The typhoon blues

(I wrote this a couple days ago at home)


Today was Sunday and day three of Typhoon Frank (I think that’s its name). A truly lazy (or at least I desired it to be a truly lazy) day, I got to accompany Tita and Tito (my host mother and father) to the palengke (marketplace). The marketplace (along the “coast” off of Aguinaldo Hwy in Imus) was surprisingly busy, probably because it was covered by a roof. Still, the rain was intense and so were the smells and sights. Meat, fruit, vegetables, rice, and a bunch of other necessities were on sale. There was also a gigantic line for the NFA (government subsidy) rice. It’s much cheaper than the imported rice, but Tita and Tito explained to me that the rice has a darker color because it has been sitting in surplus in a warehouse somewhere. So in essence, it might not have the same amount of nutrients and indeed most likely taste different. Overall though the palengke was not as overwhelming as I thought it would be and people seem very friendly, especially when haggling over price. Although they would feign surprise over the cost of things, there seemed to be a mutual understanding to how low the price of the commodity could really drop. The rain was intense, but luckily the winds were not as strong on the ground. If it were, we probably could be without electricity. On the news there were numerous reports and images of people being without power in other provinces, I know that up north/central Luzon seems to be flooded. I guess we’re pretty lucky here.



hayop ng dagat

you trust the bucket?

more dead things

expensive rice

NFA rice

bidio time!

Yesterday we had to watch a movie called “Munting Tinig” (Little Voices) although me and Matt, as usual, disagreed about how “to read” the movie, I felt that it stimulated some interesting conversation, and the jokes/acting wasn’t overly corny. Overall, it wasn’t, for a “mainstream” movie, that bad. After the movie, tensions finally emerged in our “cohort” as we got locked into a room to decide, of all things, the two names of each of our classes. We finally settled on Ugat (roots) and Bagwis (wings). I’m not going to go into the clearly sentimental and nostalgic rationale other people provided in voting for these words, but I just want to say I came up with Ugat (GO ME!). I’m just glad it didn’t turn into something corny, although my other suggestions such as chicharon (pork rinds), ipis (cockroach), and sabong (cockfight) didn’t get much attention either. Afterward we had to talk about the t-shirt design for our class. It turned out to be longer than I thought it would be, and although I could care less on how it would turn out, a lot of people seemed to take it very seriously. So although I really didn’t want to, I had to remain engaged and kept up the façade that I was paying attention, although to be honest my mind often wandered to a million other things I would rather be doing, like for instance, eating chicharon at a sabong. Overall Saturday was probably the most tense day as everyone seemed a bit out of sorts. We all went our separate ways and I just tried to read my assigned novel “Dekada ’90,” in my room. Before you say how “masipag” I am, every other word in the novel seemed to be destined to be looked up in the dictionary, and as if habitual, everyday after dinner, I try to study, but end up falling asleep. It’s strange that in the U.S. I have no trouble running on 5 or 6 hours of sleep, but here, I seem to be sleepy once it gets dark. Just walking outside drains so much out of me. Everything is so intense, and I’m always paranoid, that I’ll miss my stop, get run over, or get pickpocketed, that it truly is tiring to my senses. Still, I avoided work for a bit by playing cards with the my little “sisters” and talking with Tita.

After dinner, Tita surprisingly revealed quite a lot about how her family interacts, especially her sons and her husband. Perhaps it’s a normal part of “Philippine” culture to reveal such personal insights, or perhaps it is because I’m an outsider but she ended up revealing that although Tito is a good provider and kind person, he doesn’t have much of an intimate relationship with his sons. He’s actually quite a well respected person here, and very much tied into numerous communities, holds many positions, and is always going to meetings or evaluating things. That perhaps is the problem as Tita says, he’s a workaholic, and is never at home. The eldest son is taking a break from college, while the other two sons are really quiet, the second one is a “loner”. They don’t speak much to Tito, even around the table, and Tita thinks that that is why certain actions happen. Either they want his attention, or are at this point, indifferent. It’s quite sad actually, but it parallels a lot of the things going on in Dekada 70, and perhaps, reflects the particular form of patriarchal family in the Philippines. In some ways, even I can relate, as I too feel that a lot of memories growing up were around my mother and siblings more than my father. Although, I do remember my dad talking much more at the table than Tito ever did. Moreover since the Barangay office is so close, he merely eats and then sets off again to the office, for meetings or more paperwork. This along with his teaching duties at the university doesn’t leave much time for his family. And this I think is what Tita is worried about.

but enough serious talk, let's look at more pictures of stuff at the palengke!

coco for coconuts!

look at the size of those things!

first fresh lychee I ever tasted, I know, and I call myself "ethnic"

bananas for bananas! (ugh...)

I believe this is the pico mango, but I'm probably wrong (I get quizzed every night at dinner and am usually 50% correct)

Later on on Sunday, after a nap and more hours spent attempting to read Dekada, I was invited to attend a Debut. I’ve never been to a real Philippine debut before, although I have been to a few Fil-Am debuts, as well as sat through the horrible movie of the same title, so I was really excited to be able to attend. The debut started about a couple hours later than was written on the invitation, so Tita just left me with the girls while she went back to cook dinner. As I sat there I got to talk to some of my “sisters’s” friends and got a bit of tsismis about whoever has a crush on who and so on and so forth. I also got to meet some of the other teenagers, their mothers, as well as the debutante. One funny thing that happened is the girls kept pointing out how “sexy” the teenagers were and that I should go talk to them. I explained to them that I was very old. One of the mothers, I think a relative of Tita, asked if I could take a picture with her daughter (one of said teenagers set to dance in the debut). I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. Still I found it funny as Tita introduced me sort of like an exotic commodity: he’s from America, he’s trying to speak Tagalog but can’t really. All of which is true, but it still felt strange. I asked one of the cousins (who is super nice, and is very proud to be both Filipino and a Cabiteno) if they had any family in America. She answered no, and I believe that that explains why Tita introduced me the way she did. The debut overall was fun although long. (the debut was set to begin around 5pm, in actuality it began at 7:30) There was a lack of performances but an overabundance of 18 things: 18 roses, 18 balloons, 18 candles. All of these things were accompanied by family and friends who each had to do a speech. Although the words didn’t seem overly personal, the debutante cried a lot. I didn’t quite understand why she was crying, she wasn’t necessary leaving to go somewhere far, nor were there any other trying histories hinted at by others. Still, after reading her invitation, which contained a myspace like autobiography, I understood why she acted so “emo.” After all, for most of this current generation and especially for most in the Philippines, the term “emo” came into vogue, smuggled along the routes of myspace.