket on the wall. He's still hanging on, but he's frantically rubbing his legs together. He seems disoriented (c'mon, at this point I'm disoriented). He seems to be losing his grip on the wall. And then WHOOSH...he launches off the wall right at my head. I hit the floor. He lands on the rug and starts doing little hops back and forth. Hop...hop...hop...and then stillness. I get my broom to sweep him outside and HOPPPP! Once again I hit the floor. I'll say this for the Filipino mega-cricket - he doesn't need to fear extinction from a nuclear war. Anyway, he's stopped moving again. But this time I give him ten minutes to fully die and then sweep him outside. Whew. Definitely sleeping with my mosquito net tonight, I don't care how hot it is.
I know you're thinking, "Britt, I thought your blog was getting serious? You were teaching us Tagalog! I thought you were done relating your near-death insect experiences?" No, friends, this blog is back in all its un-intellectual glory. My atrophied brain cannot create repeated thought-provoking posts. And you know you love hearing about my battles with Filipino wildlife. If for no other reason than to sit back and say to yourself, "Man, I'm glad I live in America where over-urbanization has driven most species of animals and insects to extinction. Ain't America great!" Ah, how I miss it.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Tagalog Attack!
So I'm sitting here on a 95 degree Sunday afternoon and wondering what to do with myself. You may be thinking, "Britt, you're in the Philippines! Go enjoy the tropics!" That's the funny thing about it…I've discovered that living in constant, never-ending, unrelenting heat makes a South Dakota girl like me feel quite apathetic and, dare I say it, lazy. (Not to mention going outside would cause the skin to melt off my face.) To leave my apartment would require that I 1) sit up from the prone position in which I currently find myself; 2) get off the bed; 3) put on my flip flops 4) turn off my fan (don't want to waste electricity!); 5) open the door; and 6) step outside (into heat that makes the skin melt off your face). I need a nap just contemplating it. Let's be honest – even getting up to go to the bathroom takes some serious motivation. Only after I've determined with absolute certainty that it's a choice between a) getting up to go to the bathroom or b) wetting my bed do I actually get up from the prone position I am likely to be in at that point.
Anyway, I digress. The point is that I'm unwilling to attempt anything that requires me to move more than 2-3 inches vertically or horizontally from my current position. Lucky for you, dear readers, my computer was only 2.36 inches away from me, the result of which is this blog post.
I recalled a reader comment from one of my earliest posts asking that I discuss Tagalog grammar and vocabulary. And I thought, today's the day. Up until now you've been treated to humorous and light-hearted posts on baby powder and mega-spiders. You may have read my blog thinking you'd get a break from your laborious job or marathon study sessions. No more, my friends! This blog is no longer fluff that you read after finishing your US Weekly magazine or watching General Hospital. This blog is getting serious. This blog is teaching you Tagalog.
Today's blog entry is brought to you by the letter "V," for VERBS. That's right, we're taking on some conjugation. Normally I wouldn't start with this, but verbs are something I know and they don't require me to look anything up (which would mean moving from my current position, see above). Verbs in Tagalog do not have tenses like verbs in English (i.e., past, present, and future). They have aspects. In practice, these aspects (Action Begun Completed (ABC), Action Begun Not Completed (ABNC), and Action Not Begun (ANB)) match up almost exactly with English tenses. Action Begun Completed = Past; Action Begun Not Completed = Present; Action Not Begun = Future. I am told, however, the main difference lies in the usage of the present tense/aspect. Something that would be spoken of using a past tense verb in English may, in Tagalog, use the equivalent of the present tense verb. So Tagalog speakers would view as ongoing (hence, present) something that is in the past to English speakers. For example, "I lived in the United States." Because I currently live in the Philippines I would use "lived" (past tense) rather than "live" (present tense) to express my previous residence in the United States. Tagalog speakers, however, would not use their equivalent of a past tense verb to describe this. They would use their present tense (Action Begun Not Completed). Even though I am currently living in the Philippines they still view me as presently living in the United States. It's not as if I renounced my citizenship and have no intention of ever living in the US again. The action is still ongoing. Thus, Tagalog speakers would use the Action Begun Not Completed (present) verb to describe this. These are, however, pretty technical, advanced differences that the beginning Tagalog learner need not concern herself with.
