Travel

Pasko Na: The Season of Giving

| Chelsea

My Municipality is believed to have gotten it’s name because the townspeople kept their young men and women in hiding to prevent them from being abused by the Spaniards.  Therefore, to an outsider, the town appeared to be comprised of only old people.  When Americans eventually came to the town they asked for it’s name.  The townspeople couldn’t understand what they were saying and assumed they were asking why no young people lived in the town.  

The people responded ‘kasi gurang’ (direct translation would be ‘because old’).

The Americans thought they were responding to their question, and left believing the town’s name was Kasi-gurang.  Today as the Gymnasium filled with almost every student ages 6-16 in the municipality, I recalled this story and thought how it must look ‘Kasi gurang’ outside.  

5,300 students excitedly awaited ‘Pamaskong Handog Para Sa Mga Kaakian 2016’ (Christmas Gifts for the Children) to begin.  The Honorable Mayor stood in the center of the gym, as Christmas music poured out of the speakers.  The crowd of children jittered in their seats so excitedly, it made even the sizeable speakers sound like a pair of headphones.  The air was thick with humidity (of course), but also with that special feeling that only appears this time of year, known to most as Christmas spirit.  As I watched the Mayor start ‘the wave’ around the gymnasium several times, and the kids squeal as he began to interact with the crowd, I was in awe of the energy that enveloped the room.  It was as if I had stepped off the Polar Express on Christmas Eve and Santa was greeting his crowd of elves. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas here. 

The Mayor gets up on stage and joins an intermission number

For the next 3 hours (yes, you read that right) the Mayor entertained the children by raffling off christmas gifts.  As he began to call the lucky numbers, each kid sat clutching their pink raffle ticket until the ink had begun to flake off and the paper was falling apart in their hands.  The grand prize was 50,000 pesos, and every kid was eager to bring it home to their families.  

To put this in perspective the average salary of the Philippines according to the International Labor Organization, is Php 13,901.18 per month.  Meaning this grand prize was over 3 and a half months worth of salary for the average Filipino.  

The average monthly salary in the United States is $3,263 (~$40,000/year), so for my american readers, at this pay scale the grand prize is the equivalent to winning just shy of $12,000.  

Again this is an average, the Philippines Statistics Authority reported the poverty rate (those whose income falls below the means necessary to provide food, housing, health and education) to be at 21.5% for the year of 2015, meaning that 50,000 pesos goes a lot further than 3.5 months for many of these children’s families.

Merry Christmas Mayor!

Upon the arrival of the grand prize announcement I couldn’t hear myself think above the cheering of the crowds.  They yelled so loud and stretched their arms up with their colorful signs painted with different phrases wishing the Mayor and his family a Merry Christmas.  All of them standing on their tip toes, with their shoulders drawn up to their ears, hoping that maybe if he saw their well wishes, he would somehow purposefully choose their number from the tumbling cage of 5,300 small clips of paper.  Upon reading the first number, no one claimed the prize.  

‘Wara?’ called the mayor to the crowd.  

To which they shouted back ‘Wara!’ and shook their hands in the air which is a common sign for ‘nothing’.

The Grand Prize Winners

A second number is called….

‘Wara?’

‘Wara!’

Finally a third number is called and the lucky winner runs down to the stage.  She’s a small girl of 11 years old and she doesn’t quite know what she’s just won.  She counts out the bills and is carted home to share her luck with her family.  

All in all, between intermission numbers and Apple-Pen-Pineapple-Pen dance breaks, the mayor gives out over 100 gifts including cellphones, rice cookers, and various denominations of money. All of the kids leave with a consolation prize of chichirria, and 20 pesos.  As everyone drains out of the gymnasium, some kids are carrying their winnings proudly, some are grumpy having lost, and most are running to spend their 20 pesos on more chichirria from the vendors outside.  They pile back onto the jeepneys to return to their perspective barangays and I return to work with my ears still ringing.  There is no doubt, the season of giving has arrived here in the Philippines.  Pasko na! 

