environment

Toughening up the oysters of the Bay

| Chelsea

Oysters are benthic filter feeders important to coastal environments all over the world. In the Chesapeake Bay, the eastern oyster (Crassostrea virginica) is our only native oyster species and helps keep the ecosystems of the Bay healthy. Fixed to the spot they settled on as larvae, oysters filter the water when they feed and breathe; they build reef structures that provide habitat and safe haven for critters hiding from predators. The eastern oyster also supports a healthy and growing aquaculture industry that brings oysters to our plates.

Most oyster farmers use the waterways where oysters naturally occur to grow their own oysters for human consumption. This makes sense, of course; if oysters can survive there naturally, it’s highly likely they can be cultivated there. However, these waterways are changing, and their suitability for growing oysters is also changing. While the oyster is accustomed to environments that fluctuate on a wide variety of time scales, from daily changes occurring with incoming and outgoing tides to seasonal cycles of temperature, salinity, and food availability, everyone has their limits. The fact that an organism designed to cope with changing environments is having trouble tolerating the changes we’ve induced in our planet is alarming.

Eastern oyster seed (juvenile oysters)

So what are we going to do about it?

In the near term, we need solutions to help oysters survive in these conditions. Scientists have developed some amazing techniques for mitigating the uncertainty of the environment by finding creative ways to use principles like natural selection. In nature, those equipped for the stress of their environment survive to pass their genes on to the next generation. In an aquaculture setting, scientists simply make this decision. They select oysters that survive in certain conditions, like low-salinity, or have genetic markers that tell us they’re resistant to certain diseases. They breed these oysters so that their offspring are more likely to survive these conditions than by natural selection alone. This technique is highly effective but slow, as it takes generations to create these lines. My work has been focused on testing a new technique that focuses within a generation of oysters.

Stress conditioning

Stress conditioning is the idea that when we expose an organism to a stressor, they make molecular changes that prepare them for that stressor in the future. One stress I’ve conducted work for has been salinity stress. Oysters prefer a salinity range 5-35 ppt; in the Chesapeake Bay, we are on the lower end of that range, so drops in salinity due to increased rainfall or extreme weather events can push salinity dangerously low. The most severe account of this in the last decade was in 2019, but in 2024 we also had unseasonably fresh water in the Bay. So what would happen if we exposed oysters to a short burst of low salinity? Would they be more likely to survive during a long exposure to low salinity? These are some of the questions I’m looking to answer with my research.

Controlled experiments on the eastern oyster

In controlled experiments, we did see less mortality in our juvenile oysters that were stress-conditioned, and increased growth compared to oysters that were not stress-conditioned but exposed to a long period of low salinity stress. The next steps for this work were to test it out in the field, where other things like temperature, food availability, and dissolved oxygen availability are less controlled. We selected three sites along the Choptank River to deploy our stress-conditioned oysters. One on the mainstem of the river, where the salinity is well within the oyster’s comfort zone. A second site on a tributary upstream, where the salinity begins to drop, and a third site further upstream at Suicide Bridge, where the salinity is low.

Putting oyster cages out in the field!

Over the course of six months, we’ll go out to check on these oysters periodically. We’ll assess how many have survived the conditions and if the conditions have affected how well they grow. As we collect more data, I’ll have a better idea of how helpful stress conditioning for low salinity is for our oysters. From there, we can consider if this technique is something oyster farmers should use to help toughen up their oysters in the face of variable conditions.

Indonesia: Diving in the Bali Sea

| Chelsea

“Your dives will be 1.6 million rupiah” the secretary at Gecko Dive Center doesn’t bat an eyelash as she rattles off this jarring number.

The mere suggestion of a million of anything is enough to make my stomach drop.  That’s insane!  ONE MILLION?!

Of course, 1 USD is equivalent to about 14,000 IDR so in fact the prices were quite reasonable.  We double checked the conversions and shelled out the rupiah to dive in the Bali sea off of Penida island between Bali and Lombok.  And it was worth. Every. Last. Rupiah…

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We met our dive guide Maid (pronounced: Maddy) at 8am and enjoyed the island time as we slowly got our gear together and headed out for the day.  When we took off I found the ride rather rough, but Maid assured me that it was a nice day and the ride wasn’t bad at all!

When we neared Penida island we approached a few other boats that were casually smoking cigarettes as they guarded a capsized boat with it’s props in the air.  None of the Indonesians on our boat really give it much thought, we later asked Maid about the boat and we had to remind him.

‘You know, that boat we saw this morning that was flipped over?’