The nice thing about Tagalog is that there are very clear-cut rules for verb conjugation. Generally speaking, if you know the "type" of verb, you know how to conjugate it. The difficulty is memorizing what type of verb each is. There are three main verb types: "um," "mag," and "ma" verbs. There are more than these, and the prefix can also change depending whether you're expressing directionality (pa-), position (naka-), etc. There are also different focuses (actor, object, beneficiary, locative, and instrumental), which change how the verbs are conjugated. For this blog post I will discuss only Actor Focus conjugations, mainly because Actor Focus is what I use when I speak (and I don't know the others nearly as well). Here's an example sentence, in Actor Focus: "I ate the pineapple yesterday." = "Kumain ako ng pinya kahapon."
Below are examples and conjugations of the three main verb forms:
UM verbs:
MAG verbs:
MA verbs:
Anyway, I digress. The point is that I'm unwilling to attempt anything that requires me to move more than 2-3 inches vertically or horizontally from my current position. Lucky for you, dear readers, my computer was only 2.36 inches away from me, the result of which is this blog post.
I recalled a reader comment from one of my earliest posts asking that I discuss Tagalog grammar and vocabulary. And I thought, today's the day. Up until now you've been treated to humorous and light-hearted posts on baby powder and mega-spiders. You may have read my blog thinking you'd get a break from your laborious job or marathon study sessions. No more, my friends! This blog is no longer fluff that you read after finishing your US Weekly magazine or watching General Hospital. This blog is getting serious. This blog is teaching you Tagalog.
Today's blog entry is brought to you by the letter "V," for VERBS. That's right, we're taking on some conjugation. Normally I wouldn't start with this, but verbs are something I know and they don't require me to look anything up (which would mean moving from my current position, see above). Verbs in Tagalog do not have tenses like verbs in English (i.e., past, present, and future). They have aspects. In practice, these aspects (Action Begun Completed (ABC), Action Begun Not Completed (ABNC), and Action Not Begun (ANB)) match up almost exactly with English tenses. Action Begun Completed = Past; Action Begun Not Completed = Present; Action Not Begun = Future. I am told, however, the main difference lies in the usage of the present tense/aspect. Something that would be spoken of using a past tense verb in English may, in Tagalog, use the equivalent of the present tense verb. So Tagalog speakers would view as ongoing (hence, present) something that is in the past to English speakers. For example, "I lived in the United States." Because I currently live in the Philippines I would use "lived" (past tense) rather than "live" (present tense) to express my previous residence in the United States. Tagalog speakers, however, would not use their equivalent of a past tense verb to describe this. They would use their present tense (Action Begun Not Completed). Even though I am currently living in the Philippines they still view me as presently living in the United States. It's not as if I renounced my citizenship and have no intention of ever living in the US again. The action is still ongoing. Thus, Tagalog speakers would use the Action Begun Not Completed (present) verb to describe this. These are, however, pretty technical, advanced differences that the beginning Tagalog learner need not concern herself with.
The nice thing about Tagalog is that there are very clear-cut rules for verb conjugation. Generally speaking, if you know the "type" of verb, you know how to conjugate it. The difficulty is memorizing what type of verb each is. There are three main verb types: "um," "mag," and "ma" verbs. There are more than these, and the prefix can also change depending whether you're expressing directionality (pa-), position (naka-), etc. There are also different focuses (actor, object, beneficiary, locative, and instrumental), which change how the verbs are conjugated. For this blog post I will discuss only Actor Focus conjugations, mainly because Actor Focus is what I use when I speak (and I don't know the others nearly as well). Here's an example sentence, in Actor Focus: "I ate the pineapple yesterday." = "Kumain ako ng pinya kahapon."
- "kain" is the verb 'to eat.' It's an "um" verb and I'm using it in the past tense, so the conjugation is "kumain."
- "ako" means "I" and is the topic of the sentence. Here "ako" is the topic because the sentence is written in actor focus, which means the topic is the doer of the action, I (ako).
- "ng" is a non-topic marker; because the focus is on the doer, the receiver of the action (the pineapple) receives the non-topic marker 'ng.'
- "pinya" means pineapple.
- "kahapon" means yesterday.