8 Little Habits You Didn’t Know Were Different on the Other Side of the World

| Chelsea

It’s been a while hasn’t it, the past couple weeks have been busy but there is a treat at the end if you’ve been missing my writing. Enjoy!

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Every culture has little habits that are so ingrained in its people’s behavior that the actors don’t think for a second, that those actions may be performed differently in other parts of the world. While I’ve begun to learn about the habits of my corner of the Philippines, I’ve also started learning which of my habits are unique to the United States.

  1. Fork and Knife or Spoon and Fork?

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In the United States meals are typically eaten with a fork and knife. In the Philippines, meals are eaten with a spoon and fork, with the spoon being used more prominently than the fork—if they use silverware at all. It’s also very common to ditch the silverware all together and eat with ‘mga kamot mo!’ or ‘your hands!’

  1. What you’re looking for is just over there!

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Pointing in the Philippines isn’t done with your hands; it’s done by puckering your lips.

  1. ‘No shoes in the house’ isn’t just Mom’s rule!

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Every house here has a pile of shoes at the door. Wearing shoes inside is very uncommon. So kick off those zapatos at the door! Unless, they’re house tsinelas of course.

  1. Every day is an umbrella day.

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In the USA, umbrellas are for rain, and big umbrellas are for beaches and porches. But here, umbrellas are carried, and used, at all times. The Pinoy Sun is intense! Umbrellas are used to shade people from those extreme rays. I can personally tell you this is a worthwhile investment. Even short trips outside can result in sunburn!

  1. Sit, rest muna!

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This is a common, and comfortable, sitting position for Filipinos young and old! If people are sick of standing, watching an event, fixing a tryke, or even cooking they’ll just take a squat. Is there a United States equivalent for this?? Let me know below if you think of one!

  1. Can I get through a post without mentioning eating?

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No, no I cannot. But anyways, by bunching your fingers together (similar to ASL for ‘eat’) and touching your cheek you can communicate a number of things about eating. Depending on the context, this can mean ‘have you eaten?’, ‘come eat!’, or ‘we are eating.’

  1. ACHOO-EY

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S/O to my Dad who sneezes like that. In the United States we usually say ‘bless you’ after someone sneezes. This is not practiced in the Philippines. Most people don’t say anything. Sometimes I still say ‘bless you’ instinctively, can’t kick all those American habits!

  1. But what’s your nickname?

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In the United States, if someone prefers a nickname over their actual name, they’ll usually tell you upon introducing themselves.  I don’t have any preference on what people call me so when I was asked  ‘what is your nickname?’ I said I didn’t have one.  I received confused looks and was asked a few more times ‘but, what’s your nickname?’. I now understand those looks because EVERYONE has a nickname. I now I have many many nicknames, Chee and Chels are the most common (at the moment).  This can make things complicated when someone is addressing me, I have to listen for so many different syllables and versions of my name!

What other countries have you encountered that uphold these habits? Which countries don’t? What are some habits you’ve noticed elsewhere? Let me know, comment below!

AND AS PROMISED: Bonus Post! I recently wrote an article for the blog Travel Belles. The article is 10 tips for adjusting to life in a new country, check it out here, and pass it along to anyone who might find it helpful!

5, 6, 7, 8: Let The Town Fiesta Begin

| Chelsea


Prior to this fiesta my co-workers asked me if we had fiestas in the United States. I said ‘of course!’ Casiguran is a small municipality, so I talked about my small hometown. Our Grape Harvest Festival we used to have in Washingtonville, and the Cheese Festival in Monroe. I talked about the food, the music, and the dancing. How my family and I would walk through the winery or down the streets of Monroe. My sisters and friends would play games, go in bounce houses, and look through the vendors. We would eat good food, and always take home a jar of fresh pickles (my favorite). But as I sat packed into the Casiguran Gymnasium on day one of five celebrating Casiguran’s Patron Saint, I decided that a Pinoy Town Fiesta is like nothing I have ever seen before.

