The results of boredom.
Dear Fanfiction.net,
Finally.
Love,
Jax
(I swear I wasn't the one who requested that he be added to the list. However, I think I can be amused by the fact that I'm apparently the only one who realized they did. So... yeah.)
On another note, I can't wait to get back up to Northampton. Mom's coming down with something, which can only mean she's going to get bitchier than she's been for awhile. Dad, meanwhile, is heavily disappointed by the fact that I'm a spoiled brat who actually didn't particularly enjoy staying in a third-world country. Because, you know, it's definitely thrilling to go through each day wondering if I'll either be robbed blind or admitted to a hospital as I puke up my stomach because I'm clearly an American (with regards to the former) and not at all used to the food/water/anything remotely edible to the point where the last time I wasn't careful nearly literally killed me (with regards to the latter). And I'm certain it's a heavily pleasant experience to not go through a single day without my mother's family either mocking me or getting irritated and impatient with me because there's no way I could have actually learned their dialect (which is about as different from Tagalog as English is from Spanish anyway).
Don't get me wrong. I know I was supposed to like it and that it's a great experience and would make me a better person and so on and so forth and that I really should see my family, particularly the parts that I haven't seen for ten years. However, no, I didn't like being there. I'm sorry, but I really didn't. When I can't go through a day without wondering if I'm going to die the next one and when I can't do anything without being made fun of by people who apparently like keeping me around because I amuse them, I'm not going to be very happy.
There were some good parts, though, and I promised to actually go over them, so I'm going to try to go back over what happened on what day.
1. First off, the first two days were taken up by travel. Yes, two. To get from the eastern US to the Philippines requires a twenty-four-hour flight that crosses the International Date Line. If you do the math (which I can't, but just trust me on this), what this means is that if you start in the US around noon on Day One, you reach Tokyo at around 6 AM on Day Two. Assuming there's a couple of hours between each flight and factoring in the waiting times for both baggage claim and immigration, you end up in Manila at around 10:30 of the second night. Of course, then, if your relatives are late picking you up (which ours were), that also means you get into the provincial city that is your destination at around three in the morning, but it happens.
2. Third day involved going to one of the megamalls that have sprouted up since our last visit, the one on Clark. The interesting thing about malls and stores in general in the Philippines is that every one has a guard at front to check your bags and person for weapons. This means more jobs, and it's supposed to mean safer shopping. (Unfortunately, this is also a third-world country, so if you look American -- which I do -- then you have to watch your bag anyway.) Shops there were crowded, but it was an air-conditioned mall. It felt a lot like home.
3. Fourth day was a Sunday, and Luzon is a highly Catholic part of the country. It's a remnant of Spanish rule, really, with the Muslims in Mindanao being the result of an entirely different group of explorers whose identity I can't recall off the top of my head. (It wasn't the Portuguese. The Southerners beheaded the Portuguese for trying to share their religion with them. I want to say it was the Moors, but.) In any case, as a result, the first thing before anything else was that a bunch of us went to church, and I must say it was incredibly beautiful. The weather was cool because it was still morning, and the church itself was ornate. I couldn't follow the service itself (because, again, it was in the regional dialect, not even Tagalog), but it had a very peaceful atmosphere.
After that was the market. Vendors lined up on both sides of the street, mostly with food laid out on pieces of cardboard or crates. Bakeries offered fresh bread. People milled from spot to spot, picking up things for Sunday dinner. I thought it was interesting, if only because it was, well, that bit of culture I was supposed to spot and enjoy. That and it was very personal. Buyers conversed with the sellers, and the sellers sold only what they caught or grew themselves. It's hard to explain exactly what was attractive about it, but something about it all kept me fascinated.
Also, I'd like to note that the Philippines has probably the best ways to travel I've ever experienced. Most of my trips around the province was done by jeepney, former American military vehicles (i.e., the Army left them there after World War II) that were bought and refurbished (usually gaudily, which is awesome because it's like you're riding around in a giant box of glitter) by private citizens. There's an open door in the back and two benches for seating inside, and for whatever reason, it seemed like there was a relationship between the drivers and the riders in that the drivers trusted the riders to not simply jump out without paying.
Those rides in themselves were fun, but what I like a bit more are the tricycles -- motorbikes with side cars attached to them. The side cars are low but comfortable, so it feels like you're right up against the road while still feeling safe. This method is a bit faster, and at the risk of being cheesy, more thrilling.
Besides church and joyrides, we also headed to the country to visit family. The country is actually rather beautiful -- less polluted and the living standard is slowly improving (even to the point where I'd say the family in the country were living better than the ones in the city). My grandfather took me out back of one of the houses and motioned to a massive field of rice. He told me it was only a fragment of what the family owned, and the impressive thing is, he was telling the truth.