Below are examples and conjugations of the three main verb forms:
UM verbs:
| Root Verb | Meaning | Imperative | Infinitive | ANB (future) | ABNC (present) | ABC (past) |
| kain | to eat | kumain | kumain | kakain | kumakain | kumain |
| bili | to buy | bumili | bumili | bibili | bumibili | bumili |
| punta | to go | pumunta | pumunta | pupunta | pumupunta | pumunta |
| takbo | to run | tumakbo | tumakbo | tatakbo | tumatakbo | tumakbo |
MAG verbs:
| Root Verb | Meaning | Imperative | Infinitive | ANB (future) | ABNC (present) | ABC (past) |
| basa | to read | magbasa | magbasa | magbabasa | nagbabasa | nagbasa |
| trabaho | to work | magtrabaho | magtrabaho | magtatrabaho | nagtatrabaho | nagtrabaho |
| turo | to teach | magturo | magturo | magtuturo | nagtuturo | nagturo |
| biyahe | to travel | magbiyahe | magbiyahe | magbibiyahe | nagbibiyahe | nagbiyahe |
MA verbs:
| Root Verb | Meaning | Imperative | Infinitive | ANB (future) | ABNC (present) | ABC (past) |
| tulog | to sleep | matulog | matulog | matutulog | natutulog | natulog |
| kita | to see | makita | makita | makikita | nakikita | nakita |
| nood | to look/view | manood | manood | manonood | nanonood | nanood |
| tuto | to learn | matuto | matuto | matututo | natututo | natuto |
I hope this post gives you a little insight into the Tagalog language. Unfortunately the heat coming from my laptop is making me sweat, so I need to end for now. I'll try to think of another good Tagolog-related post for the future.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Green Bay Packers = Super Bowl Champions
Congratulations to the Pack on their outstanding performance in Super Bowl XLV. I, of course, did not get to witness this great moment, despite my loyal, unqualified support through every previous disappointing season. It's not fair. I've seen the Pack lose. I've felt the heartbreak of defeat. Shouldn't I get to feel the elation of victory?! No, apparently not. To rectify this injustice to me, the Packers' #1 fan, I would like to invite both the Packers and the Steelers to come to the Philippines to re-enact the game, play for play, so I can experience the roller coaster of emotions that every other Packers fan got to experience the first time around. The game will probably be played at the beach, as there are no football fields here, but we can work out the logistics once the teams arrive. Charles and Donald - I know you're both injured, but if you can suck it up for one more game I'd really appreciate it.
Now, I've always found it a little silly that the winning Super Bowl team is called the "world champion." As if there are hundreds of teams across the world vying for the title. But it is technically true - of all the professional teams playing American football in the world, the Packers are the championship team. So then my question is this: why stop at "world champion"? Why not "universal champion"? Or, better yet, "CHAMPIONS OF THE UNIVERSE." Sure it means the same thing, but it sounds way cooler, and I typed it in all-caps. So, with the authority invested in me as the Packers' #1 fan, I proudly dub the Packers CHAMPIONS OF THE UNIVERSE for Super Bowl XVL. Congratulations, Pack. I'll see you all soon here in the Philippines. Don't forget to bring along a football...I don't think you can buy one here.
P.S., to all you Vikings fans out there: Ha! Hahaha! Hahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahaha...HA...haha!
P.P.S., to Brett Favre: Ha! Hahaha! Hahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahaha...HA...haha!
Now, I've always found it a little silly that the winning Super Bowl team is called the "world champion." As if there are hundreds of teams across the world vying for the title. But it is technically true - of all the professional teams playing American football in the world, the Packers are the championship team. So then my question is this: why stop at "world champion"? Why not "universal champion"? Or, better yet, "CHAMPIONS OF THE UNIVERSE." Sure it means the same thing, but it sounds way cooler, and I typed it in all-caps. So, with the authority invested in me as the Packers' #1 fan, I proudly dub the Packers CHAMPIONS OF THE UNIVERSE for Super Bowl XVL. Congratulations, Pack. I'll see you all soon here in the Philippines. Don't forget to bring along a football...I don't think you can buy one here.
P.S., to all you Vikings fans out there: Ha! Hahaha! Hahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahaha...HA...haha!
P.P.S., to Brett Favre: Ha! Hahaha! Hahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahaha...HA...haha!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Nothing says tropical paradise like a white sand beach...
For those of you who aren't my friend on Facebook (uncool!), I wanted to post a few pictures from the pre-Christmas trip I took to Patar Beach with my friend (and fellow PCV) Mary and her boyfriend Allen, who was here for a visit. Patar Beach is a beautiful white sand beach about 3 (bus) hours west of me, on the western coast of Luzon on the South China Sea. This was the clearest, bluest water I've seen since coming here.