The Mayor stood in front of his adoring audience and entertained his community. He’s been described to me as a ‘jolly man’, which sounds odd to my American ears because the only person I’ve heard called ‘jolly’ in my entire life is Santa Claus. Yet, I can’t help but agree with them, he is jolly. As the jolly mayor finished up his playful opening remarks, the first barangay was ready to begin their performance. These performances are a culmination of a dancing, marching, flag twirling, and baton throwing; typically performed by young girls in elementary school or high school. However in this case, the only woman under the age of 40 was the young girl standing in the very front. The Town Fiesta in Casiguran has a tradition of having the older women of the community perform instead of the younger generation. The girl in front had been given the task of teaching and leading the women behind her in the routine they were about to perform.

As I watched them march forward they paused for a second before starting their number. All of them dressed to match one another except for the young girl in front. Her fancy costume had a bodice, skirt, and headpiece that were covered in golden sequins and she wore long heeled boots. As the band behind her began to play I watched as she mouthed the words; ‘five, six, seven, eight.’ I smiled to myself because I have repeated those four words throughout my life so many times I can’t even begin to count.

5, 6, 7, 8 and I remembered the tickle that would rise through my stomach when walking on stage in my little tutu and pink tights. I remembered how the hairspray would gather my hair into stiff little rows that were pulled together into a bun. I remembered how many scars I probably still have on my scalp from sharp bobby pins being pushed into my pile of hair and hitting my head.  I remembered how many pictures I have at home of me and my cousins dressed up in our dance costumes.  I smile at the thought of a little version of myself in bright red lipstick and a red and orange costume eager to go on stage.  I really appreciate how my experiences here have had a way of renewing memories I had all but forgotten about.  I turned my attention back to the gymnasium floor and watched as their performance came to life while I quietly kept count in my head.

These performances were not taken seriously whatsoever, and that was part of the beauty. The Ates, Nanays, and Lolas, in front of me had an absolute ball.  They marched, and danced with huge smiles on their faces. They twirled their flags and batons, and laughed as they dropped those flags and batons. They shook their hips in their short skirts and long socks, and the crowd went wild. The mayor would call aside the more animated dancers at the end and hand out P 1000 bills. The fun energy radiated throughout the municipality and got everyone excited for the next couple days.

If you plan on visiting me, which I hope you all are, make sure to do so during a fiesta. Fiestas here are a special outward extension of the sentiment held by the people who live here. It’s like a shortcut in which you get to experience, not only, the food, the history, and the culture of the Philippines, but also the fun-loving and jolly spirit of the Pinoy people. I will get to attend many fiestas here in the Philippines, and I hope you join me!

 

Filipino Palengke

| Chelsea

PEACE CORPS CBT: A WALK THROUGH THE PALENGKE

Walking through a Filipino Palengke for the first time is an explosion of sensory experiences. The warehouse is open on all sides and the aisles are lit only with ambient light from the city outside. It takes a second for our eyes to adjust from the strong Philippines’ sunlight to the dimly lit market aisles. The pungent smell of fish, meat, and produce, sourly climbs up our noses, but our brains are so busy with our other senses the smell seems to fade. The cracked, chipped and discolored white tile counters are filled with fish of every color and size. Each vendor has their own small bare florescent light bulb illuminating their counter.

We shimmy around one another in the crowded aisles and are sprayed from either side by fish scales and salt water. The Tilapia vendor lets close to 30 fish flop across his counter. In an attempt to escape, one throws itself on to the concrete floor of the market. I scoop him up and my stomach turns a little as I return him to the counter, where he waits to be de-scaled and gutted alive. The other fish lay dead in humongous piles on the tile. Almost every fish you could possibly imagine has passed through this market.

Barracudas, that must have been equivalent to the length of the vessel they came into port on, tuna heads bigger than my own head, beautiful watercolored Parrotfish the size of dinner platters. Cross sections of Morray eel’s whom, when they were whole, must have resembled the sea serpent that slithered through your childhood nightmares. Hundreds of lapu-lapu (grouper) bright red with metallic blue flecks concentrated at their heads and scattered across their bodies. As we walked through the market I realized I had never seen most of these fish out of the water and how many of them seemed significantly bigger here, than they did under the sea.