He says with a big ole smile, with no signs of concern in his voice, that it must have capsized this morning.  Dani and I just shrugged it off and checked out our dive gear.

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We arrived at our dive site, Manta Point.  The dive site was below a sharp cliff, and the water was choppy as it bounced off the land and back towards the dozens of boats floating in the area.  Manta Point is a cleaning station for reef manta rays of the Bali Sea.  Manta rays are a migratory species so while some can get up to 5.5 meters (18 feet) in width, and up to 1.4 tons (2,800 pounds) (arkive.org), they can be hard to spot unless you know which reefs they visit.

The manta rays come to Manta Point to be cleaned by the reef fish.  They glide over the reef, and the fish come out of the crevices and rocks to pick parasites off of the manta’s body.  This is a symbiotic relationship because both the manta ray and the reef fish benefit.  The manta rays get rid of potentially harmful parasites, while the reef fish get a meal delivered to their doorstep for free!  This makes manta point a hot spot for diving, which was clear by the number of boats bobbing up and down in the water.

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We jumped in the water and hung out near a small seamount, where the reef fish sat waiting for their daily doorstop service.  We could feel the swells of the ocean’s surface up above as we bobbed up and down in the water column.  We also sat eagerly awaiting, for a second I wondered if this is how the reef fish felt.

Suddenly a manta appeared from behind the seamount!  It sailed over the divers with such ease.  As I followed the one with my eyes, I turned back to the start to find one swimming directly at me.  With thoughtless effort the ray rose just above me, just missing the top of my head.  Manta rays flap their triangular pectoral ‘wings’ to propel themselves forward, and they have little mouthparts that protrude forward, called cephalic lobes.  They appear to fly through the water column flapping their wings lazily and drift to the deep like a bird that has caught a steady updraft.  They’re playful animals and as they approach one another they seem to dance around.  Two smaller mantas encircle a larger one like children running at an adult’s feet.  As they swam around they playfully tossed their cephalic lobes back and forth as if to simply entertain themselves, like an elephant playing with it’s trunk.  Unlike other animals commonly spotted during a dive, their presence lost no novelty as the minutes ticked by.

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We swam along the reef and spotted several smaller rays on the reef as well.  These rays however move by undulating their pectoral fins.  In other words, the mantas look like they’re flying underwater, while these smaller rays look like the edges of their body are creating waves that circulate around their entire body.  When we surfaced we were absolutely ecstatic unable to even count how many manta rays we saw.

When we returned to land we were coaxed into doing a night dive at Blue Lagoon.

Night dives can be a little eerie.  As you sink below the surface of the water, the reef that was seemingly playful during the day, is run by entirely different group at night.  Swimming through the dark, you begin to realize what a scary place the ocean can be at night.  You see the fish from the day hidden in the crevices of the rocks and corals.  In the back of your mind you wonder…should I be hiding from what they’re hiding from?!

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During the day, I like to turn away from the reef and look out into the ocean.  It’s a deep blue color and looks like it goes on forever.  At night it’s black, even with an almost full moon, the sea remains black.  During a night dive you have a torch, and while flashlights on land can light up an entire area, underwater torches only light up one spot.  The lamp creates a well-defined circle in the sand, and the edges of the light are met by immediate darkness.  I shine my light out into the sea beyond the reef, into the blackness, to see what I can see.  Thousands of little organisms’ eyes reflect off of the light and they scatter as I follow them with the lamp.  I turn my back to the darkness and avoid thinking about the large predators out there somewhere hidden in the darkness of the ocean at night.  I direct my light back to the reef, and see a whole new community of organisms, wide awake.

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While many fish are asleep, the draw of a night dive is that you see an entirely new group of marine organisms that hide during the day.  My favorite creatures we saw on this dive were the small cuttlefish.  Cuttlefish are a type of cephalopod.  This means they’re related to octopus.  Cuttlefish have chromatophores in their skin that allow them to change colors.  They use this ability for camouflage during the day.  One can swim completely by a well-disguised cuttlefish that looks like just another rock.   At night, they use this ability to lure their prey close.  The flashes of black and white run down the length of it’s body and it’s tentacles pulse the colors as well.  Once it’s prey wanders close enough to it’s beak, it snatches it’s prey out of the water with all of it’s tentacles like a lizard’s tongue! Luckily they can’t hunt humans because I was completely mesmerized by the cuttlefish and followed them for much of the dive.  Other active predators during a night dive include sharks and octopus.