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| The Bolinao Lighthouse |
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| Patar Beach and the South China Sea (with Mary and Allen in the background) |
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| And again... |
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| Almost at the end... |
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| Tapos na! (Which means "finished," for those non-Filipino speakers out there.) |
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I love lizards!
Luckily for me spiders aren't the only things roaming around during the night. There are little lizards here (which look like the Geico Gecko, though I'm pretty sure they're not geckos) and they are everywhere. They're very cute and skittish, and they eat mosquitoes and other bugs (but sadly not mega-spiders), so I like them. There's one that's taken up residence in my room, and I enjoy watching him run around the walls trying to catch bugs. The other day I threw away a chocolate wrapper in my garbage can. Within 5 minutes I noticed the lizard sneaking out from behind my dresser, inching his way toward the garbage can. He finally made it there, jumped into the can, and started trying to pull the chocolate wrapper out of the can. He couldn't get it out, so I got up to help him. Of course he ran away and hid behind my dresser, but I got the wrapper and put it on the floor by the garbage can. Again, within a few minutes, he was inching toward the wrapper. Once he got to it he started to LICK it! He was licking the chocolate off! I had no idea that lizards like chocolate, but this one certainly does. A lizard after my own heart. He certainly chose the right room in which to reside. Don't believe me? That's okay, I have evidence.
If you look closely at the second picture you'll see he actually has his mouth open. You gotta appreciate a chocolate-loving lizard.
If you look closely at the second picture you'll see he actually has his mouth open. You gotta appreciate a chocolate-loving lizard.
The Spider Chronicles
I've never been fond of spiders, to which my mother can attest from one particular incident when I was in elementary school (ok, FINE, I was in college) when I, crying hysterically, called her at her office because there was a gigantic spider on the wall outside my room. I could neither kill it (way too big!) nor leave it (to crawl into my room?!), so I sat on the floor staring at it – from a safe distance – until she came home and vacuumed it up (with difficulty). Yes, you read correctly, I made my mom come home from work to kill a spider. But that's not the point. I had no idea at the time, but that spider turned out to be the petite, runt cousin of the Filipino mega-spider. I believe its scientific name is biggest spriderus in the genus of murderous arachnidus.
For the first four months of my stay in the Philippines I was blissfully ignorant of the existence of such spiders. I never encountered one myself and the stories I heard from other Volunteers I discounted as mere ghost stories, told more for their dramatic effect than for the truth of their content. And then I moved to my permanent site at Sual. One week after arriving here I opened the door to the bathroom and whoosh, a spider the size of my hand launched past me (and I have big hands). I screamed and ran in the opposite direction, never taking my eyes off it, of course, in case it decided to attack. My host family thought I'd cut off one of my limbs, but upon realizing I was only afraid of the itsy bitsy spider (which, I repeat, was the size of my hand), they got a good laugh. They soon understood, however, that I wouldn't move from my spot atop the table until someone (not me) killed it. So my host sister got out a pair of salad tongs (SALAD TONGS!!) with which to grab it. After some deft maneuvering and body blocking she successfully captured the spider. What she did with it after that I can't say. When I regained consciousness, however, it was gone. I was later informed that these spiders like to hide under the lip of the toilet in the bathroom. Great. Now it takes me 10 minutes just to use the toilet, 9.5 of which are spent inspecting it for spiders.
So that was my first run-in with the Filipino mega-spider, but unfortunately not the last, nor the most traumatic. Life went on spider-free for about a month and I had successfully blocked out any memory of the "Great Spider Incident of 2010" until one night I was walking up the stairs to my bedroom and there, on the landing, was a Filipino mega-spider. Was it the same spider I had encountered previously? I know not. I never did have the courage to ask my host sister what became of the spider she captured in the salad tongs. But whether it was the same spider or a different spider was of no matter. It was out for revenge either way because 1) I had been the cause of its capture and attempted murder or, if it was a different spider, 2) I had been the cause of the capture and actual murder of its family member.