4. Day five, I didn't get too much sleep. The problem with the Philippines is that everyone owns an animal of some kind, and my grandparents own a rooster, several chickens, a couple of cats, and a dog, none of whom are actually fixed because they don't really do that kind of thing over there. As a result, the entire Sunday night was taken up by the sounds of the family cat mating with a stray. But that's a minor complaint because it only happened once. (The other nights were taken up by the sounds of the dog barking and the rooster crowing.)
In any case, day five was spent with my cousin taking me to another city to visit a friend of hers. He seemed nice, very amiable. That's one thing with the Filipinos. They're actually rather jovial to most people. It's the Filipino-Americans you'll want to be wary about. Or maybe it's just my family.
But in any case, what made things awkward is that my cousin didn't know much English, and I didn't know much about the Philippines. As a result, most of our conversation entailed "are you okay" (from her) and "what do you want to do."
We ended up going to another place for shopping to meet up with the family. It wasn't one of the megamalls, so it was even more crowded and more Filipino, with stalls crowded with Chinese trinkets and culture-oriented things.
5. Day six. We went off to Manila this time, which involved an air-conditioned bus (which was very nice), plus air-conditioned facilities - namely, a travel agency to fix my grandmother's plane ticket.
As a side note, what made this trip a bit more hellish is the fact that I got my period on the first full day in the Philippines, hence part of the reason why I kept complaining about the bathrooms - because you can't really clean yourself up if the only means of discarding the results would be either a small trash can or dumping buckets of water down a toilet. Hence, my mother tried to fix our ticket, but we couldn't find the right agency. It was fine, though, because Manila was quite a sight. People everywhere, interesting things to look at, the kind of culture I didn't mind looking at. There were a lot of things to do and check out, and the cabbie who took us to the agency was nice enough to serve as a sort of tour guide on the side.
Also, the subway system. It was crammed full of people, so it was my first time riding in what I'd only seen in textbooks, really. It wasn't as bad as the captions said it was.
6. Day seven, not much. My grandmother had to be taken to a doctor's for a small checkup, and the facilities are spotless. Not much else to note.
Except I've spent two weeks over in the Philippines, and I still don't understand Filipino game shows. Not that this is a bad thing. I think they're more entertaining if I assume there's no real point to what's going on.
7. Day eight, we went back to Manila (driven by my mother's uncle in his massive, fourteen-seat van) to pick up my cousin and to visit other family. We did the latter first, which entailed going down winding, crowded roads. It's impressive how many cars can actually fit in a road that's meant to only be one lane wide, but in any case, I liked the image of all the pastel-walled houses and the little convenience-store-like shops built into about every other house. (Filipinos run businesses out of their own homes. Many of these sell snacks and drinks, but barber shops and internet cafes are popular too. In any case, a lot of the time, you'll have one of these shops every three houses or so.) There wasn't any yard space except for a path around each house, but while one would think this would evoke a claustrophobic feeling, I actually thought it was a little comfortable. Maybe I'm just weird.
8. On day nine, my cousins, my mother, and I all packed up a few things and headed to a place on the former Clark Air Base to stay. The thing about that place is that all of the on-base housing and whatnot had been converted into resorts, hotels, and rentable villas, usually furnished for foreigners. As in, if you're an American, all of the hotels and such are as close to your way of living as you could probably get, which is appropriate because Clark was always like that, considering it was an American military base anyway. The Holiday Inn, however, turned out to be ritzier than anything I've ever stayed in, complete with a very sweet staff, nice air conditioning, and, of course, spotless and comfortable rooms. It sort of makes me feel guilty to say all of that and that I actually liked living that way, but it definitely made things more bearable.
Either that, or it was the fact that I didn't have to spend all hours of the day with most of my family.
9. Day ten brought us back to the megamall. Not much to talk about, really, except it should be noted that it's 48.89 Philippine piso to an American dollar. And even then, prices aren't so bad for a tourist.
10. Day eleven, cousin's birthday party. Not much to talk about here. It was a family get-together. I couldn't eat much because it was blazing hot that day.
11. Day twelve, we woke up early and headed northward to the mountain country. We stopped at a number of religious shrines, but I must admit I much preferred the regular church. Some of the churches we visited were actually legit (like the Pink Sisters), but those I was actually barred from entering due to improper attire (shorts). The others made me feel like I was looking at a religious gimmick, as awful as that sounds. But the bird outside one of them was adorable. It talked.
After that (and shopping at several roadside fruit stands), we wound up back in Manila for an aunt's friend, which means we hit up an extremely ritzy mall/apartment complex. And I mean ritzy. Manila has a lot of those as well, it seems, although most people live more like my grandparents in what people in the States might consider a barrio.
12. Tuesday, meanwhile, was spent mostly shopping and getting things ready to go back home. Not much else to say.
So, there you have it. The details and the good points.
This entry was originally posted at http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/1023.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Finally.