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As we swam along we came across a small coral catshark that darted in and out of rocks and corals looking for dinner.  We also saw a whitetip reef shark swiftly swimming close to the reef trying to spot an easy catch.  There were a few other species we still haven’t been able to identify!

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We came up to the surface absolutely thrilled once again, and I decided it was the best day of diving I had ever done.  Little did I know that in a few days time we would get luck enough to hop on a day trip to Sipadan island in Malaysian Borneo, a spot that has been recognized as THE best dive site in the world….but more on that later! 😉

P.S. check out the videos on my Facebook post, they completely surpass the photos! (WordPress won’t allow me to share videos without a premium account)

Mount Bulusan: The Place Where The River Flows

| Chelsea

Living near volcanoes is not something I had ever experienced before living in the Philippines.  When I arrived at my site, I found my Municipality snugly tucked between two sleeping giants; Mount Mayon and Mount Bulusan.  Both of these volcanoes have been active during my service.  Mount Bulusan was raised to Alert level 2 when I first arrived and I could see smoke pouring from the crater from my house.  Mount Mayon has only just recently calmed down from her activity earlier this year.  Mount Mayon was raised all the way to Alert Level 4 and I could see the crater glowing from the Casiguran pier.

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But with both the giants subdued, I can sit peacefully on the pier in the early morning and gaze at the volcanoes on either side of me.  I can only see Mount Mayon on clear days.  The iconic cone peaks above the Sorsogon Mountains from across the Sorsogon Bay.  Mount Bulusan is hard to miss. Directly opposite of Mount Mayon, inland, Mount Bulusan towers over my little Municipality.  Unlike Mayon’s perfect cone, Bulusan is far from perfect with it’s flat, slightly lopsided, top.

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In Bicol, Bulusan means the place where the river flows (Gintong Aral).  This name couldn’t be more accurate.  Mount Bulusan feeds a number of freshwater springs, lakes, and waterfalls, that run into 4 different municipalities.  If there’s one thing I’ll miss, it’s an impromptu day of discovering the hidden uniqueness to each spring and waterfall running down the sides of Mount Bulusan.

Coincidentally, most of these spring hopping adventures have the same beginning.  Me and my sitemate, sitting drinking coffee or tea with our friend Kenny.  During a lull in conversation, he would ask:

‘Have you ever been to Masacrot Springs?’

or Bayugin Falls, or Nagsipit Falls, or Buklad River, all places that would one day take the place of Masacrot.

Most times Perri and I would reply ‘not yet!’

‘Well,’ Kenny would start,

‘We should go there! Let’s go there now!’

And just like that we would be in a jeepney, tryke, or car, off to see some part of Mount Bulusan we had never seen before.  Although they all have the same source, each spring and waterfall in Sorsogon is unique in some way.

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Masacrot Spring is shaded by giant crawling jungle trees, the water is a deep blue-green that compliments the sandy colored stones that line the pool.  The name Masacrot Spring is after the water found there.  The water is ‘masacrot’ which means acrid.  The water tastes as if it’s been carbonated.  I asked Kenny why it was like this and he said “it’s because of the mineral content of the water.  It’s a soda spring, so the dissolved solids make the water taste that way.”

At Nagsipit falls, just above Urok cold spring, the green layers of moss, leaves, and vines crawl forward as the falls erode backwards sinking further into the forest.  It makes the place look like the perfect watering hole to spot water sprites taking in the dewy breeze rushing out of the narrow cove.

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San Mateo Hot Spring has water so hot you can’t help but respect the sleeping giant looming above you as your muscles melt to mush.  Kenny told us his favorite time to visit the hot spring is when it’s raining.  It happened to be raining when we visited, and I realized exactly what he meant.  As the pool elevates your body temperature, you can feel the refreshing but sharp contrast of each individual rain drop hitting your face.

Bayugin Falls is back in the middle of the jungle.  Before arriving at the waterfall, there is a long metal bridge that passes over a canyon that has grown deep into the earth.  The canyon meanders through the forest and leads to a waterfall.  The water of this waterfall doesn’t all fall down, it seems to spray in all different directions.  The jagged boulders at the bottom of the falls have not yet smoothed.  So the water falls downward, but is then launched into the air by the jagged rock. The water flows down to a pool that is bordered by a tall wall of green.  At the top of the wall giant trees appear to float on air as their branches grow away from the crowded jungle out over the edge of the wall.

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Buklad River, the perfect spot for an early morning walk, the sunlight streams into the crystal clear water and the rocks that peak out of the water just a bit are the perfect height for sitting and combing your mermaid hair.