But this time I resolved not to make a scene. My host family already thought I was nuts for my previous reaction. I'm an adult. The spider is only a spider (and no, it's not poisonous, so my fear really is quite irrational in the eyes of rational people). So I made a deal with the spider: as long as it doesn't come in my room, I won't cause it to be harmed. We can co-exist peacefully together, separately. And can you believe it? This agreement actually worked. The spider would be on the landing at night, disappear during the day, and reappear on the landing by night. I would sneak quietly by on the way to my room and he would make no move to attack me. I did take precautions, however, by stuffing a shirt in the rather large opening between the bottom of my door and the floor, thereby preventing a sneak attack under the cover of darkness while I was asleep. And then he disappeared altogether. I didn't see him for about a week, so I figured he either died or ran out of small animals to consume and moved on to another house. But I was nervous…what if there's a third option? What if he was still in the house, but had changed location? What if his new location was…dare I think it…my room? Another week went by and I still didn't see him, so I was lulled into a sense of security. Besides, he knew our agreement. Out of sight, out of mind, right?! Wrong. Of course the minute I let down my guard he appears on the wall ABOVE MY BED. In my room. I didn't know what to do. It was 10:00 PM and the spider and I were the only ones awake (which I'm sure was his plan). Luckily my bed was safely enclosed by my mosquito net, so I stealthily climbed in. This was my only protection from the blood-lust of the mega-spider, but it would have to be enough for the night. The expression "sleeping with one eye open" was never truer than it was that night. The next morning I awoke and was glad to find all my fingers and toes intact and no evidence of fang marks. My force field…um, I mean, my mosquito net…had done the job. But I'd had it. The next night, when he appeared again at a more reasonable hour, I summoned my host sister with her salad tongs. After some impressive avoidance on the spider's part, she captured him. (Of course I helped by running around my room shrieking.) He'd broken our agreement, and he paid the price. Sorry, mega-spider.
I'd like to think that is the last mega-spider I'll ever see (denial ain't just a river in Egypt, after all). For now I'm secure in knowing that my room is spider-free. I guess that's the most I can hope for in a tropical, spider-friendly climate!
Update: Since completing this post a week ago I have thrice showered with a mega-spider. The end result was me drowning it with water (which didn't kill it), smashing it with my flip flop (which didn't kill it), smashing it with my shampoo bottle (which didn't kill it), and finally forcing it down the drain (which hopefully killed it, but who knows). I think the fact that I was willing to kill it myself shows real growth. Who knows, by the end of my two years here I may have a pet mega-spider named Fluffy.
For the first four months of my stay in the Philippines I was blissfully ignorant of the existence of such spiders. I never encountered one myself and the stories I heard from other Volunteers I discounted as mere ghost stories, told more for their dramatic effect than for the truth of their content. And then I moved to my permanent site at Sual. One week after arriving here I opened the door to the bathroom and whoosh, a spider the size of my hand launched past me (and I have big hands). I screamed and ran in the opposite direction, never taking my eyes off it, of course, in case it decided to attack. My host family thought I'd cut off one of my limbs, but upon realizing I was only afraid of the itsy bitsy spider (which, I repeat, was the size of my hand), they got a good laugh. They soon understood, however, that I wouldn't move from my spot atop the table until someone (not me) killed it. So my host sister got out a pair of salad tongs (SALAD TONGS!!) with which to grab it. After some deft maneuvering and body blocking she successfully captured the spider. What she did with it after that I can't say. When I regained consciousness, however, it was gone. I was later informed that these spiders like to hide under the lip of the toilet in the bathroom. Great. Now it takes me 10 minutes just to use the toilet, 9.5 of which are spent inspecting it for spiders.
So that was my first run-in with the Filipino mega-spider, but unfortunately not the last, nor the most traumatic. Life went on spider-free for about a month and I had successfully blocked out any memory of the "Great Spider Incident of 2010" until one night I was walking up the stairs to my bedroom and there, on the landing, was a Filipino mega-spider. Was it the same spider I had encountered previously? I know not. I never did have the courage to ask my host sister what became of the spider she captured in the salad tongs. But whether it was the same spider or a different spider was of no matter. It was out for revenge either way because 1) I had been the cause of its capture and attempted murder or, if it was a different spider, 2) I had been the cause of the capture and actual murder of its family member.