Love,
Jax
(I swear I wasn't the one who requested that he be added to the list. However, I think I can be amused by the fact that I'm apparently the only one who realized they did. So... yeah.)
On another note, I can't wait to get back up to Northampton. Mom's coming down with something, which can only mean she's going to get bitchier than she's been for awhile. Dad, meanwhile, is heavily disappointed by the fact that I'm a spoiled brat who actually didn't particularly enjoy staying in a third-world country. Because, you know, it's definitely thrilling to go through each day wondering if I'll either be robbed blind or admitted to a hospital as I puke up my stomach because I'm clearly an American (with regards to the former) and not at all used to the food/water/anything remotely edible to the point where the last time I wasn't careful nearly literally killed me (with regards to the latter). And I'm certain it's a heavily pleasant experience to not go through a single day without my mother's family either mocking me or getting irritated and impatient with me because there's no way I could have actually learned their dialect (which is about as different from Tagalog as English is from Spanish anyway).
Don't get me wrong. I know I was supposed to like it and that it's a great experience and would make me a better person and so on and so forth and that I really should see my family, particularly the parts that I haven't seen for ten years. However, no, I didn't like being there. I'm sorry, but I really didn't. When I can't go through a day without wondering if I'm going to die the next one and when I can't do anything without being made fun of by people who apparently like keeping me around because I amuse them, I'm not going to be very happy.
There were some good parts, though, and I promised to actually go over them, so I'm going to try to go back over what happened on what day.
1. First off, the first two days were taken up by travel. Yes, two. To get from the eastern US to the Philippines requires a twenty-four-hour flight that crosses the International Date Line. If you do the math (which I can't, but just trust me on this), what this means is that if you start in the US around noon on Day One, you reach Tokyo at around 6 AM on Day Two. Assuming there's a couple of hours between each flight and factoring in the waiting times for both baggage claim and immigration, you end up in Manila at around 10:30 of the second night. Of course, then, if your relatives are late picking you up (which ours were), that also means you get into the provincial city that is your destination at around three in the morning, but it happens.
2. Third day involved going to one of the megamalls that have sprouted up since our last visit, the one on Clark. The interesting thing about malls and stores in general in the Philippines is that every one has a guard at front to check your bags and person for weapons. This means more jobs, and it's supposed to mean safer shopping. (Unfortunately, this is also a third-world country, so if you look American -- which I do -- then you have to watch your bag anyway.) Shops there were crowded, but it was an air-conditioned mall. It felt a lot like home.
3. Fourth day was a Sunday, and Luzon is a highly Catholic part of the country. It's a remnant of Spanish rule, really, with the Muslims in Mindanao being the result of an entirely different group of explorers whose identity I can't recall off the top of my head. (It wasn't the Portuguese. The Southerners beheaded the Portuguese for trying to share their religion with them. I want to say it was the Moors, but.) In any case, as a result, the first thing before anything else was that a bunch of us went to church, and I must say it was incredibly beautiful. The weather was cool because it was still morning, and the church itself was ornate. I couldn't follow the service itself (because, again, it was in the regional dialect, not even Tagalog), but it had a very peaceful atmosphere.
After that was the market. Vendors lined up on both sides of the street, mostly with food laid out on pieces of cardboard or crates. Bakeries offered fresh bread. People milled from spot to spot, picking up things for Sunday dinner. I thought it was interesting, if only because it was, well, that bit of culture I was supposed to spot and enjoy. That and it was very personal. Buyers conversed with the sellers, and the sellers sold only what they caught or grew themselves. It's hard to explain exactly what was attractive about it, but something about it all kept me fascinated.
Also, I'd like to note that the Philippines has probably the best ways to travel I've ever experienced. Most of my trips around the province was done by jeepney, former American military vehicles (i.e., the Army left them there after World War II) that were bought and refurbished (usually gaudily, which is awesome because it's like you're riding around in a giant box of glitter) by private citizens. There's an open door in the back and two benches for seating inside, and for whatever reason, it seemed like there was a relationship between the drivers and the riders in that the drivers trusted the riders to not simply jump out without paying.
Those rides in themselves were fun, but what I like a bit more are the tricycles -- motorbikes with side cars attached to them. The side cars are low but comfortable, so it feels like you're right up against the road while still feeling safe. This method is a bit faster, and at the risk of being cheesy, more thrilling.
Besides church and joyrides, we also headed to the country to visit family. The country is actually rather beautiful -- less polluted and the living standard is slowly improving (even to the point where I'd say the family in the country were living better than the ones in the city). My grandfather took me out back of one of the houses and motioned to a massive field of rice. He told me it was only a fragment of what the family owned, and the impressive thing is, he was telling the truth.
