cross cultural

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.

Peace Corps Philippines: New Beginnings and Songs About Pizza

| Chelsea

The moment I received the email inviting me to join the Peace Corps as a Coastal Resource Management Volunteer I knew I was going to say yes. But replying to an email is easy, just a few keystrokes and clicks. There was no way of truly envisioning what I was signing myself up for. All I knew was that I had to find out.  Finally, 4 months later, I am beginning to do just that.

Arriving at IO

I’m finding out that it’s waking up at 6am to enjoy the crisp fresh air before the heat of morning kicks in. It’s embracing that sweaty is no longer something that happens on hot summer days or after a tough work-out, it’s a chronic condition. It’s having merienda at mid-morning and mid-afternoon. And it’s tiny red ants marching in and out of everything you own. It’s videoke, it’s Jolibees, and it’s only just beginning.

Peace Corps Philippines has three different sectors: CYF (Children, Youth and Family), Education, and CRM (Coastal Resource Management). Right now we are all together at initial orientation getting acquainted with each other and the Philippines. This includes dancing at Disco Disco night, and learning Pinoy games and pastimes, including videoke.

Pinoy game night

Of all the Pinoy games and pastimes, videoke has to be my favorite (so far). Videoke is very different from its American counterpart, karaoke. Videoke actually has absolutely nothing to do with being a good singer, or knowing the lyrics, or even knowing the tune! It is all about your ability to put on a show with confidence. There are thousands of songs to be performed in English, Tag-lish, and Tagalog. We learned a song called Picha Pie (here is the link for your videoke-ing enjoyment). Picha is not a tagalog word, the –za sound in pizza is just difficult for Filipinos to pronounce.  So Picha Pie is a song about Pizza and it is sung to the tune of ‘I will Survive’ by Gloria Gaynor. I’m not quite sure why this didn’t make it back in America but it is truly a work of art (see full translation here). Also quite different from American karaoke, videoke is not something you just do at parties, or bars. Videoke is a part of the Filipino way of life and almost every household comes equipped with its very own! Family gatherings, office parties, solo, even in department stores, videoke is EVERYWHERE.  So I’m looking forward to all of the videoke-ing I will get to partake in over these next 27 months.

Merienda: mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks

Aside from videoke we have started our Tagalog studies, begun learning about the Philippine environment, and internalizing what it means to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.   On top of the formal seminars and meetings, every day in this beautiful country is full of learning and full of surprise. I am never quite sure what Filipino habit or daily ritual will emerge in my routine and force me to experience the world in a new way. Whether it is greeting strangers on the sidewalk with ‘Maganadang umaga po’ or growing antsy for mid-morning merienda at 9:45am. My world is changing and it’s only the beginning.

Stay tuned!