But this time I resolved not to make a scene. My host family already thought I was nuts for my previous reaction. I'm an adult. The spider is only a spider (and no, it's not poisonous, so my fear really is quite irrational in the eyes of rational people). So I made a deal with the spider: as long as it doesn't come in my room, I won't cause it to be harmed. We can co-exist peacefully together, separately. And can you believe it? This agreement actually worked. The spider would be on the landing at night, disappear during the day, and reappear on the landing by night. I would sneak quietly by on the way to my room and he would make no move to attack me. I did take precautions, however, by stuffing a shirt in the rather large opening between the bottom of my door and the floor, thereby preventing a sneak attack under the cover of darkness while I was asleep. And then he disappeared altogether. I didn't see him for about a week, so I figured he either died or ran out of small animals to consume and moved on to another house. But I was nervous…what if there's a third option? What if he was still in the house, but had changed location? What if his new location was…dare I think it…my room? Another week went by and I still didn't see him, so I was lulled into a sense of security. Besides, he knew our agreement. Out of sight, out of mind, right?! Wrong. Of course the minute I let down my guard he appears on the wall ABOVE MY BED. In my room. I didn't know what to do. It was 10:00 PM and the spider and I were the only ones awake (which I'm sure was his plan). Luckily my bed was safely enclosed by my mosquito net, so I stealthily climbed in. This was my only protection from the blood-lust of the mega-spider, but it would have to be enough for the night. The expression "sleeping with one eye open" was never truer than it was that night. The next morning I awoke and was glad to find all my fingers and toes intact and no evidence of fang marks. My force field…um, I mean, my mosquito net…had done the job. But I'd had it. The next night, when he appeared again at a more reasonable hour, I summoned my host sister with her salad tongs. After some impressive avoidance on the spider's part, she captured him. (Of course I helped by running around my room shrieking.) He'd broken our agreement, and he paid the price. Sorry, mega-spider.
I'd like to think that is the last mega-spider I'll ever see (denial ain't just a river in Egypt, after all). For now I'm secure in knowing that my room is spider-free. I guess that's the most I can hope for in a tropical, spider-friendly climate!
Update: Since completing this post a week ago I have thrice showered with a mega-spider. The end result was me drowning it with water (which didn't kill it), smashing it with my flip flop (which didn't kill it), smashing it with my shampoo bottle (which didn't kill it), and finally forcing it down the drain (which hopefully killed it, but who knows). I think the fact that I was willing to kill it myself shows real growth. Who knows, by the end of my two years here I may have a pet mega-spider named Fluffy.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Merry Christmas and Happy 2011!!
New Year's Resolution #1: Update my blog more frequently.
New Year's Resolution #2: Stop buying and binge eating expensive American and/or Swiss chocolate*.
*Exclusions may apply, including times when I'm happy, sad, hungry, full, bored, not bored, or otherwise feel even a slight inclination to buy and binge eat expensive American and/or Swiss chocolate.
I've successfully made it through my first holiday season in the Philippines, and I'm happy to say it was a good one. Yes, there were moments of homesickness, but overall it was an enjoyable time, and I'd like to share some of the highlights with you. Christmas (which was a looooong time coming...Christmas season starts in September here) was marked by family, lots of food, and, of course, hot weather.
First, in the interest of cross-cultural understanding, I attended Christmas Eve mass with my host family. Now, keep in mind I try to avoid going places where large crowds gather. I'm still getting used to being the giraffe in the mouse exhibit, and being so obvious is easier to deal with in smaller groups. But in this case I made an exception and made my way to the church with my family. We arrived a little late, and as we walked in I noticed the church was almost completely full. "Yay," I thought to myself, "now we'll have to stand at the back...unnoticed!" But my hopes were soon dashed - my family was not content to stand in the back and proceeded to walk up the center aisle, slowly, looking for a space large enough to fit 5 people. I, of course, followed along, trying to appear shorter as I walked. Finally, upon reaching the third row from the front, my family found the desired spot. Unfortunately it was in the middle of the row, so I clumsily tripped over and stepped on several wide-eyed children and grandmas to reach my seat. I was smooshed in next to a little girl who tried her best to move away from me (fear of the giant blond is a common initial reaction among children here). I was finally seated, but now was effectively blocking the view of 20 rows of Filipinos behind me. Once again I tried to make myself shorter, but one can only slouch down so much. The service was nice, and gave me a chance to work on my Tagalog since it was conducted almost solely in that language.
Upon arriving home after mass my family began to prepare for "noche buena," a midnight dinner with family on Christmas Eve. That's in addition to the normal 3 meals plus 2 meal-sized meriendas that are eaten in a normal day. While I managed to stay up until midnight to eat this dinner, one of my PCV friends employed a different strategy. Apparently she went to sleep at 9 p.m., set her alarm for 11:59 p.m., woke up and ate dinner at midnight, and went back to sleep. I personally think this is cheating, but don't tell her I said that. Anyway, at my house this dinner consisted of spaghetti (the meal universally recognized in the Philippines as that which is eaten for any and every celebratory occasion), numerous fruit options, and numerous dessert options. When I sat down to the table I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to eat since my stomach isn't accustomed to midnight feasts. However, not wanting to appear rude or disgrace the name of the U.S. Peace Corps, I managed to eat two plates of spaghetti, an apple, an orange, three-quarters of a mango, and approximately 10 cookies. Oh, and a piece of cake. The things I do for my country. Christmas day consisted of eating more spaghetti and organizing games for the neighborhood kids. The credit for this goes to my host sister, not me, though I was able to be useful by being the object the kids had to maneuver around in the sack race.