These are only the few falls, rivers, and springs , I’ve been able to visit while here.  There are so many others I won’t get to explore, this time around.  I’ve always been a salt water girl, but fresh water is alright…as long as it’s in Sorsogon, of course.

Peace Corps: A job, a lifestyle, a journey growing in unexpected directions

| Chelsea

Taking a glance back at my blog posts I’ve come to realize I don’t talk much about my actual job.  I do in fact, have a job here!

My Job Description:

I’m a CRM PCV in the MAO of an LGU.  I work on PCRAs, CRMPs, IECs, and sometimes SWM, with MFARMCs, BFARMCs, POs, 4Ps, BFAR, DENR, DSWD and MENRO.

Makes sense right?

Your face right now.

The Philippines, and Peace Corps both LOVE acronyms.

In plain english.  I’m a Coastal Resource Management Volunteer, and I work in a Municipal Agriculture Office in a Local Government Unit of a Municipality.  I work specifically with the Fisheries Unit.  Agriculture is a way bigger deal here- which if you think about it is kind of odd considering they probably have more water than land, right?-  Anyways, Fisheries/Coastal Resource Management work is often split between different departments.  My counterpart is the Fisheries Unit, but offices like the Municipality Environmental and Natural Resources Office (MENRO) also work on Coastal Resource Management.

Okay, but what do you DO?

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The Bay

I live on an estuarine bay that is known for kasag (blue swimmer crabs), tahong (asian green mussels), and silag (anchovy), among others.  Our fisherfolk use a plethora of different fishing gears to raise or catch these different organisms.  As a major source of employment, as well as a major threat to the well-being of the bay, fishing must be appropriately regulated.  Fisherfolk also must be appropriately organized so they can make the most out of their fish catch, and protect their livelihood.  I try to help make this happen.

So many smiles!

BUT as a Peace Corps Volunteer my work isn’t just limited to the time I spend at a desk, in the mangroves, or under the sea.  As my sector manager reiterates, two of the three goals we have as Peace Corps Volunteers have absolutely nothing to do with my 9 to 5.  Peace Corps is also about being a point of cultural exchange for both Filipinos and Americans; and thanks to the internet and the growing presence of a global community I would say that my sharing of Filipino culture doesn’t stop at just Americans.

So here is what I do, as told through one of my more successful weeks at site.

Monday: I wrote communications to two of our coastal barangays about household interviews.  This is one of the first step in developing a Coastal Resource Management Plan for the Municipality.  

Our Coastal Resource Management Plan will outline problems identified by the community, a socio-economic profile of the coastal barangays, the status of our natural resources, and finally a plan to address problems and resource management for the next 5 years.  Putting together this document is a huge on-taking and has been one of my primary projects for the past couple months.  After these interviews we will conduct habitat assessments on our mangrove forests and seagrasses.  Then we’ll conduct participatory coastal resource assessments and we’ll hear from fisherfolk and community members where their resources are, and what they need.  All of those activities are just the data collection portion of this process.  

Tuesday: My Host Kuya explained to my officemates that I was ‘like the chicken’ as he helped me move to my new grown up chicken apartment closer to work.  He explained that I was moving because I’m ‘taree’ (a grown up chicken) now and I can roam around, but of course I’ll come back to visit the coop.

Wednesday: We conducted our household interviews.  There was such a great turn out that we ran out of response forms!

Thursday: I entered some of the data I collected from household interviews, but spent the better part of the day talking to my coworkers about Filipino and American culture.

Meeting with our Municipal Fisheries and Aquatic Resources Management Council (MFARMC)

During these conversations I not only learn more about Filipino culture, but I also learn about American culture as it’s perceived and questioned by my Filipino friends.  It’s interesting to hear what pieces of information spark curiosity in a brain that is culturally wired so differently from my own.

I’ve gotten expected questions about American weather patterns, American holidays, and food preferences (“wait, walang rice?!”).  But I’ve also gotten unexpected questions like why Americans are so independent and do things like move away from home at 18, how is our police system organized (There’s only the Philippine National Police, no smaller departments like NYPD), how accurately American movies depict certain aspects of American culture, and what sort of crops we harvest.  

I have to admit some of these questions sent me running to Google!  The United States is a massive country it’s not easy to summarize our customs.  Crop harvest varies depending on the region.  What would you say the ‘american staple food’?  The common guess here is bread. 

So no matter what I’m doing whether I’m at my office or roaming around my Municipality, I’m constantly sharing my world, and the world is constantly sharing in return.  

