Cebu City Experience, Part I

Somewhere in the world, Mik and Debbie, aka The Parents, are sitting in a room that doesn't require air conditioning and are likely debating one of the same three topics:

a) Whether or not a diet allows for the occasional (if not exceedingly regular) consumption of beer. No doubt mama Debbie believes, wait, insists that it does, while papa Mik says it is a great interference to the benefits of a diet. Meanwhile, they both take another swig.
b) Should they watch HBO or Cinemax before falling asleep like old people at the unreasonable hour of 9?
c) Why does Mik always insist on the two of them paddling at 6 in the morning? Can't it wait until 8 just this once?

Perhaps they also wonder what their daughter is doing on her end of the Pacific Ocean at this very minute. Now, before I continue, for those of you who know my parents, surely you are laughing at this point. My parents have probably been celebrating my departure months ago by NOT thinking of where I am at every moment....but for the sake of a story, lets just all imagine that they are.

I wonder if their vision of my experience here matches reality....Do they think I woke up this morning at 6 am with the crowing rooster, dawned my ecologically safe insect repellant, then stormed through the jungle with a bolo knife and bandolier across my chest in search of a coconut tree to climb from which I retrieved fresh young lubi; that monkeys are swinging from trees outside my door; that I saw all 7 species of giant sea turtles swim in the coral reef just off my island mere moments ago? Do my parents salivate at the thought of all the fresh fish and seaweeds I've been eating? Do their hearts race thinking that, at any moment, the typhoon developing in the Pacific could scream toward the province of Leyte and make a beeline path toward my tropical isla paradise?

Well here it is; this is what I'm doing RIGHT NOW (brace yourselves): I'm using a computer at an internet cafe in a Cebu City mall, one of the nicest malls I've been to in my entire life. This is it, folks. And that's not all. The internet experience was preceeded by a trip to Starbucks, complete with poppyseed bagel and a fruity, iced beverage. Yes, I said ice.

Last night I found myself enjoying a chill music scene atop a rooftop bar where, later on, I was eating pizza and consuming beer in the presence of other pizza-eaters and beer-drinkers. The last 24 hours have been everything glorious, modern, and convenient.

Now I wait for a boat that, in exactly two hours and 11 minutes, will leave to the land I call home and, once again, I'll return to a life where I merely dream of high speed internet and neon lights and escalators and poppyseed bagels.

In truth, I dread going to the big city. There's a reverse culture shock that occurs, one that leaves me soured because I see a sad juxtaposition of incredible poverty and ridiculous wealth. At the same time, though, I came from that world, and there are comforts in it that I find hard to tear away from. It takes all of my mental strength and emotional stamina to get on the boat and go back to a place where work is stagnant, where me hand-washing my clothes never quite gets them clean enough, where I can't eat MSG-free food. And yet that's why I'm here. To experience the world as many others do, which I might define as "the hard way." My great hope is that, one day, it will be harder for me to go back to the cities and the mall and the traffic, not the other way around.

So to get back to my original point (which is a long time coming, I know), every day is spent simply trying to find my home here. Sometimes that means I go to a city and remind myself of home; sometimes I call my friends and speak as much English as a 100 peso phone card can accomodate; sometimes I speak Cebuano only and try to drink in the culture; sometimes I ride my bike or walk aimlessly around my barangay; on more rare occasions, I work. Often times I'm alone, and in essence, I just live a quite existence -- one that I'm slowly becoming comfortable with, but one that doesn't involve tropical island fantasies of the buried treasure variety. I think my parents know that, but I thought I'd express it just one more time....mostly because I want them to get the hint and send me the entire Harry Potter series. Book six just wasnt enough.