The rest of the week passed quietly by. I read a lot, slept a lot, and watched a lot of movies. Finally New Year's Eve was upon us. And what does that mean?? Spaghetti at midnight!! That's right, just like Christmas, but this time fireworks added an element of danger to the mix. Here in Sual they don't have municipally-organized fireworks, so any fireworks displays are just private citizens setting off their own. I had some idea of what to expect because of an email all the PCVs received from the Peace Corps medical officer some weeks before. In addition to warning about the dangers of amateur fireworks and the unpredictability of their explosions, it went on to advise what to do in the event your fingers, eyes, or other unprotected body parts are injured/severed by rogue fireworks. I'm happy to say I survived with all body parts intact, though I don't know that my ear drums will ever be the same. I did have to dart behind a fence post a few times to avoid an out-of-control bottle rocket launched by a 9-year-old, but overall it was an experience I'm glad to have. And glad to have over. The constant BOOM of fireworks all day, every day, for the past two weeks (starting at 6 a.m....not joking) really put my nerves on edge!
I hope everyone had a safe and enjoyable holiday season. It's hard to believe 2011 is here, but I'm excited to see what new experiences it will bring. I wish everyone a prosperous and happy year, and I look forward to hearing what you're all up to back in the States! Peace and love from the Philippines!
New Year's Resolution #2: Stop buying and binge eating expensive American and/or Swiss chocolate*.
*Exclusions may apply, including times when I'm happy, sad, hungry, full, bored, not bored, or otherwise feel even a slight inclination to buy and binge eat expensive American and/or Swiss chocolate.
I've successfully made it through my first holiday season in the Philippines, and I'm happy to say it was a good one. Yes, there were moments of homesickness, but overall it was an enjoyable time, and I'd like to share some of the highlights with you. Christmas (which was a looooong time coming...Christmas season starts in September here) was marked by family, lots of food, and, of course, hot weather.
First, in the interest of cross-cultural understanding, I attended Christmas Eve mass with my host family. Now, keep in mind I try to avoid going places where large crowds gather. I'm still getting used to being the giraffe in the mouse exhibit, and being so obvious is easier to deal with in smaller groups. But in this case I made an exception and made my way to the church with my family. We arrived a little late, and as we walked in I noticed the church was almost completely full. "Yay," I thought to myself, "now we'll have to stand at the back...unnoticed!" But my hopes were soon dashed - my family was not content to stand in the back and proceeded to walk up the center aisle, slowly, looking for a space large enough to fit 5 people. I, of course, followed along, trying to appear shorter as I walked. Finally, upon reaching the third row from the front, my family found the desired spot. Unfortunately it was in the middle of the row, so I clumsily tripped over and stepped on several wide-eyed children and grandmas to reach my seat. I was smooshed in next to a little girl who tried her best to move away from me (fear of the giant blond is a common initial reaction among children here). I was finally seated, but now was effectively blocking the view of 20 rows of Filipinos behind me. Once again I tried to make myself shorter, but one can only slouch down so much. The service was nice, and gave me a chance to work on my Tagalog since it was conducted almost solely in that language.
Upon arriving home after mass my family began to prepare for "noche buena," a midnight dinner with family on Christmas Eve. That's in addition to the normal 3 meals plus 2 meal-sized meriendas that are eaten in a normal day. While I managed to stay up until midnight to eat this dinner, one of my PCV friends employed a different strategy. Apparently she went to sleep at 9 p.m., set her alarm for 11:59 p.m., woke up and ate dinner at midnight, and went back to sleep. I personally think this is cheating, but don't tell her I said that. Anyway, at my house this dinner consisted of spaghetti (the meal universally recognized in the Philippines as that which is eaten for any and every celebratory occasion), numerous fruit options, and numerous dessert options. When I sat down to the table I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to eat since my stomach isn't accustomed to midnight feasts. However, not wanting to appear rude or disgrace the name of the U.S. Peace Corps, I managed to eat two plates of spaghetti, an apple, an orange, three-quarters of a mango, and approximately 10 cookies. Oh, and a piece of cake. The things I do for my country. Christmas day consisted of eating more spaghetti and organizing games for the neighborhood kids. The credit for this goes to my host sister, not me, though I was able to be useful by being the object the kids had to maneuver around in the sack race.
