I watched a movie by myself yesterday, which allowed me to conquer a great fear of the modern woman and simultaneously lose 136 brain cells. Note to self: when in the big city, do not EVER watch "The Brothers Grimm," no matter how many months it has been since you saw a new release. Or how badly you hope to conquer a great fear of the modern woman, for that matter.
Somewhere in my mind, I think that, surely, the development of the human brain over the past 70 years should prevent the invention of such crappy films. But then, somewhere else in my mind, I know that as long as there exists a PC volunteer on an island without electricity in the middle of the Camotes Sea, said brainless blockbusters will, in some perverse way, continue to entice viewership.
My adventures in the city included, but were not limited to: multiple trips to Starbucks and another chain called Bo's, where the value of one single drink is enough to feed me for a week on my island; aimless strolling in a four-story, air conditioned mall; and, of course, watching one of the worst movies I've seen in months, after "Face/Off", which shouldn't even count because I'm sure it was made as a joke to make late night cable funny again. It must have been.
In his opening statement to us volunteers waaaaay back in Manila during our arrival week last April, the Philippines country director looked us over and said boldly and powerfully, "you are the Peace Corps." Those words sparked a twinge of patriotism and pride in us all, and I think I speak for most volunteers when I say we remember it, even six months later. So now, when I'm feeling just a hint of guilt while chugging a frappuchino and eating wheat bread with fancy jellies on top, I say that to myself. I am the Peace Corps. And then I continue to chug and eat, and it's delicious every time.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Where in the world....?
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Katrina who decided that she wanted to save the environmental world. She joined the Peace Corps, flew to the Philippines, and landed on the white sand beach of Himokilan Isla in her best work attire: $1 sandals purchased at the local market, nouveau-hippie shorts from REI, and a T-shirt boasting the words "I'm proud to be a little American" written in Chinese characters. She quickly learned the world wasn't hers to save, but she writes her adventures anyway and hopes that she can bring her friends and family just a little bit closer to the place she now calls home.
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