Peace Corps tagline is ‘the toughest job you’ll ever love’ and it is such an accurate description of the job I have here.  Getting technical things done is tough when you don’t speak the language.  Working in a new environment takes adaptation.  Trying to understand an unfamiliar culture, demands acceptance that some things aren’t meant to be understood.  I spend many days having my views and personal opinions stretched and skewed by words, and actions.  This forces me to look at something I thought I knew, in an entirely different way.  It’s exhausting, and exhilarating.  

Sunset watching is definitely a part of my job description

Peace Corps is not what I thought it would be, nonetheless, I love my job more and more everyday.  It’s a tough journey I am proud to be on.  It’s an experience I know will leave me changed in ways I never imagined, and I look forward to every day as I grow in unexpected directions.

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! 

Learning the Way

| Chelsea

I’ve been in Casiguran for almost two months now but when my counterpart told me to finish up the tour of Casiguran’s Livelihood projects with our BFAR representative, while she attended to other business, my stomach dropped a little.

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Casiguran has a number of Alternative Livelihood Projects that have been funded by the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources.  These projects are incredibly important in improving the quality of life for our fisherfolk, and helping them maintain financial security.  Alternative Livelihood opportunities allow people to learn new skills and diversify their income.  

Why must the fisheries sector diversify their income?

The Fishing industry is an extremely insecure industry.  Factors like climate change, population increase, and overfishing, among others, have caused a decrease in fish catch.  

Why don’t they just fish less?

Sounds easy right, just fish less.  This is much easier said than done.  Asking the fisherfolk to fish less is asking them to deprive their families of dinner and income.  But, when fishing grounds run dry, families also go hungry.

The beacon of light! Alternative livelihood projects!  These help reduce pressure on fish stocks and maintain financial security for the fisherfolk.  Our projects here include: a Municipal Tilapia Hatchery, a Post Harvest Facility enhancement project, and a Fisheries Products Value Adding Center.  These are all funded by BFAR and must be documented appropriately.  We had finished showing our BFAR representative, Gloria, the Municipal Hatchery when it was my turn to direct the tryke driver to our next destination, The Cawit Livelihood Center.

‘Cawit Barangay Hall po’ I say to the tryke driver.

We start down the road and I assume I’ve done enough.  Tryke drivers know Casiguran like the back of their hand, there’s no doubt he knows where a landmark like the Barangay Hall of Cawit is.

He passes the turn.  

‘Wait, wait!’ I raise my voice over the tryke’s motor, in english.  My Bicol proficiency is in no way reactive (yet) and it completely escapes me in times of urgency, ‘Cawit Barangay Hall!’

He stops the tryke and asks someone nearby ‘Hain an Cawit Barangay Hall?’

I think that I’m hearing him incorrectly; he doesn’t know where the Barangay Hall is?  Based on body language, and limited language skills, I piece together that he is definitely asking people for directions.  He doesn’t know where the Barangay Hall is, but I DO!  

‘I know, I know- er, aram ko, aram ko!’ He looks down at me like I’m a little bit crazy.  Granted, I probably look crazy, there are two Filipinos on the tryke but I’M the one trying to give directions.  I point behind me, ‘back that way.’ He turns around and heads towards the turn.

‘Tuo!’ I tell him to turn right.  He slowly takes the turn and slows again to ask someone.

‘It’s okay, aram ko, direcho!’ the woman from BFAR riding behind the driver is laughing now as I’m still trying to get the tryke driver to listen to me.  

‘Chelsea knows how to get there but the tryke driver does not!’ She is thoroughly entertained by the entire situation.

We continue, slowly, down the road and as we come up to another turn, still laughing Gloria asks ‘Which way Chelsea!’

‘Wala!’

For the first time in four months of living in the Philippines, I don’t feel like the visitor.  We turn left and pull in front of our destination. ‘Para, para po, right in here’

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These are the little moments we were told about during training.  Realizing you actually aren’t a giant stumbling two year old, and CAN manage basic life-sustaining transactions!  It’s so exciting!  Before Peace Corps, if you told me that knowing how to give directions in a small town would make me feel so accomplished I would have laughed.  I still laugh, it’s hysterical that this makes me feel so great but hey, I’ll take it.

The Cawit Livelihood Center is a small house that serves as a Value-Adding Facility.  The women who work here are Cawit Fisherfolk.  They have been trained on different ways of preparing fish in order to help fisherfolk make more money off of their catch.  They can also debone Silag (anchovy) faster than anyone I’ve ever met.