The rest of the week passed quietly by. I read a lot, slept a lot, and watched a lot of movies. Finally New Year's Eve was upon us. And what does that mean?? Spaghetti at midnight!! That's right, just like Christmas, but this time fireworks added an element of danger to the mix. Here in Sual they don't have municipally-organized fireworks, so any fireworks displays are just private citizens setting off their own. I had some idea of what to expect because of an email all the PCVs received from the Peace Corps medical officer some weeks before. In addition to warning about the dangers of amateur fireworks and the unpredictability of their explosions, it went on to advise what to do in the event your fingers, eyes, or other unprotected body parts are injured/severed by rogue fireworks. I'm happy to say I survived with all body parts intact, though I don't know that my ear drums will ever be the same. I did have to dart behind a fence post a few times to avoid an out-of-control bottle rocket launched by a 9-year-old, but overall it was an experience I'm glad to have. And glad to have over. The constant BOOM of fireworks all day, every day, for the past two weeks (starting at 6 a.m....not joking) really put my nerves on edge!
I hope everyone had a safe and enjoyable holiday season. It's hard to believe 2011 is here, but I'm excited to see what new experiences it will bring. I wish everyone a prosperous and happy year, and I look forward to hearing what you're all up to back in the States! Peace and love from the Philippines!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Calling all divorce lawyers...
There is no divorce in the Philippines. And I don't mean the divorce rate is low. I mean that divorce DOES NOT EXIST in the Philippines. As in, you can't get a divorce. Sorry, Elizabeth Taylor. Am I the only one who is astonished by this? Eating rice for every meal is hard to adjust to, living with spiders the size of my hand has been tough...but NO DIVORCE?!?!? I think this is the biggest culture shock I've experienced so far. Not that I'm an advocate for divorce, but it just never occurred to me that there could be countries out there without a divorce law. Even now as I'm writing this I'm re-experiencing my initial feelings of shock and disbelief. I think this is the result of growing up in the U.S. where divorce has become as common as, well, marriage. I mean, what would the magazines publish if Hollywood stars weren't allowed to divorce and re-marry every few months? Everyone knows "til death do us part" is just a nice sentiment intended to make your wedding guests shed a tear. It doesn't really mean you have to be married...to the same person...until you DIE. DOES IT?! In the Philippines it does. And yes, people still choose to get married here. The law does allow for an annulment, but it's only granted in extreme cases and can take up to ten years to attain. Couples may also be granted a legal separation, but again it takes a long time, is only granted in specific circumstances, is expensive, and you're still legally married (i.e., you can't marry anyone else). What if your husband does nothing all day but watch baseball and/or is a *gasp* Yankees fan? Too bad, no divorce for you. What if your wife nags you about throwing your dirty towels on the floor? Nope, sorry, you better start picking up those towels.
But in all seriousness, I think it adds an interesting dimension to the Philippine culture, particularly in a country where people are encouraged to, and in fact do, get married quite young. I can't tell you how many people, when they find out I'm 29 and unmarried, ask me why I'm in the Philippines and not back in the U.S. scouring the country for a husband. Women also enjoy telling me they already had 2 (or 3, 4, 5...) kids by the time they were 29. But that's a blog for another time.
So this serves as a warning to all those divorce-minded people out there: don't get married in the Philippines! Stick to the U.S., where you can get divorced in the morning and re-married to a prettier, younger version of your first spouse in the afternoon!
But in all seriousness, I think it adds an interesting dimension to the Philippine culture, particularly in a country where people are encouraged to, and in fact do, get married quite young. I can't tell you how many people, when they find out I'm 29 and unmarried, ask me why I'm in the Philippines and not back in the U.S. scouring the country for a husband. Women also enjoy telling me they already had 2 (or 3, 4, 5...) kids by the time they were 29. But that's a blog for another time.
So this serves as a warning to all those divorce-minded people out there: don't get married in the Philippines! Stick to the U.S., where you can get divorced in the morning and re-married to a prettier, younger version of your first spouse in the afternoon!
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