4. Day five, I didn't get too much sleep. The problem with the Philippines is that everyone owns an animal of some kind, and my grandparents own a rooster, several chickens, a couple of cats, and a dog, none of whom are actually fixed because they don't really do that kind of thing over there. As a result, the entire Sunday night was taken up by the sounds of the family cat mating with a stray. But that's a minor complaint because it only happened once. (The other nights were taken up by the sounds of the dog barking and the rooster crowing.)
In any case, day five was spent with my cousin taking me to another city to visit a friend of hers. He seemed nice, very amiable. That's one thing with the Filipinos. They're actually rather jovial to most people. It's the Filipino-Americans you'll want to be wary about. Or maybe it's just my family.
But in any case, what made things awkward is that my cousin didn't know much English, and I didn't know much about the Philippines. As a result, most of our conversation entailed "are you okay" (from her) and "what do you want to do."
We ended up going to another place for shopping to meet up with the family. It wasn't one of the megamalls, so it was even more crowded and more Filipino, with stalls crowded with Chinese trinkets and culture-oriented things.
5. Day six. We went off to Manila this time, which involved an air-conditioned bus (which was very nice), plus air-conditioned facilities - namely, a travel agency to fix my grandmother's plane ticket.
As a side note, what made this trip a bit more hellish is the fact that I got my period on the first full day in the Philippines, hence part of the reason why I kept complaining about the bathrooms - because you can't really clean yourself up if the only means of discarding the results would be either a small trash can or dumping buckets of water down a toilet. Hence, my mother tried to fix our ticket, but we couldn't find the right agency. It was fine, though, because Manila was quite a sight. People everywhere, interesting things to look at, the kind of culture I didn't mind looking at. There were a lot of things to do and check out, and the cabbie who took us to the agency was nice enough to serve as a sort of tour guide on the side.
Also, the subway system. It was crammed full of people, so it was my first time riding in what I'd only seen in textbooks, really. It wasn't as bad as the captions said it was.
6. Day seven, not much. My grandmother had to be taken to a doctor's for a small checkup, and the facilities are spotless. Not much else to note.
Except I've spent two weeks over in the Philippines, and I still don't understand Filipino game shows. Not that this is a bad thing. I think they're more entertaining if I assume there's no real point to what's going on.
7. Day eight, we went back to Manila (driven by my mother's uncle in his massive, fourteen-seat van) to pick up my cousin and to visit other family. We did the latter first, which entailed going down winding, crowded roads. It's impressive how many cars can actually fit in a road that's meant to only be one lane wide, but in any case, I liked the image of all the pastel-walled houses and the little convenience-store-like shops built into about every other house. (Filipinos run businesses out of their own homes. Many of these sell snacks and drinks, but barber shops and internet cafes are popular too. In any case, a lot of the time, you'll have one of these shops every three houses or so.) There wasn't any yard space except for a path around each house, but while one would think this would evoke a claustrophobic feeling, I actually thought it was a little comfortable. Maybe I'm just weird.
8. On day nine, my cousins, my mother, and I all packed up a few things and headed to a place on the former Clark Air Base to stay. The thing about that place is that all of the on-base housing and whatnot had been converted into resorts, hotels, and rentable villas, usually furnished for foreigners. As in, if you're an American, all of the hotels and such are as close to your way of living as you could probably get, which is appropriate because Clark was always like that, considering it was an American military base anyway. The Holiday Inn, however, turned out to be ritzier than anything I've ever stayed in, complete with a very sweet staff, nice air conditioning, and, of course, spotless and comfortable rooms. It sort of makes me feel guilty to say all of that and that I actually liked living that way, but it definitely made things more bearable.
Either that, or it was the fact that I didn't have to spend all hours of the day with most of my family.
9. Day ten brought us back to the megamall. Not much to talk about, really, except it should be noted that it's 48.89 Philippine piso to an American dollar. And even then, prices aren't so bad for a tourist.
10. Day eleven, cousin's birthday party. Not much to talk about here. It was a family get-together. I couldn't eat much because it was blazing hot that day.
11. Day twelve, we woke up early and headed northward to the mountain country. We stopped at a number of religious shrines, but I must admit I much preferred the regular church. Some of the churches we visited were actually legit (like the Pink Sisters), but those I was actually barred from entering due to improper attire (shorts). The others made me feel like I was looking at a religious gimmick, as awful as that sounds. But the bird outside one of them was adorable. It talked.
After that (and shopping at several roadside fruit stands), we wound up back in Manila for an aunt's friend, which means we hit up an extremely ritzy mall/apartment complex. And I mean ritzy. Manila has a lot of those as well, it seems, although most people live more like my grandparents in what people in the States might consider a barrio.
12. Tuesday, meanwhile, was spent mostly shopping and getting things ready to go back home. Not much else to say.
So, there you have it. The details and the good points.
This entry was originally posted at http://mercoledi.dreamwidth.org/1023.html. Please comment there using OpenID.