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A few weeks ago, the center was in full action during our Fish Conservation Week.  There was a fish deboning competition where the winner deboned 175 silag in 15 minutes.  After that there was a cooking contest.  My Grandpa would be pretty happy to hear that I ate an absurd amount of anchovies that day. Fried silag, silag lumpia, silag curry, these women know how to cook fish!  

I recognized the women as they showed Gloria around their little facility and I felt comfortable in the familiarity of it all.  I’m a homebody, but I love the challenge of finding that comfort while traveling.  Building that settledness is rewarding, and perpetuates my love of travel and living abroad.  Come visit, I know the way! 😉  

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Day one of Life on the Farm

| Chelsea

 

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Mt. Bulusan in the daylight

I moved to site only a week ago but with each day I begin to settle into my new home. Every morning I wake up at 4:30am, I come out of my room to the kitchen and my Ate and I drink coffee before we start our day. Once the coffee is all finished we grab our flashlights and start our morning walk. We walk out to the rice fields where our goat, named Pangit, is excited to see us. I pet Pangit for a while and give the dog, Beethoven, enough time to catch up and accompany us on our walk. The three of us climb up the sea wall and walk. We pass trees that are still full of fireflies and enjoy the dark as it provides air that is cool and fresh. Once we arrive at the Bay I jog through the mangroves and the sun begins to slowly bake the air into a cloud of humidity. On the walk back home the sun rises over the rice fields turning the sky pink and orange. The face of Mount Bulusan comes to life and slowly but surely the Philippines starts to wake up.

 

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Mount Bulusan in the morning light

 

Once we arrive back at the house everyone is awake. And by everyone I mean the chickens, the turkeys, the sheep and the cat (and soon piglets too, stay tuned). My Kuya arrives home from the fish pond at around 6:30am and the sheep begin to ‘baa’ demanding to be fed. After we all have eaten breakfast we get ready to leave for work. As we leave, my Ate begins her busy day. People arrive at the house to sell her ‘kasag’ (crabs) which she cooks in huge metal pots and re-sells through-out the day. My Kuya, who also works at the LGU, pulls out the tryke and drives us both to work. I very much enjoy my morning commute with the wind in my hair and the beautiful scenery on either side of the highway. We work at the Municipal Hall. My Kuya works in their engineering department. I work in the Agriculture Office in the Fisheries unit. Right now ‘work’ is mostly just observing, learning the language, and most importantly, eating.

 

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I am a giant

I had mentioned the word ‘Merienda’ in my first blog post but my new LGU family takes it to a whole new level: As a reminder, merienda is a widely practiced Filipino snack time and it occurs between two and four times during the day. Merienda can range from different types of pandesal (bread), to pansit (noodles with veggies) to pinkakrow (starchy veggie in coconut milk) to tseron (like a banana spring roll) to various rice and rice flour snacks that I can’t remember the name of.

As the shiny new American, everyone is very concerned with making sure I have plenty of merienda (hence why I wake up at 4:30am to go running). In fact just now after being fed a plate of pasta, someone just came a placed an entire kamote (starchy vegetable, kind of like a potato) on my desk. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do with it… I’m just going to leave it there, maybe she’ll come back for it, I’ll keep you updated.

At 5pm I’ll meet my Kuya downstairs and sometimes we’ll go to the plaza to pick up some fruits or to the bakery for pandesal (for at home merienda, of course). When we get home Ate is still busy selling the crabs and running her sari-sari store. After dinner (the last meal of the day, thankfully) when work finally ends for my Ate, we go out to the bunag pavement (pavement where they lay out newly harvested rice to dry in the sun). It’s dark after dinner and if the sky is clear of clouds we can see the stars. We sit for a while and appreciate the stars. We talk about our days, one night I showed her what a cartwheel was, one night she taught me ‘bulalakaw’ means shooting star in bicol. But mostly we just stare up at the stars, I haven’t seen stars as good as these in a while. I love the stars and I am happy to have found that we share the same affinity and curiosity for the night sky.

Perhaps my favorite part of sitting and stargazing with my Ate is having something that is the same across our cultures. It’s simple mutual understanding. But it requires no translating, which is something to be appreciated when you are somewhere new and sometimes feel like home, and familiarity, is as far away as the stars. We walk back and I go to bed exhausted from a day of excitement, misunderstanding, translating, laughing, learning, and of course, eating. It has been quite the adventure so far and each day continues to bring new experiences. Stay tuned!

-Chels

P.S. The Kamote is still on my desk…