Fruits, vegetables, leaves, roots, and spices hang, drape and pile on every open surface.

As we walk deeper into the warehouse past the fish vendors we come upon the the prutas at gulay (fruits and vegetables) stands. Their stands have many tiers. Fruits, vegetables, leaves, roots, and spices hang, drape and pile on every open surface. The fruits are strange, and one vendor rip open red fuzzy fruits for us to try. The flesh is white and so sweet we decide to buy a kilo, 90P lang. Collecting new fruits and vegetables along the way we walk even further to the carne vendors. These stands are far from the ambient light of the city but they still glow bright red and I get that eerily feeling that we’re walking into a horror movie. Every part of the animal hangs from giant silver hooks or is set out on silver platters. The vendors wear a white apron stained pink by their work and swing a giant cleaver to chop up kilos of meat.

We approached the smiling vendors and watched as their eyes widened when we said ‘Magkano ito’ (how much is this)


We approached the smiling vendors and watched as their eyes widened when we said ‘Magkano ito’ (how much is this). They laughed ‘You speak Tagalog?!’. ‘Konti lang, konti lang’ (just a little, just a little). It went on like this for a few hours before we walked back into the Philippines’ sun to leave the market. Our brains were tired and our stomach’s growled at the ingredients in our arms. We made our way back to our small, quiet, peaceful Barangay with arms full of ingredients to make fish tacos (we’re all experiencing a bit of a Mexican food withdrawal). As we cooked up our tortillas and fish, we snacked on the weird little red fruits and decided there is nothing quite like a Filipino Palengke.

Magandang Umaga Po

| Chelsea

PEACE CORPS CBT: DAY TO DAY

That is the sentence that starts my every day. I wake up to roosters and motorcycle engines outside my window. I sit down to a breakfast of rice and tortong talong. My host sister and brothers leave for school and I walk down the dusty paved road toward the Peace Corps staff house for class. On my walk I greet everyone: “Magandang Umaga Po!”. Curious eyes watch as I walk around kal-asos and trykes, or as I squish to the side of the road as a large truck comes through. Mornings are usually language sessions and during breaks, we walk less than 100 paces to stand on the seashore. We stretch our legs, stand in the surf, and breathe in the salty air. We break at lunch and I head home where Kuya greets me. He makes me food for lunch, usually chicken (manok), and of course, rice. Little Job is usually home from Kinder-one by then and he hides behind my chair and pokes me while I eat. The afternoon rolls in and I accept the slow melting feeling that will loom over me for the rest of the day.

The afternoons are usually technical sessions. The past two weeks have consisted of learning to perform coral seagrass and mangrove assessments, learning fish coral seagrass and mangrove identification, in both English and Tagalog, and learning to perform a participatory coastal resource assessment. To say it’s been a busy couple of weeks is an understatement. But sitting on the edge of a pump boat at 7am waiting to jump into the water and assess coral is a pretty great way to start the work week.

To say it’s been a busy couple of weeks is an understatement.

When I come home at night I am greeted by ‘Ate Chelsea, Ate Chelsea!’ And hugs from little Job and Denise. I live with an Ate and Kuya. They have a daughter and two sons, but several cousins live close by so there are always kids around. The kids and I enjoy coloring, countless games of monkey monkey (go fish), and reading. At night everyone watches television and does their homework. We eat dinner, and I go to bed to the sound of videoke, kal-asos, and my fan turned on its highest setting.

…each day brings unique unexpected moments of being present.

Aside from my daily schedule each day brings unique unexpected moments of being present. Whether it’s drinking the best buko juice I’ve ever had from freshly cut coconuts on a beachside goat farm (and subsequently getting that coconut stolen by a goat), or dancing with the Ates at a birthday party while singing videoke. I’m amazed at the world of the Philippines as it unfolds before me.